M tee-ness #42

These days were so filled of the madness which of my emotions and dared

to thrust all of my tongue to dry it out by talking all of my negative side.

Then only when it emptied,

I knew where to park my mind,

Unto its unkind vehicle upon a spot where no one can see,

that unhinged wrecked,

and yes a battered worned out and decapitated,

automaton of a mind that wont rest until

it was empty of its fuel and oil.






NsVs vs NmBs .444:z0s4

A fear of hope

 in any second is a mile 

of the sky that stretches 

beyond any imagination.

For the hope to fear 

that my hand shall take 

and grip its heel is an attack 

not by something it is an insecurity 

that one who gave it inside willingly.


©Oliver Melendez

®ohms,artsydhude all works thereof


This bottle of . . .


I am trying to look. . .

for you,

for reasons,

of excuses.

The void which can be emptied and be filled,

Yet still be of nothing and something in between.

I asked it,

It told me.

Go out breathe that which is free,

Go out stand amongst the weightless water.

Go out and run into all hills of others.

You will see,

You will touch,

You can smell,

All that is and be all that can never be yours.

In some sense it was and will always be yours not to take nor make.

Only time will love you for what you are,

Not the one you are becoming,

Breathe damn fool,



© Oliver Melendez

® Ohms, Artsydhude


Love to leave it.

What is it about,

When i cannot ponder,

Why I am always thinking,

Where was my mind and 

How i came into questions that

Which can never stop,

Does it ever anyway?

The only answer would be,

Leave it as it goes,

To let it go behind

The wall of 

Letting go.

Free the mind . . .

Of the love that was

Of the time was

All the longing of dwelling on and the 

Past that flew in and out

Of the life that spent on 

Reclusive state,

Repetitive mindless dribbles and squabbles,

Prideful grudges and stoic cynicism.

So it seems any of somewhat vices that held or lost,

Then please do held your senses responsible,

Not your behavior,

At least admit it to your attitude,

Unless it was intended,

Unless it was intentional,

For it was the brain all along that held you,

In all that was,

Can you try,

Just to adjust but not change,

Your cellulite and the scars that held you in pain,

And bathe in the rain.

Ns wat901

The past cried its last tears,

and all of those miseries

left my head a day ago.

Only emptiness kept me

alive in my own place.

Where is the sound that love makes,

where a heart love to ache,

only then when a life has to begin its ending,

all the while emotions love to start and does end,

when the eyes swells with its own life lights up after crying.

AuVi 02.i

Time is a butterfly that has been busy loving every scent,

from a tulip that multiplies its love and gives none to the muse

of the one whom I wanted,

only that person that needed me as she gives none,

yes love is not necessary when 

Destiny does its obligations

Fate gives responsibility

and asks only for that person

to be as one with

a real love that cannot be undone.

NmBc 05w

To my dearest Mentor, 

my angst ridden,

agoraphobic and very prolific,

She symbolized all that wallowing and weeping

that poetry makes out of me,

in December to February winds.

in January to March madness of rains.

on April and May ‘s love that hatches hate that bittersweet,

kisses of unrequited letters.

Yes to you my dearest Mistress Dickinson 

am very pleased as would be a student of your love

of thine metre of madness,

of thine sweet tender butterfly verses,

and of your love in between letters.

Nsvs 567jkl

. . .

Days of old

days anew,

here i go again

with pain encumber3d

that ankle from time and again.

Yet no wonder

to cease and exist

that this mind

will try to insist,

that I need to

be at least

42 inches and higher

to ride what’s left


or even go depth charging that past

of midnight hours walking

to and fro

from Sepulveda Blvd to Roscoe.