Catching Words

No wind, just an intense fume of warmth, and the fake lights of a city night
A need to create, a need to feel, a need to catch words that don't come to me.

This is the dead end of certainty, the logic that bounds phrases be gone,
There are no meanings and there's no flow, what has my mind done?

Immovable with no way to go, I wish to fly or fall but obviously I can't
If I were to ask for help, my mouth won't move, I be stuck with a lack of words.

What it is there to convey anyway? The solitude, the darkness, the person that I am?
I don't have a muse nor inspiration, no precise sentiment nor a specific memory...

Is this a waste of time, lost in the wonder of nothing, perhaps an unfulfilling wish to be?
These are words, objects, logic and a rhythm of waves that still don't make sense.

I just want to catch them all: feelings, memories, statements, ideas, feelings
Catch them, make them my own, let them be a pattern created from my soul.

Absurd that nothing comes up at this time, at this night, at this hour,
Everything seems to be living endlessly in a powerless breath.


Jumping in space, net in hand, I still can't catch those stardust words,
Am I wrong in trying to catch them just on my own?

It doesn't matter anyway,
It is a fruitless adventure...

To catch words in a mute space...with nobody to help.

Not Alone in Loneliness

I have memories of you that live in my brain.

I have the pictures of you that remain in my cell.

I have the songs you sent me, lyrics that speak your truth.

I have your eyes that see me through my own reflection in the mirror.

I have your scent impregnated on my skin that came to be after your invisible touch.

I have the love you gave me, penetrated in my heart after you affections reached my fragile soul.

I have your fingerprints all over my body where your words were written with careless bittersweet ink.

I have pieces of you and me that were combined after a lovely poisoned time, time that once lived it never comes back.

If I have all of these, then...tell me why is it, that after your disappearance, I feel profoundly lonely?

Below It All (Poem)

Late one night, my last thought flew in my half sleep

Was not a burning idea, but an impulse I couldn’t leap


So, I sneak out of the house only gathering my shoes

But quietly as to not awake any of relatives of course


I passed the main hall and opened the main door

And in a few minutes, instantly, I was on the street floor


There was no one around to see me in this state of trance

But doing something like this, shouldn't had given me a feeling of unease


And I looked up to see the common starry sky

Til something caught up my curious sight


And there he was, a man flying and observing above us all

Became like a celestial being into my eyes who could not fall


And I thought to myself, ‘What is he doing up there?

This man looks from Earth but why alone in that empty space?



Then I suddenly felt incredibly special at the spectacle

And wondered if it was only me who only saw him as a miracle


Like when people wished upon a star or what people see in constellations

Or whether the clouds in human’s mind clear of all speculations


Then, I realized, that in just a tiny single moment of eternity

That things like these are one and a hundred feelings that occurring daily


Although what is up there doesn’t affect our destiny much

It can comfort or frighten our troubled souls


This universe may be enormous and strange

But here at home is what everything matters the most


And so I decided, that man with wings I would follow

Informed and aware of my fears, for sure this list I will narrow


Once I saw him land back home, my amusement grew

I knew him all along and couldn’t believe it on my own.


I heard of his new point of view and kept a secret what I saw

Since he would not say anything about his single flight


But I for surely told him “We get a nice view from below it all and what I saw far up,

Is the same luminary star that brightens my life. The answer was nearer from what I thought”

 ~~~

This is a poem in response to another poem found at hitRECord, which was revised by no other than my boyfriend (who doesn't know it yet, but what can I do? lol) Joseph Gordon Levitt (aka: RegularJoe) :
"Above It All"

Also, I colored an old drawing and called it "Aqua Fairy:

Not sure what exactly to do with it, but it is pretty, right?

So, I have been creative as of lately, it might be due to the hitRecord news and its TV show plus, I have had the time too.




Until next time, ciao~

Tiny Droplets (Own Writing)

Tiny droplets of water fall from the sky;

Tiny droplets that feed the soul of soil and more.

Tiny droplets of oil fall from a bottle;

Tiny droplets that are serve to cook a feast.

Tiny droplets of bitter juice fall from a squished lime;

Tiny droplets that season everyday aliment.

Tiny droplets of wine fall from a fancy glass;

Tiny droplets that shall never be drank and savored.

Tiny droplets of saliva fall from a mouth;

Tiny droplets that talk about everything and nothing.

Tiny droplets of blood fall from a wound;

Tiny droplets that are worth more than words.

Tiny droplets of sweat fall from your forehead;

Tiny droplets that reflect hard and tedious work.

Tiny droplets of love fall from these cheeks;

Tiny droplets that range from:
                Joy to depression,

                Hope to anguish,

                Laugh to desperation,

                Satisfaction to despair,

                Certainty to doubt,

                From the fulfillment of a feeling to the emptiness of solitude,

                From the you over there to the me who is here.

All these tiny droplets that are shed for you and me;

Tiny droplets that are yours and mine to keep.

"Without Inspiration" (Translated Poem)

There is no inspiration whatsoever,
From my ink the voices no longer speak and no verses can be done.
Nobody comes out to wish me farewell, there are no blue colored petals around, and no journey takes place.
It is in the solitude of exile that I write nothing.


Outside there is a war taking place in distant worlds.
Men rebel against statues, fervent monsters made out of stone.
Cities fall one after another; their dead ones also fall in the drainage.
However, in my house nothing happens as I hopelessly search in an empty mass of ideas.
It is a time of death in this war, but it is revoltingly unknown to me.


I would like to write to you where I came from, where I was born, and when I saw you.
Nothing is born from my pen and is absurd to even think about it.
I would like to your ear, narrate the story of this world.
Not the one that falls into ruins, aflame as it passes through the window.
This world shall be the one that I build in your image as it stains these words.
The world that I think about, it is the one where your nameless memory confuses me painfully.
In which I have fallen asleep sobbing in dreams with no devil;
And ampoules grow out of my arm which break my bones into pieces.


Outside on the streets invaded by tearful echoes, there are the corpses of children.
Rats that devour their eyes, larva, and a militia with no flag, even tornadoes.
I don’t know how to describe it, for my eyes can only find leftovers.
Sometimes I write in old papers, but soon they are forgotten and begin to rot.
They become yellow and small, rolling out of the kitchen cabinets
Some of them putrid, green, saying nothing
Others, cry, scream, and sob, in despair words of silly and ungrateful love
Divulging:
“I love you when everything has turned monochrome
When the veins in my neck have swollen to the point that blood gets injected into my eyes
I love you in the days when nobody finds you,
And that one time you learned my name, yes that time I also loved you”
Then it all goes back to oblivion.


There is nothing in this life that I haven’t told you about.
Ignoring it, my pen shakes wishfully to find you once again
To tell you a hundred times more “I love you” without ending my prudence
It is all in vain, in my mind only memories come out.
In this world where armies have been dispersed
They go to the mountains where they live and eat each other.
Some are men, others are beast, some idols that proclaim new regimens.
These are also devoured by monsters from faraway lands.
Knocking at my door at midnight, from my comatose state, from my dream they want to separate me.
They shattered glass, ripped the entrance with their fingers
Their dirty claws covered in blood are pushing my stomach as if it was common meat
The poisonous tongues that taste the socket of my eyes, my neck
They’re mundane sketches from the underworld, who snatch the verses from my hands
Your stolen world is hanging in the wind, printed on the amputated pieces of torn papers.


At three in the morning this piece of paper has been given to me.
My mind does nothing but to hang on to this time with no minutes.
To this course without trail in which I write you this verse
Nothing else matters, for today I know nothing, nor anything exist in between these lines.
The nothing crosses the ocean, the tree is no longer it, the aunts no longer climb, and no rain falls.


Nobody contents my letters, nobody relaxes, nobody cares and nobody does anything to howl.
From my verses only silence sprouts...


It is a tremendous bastard in which nor you or I could hear each other, but one in which both of us remain quiet.

~~~

This translated poem is dedicated: To the man who easily brings me inspiration with the power of just simple but profound words. To the one who easily takes it all away in the same way, and who changes my empty nights filled with solitude.

~~

~
This poem is originally written in Spanish by a good friend of mine, you can read this poem and more poetry in his blog:

 Edo's funhouse: Sin Inspiracion 

Thank you for reading

'One, Two, Three" (Own Writing)

One, two, three days passed and I couldn’t make my wishes to the sky.

One, two, three stars I wanted to see fall across the heavens.

One, two, three wishes I thought, who knows maybe more…

Once outside a fresh and peaceful time came by.

To the infinite sea of stars my eyes ponder over.

Trees moved to the rhythm imposed by the wind’s waves.

One, two, three hours but nothing out of the ordinary happened on the first night.

One, two, three times I went outside to find a clouded sky on the second night.

One, two, three hours of rain and thunders took place on the third night.

One, two, tree, times I lost my chance to implore for my wishes to come true.

One, two, three regrets I carry and hoped to wish for them to go away.

One, two, three mistakes I have done, who knows maybe more…

Only for you I could have wished to be forgiven.

Too many moments I could have wished to be changed.

Free of my guilt I could have wished, for everything to be different…

One, two, three and uncountable times I have regret hurting you.

One, two, three and infinite apologies are not enough to revert time.

I couldn’t wish to the vain skies under a meteor shower.

I couldn’t redeem myself during that instance.

I couldn’t do anything, but hope for a better tomorrow.

Hope that in one, two, three, or less days, you will like me as a friend once again.

Source: Mangafox
Manga: Dokuhime
Edited by me

Why Won't You Hold Me, My Dear? (Own Writing)

 I'm broken in every possible way

then, why won't you hold me my dear?

I would like to cry, to yell and scream at your face,

 why won't you hold me, my dear?

I would like to hit you, to kick you and embrace you too

then, why won't you hold me my dear?

I would like to hurt you as much as you hurt me,

why won't you hold me, my dear?

I would like to wound you in ways that nobody has ever done

then, why won't you hold me my dear?

I would like to cut you deeply to make an everlasting scar,

why won't you hold me, my dear?

I'm broken in every possible way and drowning in my sorrows
then, why won't you hold me my dear? 

I would like to hurt you because... I love you

why won't you hold me tight and then drop me to the ground, my dear?

I would like to be special for a second and then left to rot for an eternity.
 So, would you please hold me once my dear?

Image Source: Zerochan 

Image Artist: Iwai Ryo

Who Cares Anyway?

Who Cares Anyway?

I wish for my sadness

to be washed away,

but my eyes are tired of trying to cry

this pain away.

There is nobody to blame,

it is just me and who cares anyway?

I wish for my loneliness 

to be cast away,

but my arms are tired of searching for someone

to carry my solitude away.

There is nobody to hug,

it is just me and who cares anyway?

"A Mad Migraine"- Another Poetic Writing de Gio

A Mad Migraine

Horrifying is the sight of myself in the mirror, I am fake in every way to forget the pain. 

Pretending to be alright, to be static at the adversity and smiling to the present. 

It is insignificant to even consider these feelings, but the dopamine in the brain seems to be scarce. This pain makes me think that maybe the glucose intake is not enough to produce the energy for me to run.

I am a coward with wings of a phoenix, pretending to arise when fallen, but the truth is that I am still chained to a pitiful hole. My poor vision is blurry as it is, but from time to time in days like these…I remember who I am and the blurriness becomes dizziness in a frozen ocean of tiny salty drops. 

Intoxicated in the eco of silence becoming familiar with darkness, time freezes and I am able to stop the synapses in my brain. My neurons no longer control my body and it becomes a mystery on how I can perceive the ache of my existence. Memories need to be forgotten, and in vain I try to isolate them.  It is stupid and ridiculous as to the reason to even attempt it.

 My awareness comes back after hitting the coldness of water; the touch is delicate, intense and effective for it penetrates my senses.  Temporary it is, for the numbness comes back since it is cue that magic pills are working in my empty body. It is unusual to not feel and be hurt, scratching the first layer of skin of the mask, forgetting the label which was given at my birth and ignoring the universe for seconds it is my temporary peace. 

I wanted to become clean but the nausea in my body narrates a different story.  Is this guiltiness? Or is this just another sign of my brain to give up for tonight? Either way, I should just give up myself to the darkness, to embrace Morpheus in a desperate effort to kill loneliness, and to bury you and me in a coffin that should never be opened.  Your presence that remains in my comatose state can’t be hurt, love or hate. I am well conscious that I played the role I had to perform in my own comedy, but I still can’t smile at the joke. The dreams I had, the hopes, my faith, and the wishes have been capsulated in a Pandora box… a sinful bliss that I can no longer afford to even have a glance in my dreams. Bittersweet torture I desire to depart from you, to detach my consciousness, to leave you behind and continue my resolution to remain a doll. The doll whose smile remains painted, the body that remains unmoved, and the stoic heart that can’t feel the tender touch of your sadistic words.    

I am broken, and what am I hoping? Is it to disappear or to embark into a voyage of illusions? I no longer know myself.  

Giovanna H.

More of "L'Assaymphonie" and Just Writing Stuff: 'Single Tear'

 A Single Tear

'“Haven’t you heard? The malicious desire that hides deep in your soul, it resounds in the middle of nights where the chill of the wind penetrates your bones.

“Can’t you hear it?” Right here in your chest it hides itself and wants to come out. It pleads to be vomited from your biased consciousness.

“Haven’t you felt it? It is nauseous and sick to the point that you scream in laughs, and no eloquence could be found in these vicious actions.

“Can you feel it?” It is burning in the whispers of madness that is reflected in those tears, those sweet, delicate and inoffensive pears whose existence is insignificant in here.

“Haven’t you seen it?” That ridiculous smile tells the story of silent plans to murder the one you are. It will slowly consume you after tasting every piece of bitterness flesh coming from your body.

“Can’t you see it?” It is a pity for time has already ripped and devour your insides, there is nothing left in that hollow mask you used to called your face.

I want to dance in this humorous darkness that evokes my truly wish, a perfect assassination that no other has ever witness to a composed serene beat. Everything happens inside a ferocious stare whose direction and fatal ending lies in the infinite ceiling, the wall that appeases and incarcerates my creative intent to incinerate, slaughter, destroy, torture, and corrupt that egocentric face of yours that reminds me of my own."

Giovanna H.

~~~~~~~~~

I wrote this the other night while listening to "L'Assaymphonie" over and over again while starring at the ceiling. I bet many of you have had those type of feelings in which you want to hurt someone just to feel alive. Specially, during long nights in which madness just runs wild...Perfect song to go with this mood, isn't?

This is the best translation I have found online:

http://lyricstranslate.com

The AssaSymphony (The Assasinate Symphony)

Tonight is
an unbearable insomnia
Madness waylays for me
I am what I escape from

I suffered
This cacophony
Which saws my head
Boring harmony 

It says to me
You will pay your offences
No matter what happens
We drag our chains
Our sorrows

I dedicate my nights
To the assasymphony
To requiems
Killing by frustration
what I sow
I dedicate my nights
To the assasymphony
And to blasphemies
I confess I curse
All those who love each other

The enemy
Crouching in my mind
Celebrates my defeats
Without letting up it outbraves me

I deny
the fatal heresy
Which gnaws at my soul
I want to be reborn
To be reborn

I dedicate my nights
To the assasymphony
To requiems
Killing by frustration
what I sow
I dedicate my nights
To the assasymphony
And to blasphemies
I confess I curse
All those who love each other

The violins of my life cry
The violence of my desires
Siphoned off symphony

Disconcerting concerto
I play without touching C
My talent sounds fake

I drown my boredom
In the melomania
I kill my phobias
In the disharmony

I dedicate my nights
To the assasymphony (assasymphony)
To requiems (to requiems)
Killing by frustration
what I sow

I dedicate my nights
To the assasymphony
And to blasphemies
I confess I curse
All those who love each other

I dedicate my nights
To the assasymphony (assasymphony)
I confess I curse
All those who love each other

http://lyricstranslate.com

Source: http://bit.ly/sChcrm 

By:Maia

Inspirational Pain

I actually wrote a "poem" a week ago, and I just wanted to post it before I forget.

I had a horrible migrane that day and afterwards I wrote these few lines...yeap, a horrible attempt to make a poem that doesn't rhyme.

 Inspirational Pain

   The winter season I clearly miss; time when piercing cold air I was.

Was I the air that you breathed during all those white, innocent and restless days?

Days in which I penetrated you, as simple air in each cell of your body and mind.

   Mind if l could come back the next season and stay?

Stay and let me be a warm wind around your body.

Body that I will wrap and embrace in an intense heat that will never let you leave.

Leave me alone again in this black world, and in return I shall suffocate you and forever let you go.

   Go and depart away from my heart, thus killing you on the affectionate summer time.

Time of aloofness shall come, and rip you open from the inside I could only would if…

   If only the case would be that you no longer care about me on that significant season
.

Season that now I dearly miss, since I was the air that insanely loved... and loves only you.

Giovanna H.

I bet I broke like thousands of grammatical rules, but it is the first poem I have ever finish...
Well, is not really finish, but I seriously I wasn't able to think anymore at 3am. lol