Poems and Poetry

Jeremiah Castelo

Skin | A Poem by Jeremiah Castelo

Last time I checked,
it was still on my neck,
What now is a mark,
once was a speck,

Protected by the freckle,
I can now never forget,
Tattooed into a bad mood,
the ink I still regret,

Smooth surface, epidermis,
let color fill the pores,
Black lines, abstract designs,
around the open sores,

Follow my fingers
from the valley to the summit,
Let go of all your baggage,
watch all your worries plummet,

Rub it in a circle
’til the purple turns to pink,
Palm against palm
let our fingers interlink,

Wrinkles and folds,
crevices and creases,
Capturing the beads
a sweat gland releases,

Scars and birthmarks
and lipstick kisses,
Fleshly desires
and skinful blisses,

Cuts and wounds
and bumps and bruises,
Believing the lies
when beauty confuses,

A tingling sensation
while waiting patiently,
Exhale into the navel
and let creation breathe,

Scriptures and phrases
that raises goosebumps,
The laying on of healing hands
and disappearing lumps,

I’ve spent a lifetime,
counting freckles and moles,
Skin against skin,
like magnetic poles.

Visit Jeremiah’s website at http://psalmsandpsychoses.com.

Shadowboxing | A Poem by Jeremiah Castelo

My shoulders are well oiled axles,
my fists are cannon balls

I am an uncompromised,
and unchallenged fresh breath of boldness

I am the statue of fastholding,
chiseled down from black diamond by the strong hand of craftsmanship

I am chaos’s more stable second cousin,
and favored uncle to the prodigals, the proliferates, the princes, and
the prodigies

I am the lion’s heart beat,
the war drum’s sporadic syncopation

I am the wolf pack’s collective sixth and seventh senses,
keen on the scent of blood, fear, and impending annihilation

I will not sway to the breath of your voice
nor will I stagger at the wind your weather weaves

Advance upon me and find yourself hard pressed against calloused
behind which is a wall,
and behind that wall,
an army

I pray you combust into flames and feathers at once should my name
birth from your lips

I pray my night guardsmen have eyes of eagles,
and my trumpeteers have breaths of behemoths should you ever encroach
upon my camp at dreaming hour

I promise to empress upon you pressure,
of a nature that spawns pearls, magma, and passionate revolution

But the only revolution that will come of your resistance is vertigo,
as you spiral downward into abysmal forgottenness

Now heed my words with intent lest you risk the fate of faded

May God be my strength as I destroy you

Eviscerate you

Annihilate you

I will obliterate you until the only remnant of your very existence
is but a vague memory,

of a fleeting idea

in a dream

inside a dream

inside a coma.

Visit Jeremiah’s website at http://psalmsandpsychoses.com.

My Heart Needs a Home | A Poem by Jeremiah Castelo

My heart needs a home,
I’ve tried fitting it on bookshelves among fantasy novels and
romantic stories,
but for some reason,
JRR Tolkein wouldn’t let me in between him and Danielle Steele,

I’ve tried placing it by my stereo;
in front of the speaker;
next to my well-ranged arsenal of music which has taken me years to
put together.
But after a while,
I noticed that Hard Rock would cause my heart to turn to stone,
Hip Hop would cause it to turn black at every curse,
Electronic music would cause it to break down into fine pieces of
the deep melancholy sounds of the bass guitar
would manifest as wind from the sub woofer;
blowing it away.

I’ve tried dipping it into a mug of beer or soaking it in hard
but time and time again; it would dissolve into the liquid
and I’d lose it.
The bartender would mistake it for a Bloody Mary,
mix it up,
and serve it to the next girl who wouldn’t gulp it all down at
but take little sips in between conversations
in order to savor it.
Sometimes I’d be tempted to believe that she’s well aware of what
she’s drinking;
Every sip hurts my chest.

I would roll it around in white powder hoping to create some sort of
protective mask,
but the chemical in the drug would eat away the surface;
leaving it disfigured and more fragile than ever.

I had tried planting it into the ground among the cannabis plants
to see if something would grow out of it,
But when I had returned to dig it up,
I had found that the roots of the surrounding plants
had drained the life out of the core;
turning it into shell.
When I cracked it open, it was hollow.

I’ve tried placing it in the bosom of beautiful women,
which seemed like the right place at the time,
until each one used the pointy, polished finger nail
of her long, slender, finger
to pierce the center of it;
causing it to ooze blood.

I’ve tried placing it into the hands of those I trusted,
but the hands of the strong would squeeze too tightly,
the hands of the weak would keep dropping it,
the hands of the unreliable would leave it in dark places and forget
about it,
the hands of the cruel would throw it as far as they could, like a
the hands of the hurtful would immediately hand it right back to me,
and the hands of the clean would never touch it at all.

Then I placed it into the hands of my Creator,
my Saviour;
the One who spent ages coming up with its design,
the One who calculated every measurement to the finest detail,
the One who made countless rough drafts in order to attain
the One who is waiting for His masterpiece to
willingly be placed back into His gentle, cupped hands…..

When I did,
it fit perfectly,
and glowed a bright red,
as if it were smiling.
It started singing quietly;
the most beautiful melody I’ve ever heard.
It has remained there ever since,
and will remain there forever.

Visit Jeremiah’s website at http://psalmsandpsychoses.com.