the storm before the calm

An accidental found poem.

no
well
you can
but
its better if you dont

I think you

i think i did
you can 
be like

its found.

A Haiku:

no, you are sunny
and beautiful. Cairo is
dark. Wish I was there.  

ITU

whereismorgan:

Ya, itu cantik tapi,
apa yang itu bisa lakukan?
Apakah itu bisa 
memindahkan gunung
atau menyanyi semanis burung?
Karena, menemui
yaitu hanya enak sementara.
Dan aku ingin
menari dan lari dan main.
Aku ingin bertanya
kenapa? Dan
bagaimana? Dan
di mana? Dan
Aku ingin bertanya
apa yang itu bisa lakukan?

IT

Yes, it is beautiful but,
what can it do?
Can it,
move mountains
or sing as sweet as a bird?
Because, looking/meeting
that is only nice for a moment.
And I want to
dance and run and play.
I want to ask
Why?  And
How? And
Where? And
I want to ask
what can it do?  

They asked for a poem, and that is what they got. Defying all of their suggestions to write a love poem, I wrote an anti-love poem of sorts (up to interpretation, ‘it’ has a lot of meanings). So there.

29

yes it is beautiful
but what can it do?
I want to move
the earth, I want
to sing like a bird
I want to dance yes
and I want to jump
and I want I want
to dream and think
and paint. I want to
wrap my arms around
the world I want to
hum it to sleep I want
to touch its drowsy
eyelashes I want
to fall in love. I want
to feel and to hurt. 
I want to be in touch,
I want to be.
I want
I want
To be.
 

Can’t do shit without my thunder thighs. love your body, love mine. fuck shit up, fight the thought police. 

28

what is creation without
the storm and the wave?
what is destruction without 
the yellow leaf blossom?

naani poems about life n stuff. sorry I spent most of yesterday drunk and drunker and getting bruised n stuff.  

27

And in the last of
the failing sunlight I see
crimson, like the fall. 

26

I fall asleep in the half moon of your face,
Glowing Rothko red.
And when I wake,
still tired, teeth sore from
chattering dreams,
I read the dents of your ribs:
A coda of you and I. 

25

When the ground leaves your
Feet, and weightless you fly, then
You know how it is to be,

Alive, fearless, and
No longer restless, free from
Your stone legs and heavy boots.  

This is called a Sedoka, also similar to a Tanka or a Haiku. Today or tomorrow I think I will throw out my heavy boots. But maybe not.

24

1. The instant of falling
2. The instant of knowing
3. Knowing the dirt
4. Knowing embrace
5. Embrace the air
6. Embrace the blood
7. Blood on my knees
8. Blood of my father
9. Father in heaven
10. Father help us
11. Us who have fallen
12. Us who know
13. Know the pain 
14. Know the sorrow
15. Sorrow for naught
16. Sorrow is but
17. But for the daybreak
18. But for bruised flesh
19. Flesh giving way
20. Flesh of an orange
21. Orange peeled
22. Orange sliced
23. Sliced so finely
24. Sliced so thin 
25. Thin like paper
26. Thin young wrists
27. Wrists of plaster and
28. Wrists of steel
29. Steel wool on kettles
30. Steel yourself for
31. For the daybreak and
32. For what lies ahead
33. Ahead she forges
34. Ahead he is running
35. Running so fast
36. Running to win
37. Win or lose
38. Win for nothing
39. Nothing is safe
40. Nothing will stay
41. Stay with me 
42. Stay an hour more
43. More than I can give
44. More is never enough
45. Enough of that my lord
46. Enough of the silence
47. Silence is safety
48. Silence is death.
49. death
50. safety.
    

    This is called a blitz poem. It is about nothing in general, but it is strangely cathartic. I recommend you write one immediately.

23

Question everything, like
Shaving your legs and
Running that marathon.

Go for a long walk the
Morning after, and
count all of the Robins.

And when the sea mist rolls in,
yes, you will cry, and
Think on oblivion.

For each time you will be 
a bit braver, and
a bit less hesitant.  

22

I remember
the snap of December grass 
on the quad. The blurred outline of,
one eye seeing.  

21

Once I felt
like nothing would ever be close enough.
Like the clothes between our bodies
were too much.

Now in the turquoise of dawn meeting night,
I realize that in your crooked smile,
in my finger between your shoulder blades, 
I find peace in Equilibrium.  

20

Dancing:
What
        Matters
                   Is
A certain touch of
        Apathy.
They will say,
     ”Who is that boy,
who flies with his feet
    Still
         On
             The
                   Ground?” 

18

She dreamt she could keep
her butterfly forever
and upon awaking,
read a sleep scribbled note:
“pull it’s wings off” 

based on a true story.

17

I am:
A natural born earth sign,
starting to lose touch in
Space, and Time.

Today I am, floating in a serene pool,
water logged, sinking down
into the azure haze.

Today I am, whirling dizzy,
flying in the clouds,
up up up up up so high
so high above you all.

You try:
to fish me. Pull me out of the depths.
Or, anchor me. Tether me to your world.
You tell me:
“You are a natural born earth sign.”
and I reply:
“Starting to lose touch…”

There is nothing wrong with me, it is the system that is flawed.