Please don't be that way
What have I done?
I truly don't remember
Whatever it is, can't we just put the past behind us?
No need to keep score
You seem to be focusing only on the negative
Let's just live in the moment
A fresh start every day
I promise to be my best self
Oh, Karma Mia,
You hold my life in your hands
We'll be together always
P.S. (courtesy of fellow HP poet, Adreishka Moonlight)
Oh Karma Mia,
The past is past,
The present is a gift,
Will you give it to me?
You're present when I hear this song.
As if the moment in time and unknown
One hears the sound of water that you hold so dear.
Washing away regret and all that you fear.
Its rhythm flows across tired thresholds to level time.
As you ebb from your story's past and aspire to climb.
Its tempo is upbeat, strong, and urgent.
As becomes and your gift to others becomes more fluent.
Its tone is carefree, deep and abundant.
As your voice reveals its depth
Showing your view's vibrance
The song takes its time to bring us through.
As you savor moments and seek significance
in everything you do.
C. . .
I hope you
like this song,
Oh, I hope I got it right.
I felt your presence,
heard this song,
wrote this poem,
all i want
it's not a front
can roll in a blunt
something i drink
not something to eat
or a quick feel
not a tug on the reel
a new steering wheel
but it's what i want
and i'm gonna find it
trying to figure out where to look
i've read a number of books
to see what in the world
i saw it in a kid
he was riding his bike
and another little boy with his father
flying a kite
i saw it in the face
of the kenyan who won the boston marathon race
i saw it in the eyes
of a young couple
and it was two guys
i see it in the sun
in the beaming rays
when it grazes my face
i smell it in the kitchen
mother's cooking dinner
the roast is in the oven
and the dog is by her side
i saw it in her face
in her eyes
when id come home from work
she'd jump off the couch
in a very quick spurt
and start barking
i miss it
wish it was staying
i'm gonna find it
no matter how hard i try
i'm going to make it
through the world i'll glide
i always strive
but how do i get it?
do i stop try?
or go harder?
travel waters uncharted
boats not chartered
i seek happiness
i want to be smarter
i'd rather it not
have a price
can't be bought
all i sought
all i seek
just had a dream
and in the future
Sometimes life presents challenges,
which at the time may seem small,
but instead, appear insurmountable.
Finding true love is one of the hardest
tasks that humankind, as a whole, faces.
Many see love as pure fantasy,
reciprocal, requited, and unconditional,
as true love is meant to be.
This kind of love brings contentment,
and internal peace, which can be unlike
any euphoria you have ever felt.
This love intoxicates and exhilarates.
It will lift you higher
than the tallest mountain,
and make you feel fuller
than the deepest ocean.
This love will make you feel whole,
and complete, with the
joining together of two lost,
lonely souls, once wondering adrift.
in an union that fulfills.
But, for a select few, this ideal of fantasy is
more of a reality filled with heartache.
That same reality can bring us to our knees,
and the pain alone can smother us,
to the point of not being able to breathe.
Then comes the constant cycle of hurt,
emptiness, and anger, which draws us back
to the source which has caused such emotion.
It leaves us begging for the pain to stop;
sometimes making us yearn, to once again, be with
the one who has caused us to feel such turmoil.
It is an addiction unlike any other,
caused by the fear of being alone
and starting anew.
We now find ourselves
sacrificing our own self,
to maintain a sense of familiarity and safeness.
Not realizing, but instead blinded by memories,
that this reality is showing us that it
was just not meant to be.
It takes time to mend a broken heart;
time on our own, to discover our true self-worth;
time to realize that love will find us again.
We will encounter a struggle, unlike another,
to overcome our fears of distrust and vulnerability.
Many lessons will be learnt, along the way.
But, with strength and perseverance,
all of the time spent healing,
will open our heart to a brand new beginning, one day.
First, we must realize, that deep within our own self
lies the ashes of our once brilliantly burning heart.
Only with time, will our pain become manageable.
Yet, we will always wear
the scars of a love gone bad,
as an embattled soldier wears his own, from a war lost.
But, choosing to not allow this to consume oneself,
is a true challenge, in itself.
In the end, deciding when we have had enough,
is what will allow the reopening of our heart.
We must learn, to not allow the pain to truly hide
the one thing that lies right in front of us – opportunity.
Sometimes this opportunity,
is a new love, that is more fitting than the last.
A new love, one that will ease
the loneliness that
envelopes us like a blanket;
a new start with someone who can
love, respect, cherish,
and adore us,
more than any ghost of our past.
We all have the power to turn
our reality into fantasy.
However, never lose sight,
that even true love is not perfect,
and neither are we.
We all make mistakes; we will disappoint.
Not all of us will possess the means, or desire,
to hurt another on purpose.
It is the search for a soul, that mirrors our own,
which will be the hardest struggle.
This struggle can be won with one true fact -
not all people are alike.
Once we open our mind, and our heart, to this,
all fears and inhibitions will melt away,
as the sun melts the snow, in early Spring.
With this sign of rebirth,
our new love will be unlike
all we have experienced before.
But, we must never allow our past
to dictate our present,
which will ultimately decide our future.
We must find that power within ourselves,
to overcome the reality,
by embracing, and enjoying,
the new adventure, and path,
we are about to undertake.
Vicki A. Zinn
in the backs of cabs that reek of stale vomit,
blue salt specks are dragged against their will to rest in the ridges of the floor mats.
fluorescent confused cubicles of light flashing by-
your mind fighting to make shapes out of the blur.
it’s january, this is everyone’s mood.
fingers folded into fists, stuffed into nylon pockets,
catching your breath and watching the scenery swirl past
like the entire horizon is made of melting wax.
you’re replaying day old conversations, analyzing cryptic eye movements
and body language of those people that strike you so suddenly.
those strangers that have pushed and shoved every defense and nestled themselves
into every fiber of your being. you sicken yourself with these sappy adolescent romantic bouts
but they’re the only thing keeping you alive.
you don’t know these people.
you don’t even know yourself.
the cab driver mumbles something over the radio and your attention is brought back to the present.
he’s on the phone-
you’re a little concerned-
your life does lie in the shivering hands of a stranger who boredly grasps and curves a wheel, after all.
but you play it cool, you turn to nihilism- it’s easier this way.
death is fine.
the cab driver is passing your house while you’re swatting at questions.
you uncomfortably raise your quiet voice for a few hesitant notes.
“Here is fine!”
you urge to the driver while a fumbling hand shakes down your pockets for a twenty.
there’s your house- standing just as you left it
through the white mystery patches on the back window.
chock full of memories and problems and decay and warmth.
everything seems to rest so calmly in the palms of the bittersweet.
tell the stranger to have a goodnight.
he returns the favor.
everyone needs to hear these things-
it’s january, after all.
I have two
Well, I have one
He cares for me. He is there.
Occasionally, he annoys the
out of me
and he admits that
he cannot understand me
and that that frightens him more than anything.
I want to tell him that my ever present sadness
and the fear which, at times, threatens to vibrate my bones to jelly
till it drips out and down my fingertips
sticky and hot and red red red
I want to tell him that it is not all his fault
But my other father.
I never knew him
but mom says I have his wit
and his artistic flare
she only said that once
and we both cried
tried to email him
round about a year ago
It is your fault, in part
not yours alone
but I cannot help but to resent you
nothing but a coward
left me when I was not even out and in the light
never once did my blue eyes see you
Did you know?
They look like yours.
I have two
Well, I have one
Behind this little curtain, I hide.
I do not lie, but I do not tell the truth either.
I do not flash it in your face,
but I'm afraid you may know my
If this happens, everything will turn upside down
and I need to find a paper bag,
where I'll readily stuff my face in and hide under a rock
Until maybe all magically is forgotten.
I am ready to tell you the truth, however,
although my paper is transparent, a see-through glass,
piles of white lies may start to stain it and soon,
it will be so opaque you have to dig deep into there
To finally see the face that's hiding behind.
I am not desperate or a stalker,
or you know,
the one that sends you long text messages
and waits eagerly for a short reply.
Whenever I try to forget you,
you pop into my memory and tempt me into no bounds
of imagination. It's necessary I try not to follow,
but I always end up falling in the same hole.
So please understand, that if I suddenly reveal my identity,
do not be taken aback because this is what I have to do,
for you have caused me to be slightly obsessive and
longing for even a slight bit of communication between
us. The us that I dream of, the us that happened, what of it is left?
To start anew? This is rather painful. I don't want to forget, you see.
You were so lovely and sweet. How can I erase you from my memory?
People come and go, but you stay, longer than I thought you would.
This attachment is detrimental to my being. If any longer your existence influences me,
I will stop living in the present and reality and just dream on about non-existent parallels,
wasting so much time and feelings.
Okay. So this is why I'm being so secret there. You would only talk to me that way.
you wouldn't want to talk to me.
Thank you, dear, though, for that sweet little message.
The magic word is "Hello."
The tragic word is "Goodbye,"
And the madness is wondering of who you'll think of in those moments right before you die.
The magic is in the present.
The tragic is in the past,
And the madness is wondering if you'll ever find a happiness that will last.
The time has come to say "Good night."
That time has come to pass,
And this is no time for writing when all these thoughts are coming so fast.
The beauty is in the infinite.
The eternal is supreme,
But the most beautiful things are happening before I can figure out just what they mean.
We walk around as if we grasp eternity
By the hand, walking step by step with forever
Trapped between our sweaty palms that
Leak light through to brighten our future-
Until we discover eternity slyly slipped away
From our blissful present being
Only to leave us in the dark of
I wonder if you've noticed.
If you haven't
I would like to share with you
A little something:
I grew up with this idea
That someday I would grow up,
Have a girlfriend and get married.
I knew that I wanted children,
That I wanted a dog,
That we'd grow old in my house
And out in the driveway I'd have a Lambo
(I know, crazy, right?)
What I didn't know
Was how I was going to get there.
I didn't know that it wasn't that easy
And that, more than once,
I'd be hit with disappointment.
Not disappointed because I fell in love
And had my heart broken
(More than just a several amount of times)
But because I stepped out
Further and further from this utopia
I had set out for myself.
I learned, more than once,
That everyone had their own little story,
Everyone had their own little blueprint,
And not everyone was interested
In what I wanted.
It's too early for you to think of those things,
Enjoy life and use all your energy on other things.
And I did.
I started drawing, started playing soccer,
I started writing poetry, and put music to my poems.
I started playing the guitar, I started singing,
I started to use my energy on "other things."
But the more I think about it
And the more I read about it
I was really just using those things
For my own story.
And that's the issue you should know about me
That's my so called "problem"
And the reason why you probably won't like me.
I lose sight of what's in front of me,
Chasing after what's ahead of me.
I forget the present and focus on the future,
And I fail to realize that you too
Have had to have
Some getting used to.
I don't know the secret
To a perfect relationship
Nor do I think I, as a person, am close to perfect.
And I know that you're not,
And I know you have your own faults and wants,
Your own needs,
And we're all a little selfish from time to time.
But here's the secret,
Here's the kicker,
The catch to my whole speech here:
I have tried to toss
All of my personal feelings aside,
I have tried to put my plans on hold
And fix myself onto the ground.
I've learned that that's how things often go
And it's not that I'm giving up on my plans
I just know that I want to be a part
Of your plans, and you of mine
Because I know that my plans
Could intertwine into your plans
And yours into mine
(That's what I hope anyway)
And if your plans and mine
All become one
Then I will have changed my blueprint,
And I will know the map.
I won't know the ending,
But I will know,
When I get there,
That I tried -
And for the first time,
In a long time,
I didn't give up.