Category: Writing

Sophea T. Amari

N.41

Bliss and sweet escape His hallowed lips but nothing Changes what I hate.

Sophea T. Amari

N.95

He never said much My hands were all that he touched Beneath the black muck.

Sophea T. Amari

Is that alright with you?

If I gave you my Heart, dripping with dark Love If I flushed out my Shame, awkward with Crime If I begged for your Grace, breaking with Bad If I loaded my Glock, pulsing with Poison If I trashed your place, lie with the Waste Is that alright with you?

Sophea T. Amari

Fleur Cinematic

Fleetingly, frolicking in the light of the final flatfoots Fleur-de-lys flipping ‘neath your fixated frown Fee, Fi, Fo, Fum, fumes the giant hungry for Englishmen Your flushed ferrels flummoxed but Free.  

Sophea T. Amari

Bebop

Bebop, you who challenged my soul, changed my world Far from this levitious crowd and tormented bold Where words are pearls and your life is gold. Like Primo Levi’s survival in Auschwitz Who flipped this path? I’m a melancholic witch Razing this Earth, recognizing, you, my glitch.  

Sophea T. Amari

Quick. Rolling.

When we go rolling along the grass, the pollen in our eyes, I grab your hand and you become the Sima Martel of my being. It is a depression on the surface of Earth, a sink-hole of not-quite-there uncomfortable romance, where you leave me neck-deep in sweetness and struggling light. As my fingers slip through …

Sophea T. Amari

Remains

Once upon a time, when there was Nothingness in the world but the moon, two stars, a floating stream of water, and a wide expanse of blue-black sky glimmering with lights from the netherworld, I was born. And I was special because I was born in Nothingness, with only the moon, two stars and a …