I want to cry
My eyes are holding back the tears
As I read all the emotions
As I see all this hurt
I know so many people who hurt
And who ache
And this kills me
This world is so broken
And no one is untouchable
It kills me
Watching as innocent people
Get used
By other people
Who themselves used to be innocent
Until the day wen they were used
And its an endless cycle
Of hurt people
Turning around and hurting more
This endless cycle of pain
So many people screaming that they just want to be loved
And every piece of me
Is dying to scream at them
How much I love them all
But I've done that to some
And im afraid iv only caused more pain
So I'm stuck unable to help
Only able to pray
But the brokenness
Is eating away
And each day
They get more broken
And closer to ending it all
And I know that pain
All too well
That's why I want to help
Because I wouldn't wish my misery on anyone
And I want so desperately to protect them all
But I'm so weak
And there's really nothing I can do
So I sit back and watch this pain and watch this misery
And all I can do is cry out to God to hear these people
And to see the pain
And I feel so helpless
But I know that alone
Is better than anything else I could do

You're blind when you see me,
I'm on my knees and broken.
I remind you who I really am,
Remember these words I've spoken.

Unshakable you see me,
You see me standing tall.
Like a statue made of stone,
You see a rock who'll never fall.

Unbreakable you see me,
You see me effortlessly bold.
Like the stars will always shine,
You see power you think I hold.

Unstoppable you see me,
You see me fighting without fear.
Like relentless worriers conquer,
You see a hero who never sheds a tear.

I make my strength shine bright,
Shine to cover up my weakness.
You can't see past my Confidence,
You refuse to see me my meekness

Even stone can't stand forever,
The world will beat it down.  
I remind you I'm only human,
The world can make me drown.

Even stars can't shine so bright,
So bright to shine through the clouds.
I remind you I'm just another face,
Another face in amongst the crowds.

Even heroes can't withstand all,
Hold the weight of the world alone.
I remind you I can't hold on forever,
Excessive trials will break my backbone.

I refuse to let you believe,
Believe who you see is perfect.
A pedestal I don't deserve,
And don't EVER say I'm worth it.

Love: You can't shut it out, like the crashing of a wave,
Once it starts there is no stopping it
So I try to enchant you with my smile,
But I'm afraid it's just not your style

I try to impress you with my brain,
But nothing changes- it's all the same
I try to reach out, but you're not there;
My lonely heart grabs at air

My heartstrings reach out and cling to yours
My heart an eagle, my heart soars
Then the drawbridge goes up and the walls come down
My abysmal heart is left with a frown

I try to still my hearts ache;
My love I'll give, your love I'll take
Why won't you just be at my side ?
To love and to hold, to talk and confide

But you never notice- you don't care !
To love me, you wouldn't dare
The stars shine down on my empty soul
If you would just love me it would make me whole.

10:00 p.m. at a quiet evening beach "Nguyen tat Thanh"
a long stretch sugary brownie field
two strangers sit by its shore
listening to the waves as they crawl

Succulent are the thoughts
two lost in lust of mind games
soft kisses and caress are exchanged
as her eyes meet his eyes

lips to lips
tongue to tongue
skin to skin rubbing
burning passion ignited

Yet they are in control
of the emotional games
feeling of detach and free
no promises to profess

The voyage of time is quick
moments well tailored and kept safe
morning comes another day
yesterday a tale story to say

We are all living on borrowed time
and without realizing the debt we owe
we consider our lives are just fine
and gamble with what we do not own.
Whether wealthy and rich or in penury poor,
wise and educated or illiterate and uneducated,
refined and cultured or crude as a boor,
in battles victorious or in life frustrated,
perpetually happy or always sad,
with outlook positive or thoughts so negative,
whether sincere and loyal or just a cad,
whether artistic and talented or not so creative,
ultimately we are all wasting our life.
Though we chase pursuits which are mere mirages
and feel happy to be blessed with life
yet, we are all God’s reflected images.
Reflected images living on borrowed light
pompous in our lack of understanding.
On borrowed time we continue to shine bright
until the Sun goes down in the evening
and like a candle snuffed out in the wind
our overdrawn borrowed time doth end...

Mother!
Oh, Mother!

You have always been there,
when I needed a hug or laugh,
or a shoulder to cry on.

You have always been there,
never once failed to support me,
never giving up.

You have always been there,
through my joys, my sadness,
through my successes, and failures.

You've never abandoned me,
for what the Society can’t accept me for;
for all of my flaws.

Thank you, Mother.

in birth i wake
with an overbearing taste
of salt in my mouth.
people are the worst,
i don't want to be one.
but misandry is misdirected,
and lacks perspective.

people are the persons
that make up the waves
of eyes and mouths
that i wade into in birth.

and one gentle tide will
wash upon the shore,
that carries me to sea
and i'll be willing to go.
i was assured,
in birth

Fragments caught up in wind
Aroused prayers of long, shifted spans
Went unheard
Deaf ears?
I wait here.
Pieces caught up in cyclone
Past shell of self
All I ask is no whitewash.
Roll on
Just roll on 'n on.
Splinters caught up in windstorm
Cloudburst breakdown
Chains cut loose
With your past make a truce.

you don't know what my handwriting looks like
i don't know what your yawn sounds like
you don't know my reaction to the end of my favourite film
i don't know your reaction to eating your favourite meal

i don't know what your hand feels like
and you don't know what mine feels like
we may not know everything
but we are still in love

I want to kiss the nape of your neck
Follow the treasure trail to the Cape of regret
Be lost in your hair without any cares
Their tendrils of longing caress
Carried along by the rhythm of eternal tides
Floating in that ocean of dreams
My siren sings to me
Bringing visions of you in time and space
The  smile on your face
The way you taste
The smell of your breath
Almost angelic
Your essences washes away my fears
Scudding along on a surfboard of cares
I can do without.

How can you switch off what you felt for me?
You told me it was so deep
How do you turn it off?

Could you teach me one more thing?
Please
How do you make it stop
This aching rip in my chest

I don't know how to do it
Can't catch a break, or my breath
I'm begging how do you do it?
I want to shut this off to

You...
The light I never saw
The morning of despair
The remembrance of a soul so fair
A world of forgotten happiness
And a day of burning desire
Countless light reflections of everything we missed
And thoughtless chatter, I'd admire
And if it was still lacking
I'd take photos of us too
Paste them in my dreams
And keep them just for
...you

I remeber long nights
With your plaid button downs
Always with the first button undone
And your white T-Shirt underneath always brightend the hazel in your eyes

Memories of Germany danced on your lips
How I wanted to taste them...
The longing still holds on the end of my tongue

Car rides were always needed
But I never minded sharing them with you
Conversations of endless nothings and you didn't know I was falling hoplessly in love with you.

You may not have had the blue eyes I dreamed of as a little girl
But they looked to me like how I looked at shooting stars
The dead of night always ran through your hair as my mind ran circles around itself chasing those cosmic wonders

And there may not be a sequence to this poem
But thats how you made me feel
Out of order
Maybe a little out of place
But when I looked to you, you knew of all the wishes I spent on those shooting stars

one time a boy told me he liked my straight hair better
i told him but that's not my natural hair
i felt insulted

and he said "what are you talking about?"
"i'm complimenting you"

i brushed it off
put the thought away

but as i stare in my reflection
as i touch the coarse, thick curls
my mother and father bestowed upon on me
passed down from generations
of mexican ancestry

i felt the hurt
i felt the words in my head
"maybe if your hair was straighter
lighter
maybe if your skin was lighter
maybe if your nose was smaller
and pointed"
maybe then i would be the perfect
version of myself

but as i began to notice
flowers sprouting in the women around me
loving, appreciating their thick untamable manes
my mind began to flourish
away from the deception
i had been told my whole life
a bold lie
that changed the perception of myself
that made me scrub my skin in attempt to make it lighter
a lie, so discreet and so subtle
that my self esteem descended to nothing
when looking at the natural reflection of my skin, my hair, my eyes, my hands

as a child
as a teenager
i believed the lie

but as a young woman now
i can tell you
it's deception, oppression
to keep woman of color
at inferiority to the european white

embrace your curls
embrace your melanin
embrace your wide set hips
embrace all the things you were once told to hide

i will be who i was born to be
and i don't need anyone's opinion
on how my hair looks

this is who i am
a mexican daughter
wise enough to recognize
the strength and beauty in our differences

Poodles are sweetest of dogs
Once i have a cute poodle,
O' my very own poodle
Darling-- i owned him for a
Long time, Until
Early one day--- oops
Suddenly he was broken

he sat in his chair and blankly looked at the screen,
when a girl no older than sixteen,

walked into his office,
with hands in her pockets,

and stared at him straight in the eye,

she smiled so greatly,
it was that of a lady,

but he knew she was hiding the truth,

he stared at her politely,
whilst she cried ever so slightly,

ignoring his own true feelings

he couldn’t let her know
that he loved her so,

much he was practically dying

he knew in his heart,
it was her from the start

and it killed him ever so quietly,

she looked at his lips
and she begged for a kiss

but he wouldn’t allow it,

he said when you’re older
i will tell you my smoulder

and i’ll give you the world and the seven seas,

she whimpered so silently
he looked at her brightly,

and said
i’ll love you forever it seems.

raise ourselves, rouse ourselves, rising to race up versus the sun,
to ferry dock, to catch the first, the 5:10am to the mainland,
which is just an island-too-but-longer,
on the first boat of the workweek, the first leg
of an island to island to island journey-poem, but that
for another morning, unless already writ, but forgot?

the north fork, an herb garden of vegetables and fruits,
family farms & rural suburbs, towns of English & Indian names,
all cheek to jowl, corn rows, tractor museums,
high school football victory banners of a prior year,  
and alas, always fresh, aged-woe reminders,
too many streets, ferries, bridges named for young boys who didn't return from foreign wars and whom we all knew by right sight

me, a summer sojourner, a summer visa, an off-islander,
a Hebrew, living among the native island born hair leggers,
the Methodists, Quakers, and the rest of a varietal potpourri of "Egyptians," come here by choice, all, living in a paradisal
farmers market, all faiths enjoying seven times seven
years of plenty

Country Road (CR) 48, plainly named, snakes it way to the city,  
a  hundred miles, a hundred miles, as the song says,
to a distant, invisible emerald mecca,
which magically emanates
waves of gravitational pull powerful,
where I heard that human city folk go to do derring do,
battling with numbers, creativity and keenest human instincts,
game playing for a throne that may not even exist

as we go west, the sun sneaks up behind us
spotted in the steve sideview mirror, watching our
winking red tails,
moving away, asking us why, are we somehow dissatisfied,
with the rich purple soil of this little refuge it protects?

this soil, blessed, brings forth the babies of summer,
truly a fruited plain cornucopia, the famed potatoes,
fresh eggs, for sale by unseen and oft unattended hands,
plant it and it will come, the peonies flowers, the sod, tomatoes,
the Christmas trees, local duck and fresh caught striped bass,,
over flowing fruit stands endless,
where they debate no politics but only
which fruit will become tomorrow's pies?

and always, first and foremost, the vineyards, the vineyards

not yet six am, sun still too weak, to do the dirty work burn,
fields full of snow white mist lying over man tall vines,
the mist, ground swelling up to the chest level, then north
to the nostrils and head, intoxicating the lungs, the brain,
inculcating the chest with a salve of moisture,
a blend of sea and farm fresh air,
containing the designer's secret arts of earth creation

the fine mist so thick, no different than a snowy white out,
leaves me marveling and a-wonder, why do I leave,
dictated to by boxes on a hardware store calendar?

why not bide and hide in the morn mist,
never will-would we-be found, the vineyards and corn rows,
my protectors, the bay and sound, my natural moats,
is the music of wind + leaves, symphonic insufficient,
isn't the theater of the birds, wild turkeys, families of deer, osprey,
tern, visiting Canadian geese, and the hard to spot, Broadway stars,
those little foxes, wondrous enough?

this guising vineyard mist offers solutions to questions
I should not be asking, especially, primarily,
where is shelter,
for that is asked and answered

You can't hide truth in the eyes,
they are too clear, too open,
like glass-paned windows.

Too vulnerable.

~~~

When you were turned towards me that night,
(moments before you walked away), reassuring me that
nothing had changed, that you weren't going anywhere.

I almost believed you.

Even when I had felt the difference in your speech,
words hand-picked and spoken with the intent to convince--
an unfamiliar tongue you had never used with me before.

Still, I almost believed you.

Right until I look up into your eyes and noticed--
distinctly perceived--the difference in the tides of your iris,
the pattern disturbed by the truth that had penetrated it.

Your eyes suddenly became foreign to me.

Unrecognizable; and yet I could now see into them clearly;
and I could see through them, as through a window;
they closed to conceal, long-lashed shades drawn.

But in vain--the glass had already been shattered.

if your personality was a movie,
i would watch it all day.
your smile is an enigma,
i find my head stormed everytime i tried to crack it.
i wonder how could you left that beautiful eye bags,
yet you still looks so fine with it.
you always had stories written on those pair of eyes,
but you never show it as happy or sad.
your mood is my kind of weather.
there's always a reason why you were so magnetic.
always.

out of all the things that she havent tried
death,
is always something that stirs up her mind
bewildered,
fascinated
of how a single action
can cause a ripple effect of emotions
she wanted to see the reaction
of the people that never really showed anything to her
she wanted to know what it feels like to lie down
with serenity and peace
plastered in a motionless face.
before, she made a decision
attempted
but she is too weak,
she ponders
if being dead
is the same feeling as her being alive
she knows that she can try
with darkened mind
and shattered heart
there is no turning back this time

What kind of man, do you think I am
What do you see when you look at me
Would you call me your own when I stand before the throne

I wanna know
I have to know

When I look in the mirror all is see is the mistakes I've made
I see sins and transgressions that lead me away
I see broken peaces held together with strings

I hold you to your promises
But I don't keep my word
I let the world seep in
And to the outside I play pretend

So I ask,
what kind of man do you think I am
So what do you see when you look at me
Most importantly,
Would you call me your own when I stand before your throne

I have to know
Give me the strength to know
Its killing me

If you see me the way I see
Then let Jesus stand before me
His blood washing me clean
 
God let me be a man empowered by thee
Lord break my heart for what breaks yours
Emanuel please walk with me.

Walk with me
Walk with me
Walk with me
And we will go and see

Naked and alone
I keep myself here
Where he placed me
So long ago

I'm keeping myself here
Because it feels like it's the
only thing I've ever known
The one thing he silently
taught me through his actions

I can't seem to undo
all that he did
Emotionally and
psychologically
He trapped me
within myself

What will it take for
me to feel free
What will it take for
me to just give in

Why did he have
to hurt me

Hello Poetry


Yearned.
Ached.
For so long, for a community,
That values the ineffable wonder
Of a wordsmith's creations, intended to
Repair himself and the world with bullets of
Verses.

And here you are.

Like/Dislike, matters not,
So long as we value each others work,
And the the heart echoes within
What the eyes read and the mouth whispers.

The array and disparity of your names,
A delight,
Each name a poem
In its own right.

So I resubmit a question for your consideration,
The answer is now known,
The answer is all of us.
May 2013
---------------------------------------------------------


­Who's Who In Poetry  



T'is a curious thing,
these verbal peddlers, tribal members,
famously well known to no one,
perhaps at best,
a kindred few, fellow-travelers.

Each a troop,
bloodied, purple hearted,
word-wounded,
anonymous unto each other,
yet all bonded intimates,
in solitary struggle united,
yet sea-parted by the very nature
of the solitude of composition.

All poets are Cain scar-marked,
purposed for everyone to see,
a warning to rabbled boors,
imagination suppressors!

World:

cherish these flawed ones,
gentle these frail but gritty,
the Lord has tasked them
to be prophets in one tongue untied,
undo the strife of Babel's division.

Poets!

Be the harpooners
of the unexamined life,
with unfettered rhapsody,
comfort caress us,
exhort the loopy
to light their illusionary candles,
turn the sad eyed lowlanders
into crinkly eye-lined smilers.

With clinical observation,
dense and demanding,
make us laugh at
the comedy of our situation,
teach us our free-to-see peep show,
reveal, unseal us
with tart empathy!

For who's who in poetry
is all of us!
saviors and failures,
recorders and decoders,
night writers of the oohs and aahs
of dreams and nightmares.

When this poet cannot,
no longer, anymore,
tastes his poems upon your lips,
keep your poems within his heart,
then he breathes no more,
and becomes one who was,
yet is,
because of you,
in poetry.
---------------
Postscript (1/25/17)

Even more true today, than four years ago.
Thank You.

green was never my color
yet you dipped your brush in the bright paint
and streaked it down my cheeks
you took me in your hands
and changed my shaped
painting over my too-round cheeks
and my splotchy skin
when i tried to wipe it off
my face came off with the green paint
leaving me an empty nothing
with bright green painted hands
i finally represent how i feel inside
but you don't like it when i dip my fingers
in a colorful paint
and drag it along my cheek
even though pink was my color all along

I'm a girl
who climbed mountains
and when i reached the top
no one praised me
no one knew
the pain of the sting
on my heart

I'm a girl
who has loved and who has lost
who has given and not received
who wanted and never got
who blew her shot
at her dreams
because of the things she had to survive.
sometimes it's too bitter
to swallow.

I'm a girl who loves the moon.
I'm a girl who grew up too soon.
I'm a girl who was used for lust.
And a girl who now has no trust.

I'm a mess
a butterfly who flies back
to her cocoon
because she feels like a worm inside
small and scared
and just doesnt want to again be tried
her body is hers and hers alone
this she repeats
as she relives it again

Life to me is a game. The day your parents give birth to you, your attributes, looks, social status are given. As you get older, you realize that each and everything matters to you. Money, education, relationships, your emotional well-being. So you try your best to gain recognition and appreciation. Basically like those game achievements. Each choice leads to a certain consequence. It’s up to you to decide on creating a better character or remain the same. In the end, the game (our existence) will come to it’s final chapter. It will be passed on to many generations. Hopefully the existing files (your kids, if you plan on making them) will keep you not only in their minds, but in their hard drives (hearts). If there is an afterlife, I hope we will rest in peace and see each other there.

Pulling me in and out of consciousness.
A battle I can never win.
Fighting for peace relentlessly.
Making me out a fool.
A drowning fish that's forgotten how to swim.
If I breathe you in I'll suffocate slowly.
Bound to the depths of the ocean.
A pain that thrives.
Patiently waiting for the moment, when I'll be eaten alive.
Can I captivate the rising sun before I set off this deadly explosion?
How long can I survive?
Been biting the bullet for as long as I can remember.
I refuse to be made a fool this time.

I'm in love with the artist
Pretty petals painted across lips
Purposely touch
Eyes
Hands

Hips

Her heart my forgiving canvas
Dainty doodles dedicated, I cuss
Desperately grasp
Breath

Life

Us

She silently works light lines
Sweet soft swabs and inky tips
Seductive creative
Boil

Tea

Sips

Does she feel this despairing way?
Brushes barely bend, I must
Blankness covers
Her

Muse

Lust

War changed me
It changed who I am
It changed why I am
It changed everything you see

Peace isn't there
Nor here,
It roams like the untamed fire
That licks and smokes ablaze ever higher.

Smoke hides the enemy
Sound of the cannon ring loud
Men before me fall
My passage closed to flee
This foolish war people fought so proud
Only to die imprisoned not free.

My chains rattle
My life had a purpose
Yet here we are being driven like cattle!
This is possibly the end I suppose

They march towards us no fear in the eye
Their sword risen and muskets aim
Closing my eyes ready to soar and heavenly fly
The struggle as we all submit the same

What is victory?
For we lost and came to end!
Victory is a fight for what you believe
And for that we went down in history
For now the two sides have mend
And come as one when the war finally leave

see, the thing about her

is that she wreaks havoc cities away



insert any word you’d like

insinuate, stimulate, incite, excite

she will make you want to taste them all



her lips do not trace with lipstick,

they trail thunderstorms of

invigoration, greed, and fulfillment

without having touched you at all



see, the thing about her

is that your invisibility is her tell-tale



she won’t make you delight in skin

or whatever is carnal, earthly, corporeal

never.

instead, she will make you want to write



because she will not become your pleasure

she becomes your whoever and whenever

and breathes life

into all your non-personal conjunctions



see, the thing about her

is that she is complicated chemistry

a principle of uncertainty

in a world governed by relativity



she will be be here

but she will disappear

with the world’s unobtrusive

waves of tenets



nothing good will leave

but love, you forget,

nothing you want ever remains



see, the thing about her

is that she makes you want to use

your tongue and your hands



not on her, love, but on your earth

she is your language

she is your dictionary

she is the words at the tip of your tongue



and no, you will not have her body

you will never have her body

see, she permeated your mind

while you were fretting over skin



see, whatever she is, no matter what you do,

she will always have you



trapped.



in a psychological

wormhole

of want

and creed



she: both ultra-violet and ultra-violent