Paper ButterfliesA cut, a tear, a fold, slice of color and a cut or two,and another paper butterfly is born.IV drips in the handkeeping everything in placewhile the cuts and tears and foldskeeps going on.One thousand, six hundred and sixty six.That's the numbershe was told to make.One thousand, six hundred and sixty six. Until she can get a wish. A nice nurse had told her so,and shown her how to make thembut she had only made thirty out of the one thousand, six hundred and sixty sixpaper butterflies.It seemed like such an impossible numberthat one thousand six hundred and sixty sixbut our patient needed that wishjust li
Never Lovers' DanceDoes she think I don't remember her-Her golden skin?Her blue bird voice?Yes, I remember the spiral of our feetThe sway of her hipsThe bend of my backThe least intimate dance of imaginary loversDoes she think I didn't notice we never knew the same space?Of course my weeping heart,my sighing heart,always knew
Statue In The RainI'm not dead because I'm still breathing,I'm not dead because I'm finally living.I'm still here because you always need me,I won't leave you if you don't leave me. I'm still here, right where you left me,The statue in the rain, ready to give you glee.When you feel sad, you know where to go,I'm not dead, I'm here for you and I hope you know. That I'm still here, and always will be for you,That I'll remain as long as I know you want me to.That the statue in the rain will always be waiting for you,Because Jennifer, I love you.
Heart of Iceshe wishes for a heart of icea heart to hide her fearsshe wishes for a heart of icea heart to freeze her tearsbut if her heart of ice meets firethen perhaps it will thawfor if her heart of ice meets fireshe will surely pour out her emotions raw
NovaWe live such fragile livesLike lanterns:So beautiful, burning brightWith incomprehensible wonder and energy,Yet as willing to shine as to shatterInto glimmering bits of glass.Although the cold wind's handHas reached in and extinguished your flame,I will always remember your light,Your warmth, and your passionWhen I gaze at the stars above
This in Our HeartsFaith is not to be governedby the vile will of you humans.It is the very pulse of your soul.The very core of the moralitythat drives you.Like you, it may be tainted & controlledbut only by your given gift of free willcan this take place.Like light, it holds the power toguide and to free, just as it holdsThe potential to fade away into the darkness.Like a parasite, can it consume youbut only by the filthy handsof invited demons.Faith is both gift & privilegeaccepted into heart & mindby the words of a truthful tongue.In days to come, shall you hearthe drums of war over & aroundThe plains of existence, and f
MakarI am discovering poetry in lines of genius -- fragments of a broken existence where only misfit pieces build the puzzleand discarding the words like carbon dioxideThey are drowning me in a dictionary of experiences -- inhale a panicked definition of life and exhale an ocean of ink and paperwith no surface in sightevery artist should die for their passion
Horror Haiku: One Cold LoverI have a verysweet love, though I'd say that shecomes off as quite coldit's not the fact thatshe has no head or hands orshe's rotten with moldit's not that I've, withso much grace, taken her armsand eaten her faceI'd say it's more thatshe never kisses back, andshe won't bat an eyeOh, my dear reader,surely you didn't think thatmy love was alive!
Guys Are Like Cats"Guys Are Like Cats"Over trash cans and through the streetsHe followed her hypnotizing scentAround the corners he had to sneakBut he believed this was time well spentHe followed her all the way homeAnd sat on the front steps of her porchHoping to hear moans and groans If her father caught him he'd be torchedBut still he climbed that treeThe one outside of her roomNo matter how far the view may beHe brought his camera for better zoomThrough the window he saw her hairGod, she looked beautiful that dayWith his jaw dropped he staredSadly, there was no other wayHe had tried to gain her attentionEvery method he c
Post MortemI am a walking, talking universe of dead poetswho tattoo their stanzas into my fleshwith ghostly, typewriter fingers.I live and breathe their worldly disasterslike a nicotine addiction I've never had.Drowning in their scribblesI kiss their shoreline romances,envy their Annabel Lee's,& carry their hearts in my heart.I am 7am coffee on Sunday mornings:a half drunk, hungover limerickwaiting to happen.I am jealousy:nothing more than weak words, & a tongue-tied cliche-but death becomes me.
Immortal ButterflyImmortal Butterfly:I remember the Immortal ButterflyTranslucent wings that drank from the skyGlittering dust would fall with every flapLike warm tears dripped upon my tiny backI would always chase this butterflyas it makes its way across the skyWhen I look I feel as though I can forgetThe painful needles that twist into my backI would always dream of this butterflyand I wonder if I could ride it and fly in the skyWhen I dream about it, I don't regretNot being able to leave this tiny bedSometimes I can't see the butterflyMy vision turns grey like a stormy skyI get scared during those times, because it makes me thi
What is wrong with me?I'm a monsterI'm a freakSave yourselfStay awayI lash outI breakI hurtI'm sorryI lost controlFor one momentPushed over the edgeIt was too muchI can't believe itWhat is wrong with me?How could I do this?It won't happen againBut still stay awayWhy not?Why be near me?What good is there to hold by?Theres one light leftOne candleOn the outsideTo relight the others inside
A Night at Pinetop's TavernSomewhere in the back alleys of the city's older section there was a crumbling brick building that had been around since before ragtime music was popular. Hanging above a faded green door that led down to the building's cellar was a wooden sign, and despite the peeling paint, you could still make out the bar's name: Pinetop's Tavern. Nobody really knew when Pinetop's first opened; local folks would tell you it had been there since time began, and the world had grown up around it. It was one of those places where the lighting was always dim and the cigarette smoke never dissipated and the cloud you were breathing now had probably been around
Mabonthere are dead leavessprouting from her amber spine,reaching with child-fingersto devour the sun.her skin is freezing,seeping winter throughnovember pores.seeking warmth,the whiskey tonguesof godless boyswish to decipherthe atlas of her thighs.counting the sleepy firefliesalight in her lungs- there is wanderlust churning & warmingher frostbitten heartstrings.swinging pendulum hips,"I am the tease of autumn flames.I breathe in mint sunsets,& gasoline dreams."
I Comfort MyselfWith a warm drink, whispering secrets to my own reflection.The struggles that plague me, though none may know,Are only for the ears of my quiet mirror, who smilesSoftly, warmly and with care. He tells me, I'm fineI've done well for now and soon I may finally rest.Though the silence continues to press upon me,Weighing upon my soul like an iron crate.Still I find comfort in whispering secrets,If only to my own reflection - holding a warm drink...-Chen Yuan Wen, 17th October 2012
Horror Haiku: Animal TemptationIt seems as if Ilove the wrong place and wrong timeTo the best ofmy knowledge, it wasnot I who committed theseunthinkable crimesBut with what proof, youdemand? Well, if you must know,I will tell you why:I haven't the teethnot such a bone-crunching grin,I haven't the needto devour yourkin, nor rend them apart tilthey're missing their limbsI don't want to suckthe blood from their veinsI know for a factthat I am quite saneQuite normal, some say, if Imay use this quotationI know I'm immuneto animal temptationNo, I did not takethose children of yours,so soft in the flesh, soplump in their faces