Love Poem
To love deeply
Is to hurt always.
It's an ongoing compromise,
A forever sacrifice,
A note to oneself:
Love shallower in the next life.
It's a pool of intensity
Of desire, caring,
concern, worry,
consideration, obsession,
passion, compromise,
and love...
...whatever that means
So pack light...
***
Rolling down the cheeks of a lone soul
Sitting drenched in the moonlight
Like a waiting omen
Slow tilt of the head...revealing dark eyes
A slow question murmured like a whisper under his breath,
"how are you? ...I've been waiting"
And like the petals it shall turn to dust
but a faded memory
as the wind blows it away
til its no more
A bud...
peeks from the tip of a branch
Waiting to be snipped off
by ignorant fingers
death be to hope
-(by Eamon and me...) idle bbm convo
***
I've decided that I'm going to start writing again. Yay me.
Shelli out.
*throws up a random gang sign*
Deuce
***
Demon days,
Moons crimson eyes, stare eternal
Old log, drifts down a silent stream
A lightening bug lighting the way
Glistens off clichéd tearsRolling down the cheeks of a lone soul
Sitting drenched in the moonlight
Like a waiting omen
Slow tilt of the head...revealing dark eyes
A slow question murmured like a whisper under his breath,
"how are you? ...I've been waiting"
Dark eyes, broken windows of a barren house,
naked, haggard and weary...
Held captive, I'm a prisoner
In this dark room where the water
drips and its oh so cold
Objection?Sustained?
Withered petals falls to the floor
another day has dawned
SacrificeAnd like the petals it shall turn to dust
but a faded memory
as the wind blows it away
til its no more
A bud...
peeks from the tip of a branch
Waiting to be snipped off
by ignorant fingers
the cycle continues... eternal
death be to hope
death cannot claim that which has never lived
But the budding plant can be claimedA stillborn fetus has no soul
Life is but a series of cages,
the womb, the crib,
the classroom, the cubicle,
the coffin.
Life is but a series of cages,
the womb, the crib,
the classroom, the cubicle,
the coffin.
Each cage a rhetoric question we question
Stage shifts we inexplicably change
without understanding...caring..attaching oneself to the last cage
like a snail shell, in queue to be shedded
But we are defined by the cage.
-(by Eamon and me...) idle bbm convo
***
I've decided that I'm going to start writing again. Yay me.
Shelli out.
*throws up a random gang sign*
Deuce
You Might Also Like
"...And even if I foresaw this
I just pushed it aside
to find a way to help you
make it work..."
But the truth is,
You don't see a way.
All you see is me
Grasping,
Stretching,
Reaching,
Frantically clutching,
Hoping,
Crying,
Wishing,
Dreaming...
That fraying ends don't burn
As much as they really do.
That the bleeding finger tips
And the charred, peeling skin
is just part of a reality
within a dream.
Therefore, it doesn't really exist.
All you see is me
in that constant state of denial
You watching, shaking your head
with quiet sighs...
"Don't worry baby,
if it's not ok,
it's not the end.
It's always ok in the end"
And you pull me closer,
Tighter,
Lovingly,
with more love than I've felt in a while.
With more sincerity than I've heard in a while,
With more of everything
and less confusion...
With no breaks.
There is no break,
Just a continuity of energy.
That fills me back with that much faith
That it will be ok in the end.
And I will survive to the end.
And I will be happy in the end....
...With or without you
You Might Also Like
On the brink of losing everything
I close my eyes to ease my despair
but i already witnessed the spirals in the air
uncontrollable and terrifying
helpless and debilitating.
Wordless,
I am
for I can't make a sound.
Any sound I fear would make it worse.
The right words...
I know not what they are.
I would reach out
it's just wind
but this wind is fast moving and scorches with a betrayal
ignited from mere perception
Faultless,
for the assumption is fair...
But that doesn't calm the inner turmoil
from the bitter taste of misunderstanding
and it's inability of resolve itself
without making it worse.
The closest I've ever been
I withdraw
feel the tension within
and just look on
as the tears begin to well
as my body begins to tremble
and feel my inner cynic whisper
'it doesn't matter what you do
or what you say
it's the same as it's always been
inevitably beyond what you can handle
inevitably beyond what you can reach
forever elusive
like a tease'
I close my eyes to ease my despair
but i already witnessed the spirals in the air
uncontrollable and terrifying
helpless and debilitating.
Wordless,
I am
for I can't make a sound.
Any sound I fear would make it worse.
The right words...
I know not what they are.
I would reach out
it's just wind
but this wind is fast moving and scorches with a betrayal
ignited from mere perception
Faultless,
for the assumption is fair...
But that doesn't calm the inner turmoil
from the bitter taste of misunderstanding
and it's inability of resolve itself
without making it worse.
The closest I've ever been
I withdraw
feel the tension within
and just look on
as the tears begin to well
as my body begins to tremble
and feel my inner cynic whisper
'it doesn't matter what you do
or what you say
it's the same as it's always been
inevitably beyond what you can handle
inevitably beyond what you can reach
forever elusive
like a tease'
You Might Also Like
feeble efforts to be polished
By Shelli 2:35 PM poetryKeep out
Chocolate
under my view
Habitually
Carefree like free spirits.
***
You are,
my favourite complexity
which is addicting like an enigma
that i can't just let go of.
Humbling at the same time...
Like stepping off an edge
into the realm of uncertainty
And feeling the pull of curiosity and promise
I step forward with a touch of fear.
A touch of fear because
In the darkness lies potential bones
of the corpses of past mistakes
waiting to be tripped over
debilitating, mocked naivety.
Yet instincts and trust
pave an uncanny path
which i cannot see
but i can feel
the allure,
the promise
of a security
and kindling a hope of something more.
As i pause momentarily
the feeling engulfs
and i start to remember
what it was like to want;
reciprocated.
And that is scary too...
Somehow the darkness perceived
Is a misgiving perception
Of vision through tarnished lens.
Fortunately,
with fumbling in darkness
vision becomes unnecessary luxury.
Why see what I can feel?
Why doubt what my spirit trusts?
Implicitly, perhaps not
For the bones still linger in the backgrounds of my mind...
But I feel the warmth of light
Welcoming and soothing to my soul
like a kindred spirit approaching.
Perhaps delusional thoughts,
Perhaps delusional feelings,
But right now,
It feels right.
Took long enough to trust my instincts,
And if I'm wrong,
I'll just call it a lesson learned.
You Might Also Like
You're my lost and found.
By Shelli 3:22 PM poetryDark paths through flower gardens
Moonlight on our skin
Hand on cheek and
Butterflies within.
Dark paths through flower gardens
Fear in my mind,
Desire to trust,
Desire to find,
No obvious answers yield,
So I run.
Dark paths through flower gardens,
Relaxation of exhausted thought
Permittance of happiness,
For it only happens when you learn to stop
Stopping the natural flow of things.
It is what it is,
Not a trap, not a trick.
Dark paths through flower gardens,
Drenched in photographic nostalgia
From a distanced cold winter day.
I believe in futures,
Do you?
Moonlight on our skin
Hand on cheek and
Butterflies within.
Dark paths through flower gardens
Fear in my mind,
Desire to trust,
Desire to find,
No obvious answers yield,
So I run.
Dark paths through flower gardens,
Relaxation of exhausted thought
Permittance of happiness,
For it only happens when you learn to stop
Stopping the natural flow of things.
It is what it is,
Not a trap, not a trick.
Dark paths through flower gardens,
Drenched in photographic nostalgia
From a distanced cold winter day.
I believe in futures,
Do you?
You Might Also Like
(For Daniel)
The amusement and riddles
Fade away into annoying redundancies:
Slow and Safe
Vs. Risky and Fun.
The failed past fascinates,
The present tense is well paced.
Small differences stack themselves untidily
In the corners of every room
Till they spill over
And need to be jumped over upon every exit.
Each jump a reluctant acknowledgment
Of a dire situation to be dealt with.
Is it lack of tolerance?
Deep down a flawed conflicted
Psychological perception of perfection...
That keeps things unrequited and unsatisfactory?
Phenomenally... boring?
Idealistic idylls
Potentially exist solely within,
Thus, searching outward is futile,
Searching within is absurd.
Life is adaptation in process,
A tolerance in continuum that dips accordingly:
Nothing is perfect,
Lest we blind ourselves to the flaws.
The amusement and riddles
Fade away into annoying redundancies:
Slow and Safe
Vs. Risky and Fun.
The failed past fascinates,
The present tense is well paced.
Small differences stack themselves untidily
In the corners of every room
Till they spill over
And need to be jumped over upon every exit.
Each jump a reluctant acknowledgment
Of a dire situation to be dealt with.
Is it lack of tolerance?
Deep down a flawed conflicted
Psychological perception of perfection...
That keeps things unrequited and unsatisfactory?
Phenomenally... boring?
Idealistic idylls
Potentially exist solely within,
Thus, searching outward is futile,
Searching within is absurd.
Life is adaptation in process,
A tolerance in continuum that dips accordingly:
Nothing is perfect,
Lest we blind ourselves to the flaws.
You Might Also Like
Mezeker means to remember.
By Shelli 11:47 AM poetry, VideoMusings between 7th ave to Lexington
Frozen noses.
Winter feels like frozen noses on windy day,
When each inhalation
Becomes a conscious decision
As to whether, you really wanna
take that risk
Of that pain
continued.
Your fingers dispute
Just as bitterly
...But their voices get quiet
As their tips numb and soon enough...
You barely hear them at all.
Were it not for knowledge
Of an ambiguous destination
On a fixed location
Lying somewhere before you...
You would give up
And stop wiping the tears
From the cold away,
And just let them run down your cheeks
And just call it frustration,
And a day,
And sit on the pavement
Like a bum
And pity yourself as to why:
Why are you here?
Why are you here in the middle of the city?
On a cold day?
What is your purpose?
What is your calling?
What... has brought you to this point
In this moment
At this particular time
Surrounded by the cold's bitter embrace
Surrounded by the pigeons on the street,
Oblivious to your existence much less your discomfort..
Surrounded by others,
Just like you.
With frozen noses,
Numb fingers,
And a destination uncertain
they are drifting to...
Frozen noses.
Winter feels like frozen noses on windy day,
When each inhalation
Becomes a conscious decision
As to whether, you really wanna
take that risk
Of that pain
continued.
Your fingers dispute
Just as bitterly
...But their voices get quiet
As their tips numb and soon enough...
You barely hear them at all.
Were it not for knowledge
Of an ambiguous destination
On a fixed location
Lying somewhere before you...
You would give up
And stop wiping the tears
From the cold away,
And just let them run down your cheeks
And just call it frustration,
And a day,
And sit on the pavement
Like a bum
And pity yourself as to why:
Why are you here?
Why are you here in the middle of the city?
On a cold day?
What is your purpose?
What is your calling?
What... has brought you to this point
In this moment
At this particular time
Surrounded by the cold's bitter embrace
Surrounded by the pigeons on the street,
Oblivious to your existence much less your discomfort..
Surrounded by others,
Just like you.
With frozen noses,
Numb fingers,
And a destination uncertain
they are drifting to...
***
"For those who could ride in an airplane for the first time"
-Anis Mojgandi
-Anis Mojgandi
***
"I apologize"
Oscar Brown Jr.
***
I had mid-terms this week. And no... I don't want to talk about it.
My eyes hurt...
I think I might be catching something...
Shelli out.
You Might Also Like
The whole truth and nothing but the truth
Stop me if you've heard this one before
The whole truth is nothing but a good excuse
So long as you don't torture me with my past
Let's be honest; a secret silenced is a secret safe
-"Miami" TBS
Stop me if you've heard this one before
The whole truth is nothing but a good excuse
So long as you don't torture me with my past
Let's be honest; a secret silenced is a secret safe
-"Miami" TBS
***
Who's the masquerader now?
I feel like my exterior
Unintentionally mocks who I am.
Goading me to do something,
Prove it different.
The skin that I'm within is
Old and aged and worn,
Ready to slither off and reveal
the newness underneath.
It's but fear of the unknown
The uncertainty of this altered destiny
That keeps my quick fingers,
Duck taping the tears as revealed.
The innocent exterior,
Shiny enough to blind,
But those who pay attention see the scratches
Along the reflective surface.
As my words slip past my lips,
Betraying a truth I wasn't trying to hide.
It's not living on the edge,
If you're right on schedule.
Right?
Unintentionally mocks who I am.
Goading me to do something,
Prove it different.
The skin that I'm within is
Old and aged and worn,
Ready to slither off and reveal
the newness underneath.
It's but fear of the unknown
The uncertainty of this altered destiny
That keeps my quick fingers,
Duck taping the tears as revealed.
The innocent exterior,
Shiny enough to blind,
But those who pay attention see the scratches
Along the reflective surface.
As my words slip past my lips,
Betraying a truth I wasn't trying to hide.
It's not living on the edge,
If you're right on schedule.
Right?
***
R&SGirl says (5:04 PM):
lol
i made poli sci my b*tch todayBoy says (5:04 PM):
seems like someone's turning out to be quite the young lady
Girl says (5:04 PM):
and i tapped that a** on the table
LOLBoy says (5:05 PM):
well scratch that young lady comment, more like young pimp but I guess somehow it equates
Girl says (5:05 PM):
lol
i blame boondocksBoy says (5:06 PM):
your new rave eh
Girl says (5:07 PM):
lol i blame my cousinBoy says (5:07 PM):
and he's the supplier to your new drug
Girl says (5:10 PM):
damn straightBoy says (5:11 PM):
tsk and to think some people thought it was the American culture that would change you
***
Shelli out for now.
You Might Also Like
When wolves gather close,
preparing for their next attack,
You must stay quiet...
So you find yourself holding your breath,
till your body screams at you for oxygen...
You then despite the distress let the air out
With tight control,
despite your body's cries...
let it out little by little,
to avoid the sudden "whoosh"
And deep intake "GASP"
sound.
So you sink deeper under the covers,
Like it means something,
Like a child,
Wishing that when you finish praying
over and over and over
It will make a difference.
That there is no impending doom
Looming around...
I open my eyes to the darkness that surrounds,
I could still hear the voices,
It hasn't gone away...
And I start to cry,
Not because this could end badly for me if I say something...
But because I feel helpless,
And uncertain of the magnitude of consequence,
If I do...
So at 5 in the morning.
You camp out in your covers,
Praying for the best,
Knowing the worst....
And wait.
The time before the kill,
And wait...
preparing for their next attack,
You must stay quiet...
So you find yourself holding your breath,
till your body screams at you for oxygen...
You then despite the distress let the air out
With tight control,
despite your body's cries...
let it out little by little,
to avoid the sudden "whoosh"
And deep intake "GASP"
sound.
So you sink deeper under the covers,
Like it means something,
Like a child,
Wishing that when you finish praying
over and over and over
It will make a difference.
That there is no impending doom
Looming around...
I open my eyes to the darkness that surrounds,
I could still hear the voices,
It hasn't gone away...
And I start to cry,
Not because this could end badly for me if I say something...
But because I feel helpless,
And uncertain of the magnitude of consequence,
If I do...
So at 5 in the morning.
You camp out in your covers,
Praying for the best,
Knowing the worst....
And wait.
The time before the kill,
And wait...
You Might Also Like
Separated by routine,
we are all mourning in
parallel form the same silent tragedies...
...everyone has a secret
that would break your heart...
...if we could just remember this,
I think there would be a lot more
compassion and a lot more
tolerance in theworld...
-Mississippi
we are all mourning in
parallel form the same silent tragedies...
...everyone has a secret
that would break your heart...
...if we could just remember this,
I think there would be a lot more
compassion and a lot more
tolerance in theworld...
-Mississippi
You Might Also Like
Cuz space ships don't come equipped with rear view mirrors.
By Shelli 7:54 PM Daily life, introspective moods, poetryFor every fallacy my minds creates,
is a touch of reality that it just might happen.
As their lips contort until bent into a line
And the bellows of laughter
From deep within
sneaks past them,
I look on quietly.
Not hoping,
Not expectant,
Not melancholy.
I just sit and look...
Quietly.
is a touch of reality that it just might happen.
As their lips contort until bent into a line
And the bellows of laughter
From deep within
sneaks past them,
I look on quietly.
Not hoping,
Not expectant,
Not melancholy.
I just sit and look...
Quietly.
You Might Also Like
What else is there to say?
By Shelli 10:06 PM artist life, poetryAs the words graced your lips,
As the words reverberated in my eardrums,
As the ideas passed over synapses,
As the words formed in my brain,
As the sun began to set,
As the wind began to swarm us,
As the air grew chilly,
As the mood became unbearable,
As the night left us in descending silhouettes...
We walked away thinking,
This could be the last time.
This could be the last time
The last time for all the last times...
This could be the nail in the casket
The last straw on the camel's back
The long list of clichés, signifying the end.
The final end.
From the time my feet
Hit the gravel on the streetlight lit path
The crunch below my heels...
The light drizzle on my face
As the night's shower begins.
I take the curve,
I take the bend in the road,
I take the higher end,
Sticking in mud briefly.
Far more we can take?
The weariness sinks into my bones,
The heaviness weighing down each decisive step...
In the direction opposite and away.
I'm between streetlights now,
My shadows are casted in two directions,
The drizzle is getting heavier,
The welcomed cold drops...
In another world,
In another time,
In another universe,
In this one...
Maybe.
You Might Also Like
Summer is 4 days away...!
***
It never ceases to amaze me how a little "by the way", accidental "stumbled-upon" could change a mood so drastically. The feeling of exuberance crushed like a slapped mosquito in my sleep and dusted off...
Fed up. Fed up. Fed up.
***
Regardless of what they say...
How could it feel... this wrong?
From this moment...
-Portishead "Roads"
***
That she grew up
And realized the darkness of the world
In the unfortunate way
It shattered her rose-coloured glasses
And she curled in the fetal position
Of the dark pit that became her home
And cried, like she never did.
And prayed for a crack in wall.
A hopeful ray of light...
In a hopelessly hopeful situation.
***
Shelli out for now.
***
It never ceases to amaze me how a little "by the way", accidental "stumbled-upon" could change a mood so drastically. The feeling of exuberance crushed like a slapped mosquito in my sleep and dusted off...
Fed up. Fed up. Fed up.
***
Regardless of what they say...
How could it feel... this wrong?
From this moment...
-Portishead "Roads"
***
And I want to take the hand of the little girl I used to know...
That wasn't always happy but content
And if not content, an expert pretender.
That wasn't the strongest person,
But strong enough to get herself out of scrapes
And over and above obstacles placed in her path.
That was sweet and innocent, with the right touch of naivety,
And clung to the good old fashioned morals that she was taught.
That bounced back easily
And roll through with invisible hater blockers.
And if not content, an expert pretender.
That wasn't the strongest person,
But strong enough to get herself out of scrapes
And over and above obstacles placed in her path.
That was sweet and innocent, with the right touch of naivety,
And clung to the good old fashioned morals that she was taught.
That bounced back easily
And roll through with invisible hater blockers.
... and say I'm sorry to her
That she grew up
And realized the darkness of the world
In the unfortunate way
It shattered her rose-coloured glasses
And she curled in the fetal position
Of the dark pit that became her home
And cried, like she never did.
And prayed for a crack in wall.
A hopeful ray of light...
In a hopelessly hopeful situation.
Hold her hand and rescue her
From this place
Before it stains her spirit...
If only I could reach her.
...If only...
From this place
Before it stains her spirit...
If only I could reach her.
...If only...
***
Shelli out for now.
You Might Also Like
I become prolix.
I become prolix each time I keep flipping rhymes
to fit your riddles
I become prolix with each broken promise
I become prolix with each schizophrenic moment
I become prolix with each schizophrenic moment you have
That needs explaining.
I become prolix when my bones and mind grow weary.
I become prolix when my thoughts assault those around me.
I become prolix. I become prolix...
I become damn tired.
Fitting for a piper that can't fix the pipe that he plays.
I become prolix each time I keep flipping rhymes
to fit your riddles
I become prolix with each broken promise
I become prolix with each schizophrenic moment
I become prolix with each schizophrenic moment you have
That needs explaining.
I become prolix when my bones and mind grow weary.
I become prolix when my thoughts assault those around me.
I become prolix. I become prolix...
I become damn tired.
Fitting for a piper that can't fix the pipe that he plays.
You Might Also Like
Could you make this last...? This plane is all I have so keep it steady now.. because every inch you see is bruised.
By Shelli 5:36 PM poetry, Quotes, students, teaching, work Passing through unconscious states.
When i awoke i was on
The onset of a later stage... the headlights are beacons on the highway.
-"A movie script ending" DCFC
When i awoke i was on
The onset of a later stage... the headlights are beacons on the highway.
-"A movie script ending" DCFC
***
I am so tired. My feet hurts. My back hurts.
Today was another PTC (Parent Teacher Conference) for the Form 2s and Form 3s. We did it in a panel setting in the different classrooms.
My lord it was lonnnng..... but it was good. I got to meet all the parents of the students that I needed to see... those who I felt were not tapping into their full potential.
I was so pleased to find parents that cared about their kids, and are willing to work with teachers to make their children better individuals.
I'm too tired to expatiate on the subject.
***
On an other abstract random note...
my headaches always get elevated
to brand new peaks
when certain incessant sounds
keep hitting my airwaves.
In that moment of pain and endurance,
my fingertips crash harder against the surface
of the keyboard in desperate hope
that if the pain doesn't distract
then my words as they translate themselves
across my screen
shall soften the annoyances
that surround
and bring about some sort of peace...
some sort of inner peace that stop the voices.
to brand new peaks
when certain incessant sounds
keep hitting my airwaves.
In that moment of pain and endurance,
my fingertips crash harder against the surface
of the keyboard in desperate hope
that if the pain doesn't distract
then my words as they translate themselves
across my screen
shall soften the annoyances
that surround
and bring about some sort of peace...
some sort of inner peace that stop the voices.
Mosquito hums.
***
Ok... I figure my head aches sufficiently ache and my ankles are complaining enough from my heels for me to go take a warm shower and soothe them...
Shelli out.
You Might Also Like
Amen to that...
By Shelli 5:22 PM introspective moods, poetry, Silly boysBeware... she swears...
but it's some good poetry...
amen to that...
hmm...
Shelli out.
but it's some good poetry...
amen to that...
hmm...
Shelli out.
