A brain is down and drown
in its sorrow
no signs of tomorrow
There is a glitch
in its creativity
mumble jumble
incoherent symbols
spinning out into
the northern winter
where Christmas is white
Irish coffee is desirable
hot toddy keeps out the cold
Santa is actually cuddly
Here, the boomerang effect fails
hot as hell
excessive sweat makes
the brain sad
She used to think
she had a type
the opposites attract type
crush after crush
left in crash fatigue on
high and dry freeway
Her hair is thinning
waistline is disappearing
She wonders anyone
will consider her
their type
She feels the desperation of want
simultaneously of unwanted
her lonely day stretches into the night
like the spilled vinaigrette
greasy, sour and stained
She gathers all pieces
starts swiping for the remaining hope
kind eyes
mean nose
lips that will make her cum
testosterone filled body
a sizable boner
She used to think
she had a type
the type that makes her feel 16
all over again
And now
she will settle for a type
that will soothe her heat rash
like an ice block
hard and cold
Hi to my followers and occasionally stop-by readers!
I am calling for writing poetry in collaboration with You.
A bit of background of myself. I love writing poetry though I received no formal training in doing so, nor have I well read classic English poetry. So I write fairly free form for lack of knowledge. I believe poetry is a great way to express an individual’s creativity.
If you are interested in writing collaboration pieces with me, please email me here, we can discuss topics and a way forward.
Looking forward to hearing from you! 😊
Cassa Bassa
In a blink of an eye
farewelled my childhood
there was more life’s demand
than playing in the sand pit
In a blink of an eye
waved goodbye to school years
there were more knowledge and learning
than burning the midnight oil
In a blink of an eye
jetted off in an aeroplane
there were different palletes of colour
than painting the same lanscape of my motherland
In a blink of an eye
so longed the selfish me
there is another life far more precious
than my own
In a blink of an eye
grieving the passing of my youth
there is room for more wisdom
than recounting the once undeniable outward beauty
Between these blinks
a curious mind explored the world
an earnest student looked for answers
a restless heart searched for a home
a woman strived for being whole
a hunger soul is still seeking peace
Two peas in a pod
One fell out
The other withered
the old pubs in the city
like prefessional hookers
they know the area too well
where are the wild bucks parties
who has the look of desparate loneliness
when are the tourist buses setting off
a bunch of impulsive shoppers
the beers have to be fresh
the liquors never diluted
little things to avoid aggression
you serve them well
they come back for more
even bring their mates
and ask for discount
during happy hours
they are cunts really
but who cares
pubs and hookers
the oldest trades
each gets what they open business for
cheers!
one
two
three
lovers
plant
a
tree
four
five
six
their
children
live
to
thrive
seven
eight
nine
generations
pass
down
the
line
ten
the
perfect
number
completes
the
circle
of
time
I am so excited that
someone picks on me
It’s like spinning the numbers of Lotte
and watching The ball fall
the more enraged you become
the more amusing I find
You want to break
the unbreakable happy bubbles
and yet your fang is not sharpened
how can you penetrate a genuine soul
with grand fear
kicking and screaming behind the dull ache
I stand centered
anchored in my security
not from cheer squad
nor face fallen admirers
nor false unsustainable praise
it solely comes from
the innate sense of knowing
who I am
and I am acceptable
in every way
So that is that
play away your little games
I only feel entertained
and a tinge of sympathy
and empathy by far
it was always
in the spring rain
you took my hand
and ran towards the pear blossoms
our stumbling footsteps
shook the petals
they snowed landing on my hair
you took them off piece by piece
when I looked up
to your concerning eyes
raindrops threaded through
such delicate lashes
you took my breath away
oh how I wished
for the rest of our life
I would take your name
to be mine
She window shops many times
at the downtown family owned jeweller.
With all the wealth she has,
there is no issue of wearing the piece
with pride on her elegant neck.
She understands
the charm of being unattainable.
So she stands admiring
through the crystal clear glass,
lets the emerald piece reflect of
her honey brown eyes.
They become envious amber,
burning her face to coral,
the same way she feels about
the summer love by the reef
long time ago.
It was like a spurge of fireworks,
and yet, it lingers for a life time.
She clears her throat
and holds back her tears.
It is not regret that she feels.
It is the illusion of love that she aches for.
Flicker of Thoughts 