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Posts Tagged ‘love-hate poetry’

for KBT (and you know who you be) 

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You’re not too sure at all  / / anymore

      if there are angels  /   /  or an afterlife  worth dying for

        you’ve crucified   /     /  the yesterdays of your life

by chasing fantasies/      /   and choosing to trade for a lie.

It wasn’t destiny    /       /     the ways you chose

                               \        \   to break and be

the road you found /       / to walk away

                              /       /  from your memories.

         And though  \       \   no one knows  

                          /        /    how many holes

                          \          \    your heart may hold

       it isn’t fair  /            /  to take those you promised to protect

                       /                /  in some misdirected step

       with you.  \                   \

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Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2010. All rights reserved.

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just as the water

dances up to the land

to form a coast

and the way

the sky and earth

pretend to meet

at the horizon –

every love

has its own geography.

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a landscape mapped across months

outlining open fields

that stay in full bloom

where laughter calls out

from the crown canopy

shading the brambled edges

that are meant to be wild

and forgotten …

.

these borders,

the imaginary lines

that mark the province,

are boundaries

that shrink and expand

with the love.

.

a territory always in flux –

a country threatened by coup

and surrounded by dragons.

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* Latin for “here are monsters” … a phrase supposedly found on old maps marking unknown or dangerous places

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Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2010. All rights reserved.

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“All I wanted”,  

she says licking tears

that taste like the spray

of a tropical storm,

“was for him to love me”.

.

Hiccuping breaths,

she lowers her eyes

to keep from sailing

back to her memories;

but her swollen lids

press into her face –

and remind her of his hands …

so she cries some more.

.

“I know”, 

she says,

“he loved me,

but he had to break me too”,

and that was the wave

that washed her up on my shores.

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Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2010. All rights reserved.

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I sleep late with my certainty

on Sunday morning, letting the

day break the spell of darkness

like it always has;  subtly at first

and then revealing the full

nature of our spinning.

I have learned to keep

the necessary things that prove

their place in the universe;

that show their accidental

designs in their morbid

architecture – free of ghosts,

or gods breaking laws

of the reality I am forced

to live and learn of.

Magic insults my mind,

my heart, the coffee in my cup,

the steam that makes its

presence known in sunlight.

I have no use for lines

and lies and lore

written in the darkness

of our early fears,

luring us from learning

done against the liturgy

that strives to steal the

wonder woven from letters

and numbers unwilling to bow

or break before superstition.

I believe in the seasons of the year

and the stretch of a day;

the length of shadows

extending further and becoming

less descriptive of their casters.

My garden has taught me

everything I need to know

of caring and kindness.

My aging face reminds me

I am just a metaphor

and that I must rest,

for I have worked all week

proving gravity and love.

 

Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2009. All rights reserved.

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You looking at me

like I don’t understand

     the pressures

You looking at me

like I’m just another

     face in the crowd

You looking at me

like we somehow could

     be strangers

You looking at me

like I don’t know

     why you’re screaming

     so loud

You looking at me

like I don’t understand

     the measures

You looking at me

like I ain’t never

     once been proud

You looking at me

like I’m not facing

     the same dangers

You looking at me

like you forgot

     what I’m about

You looking at me

like I ain’t come up

     through the vicious

You looking at me

like you may

     still have some doubts

You looking at me

the same way

     that you look

     through all my changes

You looking at me,

                    while I’m looking out.

Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2008. All rights reserved.

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