Swamped

Sitting in a swamp
she jotted her thoughts down
Whatever she wrote
eventually sank down
What was she supposed to do?
Accept her faith,
and bath in mudded ink
and lie?
Or
Refuse to breath in sludge
and suffocate herself
and die?
Her
lined eyes,
mascarad lashes,
blushed cheeks,
sticked lips,
all was done to mask
her real pain matter of fact
real her to hide
the truth under the mud.
Sitting in the swamp
she asked herself:
Could she bear truth inside?
She scribbled the answer down
Before she could read
‘swamp’ed swallowed it down.

Beril
20-26/01/10

The 14th

It’s 14:14 on the 14th
One month left
to mandatory celebration,
and also three.

To cry secretly,
take your tears with you,
hide behind your fears
and ask:
Is it worth it?

To fool yourself,
take your words with you,
hide behind your work
and ask:
Well, did it work?

It’s 14:44 on the 14th
One month left
to necessary confrontation
and also three.

To laugh sincerely,
let your giggles out,
reveal your fervent desires
and reply:
I trust you.

To face yourself,
let your grief out,
reveal your devoted heart,
and reply:
I miss you.

Time is over.
It’s 15:15.
one month less
or three months more
does it matter?
No.

Beril
14/01/10

Good-love'd

Good-bye my love
once again
I leave you behind
to come back
and find nothing
has changed
not from,
my love.

Good-bye my love
that I haven’t shared,
not with love and self
not with anyone
not its presence,
ignored,
my love.

Good-bye my love,
my hope
that is you’ll hear
my silent cries
that haven’t reached my heart
will reach yours
somehow,
my love.

Good-bye my love
Good-bye.
I tried hard
to make it look good
but I feel so bad inside,
I’m trying to stop
calling you
love.

Good-bye
love
I trusted the words
of my ancestors
that love will be
out of sight
out of mind,
Good-love’d...

Beril
10/01/10

Quoted Poems: -Cursed- by Pelin K.

He who never intentionally hurt me,
He who never saw a fault of mine,
He who sacrificed so much for us,
He who I loved more than one could fathom,
He my angel with the blue slice,
Him I betrayed.
Him I agonized and left.
For forgiveness I beg,
With all my tainted purity.

Pelin K.
09/01/10

Toxic Inspiration

Blurred vision, tingling ears, impaired decisions
All pointed to the known fact:
the toxin was mixed within her blood.

Complicated dilemmas now made sense
as she could see the world as it is
She could even solve greatest enigmas
if she truly put her mind to it.

She noticed her growing famine,
her inevitable need for couple fingers
stroking her hair, touching her cheeks
followed by a kiss to her forehead
by a pair of clement and loving lips.

A warm wave swept her torrid body
A writhing ache residing in her stomach
sank between her ravenous legs,
her bladder filled up with noxious fluids
made pressure aggravating her craving
She asked herself again and again
How much did she want to dance?

She did not have the full control
not over her actions,
not over her desires
She was afraid of that wicked cell phone,
which was calling her to reach and regret
but she had a wish for a coming day
that she did not spend a minute near hell
nor in interrogation, nor in infliction.

That’s how she started typing
she believed she might be controlling
her yearnings by symbolizing, by confessing.
That’s how she started typing
to put a leash on her aspirations
and to make use of her demanding toxins.

Now the poem seems to be over
what’s next?
What will protect
her from entering the torment?
Needless to say:
Law and order with boiled chestnuts!

Beril
06/01/10

Tapped

drip. drip. drip.

I’m just another soul
whose dreams are stolen

gout. gout. gout.

Staring into emptiness
when sleeping is tough,
no color, no image, no hope

blob. blob. blob.

Thinking is believing
What a dreadful lie

drop. drop. drop.

Thinking is hurting,
Believing won’t be aiding

spot. spot. spot

Silence the harassment

fleck. fleck. flecked.

Beril
05/01/10

Don't

Something was wrong,
he knew.
Something was unrequited,
she felt.
The pieces were missing,
they discerned.
It was now time,
they were obliged to disinter
the old skeletons in the closet.

She bit her tongue,
chewed and swallowed
Her muteness echoed,
auto-silence got abstruse,
words got mislaid.

He cleared the air,
it felt so simple, so proper,
with candour and ease
anything was possible,
as long as it’s instant.

They heard a silent scream,
thrusting through awkwardness,
startling both figures,
it said:

“Break me apart!
Hit me, punch me, kick me
Recurrently, madly and hard!
Smash down everything,
or just anything I got!
Eradicate my body,
Wipe me out!
But Don’t.
Don’t devastate my passion,
my heart!”

And then there was vacuity.

Beril
05/01/10

I am joints

Like a diarthrosis,
the smooth head of femur
fitting flawlessly in to acetabulum
moving freely, without the tenderness
is the way it should be,
it’s between us:
you and me.

Like an amphiarthrosis,
the slightly movable intervertebral discs,
surrounded by nucelous pulposus absorbing shock,
crucial for one’s own kinesis, own fitness,
is the way you are to me,
without who I’d be paralyzed,
you are the necessity
I can move on.

Like a synarthrosis,
the cranial sutures in a vertebrate,
so rigid, such limited motion present,
still having some elasticity and compliance,
is the way I feel about us, the way I am,
divulging my feelings, revealing myself,
I am inarticulate with such a potential,
I am joints, I am the “pink girl in love”.

Beril
03/01/10