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"I need poetry in my life--literally and metaphorically speaking.
I believe every moment can be transformed into raw and intoxicating beauty if we recognize its unique qualities.
Whether or not we note them with a pen makes no difference.
Poetry is there. Maybe that's why I do it, the Virgo in me, the addictive personality.
I am compulsively categorizing these moments. They are the only thing I have in this life.
And, this life, it is too stunning to look away."
Jade Gotauco

PLEASE NOTE: Some content on this page may not be suitable for minors. As poetry comes from life, all facets are explored. Please proceed with that in mind.



The Evolution of a Ragdoll
The Clash
Lotus Petal Limbs
Fading to Gray
Matters of the Heart Haiku
Untitled No. 1
Traversing Tantric Instinct
Warrior in Mourning
Never Stray
Sweet Enough
If Only
Imperfectly Sincere
Just Like That
One and Only
Inklings
Poetic Slight
Bliss
 
 
 
 
 
 
Evolution of a Ragdoll
 
Thinking of sunshine and lollipops
I’m side tracked into domestic tornadoes.
Renting a preventable portion
The illogical rantings triumph in this moment.
Pushing almost thirty birthday cakes
I relish in the soft memories;

They lack the blessing of this taste.

Ragdoll faces scorched by her open thighs.
Rigid veins popping
Splitting
Before their prematurely guilty eyes.
Their costume smiles arresting,
They take what they believe is theirs.
They hoard what they believe is love.

Hearts mangled by the Pseudologia...
The not-so-Fantastica whimsical affairs
Of mother.
Blood as thin as the vodka she kisses
A conscience loosely residing in her soul--
Barely surviving,
A life force so dim guides hungry bellies
To the slaughter.
Their lungs starve for breathe.

Ragdoll faces scorched by her flame
Rigid veins screaming.
A mother lost--
To bottles clutched in fearful fists.
Salty cheeks streak waterfalls
Mascara lips..
Those beautiful dolls
Struck with a metaphorical switch.

Turning my tune to our mother Alice
My bones regain their strength.
Her eternal beauty governs our garden,
It sways the silly little spiders I name Charlotte.
Hearts break for a spirit lost
To the mind of her sour apple seed..
Our hands crossed in prayer
Every moment sets us free.

So while tonight we may live in sin.
I’ll remember what she taught me,
Even ragdolls can heal with a safety pin.
 
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The Clash
 
A type A-B.
Personalities split like pea soup
Leaning into neither side but yours.
My body screaming for its injection
The mind finds its center
And waits.

Louis Vuitton handbags with gold encrusted shoes.
Faces covered by gorilla sized sunglasses.
The world around me transforms
Into upper class vanilla bean hues.
My Burberry glasses mock my empty pockets.

Visualizing the golden piece of plastic
Stamped with numbers and the emblem of fiscal need
My gut wrenches,
It maneuvers its way through emotional tantrums
And I find myself weary from the play.

Desiring the world to spin on my fingertips
Wanting pure air to grace my slippery skin
The need to feel safe grows like spongy animals in my bathroom sink.
I wonder and wander freely,
Struggling to find solace in the din.

Dreaming of memory boxes dressed with Burmese Jade--
Diamond handcuffs hanging from the canopy bedpost,
Linen dresses hanging from my limbs,
The time and ease to create--
An able life unrestricted by famine and poverty.

Writing the story, the ending goes both ways.
The A-B combination leads me to and fro
From dreamland to reality
Where natural wooded landscapes,
Abundant gardens surrounding a shack of love
And a penniless existence reign.

The power of the now.
The omnipotence of change.
An unbalanced rickety pair of legs struggle against the weight.
 
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Lotus Petal Limbs

Lotus petal limbs
Penetrate rich ochre skies.
Roots take their journey south,
As light beckons with laughter
From the northern sun.

Blessed beauty of imperfections,
Embracing wilted corollas,
That once protected her seed--
She dances her silhouette
Implicitly on your horizon.

Senses teased by languid, lust filled pores--
The pear shaped shadow becomes light.
Graceful curves of precision
Converge between hidden lips,
Willing her wings to open--
To fly.

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Fading to Gray

Little mermaid pinks and greens
Wrapped around my fingertip.
The hang nail ripped by my teeth
Bleeds through
Penetrating vision.

The callous beneath protrudes
Proving the King’s sleep is near.
Fear rises in my throat
While I choke back rivers of deep.

Heeding to your warning
I folded inward, outward and above,
Leaving the tailless kite
In the dust of our fear
To see tomorrow,
Its darkness clear beneath the blanket.

Revelations of hope and grandeur
Tucked away in pockets of mind
The key to diamond handcuffs
Flashing its glare only for an instant
Before retreating to now.

You are a fur coat
Lent cautiously to my shoulders
One fine evening.
You are the black and white
Forever etched
On my color wheel walls.

With my knees pressed to floor
I vow to never forget
Knowing the nature of black
Is to fade to gray.

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Matters of the Heart: Haiku

Palpitating heart,
Godly anticipation
Suspended in flight.

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Untitled No. 1

Dismissing thoughts of frustration and moot points
I step aside for the now.
Letting them go into abysmal darkness,
Body and spirit are set free.
The infinite need to let go of desire
To quiet the cycle of conscious dysfunctional tapes
Becomes omnipotent.
The world,
It misunderstands.

Buddha and Lao Tzu speak wisdom
Into the fearful mind of Wednesday’s child.
An epic battle of wits taking place
In an organ painted with precision curves.
Typing the A with the B,
I sit restlessly.
My little pink heart
Struggles to lend its strength to fight.
My mind becomes the fool.

Emotional hoarding congruent as it dances
Bitter tastes and angst its unruly match.
Rubbing like sandpaper on the pulpy fruit of my flesh,
Challenging my lungs to drink the air.
Under my skin like a famished parasite, taking turn after turn
Through the labyrinth of switchblade thoughts,
I retreat with unsteady feet.
Opting for the now,
Revenging the craving for the perfect metaphor.

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Traversing Tantric Instinct

Traversing tantric instinct
My mind remembers its affliction
the human condition;
to want what it could never hold.

Tiny daydreams float like dandelion seeds
Inward, outward, above and beyond
to the horizons of the unknown;
the horizons of life;
where illusions begin
and gravity seizes to exist.

Compromising nature’s balance
I wish for light to bury my darkness;
I wish for love to bury the shame.
My yogic spirit sits silently,
Beneath smoky dreams
that dress my colored walls,
as my feet seek the solace of the ground.

Momentary awareness meets metaphor,
Olfactory nerves bring me home;
To empty pockets,
To colorless barricades
Translucent next to his touch.

Grasping for words,
I dance around what can’t be spoken,
What can’t be sung.
An animalistic language
Meant for only those who know
the silent symphony of the sun.

Inspiration wreaks havoc
Like the fire below my hips
As the clashing of logic and love
overpowers the strength to live
In this moment,
In this breathe,
where I know I will never be his.

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Warrior in Mourning

There are few things as poignant,
As a warrior in mourning.
A spectacle of strength,
Wilting into the ground;
Like the slow descent
of the last crinkled leaf
From a cherry blossom tree..

My supine stem curls forward
Following the labyrinth of roots
Downward,
to where his forehead meets the earth.
A being of lithe,
I reach out to him,
As moonlight did
That starry night.

Screaming from my lungs to his;
Praying to move his whim to sigh
I seek words
fluid as melting ice.
Alert, as in enemy territory,
I summon the strength
of wounded warriors,
slouched comfortably
under the shadow of life.

Bending like the archer’s bow,
My heart opens without fear.
Removing my rusty armor
To leave my skin bare;

I stand naked,
firm in my stare.

There is no silence greater
than the sound of air;
splitting at invisible seams.
Or the sound of a warrior
Shifting his gaze
to find his target is me.

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Never Stray

Languid moving muscles twitch
With the thought of your fingers
Tracing my body,
from freckle to fur;
Heat from my chest
Reflects the rising temperature
In this empty room.
I say a silent prayer:

May we never stray from this...

Basking in time drenched with space
I revel in moments between;
The ones that create memories
That sneak into my dreams.
A contentedness to be,
A willingness to meet my death
With a smile in my eyes,
and a peaceful grin
I would give my last breathe.

If I never learned the taste of you
The nights wouldn’t speak regret;
The ones spent alone
would inspire thoughts to wander
encourage me to ponder;
but they’d sure leave me tired
and wet.

Your smile would steal my walls,
but I’d love you all the same.
Painting boxes for your songs
You’d always be my muse
kept safe within my gaze.

Fingers finding rhythm
to the beating of this dream
I come home;
and come slowly
to the inner reflection of your face..

May we never stray from this.

If I never learned the depths of you
The same of you and me;
It would only be one version
Of the fairy tale that could be.

Either way,
please let us stay,
lovers forever free.

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Sweet Enough
 
If that was too sweet,
I’ll make it hurt;

Like your belt when it meets my cheeks.

If that was too soft,
I’ll make it hard;

Like your skin between my teeth.

If that’s not enough,
I’ll keep it raw;

Like wanting a sip of your cock...
...for breakfast.
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If Only

If I had only one wish,
It would be to feel you now.
In a moment of weakness
I crave the taste of your skin;

Air around me transforms
Into cotton candy stars,
and I fumble to find the strength
to conquer time once more.

If only now was yesterday,
I’d weave another feast for your eyes.

Fear bred from tortured past
Hinders a tantric tale,
I wish I could say I traveled light;
But at their mercy I grew frail.

Pleasure and pain collide,
Chaotic flames ignite.
Joyful anticipation meets self recognition;
Against a starless sky.

If only I could be held,
in the safety of your limbs;
You would know my scars
Like a long time lovers lips..

If I had only one wish,
I would hand it over to you.

My thorns would soften,
When graced with your touch
Your heart would blossom
Under the heat of my love.

If I had only one wish,
It would be to come undone
at the seams where dreams meet life;
it would be to remember,
no wishes come true
without a dreamer’s eager sight.

If only I had one wish...

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Imperfectly Sincere

When it rains,
the sky shits rainbows
for everyone but me.
Hosting a pity party for one,
I wonder...
should I leave you be?

My heart beats indignant
for occupying your view;
and I don’t feel like fighting,
what’s inevitably clear:
that I’d fail,
and end up kissing the pew.

Like morning dew on lotus blooms,
reflecting and rejecting
the simplicity of your pond.
It’s never as it seems,
and so I wonder,
is it only me?

Retreating into space,
Leaning into self,
I find no need to fight,
what’s inevitably clear,
that I am,
as you are,
imperfectly sincere.

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Just Like That

A pure white sheet of paper
tainted by my words.
Transforming perfection into dysfunction
my craving for release
steals the lives of many,
robbing them of their suffering,
sending phantom jabs of hope,
if only for an instant,
like the clarity of this once blank page.

Remove my words,
and just like that,

It is clear.

Creation brings pain to all it touches;
Trees cut down swiftly
to make the block,
to make the paper,
for me to jot down sour words
in hopes that someone will see,
in hopes that someone will make it so clear,
to me,
that any word would seem useless
against the pull of their voice.
against the pull of their love for me.

Just like that,
it would be clear.

In handling the Master’s tools,
I’ve cut my hands;
walking a path ridden with self sabotage,
I climb this mountain of letters
only to learn,
time and again,
the one who speaks too much
will never win.

If I could wake up from this dream,
I would let the page stay white,
because it would be clear.

It would be clear,
because just like that,
you would be here.
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One and Only

If I told you where it hurts
would you kiss it better?
If I told you I want more
would you come to my door?

Tiptoeing around circumstance
I grin with the notion of you;
crossing my lips,
penetrating willing hips...

pressed against the mattress
twisted in gratification
if it exists,
heaven would live in your grip.

It would be you and me,
bodies distorted on the floor;
I would be to you, my dear,
your one and only whore.

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Inklings

What started as an inkling,
evolved into a book.
Written from tiddlywinks in time
when I could smell your pheromones
dancing with mine;
What I would give
for another look at you
at your blood soaked sleeve
at your fingers tapping the keys;
What I would give
for a taste of your nectar;
Knowing I am not a fruitful bee,
knowing you do not wish
for me to sow your seed.

Last night I dreamt of you
in uniform.
What I knew to be blue
contradicted itself with yellow hues,
but still you were there;
ready,
willing,
to fight a fire
with a clean breath of air.
I would have sold my soul
to smell your hair...
Captured in subconscious mind
I let it ride the stream,
I let it seep onto you,
and into you,
in hopes that you would see.
What I would give to go back,
and set you free.

Lessons of expectations
never learned,
I imagined you spinning,
about and around
for the nearest open door.
I didn’t believe in the weight of my words
to a man so close to the ground.
But still you come towards me
humoring my view from the clouds.
Woven from prose and playful flirtation
we have created a monster
with most lovely intentions.
I only wonder,
what I would give,
to make the dream come true.
what I would give
to wake up with my eyes to you.

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Poetic Slight

How can I show you
who I am,
without being in your sight?

How could you know
what you’d see
if given the chance
to unbutton..
the fantasy?

I could tell you of the iris
that blooms between my thighs,
when I think of your silhouette
emblazoned into sky.

I could tell you I am flawed;
that I’ve been branded
by fire lit fingertips
in the midst of passion
pain,
and lonely lips.

I could tell you how the stretch marks
came to dress my solemn skin,
I could tell you
how it all began.

If I can tell you this,
you will know me,
without ever having known
the texture of bliss,
or the contours of my tiny tits.

Dare I speak?!
Oh my love,
You have become Prufrock’s peach.

I’d like to tell you why I jump,
why my fists clench in my sleep,
so that you might know me
before you choose to fall;
before your arms become my cradle
and all.

I can tell you this,
and I could tell you more.

But the truth is,
it doesn’t matter.

The truth is,
I am nothing but a bore.

How can I show you
who I am,
without being in your sight?

It is a question
only a fool would ask,
when drowning in poetic slight.

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Bliss

Thoughts of our bodies at play,
Forced my lips into a smile.
Tinted transparency of the moonlit sky
Reflected the parallels
in a universe of synchronized notions..
Fueled by our fire,
My hands found their place at my sides.
Temptation tested resistance,
And I settled for the warmth of your eyes..

I reveled in the moment we touched;
Not wanting to say good-bye.
The scent of your pores so sweet,
It followed my fevered fingers
under cool cotton sheets.
I would have climbed into you,
And taken cover beneath your weight
Had you let me.
I would have sung you a lullaby
In kissing your lips,
If I knew this was more than a dance.
But for now,
I’ll call it bliss.

My taste buds blossomed
with dreams of phallic motions;
Moving oceans under your skin.
My fingers traced your contours
While finding their way into my hidden lips...

My toes craved the anchor of your hips that night;
In bittersweet fantasies
Fashioned with a delicate grip.
Penetrating visions of spirits merged
I wish you could have heard,
The rivers of blood that pulsed
as I shouted your name..
Into the heavens,
Into the space
Of all that is love and nothing in vain.

Twisted limbs akimbo
followed desire to indulge once more;
In dreams of diamond handcuffs
Strapping fists against the wall.
My body your prey,
My capture your prize,
You take me as I am,
Those eyes, it seems, could never lie.
You take me as I am,
and release your nectar
into the valley
of these sweat soaked thighs..

Thoughts of our bodies at play,
ease my lips to a sleepy grin.
Illusions become lost in silence
where my oneness begins,
And the light of your smile
fades into the empty corners
of the candlelit room.
Into the empty corners of my mind;
where there is room to flourish,
Bathed in light,
only we will know.

 
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©All content on this website belong solely to Jade Gotauco. Do not copy, save or print.