Stranger

MATHEMATICAL PREACHER LADY

don’t understand me
no numeral of quantity
preacher lady looking
at accusations in a book
saying infinity is proof
of a mathematical sacrifice
that saved humanity
if only we could get back
to three and then zero
says quantum physics
is why we have clocks
and space shuttles
slipping through cracks
in the fabrics of blankets
claims blankets are white
masses, says I’m mass
the tree is mass, birds
are mass and a mass
is a spot that breaks
into a speck so small
my car is invisible to god
claims i don’t pray right
because i do it with my
hands and my speech
is imperfect, can’t talk
to god with a slur or slang
says i need to be prized
and perfect like a precious
moment figurine, demands
i stop calling him home boy
he’s not your boy, throws
a piece paper at me with
nothing on it but a squiggle
in the middle of a circle,
claims it represent life
and who i used to be
when i had a brain
and understood counting
was invented for more
than money, need to crunch
the numbers to understand
my sister is the same as me
though she died in a hospital,
tells me i’m better than nobody
but I act like a stranger hiding
my divinity code under a hat

 
Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is what genuis looks like in a poem!

Ode to a Stranger (day 28)

When I want to forget and sink

I shatter at a stranger’s feet

Push myself through the doorway,

toss my memories on the concrete

 

Strangers mesh together until I smile,

let go and die a little inside

I lean back into unfamiliarity

when there’s a stranger by my side

 

I’m not calling you a liar or

leaving graffiti on this doorstep

But I’m not worried with a stranger

even if we wandered and overslept

 

You spilled seven letters and a bloodstain

on the carpet beneath my feet

but if I sit here with a stranger

days are minutes and don’t repeat

 

When I want to forget another day

I shatter in a stranger’s arms

I was done but now I find myself

falling for yet another charm

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 8/28/16

Ode to a stranger

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19 and Naïve

WARNING: This is a heavy piece of writing that deals with the topic of sexual assault through relaying a survivors experience of date rape. If you are offended or sensitive to this subject matter, then please refrain from reading this particular piece. 

 

To everyone else: I wanted this piece of writing to channel the various feelings, thoughts, and overall experience of what it's like to go through such a horrific experience. It's choppy, it's scattered, and it's devoid of warmth. It's as though you're watching these events occur, but you aren't really experiencing them. You're disconnected; dissociated. To the survivors of sexual assault, my heart goes out to you and I know your many pains. For me, writing about my experiences has provided more healing than any shrink or pills ever could. 

I'm always here to talk if anyone ever needs a listening ear, or sounding board. 

You're not alone.

 

-G.B

 

 

19 and naïve

Lonely

Desperate

 

She rides the 5E down the line

It's 11 PM

Past her bedtime

Work in the morning, she'll sleep in

 

One shot,

One night,

One boy who never paid her mind

 

Cold, it's the Dead of winter. She takes off a glove and fixes her hair

 

He's finally noticed her

She's coming at his midnight beckon

 

Houses with closed blinds fly past the window

Ever closer to her destination

 

her heart beats in rhythm to the bumping of tires over potholes

 

A man boards the bus,

waves a glove in her face

Crazy wide eyes and alcohol on his breath,

insanity pours out of a poisoned mouth

 

She sidles past and steps outside,

Cold air punches her lungs and leaves her gasping

 

She's walking

Walking

Walking

 

Towards the house in the middle of the street

 

The house he's waiting for her in

Waiting

Waiting

Waiting for his chance

 

Stopping at the porch, he welcomes her with open arms,

Tall and strong, enveloping her in a disconcerting embrace

 

They enter,

A staircase leads up

 

to a room

 

The room

 

The room with posters

And a laptop

And an inflatable mattress

 

'We're going to watch a movie'

 

It's not a question

 

We are

I am

 

I sit, but he wants to lay

His voice slithers wet and heavy in my ear

 

'You want it, but I'm not giving it to you'

 

My brain starts to ache

Confusion

Throat becomes sandpaper

I've forgotten how to breathe

 

I don't want it

 

Hands now roaming my body without permission 

Shallow compliments fall on me and explode in a queasy stomach

 

I'm going numb

His mouth on mine

This isn't how I imagined it

 

Fighting back against bile rising in my throat

 

When did I become naked

 

He tells me I want it

 

I still don't

 

What happened to the movie

I just wanted a movie

 

He's inside me

Everything hurts

His face is ugly

And I think I hate him

 

He tells me to shut up

 

I can't

 

A hand strikes me

 

Shocking

Stinging

 

'I told you to be quiet'

 

Strong hands now hug my throat

A violent embrace

I want to cough

I can't

 

Squeezing

Gripping

 

Spots dance before my eyes

 

Tears threaten to fall

Please don't betray me

Trying to maintain

 

I can't

 

 

He grabs my face

 

'Are you crying?'

 

There's amusement in his voice

It's a game to him

 

He soothes me

Wipes my tears

Before resuming

 

Mouth to my ear again

Hissing

Growling

 

'I love raping you

 

I love raping you

 

God it's good

 

Dirty whore

 

I know you love it'

 

I'm there for years

I think I flew away  for a few of them

 

Up

Up

Out of the room with the inflatable mattress

Out of my body

 

The body that rejected me

Made this happen

Nightmare

 

It's finally over

A lifetime has passed

I never knew a body could feel like this from the inside

 

I am dirty

Defiled

Hurting

Alone

Angry and

 

Betrayed

 

Now downstairs,  he pulls me on his lap

Another man is there and they casually chat

They're laughing

 

I'm sick

 

And I think he is too

 

Going home now

I'm back

I'm alive

(I think)

 

It's so cold

 

I work tomorrow

 

I'm going to sleep in

 

 

A lonely second chance


Walking in the footsteps of the shadows before him

Many years a plenty so deep dark and empty

Never ever too few to hate him very coarsely

 

They preach to him of god’s love

While at the cliff giving him a shove

It saddens him when he thinks about how they should love him

When any perfect stranger easily can trim or replace him

 

Finally realizing he needs a second chance as he stares at the walls

Putting him in a trance

Knowing he has to try and make this last stance

 Lonely living out this life sentence, but I bet they won’t miss his invalid absence.


Written by, 

Rob Casteel

The Solemner

I saw you on the train that morning.

You looked so misshapen,

With your superfluous lower lip protruding,

Like the petal of a rose,

Damaged by morning dew.


Your eyes wondered,

Like glass marbles, pouring

Distain into all you knew.


Like a diamond in the rough,

You were there among the grey,

Shaped into nothing but Solemness.


A Solemner.


Lost in the morning,

Of heavy tides and and matchstick lives,

Disappearing completely.


Those eyes, those cheeks,

That imploring gaze,

Made me no Solemner

Then a man could be.


Such beauty,

Pittance,

Wasted through the day,

As it seeps through the drain,

Like water.

Down it falls,

Never to be seen again.


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"The Demons of Man"

I fabricate skyscrapers, piercing the heavens with chrome blades.

I see a world of fire: combusting, incinerating, devouring.

Silence.

The valleys burn red with blood stained spades,

The universe watching discreetly, towering.

Violence.

 

The demons of man ignite the skylines as day bleeds to night,

The structures emitting a silent roar as the stars lay breathless.

Destruction.

The avenues inhale kerosene, reflecting red light,

The cities burn to ash, dying, defenseless.

Reduction.

 

As the aggregation of starlight coats our landscape with a luminous glare,

The ruins of a million memories electrify the skies.

Dissolving.

The fires burn out as the moon is relieved of its empowering stare,

The once amplified street pinned under its arbitrary demise.

Devolving.

 

Once upon a time, when man walked with man,

I stared in the eyes of a world worth living.

Perfection.

I watched as it twisted, tore, became a cancerous scan;

Mankind destroying itself, relentless, unforgiving.

Deception.

 

As I walk under a sun that illuminates a planet encased in sorrow,

Tears fall parallel to light rays.

As clouds float in a boundless ocean, awaiting tomorrow,

I continue roaming, a stranger, in a world astray.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Let me know what you think.

Al-GUROBAA (The Stranger)

 

A Stranger
Living in the entagle of peoples' fear
In a rough path he is a scavenger
Souls are rejoicing in jahiliyah
Glad tidings to the stranger
In the midst of turbulent cheer
Of rebeliousness at top gear
While Sapiens have torn the viel of fear
Alien he is; he's bullied and labelled a liar
Yet, the truth he doesn't despair
He ramains a stranger
and he's treated like a scavenger
Suffering, his lot; yet his conscience's clear
Glad tidings to this stranger
Forever victory will be his share

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Hey There, Stranger

Folder: 
Lovespeak

I was one hour too late,

I walked in to the jeep

Then an angel surfaced

Tongue-tied, I couldn't speak

 

Your skin, it was whiter than me

Oh, crafted perfectly

Your hair, you dyed it brown like me

So bright and glistening

 

Your teeth lit up when you smiled

Oh, how I wish you were mine

And kiss those tempting lips

You made me lose my speech

 

I couldn't help myself

Look at your perfect self

I didn't know what I felt

With your gaze, you made me melt

 

You also wore glasses 

No, I do not know your name

Please fill my world's patches

I'll never be the same

 

Hey there, mystical stranger

Who wore a shirt with spider

You filled my tiresome world with mystery

I wish someday there will be you and me

 

I hope someday we'll see each other

I wish one day we'll be together

I'll sleep now thinking of you

Pretending you like me too

 
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Embodiment of Gold

In one of many towers
that houses the world's finest cup
of coffee, I sat, deaf to the hour
and its ploy; wedged between the cushions of
a theater seat that flexed as I scoured

through the pages of my book.
Colored by the intruding sun,
the canary-yellow top you took
to commune with the flaxen crown upon
your head and the captured shade of our shared nook:

you were lit up like a stage.
Pages turned to a program that
served to guide and restrict like a sage:
mouthing slow advice while your figure sat,
stiff with posture that would not betray your age.

You held presence up to par
with transcendent bodies in flight,
whose names escape but cannot go far
from public. And I'll use my calm to spite
the blossomed awareness that grows 'neath your star,

frowning at what's sprouting there
to disguise my fascination
with you, lest you should become aware
of the audience made in summation
of one lonely boy with an hour to spare.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Pretty proud of this one. Inspired by a pretty stranger.

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