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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_

Topic : Bloody Sorceress Underneath my skin.. There resides a bloody sorceress, she knows how to trick me as well as others. Her soul is greedy agonizing for something that's not hers. I don't know whether this "something" Is hers or not, But as people say it's a curse so it's better to get her away from that. Desire for honor and her self esteem is a thirst. Which she doesn't want to let go not even once. She's even so inobedient that barely obeys her guardians. And so impolite that always desperated to make her own guidelines. Which she gives priority more than geeta hymns. She thinks she's so versatile, I need to laugh on her dumb mind, Cause just because she knows how to drive (Even Not Men). She can't think like a blind. As if she learns how to make up mind to give a second chance to imposters Or as if she learns to chastise her molesters. People blame me for her mischievous impure deeds. But how can I tell them neither she's me nor I'm she. She's just a skin inside me, a skin made up of fat. Although deposited by aftermath of a tragedy which started right after my birth. #review#rks#poetry

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

#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?'

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

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

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_

/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

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_

/ourocean 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.

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

/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