archive of lovers

An Archive of Lovers

The colour of tar, coal,

the colour of midnight,

enveloped your eyes,

nobody could read you,

judged you based on your strong, masculine,

jawline defined,



they couldn’t taste your cyanide

but she did,

and you knew you couldn’t hide it from her,

the way she tried to hide it from you,

she saw past dead eyes,

a smile that tried to mask the scars on your back,

where no one could view,

your vulnerability,

and if they somehow did,

you would say “oh it’s fine. It’s nothing. Pretend you didn’t even see”

but by the Gods of fire,

you could not lie to her

and you couldn’t lie to


In trauma transit

Hatefulness is not my muse,
but it comes so easy,
a simple trigger,
The fuse is lit

spewing fire

but why?
Why is always the question
where did it start?
when did it happen?
what did I do!
This hate
is uncontrollable,
and relentless in
destroying a body made of broken glass and glue.
And you,
its beyond what the eyes can see,
A wolf in sheep’s clothing
and the epitome of evil,
what did you do to me!
for once I think,
It would be better if I had broken myself in two.
than your fresh poison sink into my brain,
my stiffening veins,
crying for my mother

and eating me away.

river-moon goddess

Ballad of the river-moon goddesses

It happened so quiet,

so silent

the way the light left your eyes

Your arms loosened,
and fell dry
into my lap.
Head hunched over on my shoulders,
the desperate pulse
and your heart

your blood and spirit dripped onto the plateau
down to the riverbank I wanted to take you
with me,
But the moon wanted you back,

So you became Luna,
And I
watching gracefully, you dancing with stars in the sky.



Do not let it get away,
Hold the line as if your life depends on it.
Break your back.
Hunch your shoulders.
This is how we shall eat.
How the children shall drink milk,
not bread and water.
This is your path to getting away
from the disdain that perpetuates
in this family.
You cannot suckle on my breasts,
or in my arms
for the rest of your life,
swim my dear child
hold your head above the water,

I can only watch you now.


The Murder of Apollo

When the sun became sick

I borrowed the wings of Icarus,

I wanted to feed it nectar

so It could return to its glory,

I wanted it to burn

so the sunflowers would not be sad, 

so the skies would not have had,

that pitch-grey,



of gloom over the land, 



 the sun would not have healed

for a next forty two years,

fifteen thousand, 

three hundred 

and thirty nights,

the birds would not sing,

the ants would not dance

and even I, 

a water nymph

lived in a grey-casted trance. 

I should have warned the sun,

but it would not have left,

because the sun casted it’s pride, 

and still shun bright for those who 

needed it,

but in holding spears of fear to his neck


they killed the sun



The paradox of the martyr


This is a paradox,

A paradigm full of words

that flick off your tongue,


Lies, judgement, mutiny,

A song without beats,





You could be anyone,

My mother,

My father,

My man,

A juggernaut of depravity,


that is pulling me in.

A beautiful body filled with


and mice.


You are death in the cloak of perfection,


and forgiveness.




I planted many flowers that December

and they bloomed

in spring,

wilted in June

and Demeter

plucked them from my

bony fingers.

Her eyes glazed with the

dust of my ancient tears,

My grey hair

cascading down my back

like the pain

that made its way across

my grief-stricken, widowed

and barren chest.


I planted flowers in September

when the school-children

would greet me with love

dripping from the honey cakes

from their mouths.

My flowers grew that September

when my love for the world began,

When the dust settled from the sky

and strawberry juice

dripping from my thirsty lips

made its way to my garden violets

lapping it up with their sweet sounds.

A Monarch Butterfly

Be free little butterfly
Don't let them trap you here
Spread your beautiful wings
Away from here
Leave the wasteland's core to us
I would rather hate to see your spirit suffocated
As mine was and still is

Beautiful butterfly,
I see your smile
I hear your wings and I am entranced
Your marvellous potential
On the cusp of bursting through
I can't wait to see your rainbow of success
Blossom in this world
Delicate but firm
Serious with laughter
A giver and a taker
Always beautiful
Forever be free butterfly
Be free

Why Hide?

Why should I hide myself from the world?
To keep a job?
To impress the boss?
The world is dangerous,
my mind speaks:
"Don't let them know a thing about you"
Vultures circle above watching carefully
But the herbs bring 'I' to another level of thinking
Why should I hide myself from the world?
When I am unique personified
I am light through the prism
Light to be marvelled
No longer
The world might not know it
But it needs me at my rawest, unfiltered
Ready to unleash
Watch me spread my wings
Watch me and spread yours

More from Shemar:

Addiction: Human Nature

Our biggest faults as humans is being addicted to one another, the feel, smell and overall presence of another are intoxicating. Our mental being moulded by loved ones and “hate” ones.. Our biggest fears come from one another, humans are so powerful to one another a complete stranger can change our behaviour. Imagine a world with positively rounded instincts for one another.

It’s puzzling rather mind-blowing we feel so much but are able to ignore with every being of our soul. Do we love deeply naturally or just by thought? I’d love these questions to be answered because at the end of the day we are vessels interacting with vessels but the moments our souls gleam we connect on a deeper level than ever before.

We all have an addiction and its human nature whether it’s the ying or yang. The reason why serial killers interest just as much as artists. The reason why music feels like it’s coursing through our veins. The reason why smiles are contagious, it’s all the same connections and I hope I’m not the only one that feels the world and notice the universe in my eyes.

At the end of the day, we see the art we crave in one another’s soul. Deep down we crave passion and we entice one another too feel a deeper depths than ever before the suppression of that is what kills us slowly than ever before. Humans are perfect matches but matches burn.

We are the universe, we are the art, we are the nature, we are humans.