there's a river flowing 
inside my head, and
i can hear the sound 
of words dancing
to the tune of violent
turbulence and pebbles.

life is a barren vacuum,
there's no light here.
darkness has a way of 
shutting those who blink 
even the slightest
but poetry is my last hope,
to bring me into existence again.

if my poem doesn't rhyme,
set my feet free please, 
and I'll run fierce 
like a free verse.

there are broken crayons 
inside my bag and i wish 
they befriend my emotions 
and tell each other stories
of how it's impossible
to be whole again.

i've learnt quicker that 
behind a broken heart
is a brain that feeds it 
and that if a house 
is full of demons, maybe
there are better confessions 
than vacate and leave it empty.

#amtupu_ #review #poetry

/the sky that fell/.

to the sky 
that fell on the 
palm of my poems:

when I asked 
for your number,
what I really 
meant was;

//I saw you 
in reverie once//.

you took a human 
form to live on 
the line of my 
imaginations,

when I woke up,
I still couldn't
fasten up the urge
to introduce myself.

so I vanished, 
to a place where 
I still couldn't gather 
the courage behind the scourge
to say before galaxies, 
"you're beautiful." 

so I say,
"you remind me
of the wand flowers 
my Momma showed me yesterday,"

to which you said,
"_______________."

whatever happens next,
is a sign before the sky 
called celestial,

a signal for me to reignite the stars 
and confect your scars,
to our beautiful,

and I want to swallow 
every sad and bitter 
thing that has happened
to you before me,

and conquer the sound 
of your every instrument,
before you play my ribs 
like the strings of your 
favorite guitar.

everyday I want 
to hold you 
like you're the only thing 
my palms have ever touched.

I'm sorry Miss, me?
I just can't let you 
go anymore,

and to anybody that 
asks me if you're
my girlfriend,

"No, she's my language.
I speak her.
And, me? 
I'm her favorite page." 

#poetry #amtupu_ #review

saddest road.
by Authur Michael Tupu.

"in peace,
sons burry their fathers.
in war,
fathers burry their sons."

brothers, an ode to you,
you went down
the saddest road.
//oh you went oh furthest//.

when the world fights a war,
there are those who perish
from not knowing
there existed a battle.

a part of me
is holding back tears,
for i look for you
in places i know you
can't fit no more.

call me wind if you please,
for i know not how to weep
in secrecy.

i breathe, wait and hope
that my fears
are not only
that i lost you,

but I'll be able
to stomach the bruises
your departure printed
on this blood core.

#poetry #amtupu_ #review

/our ocean of love/
By Authur Michael Tupu

we're in the ocean of love,
voyaging across horizons,
of forever, blindfolded
of the violent tides around us.

but when the earth 
shakes too hard to jiggle us,
we will hold on very tight,
gripping on to the waters.

we hope to discover gravity,
the moon, and the sun 
behind these tides,
and be in silent conversations
with them.

when the cold currents
race against our battleship,
we will wage war against them,
sailing deep into the warzone,
with compassion and commitment.

when everything seems 
to have fallen apart,
we will swim in this love together,
fighting against the waves,

and when we're tired,
we will come at truce 
with the tides, 
and convince them to carry us 
towards the shore,

ebbing us away 
from the violent storms,
to an island we've always known,
an island of solace,
an island full of love

#poetry
#amtupu_
#review

I'm torn within "tides" and 'our ocean of love' for the title. Would you choose for me? Thank you.

Revenge//

By Authur Michael Tupu

its brutal,
—to desist revenge.

you ache from the friction,
and burst into a beautiful flame,

you forge the finest piece of steel 
that cuts thru every bitter wave, that you go thru. 

but you're not 
defined by your worst.
you're not the fire that yearns 
for retaliation.

instead, you seek to reciprocate 
all the energy that was invested into nurturing you up, 
and try to forget how cold and wet they kept you, before now.

some days,
steel cuts itself,

and you bleed from wounds 
that you indirectly inflict upon yourself.

some days you draw too close to the fire for warmth,
reminiscing how the cold used to cage you like a captive,

and now the heat of the fire like night tales tardily refreshes 
your retentiveness and before you recollect, snap, you're burnt afresh.

then you 
learn again, quickly,
how to find peace by the sea water, 
away from the fire, canvassing the tides within you,

and you find yourself again, 
the power within you, to find solace 
all by yourself and discipline every dour will 
that knocks heavily on your door for the exchange of unyielding thoughts.

i never want to revenge. 
it burns. it hurts like a wound that's supposed to heal, but never will.
©a.m.tupu.

#review #poetry #amtupu_

/confined/

in-out from-under
the deep dark
that i can't alter,
bright colors of anger
come out to yell.

i am the space within
two lengths of gossips
and dark humor,

the small distance
between two fingers
that yearn to die from
each other's charge.

i hold burdens of grudges
that appear to soar in grins
but sag in attitudes like
null uncontrollable waters.

i'm that confined space
aligned in nothing, but torqued
so tight my future remains
bolted in numb emotions.

i'm confined in unbreathable
dark spaces of anger,
where vain pursuits of struggle
taste as silent as death.
#amtupu_ #poetry #review

pitch-dark nights/

by authur michael tupu

I sit under trees sketching
the things that could've been
on the black and white canvas
five light years away.

you jog my memory,
to a place I once knew,
and whisper whistles
in the pitch dark,

of stabbing words winding
down my chest chirping
gurgling sounds that
reverberate 'round
the weeping chest.

a chest-
of empty drawers drawn
silhouettes hollowing out
everything I once knew,
I'm beginning to hate even
the beautiful things.

you whisper out
whirling songs waving
at mosaics and frescoes
fuming in situ for-ever
because they couldn't dance

but I enjoy, I actually do—
for a little while when
you're caliginous, when
the twigs and sprigs dance,

moving in sync with the world,
the sky and the oceans,
and yet two things
remain unbothered
—peace and silence.
#poetry #review #amtupu_

Noesis (vi)

i pour out
love where
sadness pelts
because i've felt
how drained
it tastes
to be starved
of the world
you deserve.

#amtupu_ #poetry #review

I often loved the idea
of sitting in a corner,
folded like a fatherless kid,
befriending the wrong spiders

then I learnt to love
my white fragrance,
quoted in black,
in a colorful wilderness,
lonely like an undiscovered tulip

but now,
I cage my unbridled emotions,
in words,
befriending assonance,
together hiding in metaphors,
holding quills like a father's thumb

#poetry #amtupu_ #review

#poetry #amtupu_ #review

Sometimes I dream,
Of an angel that fell
On the palm of my eyelids.
I'm scared of many things,
Of waking up,
Of brains,
Of light, for I know too well
How these things burn.
And when I gather the courage
To say, 'Hi,' I say,
'Can you be my poem?'

Fifty two avenues
Ring low that solemn sound.
You grab me, when I sneeze
Like a bad, stew-peed hound.
I won't be scared to soar
Because you will catch me.
When the sky spits a roar
I'll be you, you'll have me.
Fifty two boulevards
Tweak my heart, and I smile,
For you're my leotards
Let us dance, love goes a-mile
You hold me, I'll hold you,
Worry not, I'll take you.

#amtupu_ #review #poetry

I find the lost solitary star more refulgent than the easy close glint ones.

It's easy to see things for what they closely appear to be, but I crave to dig behind the skin. I crave to dance inside the rooms behind your voice.

So if you want to show me your world, show me where the lights are dimmer. Show me your twilit. Dawn is too clear not to feel.

#review #amtupu_ #prose

pitch-dark nights/

by authur michael tupu

I sit under trees sketching
the things that could've been
on the black and white canvas
five light years away.

you jog my memory,
to a place I once knew,
and whisper whistles
in the pitch dark,

of stabbing words winding
down my chest chirping
gurgling sounds that
reverberate 'round
the weeping chest.

a chest-
of empty drawers drawn
silhouettes hollowing out
everything I once knew,
I'm beginning to hate even
the beautiful things.

you whisper out
whirling songs waving
at mosaics and frescoes
fuming in situ for-ever
because they couldn't dance

but I enjoy, I actually do—
for a little while when
you're caliginous, when
the twigs and sprigs dance,

moving in sync with the world,
the sky and the oceans,
and yet two things
remain unbothered
—peace and silence.
#poetry #review #amtupu_

I often loved the idea
of sitting in a corner,
folded like a fatherless kid,
befriending the wrong spiders

then I learnt to love
my white fragrance,
quoted in black,
in a colorful wilderness,
lonely like an undiscovered tulip

but now,
I cage my unbridled emotions,
in words,
befriending assonance,
together hiding in metaphors,
holding quills like a father's thumb

#poetry #amtupu_ #review