for so long,
i made one with the cracks in the road,
making sure i never stepped on one.
and i never cared to notice
how tired i was from doing it.

maybe it was because
the innocence
and easygoing youth
shielded my eyes
like the white linen curtains
that used to hang lazily on my window.

for so long,
the nine o’clock news
never bothered me
as much as it does now.
and the fact that everyone seems to drag their feet
at the same miserable pace
never struck my mind.
days keep growing faster
at an undetectable rate,
and i’m just starting to see that.

maybe it was because
reality tore the drapes down,
letting all of the light
shine on the things that were
left in the dark.
because growing older
was one of the things
that i chose
to leave in the corner.

I’d get a call over the walkie-talkie, write down what parts were needed, find them in the parts’ warehouse tent, load ’em up, and deliver them to the job site. It was pretty easygoing. In between orders I’d just sit in the air-conditioned truck, listening to Howard Stern and napping here and there. When I could. After a month, they hired another guy to be my partner. He was a computer programming geek, married with kids, and he had these stupid cartoon tattoos all over his arms. Japanese anime **** and Hanna-Barbara characters. The guy really got on my nerves, one of those know-it-all nerds.
Our boss was the biggest Native I’d ever seen. Looked like a Navajo Andre the Giant, only he had a big, black, handlebar mustache. Which as surprising, because, I was under the impression Navajo’s couldn’t grow ****** hair. He stood at nearly 6’6” with long skinny legs, a barrel chest covered in silver and turquoise jewelry. When he got angry, his eyes went wild, like fire raging out of control. Like the time I got the flatbed truck stuck on an embankment and the back axle snapped off. “******* JUNIOR!” he shouted. My old man was one of the foremen there, so everyone just called me Junior. Oh yes, my boss, Darren, was a scary guy to say the least. So me and my delivery partner were making a run to the jobsite one day, the radio blaring “Free Bird” by Lynyrd Skynyrd, just getting into the fast final part of the song. The good part. Right in the middle of the guitar solo, my partner changed the station to Nickleback, of all things. I quickly switched it back to the Skynyrd.
“What’s wrong with you? Don’t change it in the middle of “Free Bird,” I said.
My partner rolled his eyes and switched it back to Nicklecrap.
“Come on, get with the times, man. This is the new ****.”
“Yeah, **** is right.”
I switched it back AGAIN, but the song was ending.
“You made me miss the song, ya’ ******’ *****.’
“Why don’t ya’ just cry about it then?”
“*******.”
We delivered the parts and parked the truck back inside the parts’ warehouse tent. With no calls coming in over the radio, we cranked the a/c and dozed off to Howard Stern talking about an “**** ring toss” game they were going to play. I woke up an hour later to Darren’s angry voice coming in over the radio. “Where the **** are you guys? *******, we got parts that gotta go out. I’m headed to the tent …”
I looked over to my partner, snoring away in the driver’s seat. For a second, I contemplated waking him up. Then I remembered the Lynard Skynyrd/Nickleback incident, and I left him sleeping in the truck. I walked out of the tent, to the Port-John to take a squirt. When I returned to the tent, Darren was staring at my partner, who was still asleep in the truck. Darren’s eyes were big and crazy; he was furious. He turned to me.
“What the ****, Junior?”
“I’ve been trying to get him up, but he just won’t budge. I’m having to do all this work myself!”
“******* …” Darren said, with a heavy sigh, before pounding on the driver’s side window.
“Andy! Wake the **** up, *******! Junior’s carrying all the weight here!”
Andy did wake up. He glared at me, and I smiled back with a ****-eating grin.
You don’t ever interrupt The Free Bird. I don't care what your name is.

fast forward three years
you're living on the coast binding books and your hips together
and i'm still in the small town that turned me into a sinkhole
you got out though, huh? you got out just fine, you have always been stronger than me
you have always been able to get well and get up without anyone bringing you bouquets of hands

you sit down to explain to her that love has made you reckless, that too many people
have been easygoing with your heart; let it cross the streets alone.
drunkenly leaving it in cabs in other countries
so for a while there you weren't sure who to give it to

my dear, I know now that you were never a hotel I could check in and check out of
you were in the best way possible, the mental hospital,
the time I woke up with nobody but the voices in my head (they were all yours)
(I couldn't leave until I got better)

you tell her you fell in love with a girl who never burned your letters,
who showed love in all the wrong ways, never picked up the phone, "honey", you'd say,
"she was nothing like you" ... "kept her hair light to contradict the dark inside of her,
didn't trust anyone to blindfold her and walk her down the street"
you try to tell her my name, but you can't
you can't remember what they call me, call me, call me,
I never picked up the phone

fast forward three years
you're living on the coast making love and mixed drinks a little too strong
and i'm buried near the sinkhole in town, next to the dog my dad kicked a little too hard
out the door of the house he lived in with my mother
i've got your name tattooed on my neck

the wisdom of your eyesight

begins with you legs that turn the body’s odyssey
away, sort of, in the general right direction

but thou stiff neck person, yet still turns away
from what the eyesight will see when the eye shadows lift

thine eyes cast down still seek escape, with last minute haste,
but my pointer finger rests easygoing beneath thy chin

where the finger meets, lifts, thy softened chin tissue,
to look directly at your proffered savior, an electric election circuitry

this head-on-collision of two pair, beat by a full house,
when the combined wisdom of caring lifts two up,
ah, the best writ we ever scripted,
the best hand we ever played

if your eyes should cloud,
upon reading this,
this is too, a kind of wisdom,
wisdomkind


for S.B.

Too quiet or too loud.
    Too aware of my surroundings or too far into        
    my own head.
Too social or too isolated.
    Too distracted or too focused.
Too anxious or too emotionless.
    Too awake or too tired.
Too giving or too selfish.
    Too many thoughts to speak or too little to
    form a sentence.
Too easygoing or too manipulative.


             Too much. Too much. Too much.

I ain’t understand
why a man is lazy
having a bath
having dreams

I ain’t understand
why this is right
and why the ****
that is wrong

******* mess is everywhere
jesus christ
what’s going on

I aint understand
my tearful eyes
when I lose something
I aint understand

and who understands
when I am angry
who takes only the precious things
could be God or maybe some *****
both come down here and
have a drink

Why don’t I appreciate the goodness of people?
In any time and in any mood…
I ain’t understand why I’m angry
There is no reason, it’s just need
I gotta go weeping gotta go howling
you go off it’ll be a high speed

But I understand why I go to crap
It feels good there is nothing better
I understand… sometimes there is nothing better
it’s all about satisfying your needs
Once you wanna ****, once you need to crap
Once you wanna talk up, once you need to eat

Look at the things you really need….
See the things you really need…

Melancholy found a home in me like I found a home in the world.

He works his job, drinks his water
Eats his food and pays his rent.

He is one of my most loyal tenants,
But I am the lord;
That's not what I meant.

He's a handsome man,
With smooth motes and good sense.

Running like a cool river
His pool is the profound blue of my life
And probably my favorite color

Because he is easygoing;

When he comes he comes
And when he leaves he leaves
Painting my eyes
Paint on my feet

The gentle stars sail through the river of the milkyway,
With no hesitation, with no violence,
As huge pressure usually drags them down,
And their fiery nature blows them apart, almost flaring occasionally,
Granting them not to rest a single moment,
But tonight, they allow themselves a moment of joy,
Dancing across the cosmic theater,
As if their carefree attitude, would carry them across the nightsky
Who knows where they are headed ?
And so, they wander, ever so..
Easygoing.

~ Umi

Wrap myself up in Saturday
Tighten the day around me
Relaxation should be fashion
With a stage of people lounging
Letting the week fall away
Wouldn’t that be luxury
A runway show
Of casual mornings, easygoing evenings
Affordability in the convenience
Drink down fancy coffee and hot chocolate
As Saturday becomes a world renowned designer
Of my relaxation

coffee stain on my jeans
not so bad as it seems
a sign of another morning
and oh how easygoing
the mundane things can be
a question comes upon me
to strive for perfection by cleaning
or to let alone something so endearing
that memento vivere

So what was your first impression?
hesitant sigh
"He was a nice enough guy, seemed genuine it's just..it felt too polite, like he was running a script of all the right things to say. He came off as easygoing but inside it felt like he was on 10  - there was a frenetic energy around his brain you know?..and internal grind..and it's not bad or good it's just
oh sweety he's got some stuff goin on."

I raised my brow and nodded in reluctant agreement.

There's a certain kind of heartache that comes when you glimpse into someone's private suffering. When you have fallen for their act that carries them through the real world. A solid oak turned out to be a scared shaky leaf.

Moonlit late night
clear mind and insights,
realizations had.

As I ponder on my love for her
lost in the wonder of being her lover
I understand what she means to me
I realize what I want to be

Not an "object" of her affection
No, not an uncontrollable obsession
but a nice cool refreshment
for her being.

Ideally she'll come, dip into me
I'll engage and wash away
all her misfortunes and worries.

Not being stagnant like a pond,
but more like a river that continues to flow on
washing over her
with new experiences.  

A catalyst for her greatest
keeping her vibration high
and her spirit weightless.

Evolving and growing,
not controlling,
but easygoing.

Ultimately I want to be
myself and uphold honesty.
Continue to adore her geometry,
and impress her with my poetry.

Hold the phone, hold the freakin’ phone. Lisa’s got a boyfriend!
I’ve never seen Lisa with a boyfriend. Lisa draws men like fireworks on a dark night but I’ve never seen her keep one. I mean, it’s not unbelievable but it’s on the edge.

Then, one Friday evening, he came to visit. His name’s David - “call me Dave,” he said, meeting eyes and offering micro-expression smiles as he nodded around the room. Knowing he was coming, our suite’s common room was full, as if everyone came to see Lisa do a dangerous magic trick.

Dave’s got a young, Michael Keaton vibe going (the original movie batman), with a cocky, easygoing confidence and comedic snark that suggests he has everything under control. He’s 26 years old, about 5’11’ (a little shorter than 5’9” Lisa in heels - but he doesn’t seem to notice or mind), with brown eyes and unruly brown hair.

With some cagy sleuthing (I asked) it turns out he met her at her father’s (company's) Christmas party last year! I was there - and they’ve been secretly communicating for ten months!! How did I miss that? My situational awareness is obviously porous, and unreliable - was the room spinning?

You know, I hadn’t really focused on it before, but one of Lisa’s flaws is that her feelings and opinions don’t always show up in her expressions - it’s very annoying.

I’ve always been interested - umm, obsessed - with fashion. If I weren’t going into medicine, I’d have majored in fashion (called ‘Interdisciplinary Studies’ at Yale). Anyway, Dave’s been “dropping in” for the last few weeks - every Friday afternoon - arriving from Manhattan in his (my guess ~$6,500) business attire. What does Dave’s fashion sense tell us?

His business suits (charcoal-gray or olive-green) are Brioni, his dress white shirts are Thomas Pink, his ties Hermès and his shoes are Santoni. He’s slim and well tailored. I give him 5 stars.

If his work attire is lux, his casual attire speaks volumes as well. His weekend wear is a white dress shirt, open at the collar and jeans - both crisp and starched to hell and back. The long, stiff, white shirt sleeves are never rolled up. The jeans - deep blue and new - have a razor sharp crease down the front and his shoes are burgundy, Timberline, boat shoes with no socks. That outfit screams (Texas) oil money.

“What is it you DO?” I asked him, that first night, as Lisa was off getting ready to go out.
“I’m a “M & A weasel,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly. (that’s Mergers and Acquisitions, if you don’t know - with one of the Morgans - JPMorgan or Morgan Stanley - I can’t remember which).
He’s one of those reviled, monied, ‘Wall Street’ guys. Yep, he‘s in control of everything.

“Tell me about you.” he said, giving me a serious, intense look that held immediate charm. He seemed relaxed, his suit coat off, his white dress shirt glowing in the suite’s soft lighting.
“I’ve got the highest GPA in Yale’s pre-med program,” I informed him, adding, “..in my opinion.”
He chuckled (which, of course, made me like him more).

You know, life in an education bubble can get tedious. Sure, it fills our days from edge to edge and satisfies our basic needs but it can be stifling - a faraday cage filtering life into carefully measured doses. Come Friday nights, we’re ready to hit it.

One thing I like about Dave is that he wants to be one of us and he’s never tried to peel Lisa away for himself - I think that shows an ease and generosity of spirit. Did I mention that Dave’s a Yale alum? He KNOWS New Haven.

The first night we all went out, it was the whole clan - my roommates, the girls in our sister suite, Dave and Andy (a friend of Sunny). We went to an expensive harbor restaurant to get to know Dave and seafood-martini celebrate. We had an epic time. Dave fit in like family.

I’m kind of used to paying for off campus stuff because some of these girls are tight and I’ve got a bag, but when the waiter brought the check, Dave and I found ourselves both reaching for it.
“May I?” He asked, with his Keaton-like smirk. “This time,” I said, with my own shrugging smile.

Later, back at our suite, Dave’s heading back to his hotel (less than a mile away) and slowly, quietly, saying goodnight to Lisa by the front door. “You’ve got some awfully long legs,” he said, like a 1940s black & white movie gumshoe. Taking her gently by the back of the neck and waist and twisting her tall, thin frame in a dancer’s backbend dip where she hung, suspended in his arms.

“I’d like to shimmy up one of those legs like a native boy looking for coconuts.” She chuckled.
Leong and I, sitting on our red corduroy couch, exchanged eye-rolls and smiles - he’s a romantic goof, but somehow, he carries it all off - right down to the kiss.

She shimmers in front of me, translucent.
Waiting.
Waiting for me to step inside.
I do.
I always do.
She animates and we walk through life.
We put away the dishes and put away our words
When Mom asks for another favor or Sister gets mad for no reason.
We give hugs and she feels the love course through her.
I don’t.
I’m buried inside.
We go to sleep at 12:30, then I get up and go to school.

A new girl shimmers in front of me, translucent and waiting
Waiting for me to step inside.
I always do.
She animates and we walk through life.
We do our work, always on time, and, always on time
The bells ring and we drift through the halls.
We laugh with friends and she feels satisfied. She fits in.
I don’t.
I’m buried inside.
We are free of school at 12:50, but she never leaves.

I jump from girl to girl, role to role-
The loving daughter and sister, the A+ student, the stable friend,
The peacemaker, the easygoing giver, the girl who wants to go into medicine,
The happiest, most smiley girl you’ll ever meet,
The girl that everyone else needs me to be.

I can live like this.
Someone always needs to give.

But I still wonder what it would be like to experience life-
And not just by sitting on a window sill, with a laptop on my knees-
I wonder what it would be like to experience life for myself
And not for everyone else.

The most beautiful relationship of all
Is not romance
It is friendship
Because there are no rules
No layers or complexities
Just shared understanding
Which is unconditional in nature
When I think about friendship
I think particularly about you
Whom I've known for ten years
Mind you, I've known quite a few friends
For a longer period of time
However, none of them are as special
As you are, to me
Very humble and unassuming
And yet having an enthusiasm
That is hard to match
When it comes to your favourite topics
Such as gaming, movies, animes and Hindu mythology
You have an easygoing and amicable nature
That would appeal to most people
Which is why I'm surprised
That you don't have a lot of friends
But then, it is better to have a few friends
Who mean the world to you
And would do anything for you
Rather than a large group of friends
Who are only there to share your joys
And are unable to support you
When you need it the most
I follow this principle to the tee
In fact, we both are in the same boat
You have always stood by me
In my hour of need
In fact, you are more of a family member
Than a friend
And I am really glad
That your family sees me the same way as well
In fact, your mother was a very close friend
Of my late maternal grandmother
And it is no coincidence
That Patti came in your dream
Just before she left for her heavenly abode
Our friendship is indeed a beautiful relationship
One that will last
As long as we ourselves do
Just be the way you are
And have a little bit more faith in yourself
Most importantly, thank you for coming into my life
And staying with me
Through good and bad times
Because that's what friendship is all about

It seems to me,
that you, and you, and me,
make three.
So why's it gotta be
that it makes a crowd,
and you're so proud,
too blind to see,
too afraid to be,
alone, from yourself.

Now I know
I'm never at my best,
I'm quite honestly a mess
I admit.
I'm an odd fit, a bit.
But let me transmit, emit,
this feeling, please commit, don't quit
me. I can't handle it
alone.

I lost my pride
to find
the half that's better .
I is just one letter,
but you are more,
to me.

And I know your heart
is all you've ever known,
but give me just a part of you,
and Ill stay true.
Keep it sound,
keep you around.

I'm here,
so hear,
what I've got to say
to the fear
that's holding you back:

Let go of my lover,
I want to uncover
what they could do with out you.
See we've got a thing going,
we're a bit easygoing,
flowing,
in the unknowning,
we could be two birds in flight, formation ,
in migration
to something new.
So few have felt
what the wind has dealt,
but I know it well.
Ever since I fell
from the safety of the nest.

Now there used to be a way for me and you,
and we were bounding through;
the sky, we flew. We were high,
we knew. We grew, it's true.

So spread your wings again, and
let go of the branch and then,

fly with me, with me.

Should we dissolve this?
This game we are playing
Jumping these hurdles
It can be exhausting.

Rocking the boat
Tipping me over the edge
Wanting to see me
Succumb to the waves.

Relationship dissipating
Easygoing on temptation
Dissolving my feelings
No surprises at all.

Easy come easy go
No more favors for you
Closing these doors
And ending this chapter.



© Sofia Villagrana 2020

So here I am again, after all these years
Back when I last saw you
I left without looking back
I have changed in so many ways
Older, perhaps a bit wiser, but certainly different from the person you once knew
Time and space took care of that

I remember the first time I laid eyes on you
You seemed easygoing, unassuming...safe
You didn't seem like the type to hurt me
You didn't seem capable of destroying me

You ignored my warnings
You slipped through my defenses
You stole my heart, my soul, my spirit
You took me, and never let go

You held me as I struggled
For who could want someone like me?
Damaged, jaded, pushing you away
Daring you to go, to find someone else

I thought I didn't deserve you, you see
I would only taint you, I might change you
I was also afraid to get used to you and your love
Only to have a gaping hole when it's all gone

Still, you stayed, constant in your love
You didn't say much, but you showed me more
You made me believe that I could be worthy
You made me hope that this could last

Of course circumstance has its own cruel joke
My world came crashing down when I found out
When you told me, stoic and solid as ever
That you were terminal

You humbled me, made me feel so small
There was nothing to do but wait
No surgeries, no medicine, nothing I can do
Heaven won't even listen and give me a miracle

I'd die for you
If that would give you more time
You sadly smiled and squeezed my hand
Said "I'd rather you lived for me."

So here I am, where I last saw you
Where I laid you down in a casket
Where I left the best part of me
Holding on to my last breath until I see you again...

Sitting there on the lap
He claps when the audiences clap
On him painted an aura of happiness
A smile is permanently fixed on his face.
Eyes forever stretched without a frown
He plays to the gallery a perfect clown
You may envy his easygoing ways
Gathering laughter on all that he says,
His widely open unblinking eyes
That show faked emotions feigned surprise.
You may like to have his rapturous nights
Drawing applauses hogging limelight
But you would have pity for him once you know
He’s a talking doll in the ventriloquist’s show.

It's always good to make friends, wherever you go
After all, every new place has its set of challenges
And in order to overcome them
It's better to have someone at your side
As they say, you don't have to do everything on your own
Well, making friends may not seem all that difficult
But keeping them is a different matter altogether
There must be some common ground
The place where you meet
The company where you work
The college where you study
Your hobbies, passions etc.
And I can go on and on
However, the point is
You and your friend must be compatible with each other
Being an introvert, I don't have many friends
However, the few I do have
Can be entrusted with almost anything in the world
This poem is about one of them
We met as colleagues, six years ago
And hit it off almost from the word go
Thanks to a few common interests
Such as cricket, movies, food etc.
We even went to a storytelling event
Where he was given a chance to take the mic
And spoke about me and my passion for trains
What I particularly like about him
Is that he is very easygoing
And rarely gets angry or upset
Even when dealing with cranky clients
And he had a whole lot of them
Every client was a story in itself
We would bond while trashing these clients
Often over a cup of cutting chai
Down at the cafeteria
As the months sped by
We grew closer
Finding more and more common ground
In the form of issues we faced at work
Especially the frequent salary delays
And non-payment of incentives
We always had lunch together
Except when either of us worked from home
Eventually, my friend shifted to Pune
But we stayed in touch on a regular basis
In fact, we met on at least five occasions
And continue to speak over the phone
Almost on a monthly basis
Even after he got married, about a year ago
He, in particular, makes it a point
To call me every now and then
And we exchange news
About our respective lives
This close friend of mine is proof
That you don't necessarily have to keep meeting people
In order to maintain friendships
Of course, it is always good to meet your friends
But sometimes, all you may need
If you're missing someone
Is a simple phone call
And in this case
Our calls are usually long
Long enough to ensure
That we sustain our friendship, no matter what

people have a funny way of showing they care:
i wake up on the right side of bed and wonder
where you really are. the left side is untouched
and misses you, sheets wrinkled because during
the bad nights i reach out for a ghost.

months are passing by,
as they’re meant to.
thinking of you hurts.
thinking of you is killing me.

though all is forgiven;
i know you’ll find the way
to our bed eventually.

we played catch-up
a few weeks back
over cooling coffee
in my old-to-me/
new-to-you
apartment.

"sorry it’s been so long."
you muttered into
the mug, steam clawing
upwards between us. we avoided
eye contact at all costs and allowed
ourselves to pretend we were
elsewhere.

i almost hated you.

winter is here and in my
heart, with only
you to blame for
bringing this *******
apparition into my home.

the season you left in
has a certain chill
that won’t ebb under
today’s sun.

"it’s fine." i smiled
unconvincingly and
placed my coffee to
the side. hands sliding
across the kitchen
table and over your own.

a subtle shiver ran down my spine
as your hands turned around to grip mine
lightly. they were colder than the outisde
snow storm.

i acknowledged my fluttering
chest with a small nod of the head that
made your lips turn up crookedly.
i loved you like that.

eventually,
i took you
to my bed
and we
stayed there
for hours
almost like
lovers.

everything
felt warmer
that way.

morning
threw
itself
between
us;

and that’s when
you found there
were no coffee
grinds left.

"i’ll go to the store." you reassured
me in a deep voice, forgetting to smile
down at my small form. despite
the easygoing grin, i knew you
wouldn’t come home. so i watched
as you tromped down the apartment
stairs and into the waking world
without saying goodbye.

days passed
and there was still no sign of you.
i wasn’t surprised.
living under a roof that lacked
all forms of coffee proved harder
than i thought. and of course,
it was your fault.

days got slower and turned into
fading snapshots i can barely remember now.
i was stuck with a vision of you in my mind
on replay through those insufferable days
and nights. smiling at me like the rest of the
world couldn’t possibly matter.

at one point,
i’d left you a series
angry voicemails.
all i wanted was
to hear you
say my name
again.

that was the day
your mother called
me to let me know
that you’d been hit
right off of 32nd street.

on
the way back
from grocery shopping.

all they could find at the scene:
a body,
torn clothing,
and
two bags of expensive coffee.

now i’m still in our bed.
looking to your side
and wondering
where all that
faith had gone.

and it still hurts.

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For an instance, we would meet and exchange passive glances
on the metro station for the very first time,
we're going to be looking at the same advertisement or propaganda poster,
knowing of each other's presence
but never acknowledging...
then we would ride the same train.
Perhaps we're holding on to the same railing but our fingers are never touching.
How I wish that was a busy monday morning instead of an easygoing
sunday evening,
so then I would've been smashed against you the moment I stepped foot in the train
or should've felt your body heat around me
at the very least.
Just like in the movies.

For an instance,
we would see each other for the first time
in a lazy corner coffee shop,
there are going to be about fourteen to twenty-seven people in.
There's you, me, the baristas, the harmony of your voice among the chatters of others.
Sadly, you were sitting with your back turned from me and fairly enoughㅡI am too, because we both hate looking at people's faces or being looked at while sipping our coffee.
Or maybe I'll choose one of the high stools for the time being, forgetting the fact that my back would hurt after half an hour.
I'll pretend to be productive while you're in one of those couches, and God knows what you're trying to pretend about?
That you didn't notice me as I walked by?
When you know so well that your whole atmosphere and realm just shifted for good?
Oh, this is why I like you in the first place,
you're a bit funny, too.

But what if we'd first talk on a record store?
You're rummaging through alternative rock while I slowly feel the new wave record sleeves run through my already dusty fingers, slightly tapping them too with the beat of the store's background music.
Not knowing of each other's presence,
I'll turn to the isle and see you there.
You check me out, you're preoccupied but you still paid me a glance,
before giving me a faint, subtle smile.
I'll smile back at you sweetly and my heart will then have to faint a bit, too.
Or we might both be looking for the exact same album, how idealistic.
But unlike the movies, we'll talk about it instead of fighting over who saw it first.
And who should get to bring it home.
We would both be surprised of each other's preference in music, possibly amazed.
Or perhaps a little in love already,
one foot down in the grave.
Either way, I would know right away we would touch and create melodies, just like needle to record grooves.

It could be on a mountain trail,
a near-death experience, on a hospital, on a beach or in the middle of the ocean,
a museum, my birthday, the airport, EDSA, your grandpa's death anniversary;
any location and any scenario,
there would be no better place
and no better moment.
Because the very moment and time
we would meet for the very first time
Would be the best way right away.
However.
Wherever.
Whenever?
No I wish, pray and beg it to be sooner.

clinging to man's empty praise
never gets one very far
surely searching for all your days
the road is sure to leave a scar
not ever brimming, never bubbling
jealous of the overflowing
this lifestyle is sure troubling
anything but easygoing
contingent on love deprivation
show me I'm of worth and saving
diagnosed: emotional starvation
see me, my white flag I'm waving
scared and broken, feeble waif
love me, hold me 'til I feel safe

Who am I?
   There is a question always ringing in my head like bell
"Who am I?"
A question that seems impossible to answer but other people has answered it so why can't I?
"Who am I?"
Am I the type of person who is uptight or easygoing?
I'm labled  as so many things why can't I just be myself?
"Who am I?"
I like yellows
Oranges
Candy
People
I love and like so much why can't people like me?
"Who am I?"
Three words that mean so much
Three silly small words
Three words that if I saw them in a different order it would mean as much.
Why would these words mean so much to me?

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I thought I was a living God,  
I was brought-up-by-poetry,
I was just an unjust fraud,
I applaud : the , "keep on just sewing me,"
I nod to go toe2toe
4 every  blow4blow, blowing, me
I clawed up
shot up, yup I got up
got caught .

Taught,
I all for naught.
Not the way I was brought up.
Yeah, man I can kick it. Yeah,
this sick stick em up kid.
Mr. Black-and-blue
how you got caught with each low elbow so low,
burned& turned:
head-is-full,
pedestal pirate,
a tyrant,  

that forgot about poetry.
beat by a trick-by-trick treat, so sweet
gets to be ******,
So,
******:
            a rich nose itch to be sneezy.
I unknowing, I queasy  
I paid the cost to get lost, and uneasy,
easygoing was easy,  
I used. To tease me,
U'used.  To disease me. I got to get going,
became afraid of heights just for growing up,

I guess, a messed,
you, know-nothing: know nothing
I know I was was better with poetry.
the half-man that I am, I only,
am' lonely,
just knowing me.
The lowest of lows
was never as low as
me.

How can I begin to describe her,
The way she smiles is stupidly infectious,
Which always follows with her laugh,
That is intoxicating,
Her hair smells like lilies in the spring right after the morning dew,
Her attitude is of a doe,
She is shy but is curious about everything,
She is easygoing but can't sit still for long,
She likes cars especially Bentley's,
Her style is always different,
She never changes but I feel I am always meeting someone new that's still her,
When I tell her one of my stupid jokes she always laughs,
I think it's because she feels sorry for me,
But I don't care as long as I see her laugh and her eyes sparkle.

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I'm not very religious
But if learned anything from
The youth group I attend
It is to speak life over death
And I think we could all
Always use a dose of encouragement
So I only have a few words
To share with all who
Are willing to listen or willing to change:
No amount of hatred
Is the only acceptable amount of hatred
The only amount of love
Acceptable in this world is infinite
When you witness a soul struggling
Help
You can't just pass them by
And expect positive results
When you see an easygoing person
Ask them if there is anything
You can do to help keep spirits high
When you are at your lowest low
Ask for help
Because we are just human
We can't carry the weight of the world
On our own
Otherwise there'd be no such thing as friends
Step out of your comfort zone
You just might be surprised
The things about yourself
You could find
Just by overlooking death and instead
Speaking life

A world having a future
Good not against foe
Everlasting having no focus on woe
A chance to truly live
Affection in appreciation where everyone gives
Emotions that won’t be screams
A life of comfort like cherries and whip cream
An easygoing life
A world where one can actually get true advice
All that would be nice
A time where there is no provoke
Taking life serious and not a mockery and a joke
There would finally be Peace On Earth
An actual new birth
I would definitely want spiritual to be present
After all, one would have to represent
A world with a new beginning
It would be inning after inning
But with a winning approach like a baseball home run
Yet living in peace feeling among
However, a tomorrow being everlasting that never gets out done.