Here We Are Not

I am years away from you now;
a distance you never desired,
and I never resisted.

I dare not say I love you;
I would hardly even know you.
Yet, I still find myself longing.

Held in the echoes of moments,
fleeting, yet touching reality closer
than many, more purposeful memories.

Your face terrifies, and excites;
burdens, and relieves;
awakens chaos and harmony.

I wonder if these moments ever find you;
break your defenses the way they break mine.
I wonder if our echoes ever cross paths.

Years of possibilities lie dormant
under heavy eyelids;
an impossible distance, in the blink of an eye.

-Alisha Jael

 

Undying

Cancerous thoughts consume;
I feel like I should vomit;
purge this sickness from my gut,
pour it out for all to see,
as if, bearing my disgust would free me.

I am diseased;
no desperate act will cure me.
Yet, weakness whimpers through the pain,
begging acceptance.

I inhale the stench of rot and say,
no, never, I will not.
To live a lie is to exist undead;
remain awake, unfulfilled, unchanged,
while hope disintegrates.

I shall with sickness unto dust become,
until weakness begs not acceptance,
but forgiveness.
It is then, I shall be… reborn.

Swallow

I twist the childproof top
off my bottle of failure,
place my shame at the back
of my throat,
and swallow my disgrace
with a swig water

This is what I have become;
a small, round, green,
end to feeling

numbness

apathy

Waiting on change to come,
saying “tomorrow I’ll be strong”
Yesterday, I said the same,
but today… I’m still tired

So I twist the top back on
and put away my failures,
one less than yesterday,
until tomorrow

-Alisha Jael

Transmutation to Transendence

Stepping on cold stares
as the icy glare of universal
awareness cuts through

Sharp pains intensify
as dormant minds awaken from
a frostbite state of reality

Frozen thoughts transition
finding warmth too tempting to deny
though thawing is risky

Too much, too fast, could
terminate the possibilities
not enough could end the same

Confining cubes crack
melting minds find themselves
alive in the after-thaw

New crystals form in patterns
envied by dying eyesicles whose
frozen lungs still long to breathe

Frigid thoughts defrost
in evolutions of heat
releasing freedom

Inhibition steams impatiently
rising on transmuting winds
anxious to reach heaven

-Alisha Jael

Perpetual Poetics

Some people
may try to tell you
that poetry is a lost art
but I don’t think it’s lost at all
I believe that poetry
knows exactly where its going
I think it has a plan
it has been relocating
searching
yearning to find a new place
a new home
somewhere among the
changing faces
the un-segregating races
and the un-dividing nations
For we are slowly.. but surely..
blending into one another
see poetry is like
a stream of consciousness
it is constantly re-birthing
mutating
turning into new forms of being
it is… poetic evolution
like the yin ends and the yang begins
it is simply making room
for new generations
with new voices
singing new songs
in the unsung tunes
of peace, freedom,
and all that idealistic stuff..
yes to me
the art of poetry
is like the death of a beautiful, shining star
it’s not what it seems
see it never truly ends
it just explodes into a new beginning
into super hot,  supernova energies
changing the elements
of our universe with its
glorious cosmic powers
and then…
transforming once again
it becomes the unknown
the greatest mystery of all
the black hole
drawing all things
into a place
none will ever truly know
and then someway, somehow,
it re-begins
forming atoms from dust
just as this world
this reality
once birthed us
see poetry
cannot be lost..
for it is the beginning
the end
and everything in between
its essence is present in every molecule
of every particle
of every plane
of existence
it is the oracle of our origins
calling to us
from the corners of our creation
from the roots of our realities
from the seams of our souls
and it is waiting
wondering when
we will come to understand
that it is
not poetry ..but us..
who are lost
for you see
we did not create poetry
poetry created us

-Alisha Jael

Speaking Your Name

my lips utter your name vainly
a cool breeze the only caress
that will undress me tonight
thoughts of you scatter into
the universe and become starlight
brightening the darkness with
incomprehensible chatter
speaking in intricacies of time
for moments that seem eternal
I lose myself in the sight of
this radiantly shaded language
hearing my own light begin
to rise in unconscious accord
epiphanies resonate around me
and I begin to see myself as I am
an imperceptible speck of essence
a simple syllable within a word
within a language within a truth
that exists beyond my finite perceptions
enlightened… I drift away
transcending the impure patterns
of speech we accept as reality
allowing the purity of honesty
to teach me true communication
if only you were here with me tonight
listening to the unadulterated starlight
we could coexist within this world
of wordless understanding
where there would be no lips,
no names, no disconnection
absolutely nothing to utter in vain

Letters Like Love

L.o.v.e… The letters in love make liars out of lonely men who never learned to spell the word correctly.
L.i.a.r.s… Liars are not just devious men, liars are lazy minds with loose lips that let letters fall around them like dying leaves falling off trees. Leaves that lay in listless piles of apathy, littering the earth in a leafy layer of
L.i.e.s… Lies that leave no room for movement as they lament for the lives they could have been if only they had learned to use their letters correctly. If only they weren’t so
L.a.z.y… Too lazy to keep trying, they choose to settle for only leisurely lessons in their personal linguistics, learning little of their potential literary powers. Little do they realize their lax look on life deprives them of their
L.i.b.e.r.t.y… The liberty of limitless language. To learn, to labor, to love, to live, lucidly and without limitation. Instead they leave their livelihoods to luck.
L.u.c.k… The lazy liars lullaby, lucky lyrics of illusion that look a lot like logic until you realize they’re not; they are letters that leach life from lofty words and lend them to lesser listless terms like lust, you see,
L.u.s.t… will never spell
L.o.v.e… and they will never find
L.o.v.e… in
L.u.s.t… but they will keep trying; in the end they will only spell
L.o.n.e.l.y… Lonely is a word they will learn to spell quite well, leading them right back to
L.o.s.t… As luck would have it.

-Alisha Jael