This path, overgrown with briar and brambles,
Thorns and nettles strewn in disarray;
A loathsome path of broken dreams, and yet,
Willingly I walk it each day

This path that hurts not the feet, but the heart,
Where roiling streams overflow their banks,
And burning cinders comingle with ice --
An affirmation of Life's cruel pranks!

What is it that prompts my unwavering steps?
The love that greets me at journey's end!
The ghost of a love lost so long ago
Leaps boundaries only love can transcend

What pain I endure to savor love's bliss!
On this path, blazed by temerity,
I fly past the graveyard of ill-fated  dreams
To a love that defies mortality

How weary I've grown trying to understand
Why such perfect love incurred God's wrath;
And now all that's left are the memories
That await me at the end of this path

to kindness, to knowledge,
we make promises only; pain we obey.
Marcel Proust

I was born into this world
of people without
guardian angels but
loveless pockets
no body to see how
pain was incessantly
turned into tombstones
a carousel of masks and
defeated laughter
blinded by deceitful colours.
triumphant sidewalks not afraid
to be crushed by the weight of
humiliated bodies.
-he was secretly dreaming
how vanilla ice-cream would taste
on her lips-
people got used to bringing their thoughts
to the drug stores
as if walking their pets
weeping was incomprehensible
forbidden by law.
-she was secretly dreaming
of him smelling like tobacco,
white musk and cedarwood -


this world survived because of
all the hidden dimensions,
perhaps.
I was handed over a disembodied world
to dream of but
the metaphors were of
no use
to moonless people
their hands paralyzed.
oh, can anybody see?
the unspoken terror
that time stood still.
-I was secretly dreaming of destroying
this world with fresh words, with
the craziness of feeling alive-

I inherited the secret passion
of some unknown promises and
never-whispered desires
the only teacher I could find -
my manic heart
unbearable the pains of
growing a mind.

they wanted to keep it simple:
to cry, to speak, to fall in love.
muted seagulls
loveless alphabets
into this world
waiting for the sun to shed
its hidden self
of blindness

My tears greet each unwelcome day,
Blurring the sun's first golden ray.
While dead dreams submit to decay,
Hopelessness binds my heart like a glove.
And you bear the blame, capricious Love!

At times you draw near just to tease,
Torturing me by slow degrees,
Leaving my poor heart ill at ease,
Till tears are all I'm capable of.
What anguish you cause me, shameless Love!

You take delight, or so it seems,
Shattering my most precious dreams,
Leaving me to wade sorrow's streams.
Never will you soar with the pure dove ---
Tarnished are your wings, deceitful Love!

Fickle Love,  God's laws you defile
With your demons of falsehood and guile;
Send those cursed flaws into exile!
Grant all lovers what their hearts dream of:
Your cherished counterpart . . . sincere Love

When loneliness whispers too loud,
And despair wraps me in its shroud,
With folded hands and my head bowed
It is then I plead with Heav'n above:
Teach me the words that summon true Love!

Yet, when Love's disguised as a lie,
Who'll dare to renounce it?  Not I!
I'll press on with hope and a sigh,
Giving doubt and common sense a shove.
For Love in all its facets is still Love!

This thing called Death is but a return
To the soil from whence we came,
The soft clay of this Earth, our components,
Formed into shapes, then given a name

The dust we see floating on sunbeams
Is the soul in disarray,
But when arranged in the proper order
Molds us into who we are today

How we cherish these bodies of clay,
Though we don't get to choose them,
Defective or whole, in sickness and health,
When Death calls, how we fear to lose them

Proud as the peacock we wear our flesh --
Fine particles of matter!
But Death carries us all to the same fate:
We rot, and the particles scatter

Our value diminishes to naught
When we realize this truth:
"From dust we came, to dust we shall return."
(Though you may find my ramblings uncouth)

And those who shed tears at our graveside
Cry for their own destiny,
For well they know that they too shall become
A speck of dust in eternity

Loneliness, I need not speak a word
Yet you're aware of my wretched pain;
All through the night, your vigil you keep,
Hearing my heart call to Love, in vain;
Sensing my distress, you warn the dawn
To tap gently at my window pane

You know me so well -- my heart's a book
You've read many times, with empathy;
Steadfastly you watch, come rain or shine,
You stand at your post most faithfully;
I feel your presence in the darkness
When tears blind my eyes mercilessly

In a moment of false bravado,
I foolishly pushed you from my side
When I believed Love had come to stay --
A silly notion I now deride;
Somehow you knew not to stray too  far,
And when you returned, how we both cried!

Come, Loneliness, let's call it a night,
I'll discard these dreams, then we'll go home;
Once again we'll amble, side by side,
I have you ..... there's no reason to roam;
Tonight I'll raise my glass in a toast:
To you, friend, I dedicate this poem!

Little boy blasting,
out on the streets rapping,
while other children keep clapping.

It’s as beautiful site.

Living amidst destruction
but trying to construct
an art form from love
because adults
in power haven't stepped up.

Little girl marching,
rigidly standing against
environmental destruction
another young leader of the people.

It’s as beautiful site.

But this shouldn't have to be
the fight of their young lives.
Why are they out there
trying to save our lives
when we had so many
generations to stand up
and do what’s right?

One grown *** idiot
is barely living up
to the ideals he believes in,
leaves the struggle
to the children
who seem to have more
heart instead of him.

While he writes celebrating
their success and greatness,
he settles in to accept this mess
because he doesn't really believe
it will get any better than this.