shokeslitotes

[shokeslitotes]

For You

I can form my lips and say I love you, let it float to you on the breath of a prayer hoping it docks in your shimmering harbour but fearing its loss in the salty air.

I can love you with tender, sweet caresses voyage them across every soft, pale surface but wonder still if I embraced your spirit or went unfelt like a worn out lyric.  

I can show you my love with thoughtful tokens papers for rolling and notes to find leaving them places in hopes that just one may reach you in spaces where words must resign.

I will do these things for you, and endlessly, so when your currents and mine flow rhythmically they’ll carry my message on a crest of a wave and adorn your shores with my love. 

#love #poem

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Early Mornings at the Supermarket

I'm at the supermarket, holding a tomato, scanning the bento isle for marked-down boxes. It's 2:30 am. The last train has departed, the drunken are left stranded, and the neon lights reflect unnaturally off the fruit, slowly rotting on their shelves. I'm here because I can’t bring myself to go home. I'd rather knock on watermelons all night and listen to their hollow echo than lay in bed listening to my own. 

#supermarket #morning #prose #vegetables #tokyo #japan

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#james vincint mcmorrow cavalier

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How will you go about finding that thing the nature of which is totally unknown to you?

Plato

#plato #pre-socratic #the greeks were so hot #greek #philosophy #rebecca solnit #a field guide to getting lost

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The Japanese Describing Their First Game at the FIFA World Cup

"Wabi-Sabi is a Japanese concept of finding beauty in things imperfect, impermanent and incomplete. It celebrates humanness and melancholy, defies perfection and embraces the inevitability of death. In their first game against the Ivorians, Japan were a team beautifully imperfect and incomplete. They mesmerised with their attack, but they wilted like a dying flower at the back." 

omg Japan turns everything into an existential haiku 

#wabi-sabi #japan #fifa #football

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Brandy Alexander - Feist

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The Missing Piece Meets the Big O.

#shel silverstein #missing piece #Big O

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Online books & resources about Franz Kafka.

Happy Birthday Kafka!

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Good times, noodle salad. 

#As Good As It Gets #jack nicholson

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After the Rain has Fallen, Brunswick, Vermont

#vt #rain #trees

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I love this interpretation of Op. 9 n. 2 by Rachmaninoff. It's a relatively easy song, but the nuances are extremely delicate....It takes a special soul to get it right, I think. 

#rachmaninoff #chopin #nocturne

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The Island Closest to Heaven

Solitude washes up bodies on the beach like the tide. They walk into the sea from every continent, fully clothed, and intrepid to the eternal submersion. For what is there to fear? I hope that I’m forgotten, and I hope I’m forgotten quickly. I’ve read tombstones with unfathomable bits of remembrance, names substituted with “Loving Mother,” and gaudy memorialising lights. I’d rather be forgotten completely than remembered falsely. And while you sink, you’ll pass others sinking with you, and you’ll be reminded that this is not something that is unique to only you, no. We all sink, hair tantalised by the waves until we are washed up on a distant shore, far from where we started. And perhaps then, we’ll drink inordinate amounts of a rum we’ve never tasted before and carouse all night over our sincere happiness that we have meant nothing, and are now never in any danger to.

#ocean #writing #spilled ink #creative writing #read

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Worn

I wear your name like a sweater. I say it again and again until it’s threadbare and thin, and I wonder if it’s warmth was fabricated.

#poetey #sweater

[shokeslitotes]

Secular Hymn

The droning river                             is run-off from snow thawing from peaks                        that penetrate the sky. The leaves dress in silver,                 dancing for storms, while we pray for rain,                   we pray for rain. Our coterie of four                 edge cautiously downward into the valley                 where river awaits for the heat of our limbs,             our harnessed souls wrapped in cotton,                 encased with history. Toes dip in the current,                                 we tremor with shock, as something dormant within                  is splashed wide awake. We wade out, within reach,                 of each other’s cold hands, as we wash away,                            we’re washed away. I cradle a boy’s head,                      baptism by submersion, as he gently sinks,                           his sins carried away on a crest of a current                    if we were so inclined, to believe. He emerges,                 breaking the surface, and when he gasps,                        some divine, holy ghost fills his icy lungs.                               He grasps my fingers like half a prayer,                             and we plunge again, the great revival,                              as rain starts to pour.

#Anglo-Saxon #poetry #secular #river

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Hi shoko! I just wanted to say thank you for liking my piece "a portrait of rachael" because that's how I found your blog & wow your writing *_*

I loved that piece! And thank you~

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It's really wonderful when people can write like you. I genuinely enjoy your poetry. Thanks :)

I'm so flattered, thank you so much! 

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There's something to be said about showering in the dark. It's a borderline religious experience, and the uncertainty of what exactly you shampooed your hair with is exhilarating.  

#short #shower