Kahte

United States

INFJ
a human friend
Write Free

Message from Writer

Hey everyone! Please feel free to leave a comment, that would mean so much to me. Just comment on any of my pieces for a review on any your writings and I will happily oblige:) Also reviews are GREATLY appreciated

write free

Published Work

i'm over it

tears taste sweet
puddled with lies
carving streams into faces
and evaporating with light
now tears have dried
they've crystallized
eyes have hardened to glass
thinking you saw something in them
but my eyes were tinted
so it was just the reflection of you
looking back at me

I see your eyes through your mouth
and the way your eyes gleam
are the words you spit out
to accompany your observations
projected onto your face
you pick flowers you see other people gather
and dump them in your own vase

the chill of your brashness
has rubbed my nose raw
and your backtracking blaming
denying what I saw
I've turned away
the space between us has pushed itself 
farther than you'd ever accept

i'm over it
once it clicks,
i'm over it
you've numbed my guilt 
and sense of alarm
i'm over it
can't pull my eyes away from the trainwreck you orchestrated
i'm over it

 

Writing Streak Challenge Week 7

writing streak challenge week 7, may 14 (first day)

something so endearing is learning something new about someone in your life. I've always found it kind of crazy how it's basically impossible to know everything about any one person. so I think just learning something new, whether it be a freckle you didn't know someone had, or just a silly habit brings you closer, and makes you more human. :)

Dear Maria

Dear Maria, 

Our wind chimes vigorously ring
We forgot to take them down
The birds that sang last night don't sing
Not when you're coming to town

We got out the radio and the old playing cards
Boarded up the windows so we wouldn't be showered in shards
We got on our knees to hope and pray
Dear Maria, please let me live to see another day

I live on this island, I call it my home
You destroyed the only place that I call my own
My people are crumbled and have almost lost hope
Dear Maria, We're lost and alone and don't know how to cope

He only helped us to avoid public shame
He tossed us paper towels, but it's not the same
To him we're just another game to win
To him, we are another name on a list of places he has been

Dear Maria,
You're gone now
but the damage is done
we're rebuilding...

malleable

Her wild hair
Has been cut and dyed
safety scissors snipped
Strands in burgundy, dipped
I couldn’t stop her if I tried

She ignored rude onlooking
Took her look in stride
Her flaming hair behind
Of criticism, she was blind
Her fearlessness made everyone sigh

I didn’t know the next morning
She was gone
Fear raked me into shock
In those, a reduced desire to mock
Her fate met with dawn

She knew
What it was like
For her heart to be dough
To change shape for other’s woe
For her own pain to be her last strike

sidewalk

Noticing the small things 
Is not a stroke of luck 
And being surrounded by people 
Doesn’t make me feel less stuck
When I speak up, do you hear me?
Or is my conversation unexpected and abrupt?
I’ll walk alongside you in the grass
So I don’t accidentally step on your toes
I’ll wait for that hot angry feeling to pass
And concentrate on conversation I know won’t last
I’ll hear your obliviousness through my messenger wind
And wipe the hot feeling away as I listen
I wrack my self with shivers
Thinking of all the nevers
Never together
Never forever 
Doesn’t matter whether 
You hear me or not 
Just loneliness isn’t something 
I have sought
But something 
I have always fought

One-Liner

in my veins

we cannot hold up this world if we can't hold up our own; the rivers in my veins run dry.

frozen pasteles

 The banana leaves crowd the counter of our small kitchen, boasting a bright green promise of tropical warmth in the middle of winter. I watch my mother and aunt skillfully wrap meat-filled plaintain paste within the leaves and tie them with cooking twine. The two women exchange conversation talking about god knows what in their rapid fire Puerto Rican spanish. My mom laughs hysterically every minute or so at whatever my aunt says and then looks to me as if to see why I amn't laughing. I can't understand a word they're saying. I try to, but they speak fast, waiting for no one. My aunt and mom exude energy and warmth, walking and cooking as if it were a simple dance. I get up to leave.
    "Where are you going?" My mother asks me. I shrug on a coat and purse my lips.
    "On a walk, I guess," I say as I zip my coat...

my favorite songs

these are the songs are the songs I play on repeat. They have have touched my soul/being/idk in ways I can't describe. I don't know what else to say... listen to them!(And tell me what you think)***(Also reccomend songs you think I would like**)

-Saw You In A Dream by The Japanese House
-somethingfartoogoodtofeel by The Japanese House
-Dancing On My Own by Jake McMullen
-Isle Of Strawberries by Edwin Raphael
-drift/(:( by Alek Olsen-
-They Do, They Don't Jack Johnson
-La Lune by Billie Marten
-I Don't Want To Lose by Kate Bollinger
-Savana Sabertooth by OH!hello
 

i n f j

Is
No
Feeling
Justified




?

the way into the unknown

first, stand on your backporch. think with your eyes, let them wander the perimeter of the treeline, let them react. put your thoughts on the back-burner and let your 

eyes see

ears hear

body feel

tounge taste

nose smell

.

now, wander forward

don't worry about getting lost

hope for it

abandonless

where can you talk with no abandon and let the restraints and expectations of others but mostly yourself fall to the pits of nothingness where everything that didn't really matter kinda did go?

where can you write like no one will read it but in the end you share it because you think it matters? where you have no expectations but that you will quench the thirst of spilling yourself onto the page, but the thrist of wanting to be heard is desirable but so hard to do? 

where can you reach a state of mind where you can truly be comfortable with yourself no matter what you think what you say what you write what you hear...?

where?

but really, 

how?

the leaves grew back

it's warm again
the sun peeks out of clouds 
and when it seemed like the gray would stay
the leaves grew back

Corona de viñas

she weaves me a simple crown with nimble fingers
waxy green stems 
twisting the strings of life 
she finishes with a flourish
lays it on my head
"Whether it be daisies or thorns you are la princesa of this barren world."
I am the princess of this barren world
who lays in a bed of thorns
and whose wrists are tied with daisies
but on her head lay a crown of vines 

adrift

adrift
in a vast openness
a weightless feeling carries forward
A weightless person
In a heavy world
the heave and release marches to tempo
the heartbeat of stars
and the sigh of fog
And the myriad of drops who keep her flourishing
with sand in her veins
and salty tears in her eyes

she walked on the ceiling

she looked up to see them traveling in pairs, in groups, by themselves. they were up there and she was down here. if she called to one she knew loud enough, they would meet her eye with a knowing look. it was odd really, she was there, but she wasn't, but she was. they saw her through a gauzy haze. but it wasn't a haze, for they saw her just fine.

often they would call for her to come down. often she would wonder why they didn't "come down" to her, as they say. she felt strangely lonely on this land she walked, one quite barren. it was odd when you were the only one who walked on the floor.

it was appealingly isolated. if that makes sense. it made sense to her. it didn't make sense to the few who roamed the walls. 

her days consisted of listening to those on the floor, explaining things. listening to those on...

she walked on the ceiling

she looked up to see them traveling in pairs, in groups, by themselves. they were up there and she was down here. if she called to one she knew loud enough, they would meet her eye with a knowing look. it was odd really, she was there, but she wasn't, but she was. they saw her through a gauzy haze. but it wasn't a haze, for they saw her just fine.

often they would call for her to come down. often she would wonder why they didn't "come down' to her, as they say. she felt strangely lonely on this land she walked, one quite barren. it was odd when you were the only one who walked on the floor.

it was appealingly isolated. if that makes sense. it made sense to her. it didn't make sense to the few who roamed the walls. 

her days consisted of listening to those on the floor, explaining things. listening to those on...

A Pair of Poems

Whose Garden is this?

Petal picker
every day she picked a petal
kept it in her pocket
she couldn't pick a flower to settle
so she clasped it in her locket
every day a different rose
until they were stripped to the stem
now she waits for spring so the roses will bloom again

The Gardener
I grew a rose garden to please my mother's eye
but someone picked them dry
now my mother will die
and she never will know why
she never saw her garden that I promised her
she will never see her requested butter-colored rose
for it was the first to wilt
 

It's okay

It's okay that you don't know how to fix me
at least you hold me
It's okay that I don't make any sense to you
at least you try to understand
It's okay that all everyone else sees is me at my worst
at least you remember my best
It's okay to forget I'm broken
because we don't have to always try to fix things
we can let them be and comeback to them later
My problems aren't gone yet, but they will
slowly, surely, hopefully
 

How it must be

How hard it must be 
to process your thoughts
get them organized
get  them perfectly lined up
rhymed up
to be easily interpreted by an audience

How easy it must be to let words spill
descriptions that don't go together
that don't make sense
out of context
how nice it must be to express
without feeling like you have to impress

How nice it must be to share and be heard
not having to rhyme every word (I know)
to 
    let
        your
                mind
                        free-fall

And get feedback saying 
You're
    not
        alone

How easy it is to take things for granted
and love when we loose
But somehow still appreciate

How odd it is for emotions to fling about in your mind all at once
all of them
and be able to spill them on a computer screen

How am i doing this?

 

Sometimes

Sometimes she disappears for months at a time
Puts on hold the things she loves
But she knows she'll come back
For she can't leave her world behind

Sometimes she'll worry too much
or care too much
or think too much
and maybe that's not what she thinks herself but what she tells herself

Sometimes she'll mess up
and it's "not a big deal"
but it always is to her

And Sometimes the word sometimes
means all the times
and you have to rip the dictionary in half for its straight-forward understandable words

Sometimes she acts like me or I'll act like her
or we're both the same person
deciding which part you want to see

But the one you see is raw, true, and real
and wishes she could forge friendships like rising mountains
and twist words the way she wants them

Sometimes the words she speaks aren't the ones she writes
And what she has to say 
she...

☆Contest☆

Hey guys! As you can see, I'm holding a little contest. You can write an essay, story, song, rap, poem, or just random thoughts. So here's the rubric:

You can make up stuff, if you want

Limit: 1500 words

Date: Saturday, October 6th - Wednesday, October 10th

Prompt:  An event that changed your life (For better or for worse)

Prizes: Top three winners get a review on a writing of their choice

Please include a link of your writing in the comments to enter the contest

This is my first time doing this, so I'm really excited! \( ˙ ˘ ˙)/

☆Contest☆

Hey guys! As you can see, I'm holding a little contest. You can write an essay, story, song, rap, poem, or just random thoughts. So here's the rubric:

You can make up stuff, if you want

Limit: 1500 words

Date: Saturday, October 6th - Wednesday, October 10th

Prompt:  An event that changed your life (For better or for worse)

Prizes: Top three winners get a review on a writing of their choice

Please include a link of your writing in the comments to enter the contest

This is my first time doing this, so I'm really excited! \( ˙ ˘ ˙)/

Sounds Assail Me

Sounds Assail Me

Coated and smothered
cloaked and encased
Sound surrounds the mind
A fine thing that can't be replaced
Not hard to find
not amiable in all forms
A beautiful thing that nature sings

From the rush of a stream
to the whoosh of leaves
The sounds of nature are as peaceful as they seem
So complex, we can't describe
I know I just wrote onomatopoeia, please don't chide

It's nice to think that sounds are free
and that every waking hour, sounds assail me

 

10 Second Essays

My Aphorism

You can't sum up anything important in a sentence, or a paragraph.
     
                

The Glass Wall

Each morning I break through glass
The crystalline shards plant seeds in my knuckles, and bloody flowers bloom
Each morning I wake up cold
I feel secluded on the other side, where I can see, but not hear, or feel

When I was younger, The glass was a bubble
And I had to pop it with my pinky finger
I thought It was funny
Then I turned eight and the bubble started to feel like jelly
I had to pop it with my index finger
And then my fist
And then I couldn't

Then it turned to glass, like now
My friends at school grab my hands and say
"What happened? Are you okay? Why do you do this to yourself? Talk to the counselor. Here's my therapist's number," 
They are always concerned.
Don't know why
Doesn't this happen to everyone? Every morning? Every Day?
Doesn't it?

I go to my friend's therapist
 Because she constantly insists
"Fine," I say

I answer...

This I Believe

Moral philosophy simplified

    "No..." breathed Mama. "No no no no no..." I poked my head out the wide doorframe that connected the living room to the kitchen. On the TV screen was a young woman reviewing a bit of news that I bet was what made the color drain from her face. I was not up to date on news. I was homeschooled by Mama and had long ago stopped caring about the disappointing ramblings of politicians who didn't seem to really care about what people really needed.

    "Mama," I sidestepped around the coffee table and sat on the musty couch next to her where she was balancing her head between her fists, as if the weight of her head would be the cause of it to fall off, and the only solution was for her fists to support the weight of her headache. 

    "What's wrong? What does it mean?" I asked referring to the screen. She looked up at me...