the first boy i ever loved had a freckle under his eye
and i swore
i'd never forget how that looked
and now, i have forgotten which eye it was under
and what color they were
but this, this is not a sad realization
this is not justification
this is an explanation of a simple thing:
i was not in love
but for the life of me, i could've been
and for reasons that i can't quite explain
we drifted apart
and truthfully, this may have been because he called me names i cannot repeat
and he broke me in ways that i'll never be able to fix
as fucked as it is, i stayed for a while longer
even though i knew i shouldn't
god, i thought i was in love
i swore i'd never forget that
but i did and i have
and sometimes these "goods" and "bads" come to pass
and all that's left is a fading memory
a fleeting feeling
not of love, but of longing
to be in love again
and this freckle under his eye, well i haven't seen it in seven months
and i don't really care to
because i've seen other beautiful things
things that would make that freckle seem
things that would make that freckle seem
things that i swear
i will never forget
and this, i know
is not forever
i am not in love with the world yet
but for the life of me,
i could be
two years ago my body was anything but. i built bridges
into my heart and burnt them down
just so all the memories couldn’t pass
this is an apology for all the good things i left stranded,
for the massacre inside me,
for the worst parts that survived the war
i never intended to grow outward instead of up –
just wanted to be a part of the needed,
of the appreciated and loved
i stopped playing the piano when i was nine years old
because i hated the emptiness that filled the air
in between each note
one night my dad slammed the door so hard my mother
shook for days, i made her coffee in the mornings
because she couldn't bear to sleep in a half empty bed
those were the first nights i spent writing
rather than sleeping. this an acknowledgement for the words
that never made their way onto paper
to all the bridged dreams and deserted soldiers -
i am coming back for you, all of you,
and i will tell your story
I wish God existed
and took care of us.
People would live in Peace,
no more tears, no more blood.
I really wish God existed,
how life great would be,
knowing that Good Shepherd
thinking about his sheeps.
Looking up in the sky
with a smile on the face,
feeling that all we do
makes purely perfect sense.
I wish God existed
and answered our all questions,
like mother, asked by her child
answers them, with patience.
I wish God existed,
how different would be our world,
no sleepless, dead black nights,
no wasted forever days.
to listens to the hearts of others
is but a waste of time
why feel what you do not know?
why read what you cannot understand?
why care for what is not yours?
to listens to the thoughts of man
is but a trivial matter
for there is nothing left to say
no meaning to the words of those
that are not I
no feelings worth of substantial expression
no life, but that through my eyes
Maybe people who can’t tell directions have no directions in life.
Those same people end up being…
Some of them follow others path’s and a few of them make their own.
Why is it so hard trying to figure out your path, who you are and what you like.
Why is it that when people ask me questions, I hesitate with an answer.
hesitant at first because I want to please them. How about this; I don’t need your validation.
I don’t need your opinions or suggestions. I don’t care.
I really hate when people ask me those type of questions; as if they want to categorize me.
I’m not made to be put in a box. I won’t ever be. Stop trying to label me or figure me out.
I’m everything I need to be.
religious blood pumped into our veins
staining our blood with shame
love beats in our hearts
the same love that beats in other peoples
from housing estate to church steeple
we were born to love as one people
we are the universe
our conscience is our conscious love
may look to the stars above
but we are as much born of the stars
as we are of the earth or Gaia
and anyone who says that you only go to heaven if you believe in jesus
is a liar no one can put out the star shine in our hearts
we are one just like the white light from the sun
just refracted into many like the rainbow
individuals feeling pain although
the pain is not knowing or feeling that oneness
with the universe our mother
our father yin and yang the clues are all around us
we may curse and cut
but we must trust in one another...
More than just drops of water
The life giver, the energy re filler
The rain, I stopped running away
And gazed, on drops that fall on leaves
A closer look, and thoughts lit up
It's a refreshment, a zillion angels
Descending, giving life to the dry souls
Defending drought from wiping out joy
The soil absorbed the gift
Awakened her offsprings
The trees, herbs and flowers
Replenished their needs
Now, the payback to their care takers
To let them be thankful to God
For what they haven't destroyed
For they have become humans
The nature will unleash, the beauty
The food, the medicines, to relax
And to inhale life, the oxygen
Then after, the silly droplets
That fooled around on huge petals
Soon, to drop on her fulfilled heart
This ache, it seems
To drip through my mouth
To fall from my tongue
To hang from my voice
It speaks louder than I would
And hisses violently
Whilst I tuck it back inside
So I can "smile" for the peoples' eyes
And they do not mind,
They do not take note
As this fear that crept out
Is tucked away in the back of my mind
In the tightest crevice,
in the smallest hole
It fits snuggly until it breaks loose
And cuts through flesh again
Until I cannot compose myself
And until I'm dying again
I "smile" for the peoples' eyes
And assure them it's alright
But inside, it's breaking
It hurts too much
Yet I cannot ease it, so I hide it.
If it’s the people that make it here,
I’ll leave a black frame around it
and cash in a polaroid on the subway
to call it even.
The colorless stands between
young couples and their drug deals,
much like the fragments of ourselves
waiting for us all over the place.
Beverly knows this and hides them in her pink.
Stayed up for days just to miss the sunrise
and fall asleep on the L.
Then there’s that one girl
and whatever is left of that broken heart.
These are the sounds you’ll never hear from the 30th floor.
It’s for your own good, trust me -
and on the subject of diplomacy,
it’s snowing blow on 48th.
But now it’s back to the busy busy,
with the third in the backroom of a speakeasy.
Got thrown and bent up as shit got gritty gritty
so as to remember what it felt like to find myself
in New York City.
For visual represenation of this poem, visit here: