featured in the poetry forum September 19, 2014  :: 0 comments

She carried out my execution.

She was dressed in red.
I nearly ate my heart.
There was something about her.
I slipped into nonexistence.

She was dressed in red.
Perhaps it was foreshadowing.
I nearly ate my heart.

I was speaking in tongues.

She filled me with anxiety.
I could not move to save my life.
I was speaking in tongues.
She made me disappear.

I walked in green pastures.
I laid down in a meadow.
I found a peaceful end.
I disappeared without a trace.
I tired of myself.

I could not blame her.
She was kind enough
to end my misery.
I felt her hair brushing on my face.

I found a peaceful end.
I ceased to exist.
It was useless to resist.

editors note:

Ethereal, external executioner to carry out our self-sentence; assisted suicide. – mh


featured in the poetry forum March 8, 2014  :: 0 comments

Youth is not immortal,
though a heart can remain young.
One July morning
I called her beautiful and meant it.

She thought I was silly.
I thought I was brave.
I was longing for acceptance.
My heart was weighing a ton.
I was far from Don Juan.

She was the woman of my dreams,
the most beautiful creature.
I wanted to shout it out.
She made me face reality.
She brought me down to earth.
She beat sense into my heart.
I live with a curse ever since.
I continue my journey.
I still believe she is beautiful.

editors note:

This beholder is the best Don Juan; a true believer. – mh


featured in the poetry forum August 31, 2013  :: 0 comments

I find comfort in the not knowing.
I am a lazy detective,
like a fish out of water.

I find comfort in the long evening.
I find no lightning in a bottle,
just the wine inside.

I live this way.

I find the heart too fragile and weak.
It does not soar like eagles.
My gloomy eyes do not shed tears.
They are just serene.

editors note:

I prefer wine to lightning, myself. But, exercise for my weak heart couldn’t hurt, could it? – mh


featured in the poetry forum March 4, 2013  :: 0 comments

I’ll meet you where the sea ends,
where the sky is eye level,
where boats are houses
or shipwrecked. I’ll meet you
where the horizon is at your
feet, where the water drowns
the sky. I’ll meet you where
there is no movement, where
one just sits and stares at
the blue sky at our feet.
I’ll meet you where the colors
of everything are off and
the only color is blue.
There is such a place, where
the sea ends and where
the sky is at eye level.

editors note:

When you meet on that shipwreck sea, bring a lifeline; enough to save two. – mh


featured in the poetry forum September 1, 2012  :: 0 comments

The secret voice
finds my wound.
Like a needle
it pricks me.

With immense sound
it shouts in
my ears and I
start to bleed.

The secret voice
lingers like an
echo that won’t
go away.

It bores through
my skull. It will
not take pity
or forgive.

editors note:

Those ceaseless accusations, if heard by all, would be exposed as unfounded. That’s the secret. (Luis has recently released a new book of poetry, Songs for Oblivion. Read our Mad Review of it and see how you can get a copy.) – mh


featured in the poetry forum February 18, 2012  :: 0 comments

She talks to the flowerbeds.
She talks to the trees.
She dismisses the stones,
who mumble their displeasure.
The woman cannot hear them.
She whispers to the ants,
who crisscross into their hole.
She speaks to the caterpillars.
She gave the stones their freedom.
That did not sit well with them.
The stones wanted conversation.
The woman would not hear them.
Her life was complicated.
She did not like the stones.
It was her secret. This left the stones
with a feeling of worthlessness.

editors note:

I once ran into a boulder with lots to say about dirt. Gave me a new appreciation for dirt. So, a little respect. – mh


featured in the poetry forum August 25, 2011  :: 0 comments

I feel no pain. But I know something is wrong. I do not believe I will be here tomorrow. I don’t know where I’m going. But I’m prepared to let fate take its course. I have been having nightmares. Each time I disappear leaving no trace behind. Is it death or abduction? I cannot understand what it is. Perhaps your treatment team could unveil this mystery. I can’t claim to be a prophet, but I sense things. Something big is going to happen. I don’t know what. Please forgive me for being vague. Maybe I am not supposed to know my fate until the moment things go down. I am not one for surprises or predictions. I hope I am still here tomorrow. I just have an intuition that I will be gone, my memory wiped out, my dreams just dreams that never got off the ground. I want to say so long to everyone just in case tomorrow never comes for me. I could be wrong about everything. It won’t be the first time and certainly not the last. These nightmares give me bad headaches. Maybe something is in my brain that needs to be pulled out. I probably sound like I have some screw loose.


March 6, 2011  :: 0 comments

Life rushes onward
moving at breakneck speed,
things such as love get
thoroughly bulldozed over.
To feel hopeless
like birds who cannot fly
is common. The time
of broken hearts heals fast
too, if you’re lucky.


featured in the poetry forum March 6, 2011  :: 0 comments

Tonight the leaves
fall without
touching the ground.
Back and forth
the sweeping wind
carries them
until they disappear
like UFO abductees.

I search out
the sky for a sign
of them, but it’s dark.

The stars,
veiled by clouds,
cannot help me,
nor the orange moon.


November 24, 2010  :: 0 comments

I take off my skin.
It chokes me sometimes.
I’m a false human.
The lights make me glow.

My human skin sags.
Earth’s air makes me ill.
In darkness I’m whole.
I take off my skin.

Water makes me die,
which is why I don’t
drink it. Of all things
I delight in is night.

Nothing is finer,
except for my home.
The laughter of man
is like a dark cloud.

Sea is my nightmare.
The salt devours me.
I turn to foam, just
one drop and I’m dead.