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Literature Text
Good (Great, Greater, Greatest, You)
I hope the title caught your eye,
because this is about you.
Many of us speak in superlatives
and ambiguous language.
In imagery-laden text masquerading
underneath double entendres
keeping us from a part of the truth.
But purple streaks and red bands,
harp strings and soft hands
don't begin to explain
the love I have for you.
So I lay these words down
simple in its vulnerability,
blemished and raw in its purity.
The term lissome fits you in many ways,
but not necessarily it its textbook form.
I speak on the part that is not readily seen
but what is easily most cogent.
Your consciousness' cognizance
is graceful in the way
you fold one syllable over
another, supple in its meaning
that can take many forms
going from idle lies
to how we idolize hollow eyes
and uncovered hip bones.
Elegance is an understatement,
but I refuse to speak in cliche superlatives.
I speak honestly
but not with exaggerated grandeur.
Because your immediate appeal
isn't the gloss and shine of beautiful words,
but how you make words beautiful.
Superlatives,
in and of themselves aren't superior.
It is the person behind the adjective
that make them so.
So you are not the greatest.
No one is.
Words aren't beauteous.
But you make them that way.
But even then,
the words don't hold salt
compared to the true greatness,
which is you.
Sophia,
you're bigger than good,
greater, and greatest
because you're you.
because this is about you.
Many of us speak in superlatives
and ambiguous language.
In imagery-laden text masquerading
underneath double entendres
keeping us from a part of the truth.
But purple streaks and red bands,
harp strings and soft hands
don't begin to explain
the love I have for you.
So I lay these words down
simple in its vulnerability,
blemished and raw in its purity.
The term lissome fits you in many ways,
but not necessarily it its textbook form.
I speak on the part that is not readily seen
but what is easily most cogent.
Your consciousness' cognizance
is graceful in the way
you fold one syllable over
another, supple in its meaning
that can take many forms
going from idle lies
to how we idolize hollow eyes
and uncovered hip bones.
Elegance is an understatement,
but I refuse to speak in cliche superlatives.
I speak honestly
but not with exaggerated grandeur.
Because your immediate appeal
isn't the gloss and shine of beautiful words,
but how you make words beautiful.
Superlatives,
in and of themselves aren't superior.
It is the person behind the adjective
that make them so.
So you are not the greatest.
No one is.
Words aren't beauteous.
But you make them that way.
But even then,
the words don't hold salt
compared to the true greatness,
which is you.
Sophia,
you're bigger than good,
greater, and greatest
because you're you.
Literature
now i see the stars.
there was a time when i
couldn't catch my breath whenever i
thought about you , (crippled lungs and-
boy, you hit me like an asteroid,
there's a crater on my chest now that I can't ever seem to fill,
even with
oceans of my tears cried on
nights when you couldn't be there to sing me to sleep.
thirty two poemless days after you joined the constellations,
i walked out into the yard and howled to the empty sky,
and
for a moment i was Gaea, rivers running down my cheeks,
weighted to the ground and
buried in myself, but
where there is no light there are no shadows, and
sometimes, i wonder if i miss me.
yes, yes i do.
i may not see the moon
Literature
on salting the field and winning the war
the phone rings again; pick it up.
today, the boss asked her when you're
coming back to work. she says she doesn't know
when the last time you got out of your house was.
you're not sure either. not all pain is fleeting.
not all pain is bright and hot. sometimes, it's
just decay.
through the phone, she talks like the sun filtering through
newborn leaves. she is miles and miles away from
the hurricane that is battering your shoreline.
she wants to know when you'll be able to look her in
the eye again. 'the boss is thinking of giving away your job,'
she says. 'when will you be over this?'
you don't know what you should tell her.
'did you know
Literature
the sea lies.
between scylla and charybdis,
i can only wonder whose
lips taste more like saline kisses
and less like misplaced misery. that could remind me
of broken impossibility, that could
allow me to lie my books of yearning poetry down. i
slumber in stories, of wishing that
when i hum to the ocean
mermaids and sirens would come to
seduce me, to steal me away –
hearts sink like stones in freshwater
when given too much
love and thought; though love itself is like freshwater
in the overbearing presence
of saltwater and
a shark’s blood.
waves speak to me, lapping for the sandy
shore: hoping for a child’s
fingers to appreciate its sur
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To the lovely and beautiful Lissomer. During these last couple of months, I've come to know how phenomenal of a person you are. You are beautiful, inside and out; and I'm blessed to be able to call you a friend. One of my dearest friends in such a short time. 
As a creator, a thinker, and a person; there's so much to love about her. She's truly fantastic.
I hope this at least put a smile on your face, dearie.
You're bigger than superlatives because they don't make you. You make them.
I love you, Sophia.
EDIT: Here's my poetry reading here: soundcloud.com/chromeantennae/…;
You can also find the video of it on Tumblr.
As a creator, a thinker, and a person; there's so much to love about her. She's truly fantastic.
I hope this at least put a smile on your face, dearie.
You're bigger than superlatives because they don't make you. You make them.
I love you, Sophia.
EDIT: Here's my poetry reading here: soundcloud.com/chromeantennae/…;
You can also find the video of it on Tumblr.
© 2014 - 2024 chromeantennae
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Awwwwwwwwwwwwwww 