Submissions by Mundus
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
About M.
Life, you ask too much of me:
to roll her picture up
into a ball of oblivion, cast her
into the stormy world she came from.
It's beyond me.
I can't help but let the angry wind
lash at my hands and face;
it's a caress that makes me bleed,
a kiss that burns like a bullet hole,
and while it's true she never loved me
and I should rip her out of my life
like an old wilted flower,
she's still a beautiful red rose to me,
her thorns still fresh.
to roll her picture up
into a ball of oblivion, cast her
into the stormy world she came from.
It's beyond me.
I can't help but let the angry wind
lash at my hands and face;
it's a caress that makes me bleed,
a kiss that burns like a bullet hole,
and while it's true she never loved me
and I should rip her out of my life
like an old wilted flower,
she's still a beautiful red rose to me,
her thorns still fresh.
#bittersweet
#denial
#heartbroken #sadness
#heartbroken #sadness
130 reads
2 Comments
Gloom
A single dragonfly
could spark joyful words
in this glacial gloom,
instead,
flies darken the sun,
the glowing hive
I once called home.
could spark joyful words
in this glacial gloom,
instead,
flies darken the sun,
the glowing hive
I once called home.
#dark
#despair
#grief
#heartbroken
#sadness
118 reads
2 Comments
For Safety
Love, that old snake,
comes to thaw my heart
with its honey-sweet kisses.
I light a fire to keep it away
and my heart in the freezer.
comes to thaw my heart
with its honey-sweet kisses.
I light a fire to keep it away
and my heart in the freezer.
#rejection
#disappointment
#emptiness
#apathy
#bittersweet
118 reads
3 Comments
Golden Cloud Boy
my life in bello monte wasn't easy
I was no golden cloud boy
showering confetti on everybody
the streets were old and cracked
cigarette butts and trash everywhere
still we played baseball and soccer
as if our lives depended on it
nintendo afternoons and coca-cola
kicks to the shins and spit on my face
it was a big merry-go-round
of magic and misery
the 90's were a cake
laced with strychnine
still, I miss it all
maybe I was happy
and never knew it
maybe after all
I was a golden...
I was no golden cloud boy
showering confetti on everybody
the streets were old and cracked
cigarette butts and trash everywhere
still we played baseball and soccer
as if our lives depended on it
nintendo afternoons and coca-cola
kicks to the shins and spit on my face
it was a big merry-go-round
of magic and misery
the 90's were a cake
laced with strychnine
still, I miss it all
maybe I was happy
and never knew it
maybe after all
I was a golden...
#sadness
#memories
#TimeHeals #nostalgia
#TimeHeals #nostalgia
128 reads
6 Comments
Dreams On The Vine
So many dreams hang
on this weary vine,
so many worlds await
the touch of discovery.
They struggle and shiver through
winter's leaden whispers,
they glow, burnt by
a diamond tip of light
in the summertime.
Tears flow, though,
when these battered hands
can't reach them
as they recede into
an unfeeling sky,
fruits turned into birds.
on this weary vine,
so many worlds await
the touch of discovery.
They struggle and shiver through
winter's leaden whispers,
they glow, burnt by
a diamond tip of light
in the summertime.
Tears flow, though,
when these battered hands
can't reach them
as they recede into
an unfeeling sky,
fruits turned into birds.
#sadness
#loneliness
#heartbroken
#disappointment
#emptiness
112 reads
4 Comments
Perception Deception
What flows into my eyes
is but a hypothesis,
an unreliable blueprint.
Truth could be a rabbit,
always urging me to follow it
down a hole of possibilities.
All I have is a rainbow,
seven rays of infinity:
"there could be more",
four words that light
the spark of hunger.
is but a hypothesis,
an unreliable blueprint.
Truth could be a rabbit,
always urging me to follow it
down a hole of possibilities.
All I have is a rainbow,
seven rays of infinity:
"there could be more",
four words that light
the spark of hunger.
#earth
#universe
#philosophical
110 reads
1 Comment
Fraying Rope
After all these years,
you're still there,
crawling among memories
of your childhood
in the basement of life.
So much of you is gone,
so much of you is dust,
yet, you still ask
for a blanket, a kiss,
s bedtime story,
so I light another cigarette,
eat another sandwich
but it's never enough:
your tears keep burning me,
your cries keep tearing me apart
to sad little stripes
until gluing myself back together
becomes almost impossible,
yet, I'm still here.
This fraying rope of a man ...
you're still there,
crawling among memories
of your childhood
in the basement of life.
So much of you is gone,
so much of you is dust,
yet, you still ask
for a blanket, a kiss,
s bedtime story,
so I light another cigarette,
eat another sandwich
but it's never enough:
your tears keep burning me,
your cries keep tearing me apart
to sad little stripes
until gluing myself back together
becomes almost impossible,
yet, I'm still here.
This fraying rope of a man ...
#motivational
#TimeHeals
#frustration
#redemption
#bittersweet
99 reads
2 Comments
Bukowski And The Rain
Sometimes,
you find some relief
in reading Bukowski
while listening
to the simple music of rain,
how it keeps falling
unmanned, purposeless,
and yes, the years still
stab you in the dark
and no amount of cake
will sweeten the pain
of waking up again
wondering how the hell
are the others able
to stand still while
the world spins
like a mad dervish
but, for now,
the rain will do
and so will Bukowski.
you find some relief
in reading Bukowski
while listening
to the simple music of rain,
how it keeps falling
unmanned, purposeless,
and yes, the years still
stab you in the dark
and no amount of cake
will sweeten the pain
of waking up again
wondering how the hell
are the others able
to stand still while
the world spins
like a mad dervish
but, for now,
the rain will do
and so will Bukowski.
#sadness
#hope
#dark #inspirational
#dark #inspirational
134 reads
5 Comments
The Diamond
I need to pause, to look
at this diamond of a moment;
then, I will step inside
the warm core beneath
its tough skin.
There, light doesn't blind
but soothe the dulled eye,
the breathless mind
caught in a broken dance.
That's when I'll become free;
the diamond itself.
at this diamond of a moment;
then, I will step inside
the warm core beneath
its tough skin.
There, light doesn't blind
but soothe the dulled eye,
the breathless mind
caught in a broken dance.
That's when I'll become free;
the diamond itself.
#spiritual
#philosophical
118 reads
2 Comments
In Another Castle
Leading Mario through landscapes
of pixelated woods, water and fire,
we'd feel the hours disappear
in a haze of sunset pink-orange.
We never knew it wouldn't last:
8 bit colors weren't enough
to keep our own private Bowser away
from our tiny, frail kingdom of happiness.
Darkness was coming:
days and nights of newborn screams,
curses and tears hurled at ourselves and God;
our world reduced to a diorama of lava and ash.
Many times I've looked at my parents,
mostly nervously, silently,
many times I've thought: we're the...
of pixelated woods, water and fire,
we'd feel the hours disappear
in a haze of sunset pink-orange.
We never knew it wouldn't last:
8 bit colors weren't enough
to keep our own private Bowser away
from our tiny, frail kingdom of happiness.
Darkness was coming:
days and nights of newborn screams,
curses and tears hurled at ourselves and God;
our world reduced to a diorama of lava and ash.
Many times I've looked at my parents,
mostly nervously, silently,
many times I've thought: we're the...
#sadness
#conflict
#escape #disappointment
#escape #disappointment
144 reads
3 Comments
Ingratitude
I see you, mom, as you leave
a trace of yourself
on everything you touch:
the shallow glasses my sister
keeps filling up with Coke,
the doorknob that sends you
into a world of supermarkets,
pharmacies and banks,
the bright screen that passes
for a friend from Monday morning
to Sunday evening.
You leave a trace of yourself
on everything, on everyone,
yet, who gives back to you?
What's the reward for the years
that fall behind you
as you work your sad magic?
People and things
remain cold to your touch, ...
a trace of yourself
on everything you touch:
the shallow glasses my sister
keeps filling up with Coke,
the doorknob that sends you
into a world of supermarkets,
pharmacies and banks,
the bright screen that passes
for a friend from Monday morning
to Sunday evening.
You leave a trace of yourself
on everything, on everyone,
yet, who gives back to you?
What's the reward for the years
that fall behind you
as you work your sad magic?
People and things
remain cold to your touch, ...
#mother
#parent
#motherhood
#son
#responsibility
132 reads
1 Comment
Oneiros
A slippery mirror
upon which
the eye slides
as chameleon fantasies
bloom like children,
joining every theory
in a tapestry of dirt,
a shallow imitation
of meaning;
casting countless lives
like dandelion seeds
in a void that sings
of identities colliding,
refracting in a din
of opposite rainbows:
the mind chiseled
by the translucent hands
of sleep.
upon which
the eye slides
as chameleon fantasies
bloom like children,
joining every theory
in a tapestry of dirt,
a shallow imitation
of meaning;
casting countless lives
like dandelion seeds
in a void that sings
of identities colliding,
refracting in a din
of opposite rainbows:
the mind chiseled
by the translucent hands
of sleep.
#dreams
#night
#sleep
113 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Mundus