Miscellaneous

THIS POETRY LAY

My poetry lay hungry,
over-indulged on missing vocals
and absent sound,
under-fed from swallowed emotion
and buried tears –
throat-lumping in the name of opinion
better kept to shadowy under-jaws
and burbling stomach acid;
cocooning noisily with butterflies
of rage whose lead-heavy wings
and straight jacket veins
pin themselves to freedom
with only my dry throat
a means to escape.

My poetry lay hungry
while I feed on its promise
to blanket my attempt
to make it known.

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 12 October, 2017

ORIGAMI

Your lies are like Origami –
they all start from the same shape
but take many forms

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 3 July, 2017

DIVERSION

Sometimes I lose myself in you
whilst wondering
how I ever survived
without your distraction

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 3 July, 2017

HOW DIVINE

How Divine

How divine
that thought can both
dress and undress the mind
without even leaving it

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 11 August, 2016

KEYBOARD ASSASSIN

I have, once more,
jailed my vision,
splicing diamond-cut thoughts with this
cross-bred and violently bleeding doubt that
feeds from the stomach and shreds the sanest of minds

It is here this rampant indecision
squawks in wordless tongue,
lashing its disposable fancies
(arrow-tipped precision)
at my shaking core,
bowels emptying
alongside any creative thoughts of semblance

All that is left to bear witness: a sweaty palm or two
– and silence –
as the webbing of my fingers um and ah
hovering, like midnight fireflies
over the speech-impeded womb
of my QWERTY keys

And, inside, I hear laughter

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 13 June, 2016

THE MOUTH OF SILENCE

The Mouth of Silence

Fluid
the mouth of silence
while the drowning poet
writes to starve the
mind of words

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 22 November, 2015

OPIATE ONIONS

 

Opinions
are an
opiate onion:
they sting
they burn
but they taste
oh so
delicious
on your tongue
when you speak them

 

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 17 June, 2015

STUNTED

Where, I ask, exhausted, did my creativity go?
Was it shadowed by my many burdens
and finally let go?
Did I forget to save a seat for it
while I rode the highway of life –
carrying every ounce of every day
in a heavy sack by my side?
Did I leave my creativity far behind
and outside of the boundaries
I once hungered to avoid reviving in my mind?
Or has it leapt ahead of me,
light-years away to a time
I could never expect to write or reach?
And will it only greet me again
in the next life
in shoes that another more
worldly and traveled other would wear
better than the ones I, alone, attempt to fit?
Have I,
just a here-and-now speck of dust
that tumbles aimlessly along,
reached the limit I somehow self-inflicted
earlier on
to stop me from rhyming more
about what I might never know,
or perhaps, am never meant to find?
Shall my questions be the soothing pets
that follow me like loyal friends
but somehow stay an arms length away
and whisper secrets I could never
– even with a stethoscope –
allow myself to hear?
Knowing what I know, would I detain them
to keep them near?
Shall I, neither ancient, nor elder,
try to understand the heart-beat silence that,
like a disease, runs impatiently through these veins?
If it returned, would my creative other
fall like pounding rain into my arms and dissolve itself of any sin
by becoming, yet again, a part of what it once was in?
Would my creativity starve, or feast,
by sinking and syncing deep within?
If I handed it the keys, I am certain
we would both deserve to win;
but neither I can, and neither it will,
because without each other
we simply
– both –
are frozen, less, and still.

 

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 26 October, 2014

TO HAUNT

 

These long silences
used to haunt me –
now every ghost
of every memory
comforts me wisely
instead.

 

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 3 March, 2014

I HAVE LOST

I Have Lost

I have lost
you: lost myself
in the search
to find us both.

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 21 May, 2014

VOCAL

 

I can be silent
but vocal
if you only had eyes
to listen.

 

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 18 February, 2014

ENDLESS PATH

concrete emotion
part water, part sand,
stiff and retrodden
imprinted by hand

unbroken dazing
obsessive addiction
weathered disfigurement
stolen ambition

frozen with purpose
externally veined
denied all surrender
exhausted terrain

captured in burden
expressionless pain
mindless estrangement
decisively plain

distantly suffering
obsessive beliefs
helpless remorse
escaping relief

painful receding
numbless appeasement
gone now, the bleeding
here, quiet, the easement

 

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 3 May, 2014

MAD

 

each of us
as insane
as the other
– you, more so than I –
we both repeat
at once

 

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 9 December, 2013

SECURITY BEHIND INSECURITY

Instead of foraging around making connections
with cables and wireless systems that
bluetooth and sync their way
into our pocket technologies
and portable screens

(tablets of which we self-prescribe
and regulate through overdose
and comatose keenings of stillness
and waking dreams)

why, instead
don’t we fool around
making connections
with others of like mind and brainwaves
instead of radiowaves and
the mastered minds of computer waves
and lift an arm and
really wave
beyond our windows to
real people
in real time
rather than peeping
like a holographic Tom through
tabs and browsing windows,
multi-tasking time in a state of mime
like it’s about to expire

(like the wireless wires will break)

and all that we’ll have is
all we can physically take
from this moment awake we call ‘life’
– a mistake.

What else is left now
in this vegetative
one man one woman state
where we live to close our eyes
and shut our minds and wait for
the modem-router to re-dial and
get our avatar back online and
our friends back into our
multi-dimensional realer-than-time
time?

Pseudonyms solving identity changes
emerge without birth
with designer non-faces, as
now that we no longer need imperfection
or meaning or privacy
or even perception
we alter ourselves to impress our connections
with whom we connect without really connecting
by hiding as one almost nearing detection
and tip-toeing straight past
concern or reflection

(invisible firewalls at our protection)

our own walls around us
with keys we can capslock,
screening ourselves from unfriended friends,
and playfully sated by charm and ‘pretends’
that will mean next to nothing
when fantasy ends.

Where ARE the connections we make
in this digital age
that we rarely turn off since
the internet craze has become a new God
that we dial to be saved
as we sacrifice friends we once made
face to face
with those we are longing to meet
as we race across networks
with hunger and haste and
with spambots and data and viruses made
to detect and infect
and reject, just for starters,
and that’s not to mention
the ads and the logins and
passwords that lock us
from somewhere far yonder
that doesn’t exist
as we grow ever fonder
of pics and of pixels and
texts of expression
– the reality of which
we could lose in a second.

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 10 September, 2013

HALF WRITTEN

burning
these eyes
fear what I see

– incomplete poetry –

a part of you
unfinished
yet alive
becomes lost again

half written
this Frankenesque fate
seals your mystery

locked within
a writer’s typed notes
– and unaware –
I sense you feel
the end
once more
encroaching

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 11 January, 2013

RUSH

 

The school girls
with the messiest hair
are my daughters

The ones with the
fallen socks
and the untucked shirts

So concerned are they
with getting there
so they can come home later

That nothing but
Armageddon
can stop them in their tracks

 

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 11 August, 2011

PENNED DANCE

 

Barely living,
one’s dance
doth animate;
one’s words,
rhythm providing,
doth speak.

 

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 22 June, 2011

BIPOLAR

 

Standing here
I stood my ground
floating
closer
than the distance

Further
than ‘ahead’ I saw
me
fighting for resistance

Fast
unmoving
– not alone –
with only me
I stayed

Fumbling
– screaming loud –
to hear it:

. . . silence . . .

yet I disobeyed

Cocooned in air and
muffled
by these fitful gulps
I dared not breathe I
marked out time
in vacant space
I owned – yet
not yet: not for me

Thinking hard
I cleared my mind
– illusioned, lost –
yet
memories traced

Would I
(should not) leave
I’d try

The where?
Just ‘some’
to
ANY place

 

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 30 October, 2007

THE MOON

 

As I watch
the moon slowly

vanishes

behind the clouds
to appear again
in someone else’s vision
all white and shiny
and virgin.

 

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 26 May, 2002