Vomit Poetry Challenge [Day 9]: the thousandth sword that I hold

30-Day Vomit Poetry Challenge: Day 9. No stops, no deletes, no edits–just write and keep writing. Publish as it is.

My second missed day. This was for October 11th.

the thousandth sword that I hold
in my hand, will be my last;
glorious songs I have sung
with the very essence of my soul
the blood and vibrations are
one blurry flash of crimson and red
there is something cosmic about
this dying world without a name
that I used to dream about ending
in this breathless beginning
in this very moment
this glorious song of birth


Songs that the forest sings

Each tree has a song
Each flower a memory
Each forest a spirit
that dreams up stories
with each soft blink 

A Flying Whale

I can barely stand
dreams and wonder pour
they pour and pour out of me like
tide after tide of loud
magnanimous whispers
like a thousand-year-song
still being sung
like an eruption of wings
bursting free from bone

like me
who can barely stand
before this colossal impossibility
like my legs can’t stop shaking
and I think I have forgotten to breathe like

because I am in love
with worlds beyond my own
because I am in love with







To Catch a Shooting Star

I sit, at the end of its trajectory,
weaving patience into webs and
inspirational speeches;
I sit, and with the corner of my eye,
I catch a glimmer of its light,
so mischievous a wink
and so mighty a destiny,
that each breath feels
like a separate existence
each heartbeat a passing
and birthing of an entire universe

is an opportunity of a lifetime
worthy of a thousand seizings–
and I stand, at the end of its trajectory,
eyes-open, feet-steady, grip-ready,



our existence is but a
tiny temporal dust
floating in the river of time
in which stars have breathed
their first and their last;

we belong to a single heartbeat
an endless cosmic dream
that we attempt to measure
with lifetimes—and we fail
for it is a dream too vast,
and too deep to be real