I am not a flower.
I do not bloom just by the glorious
rays of sunshine in the spring.
I am not obliterated
by just the mere changing
of the seasons to the next.
I do not wither away when my
world starts to darken
and bitter coldness swallows up
the warmth of the sun.
I am not this fragile thing,
or delicate,
to the winter's icy storms.
The falling of dead, dull leaves
to the Earth beneath my feet
will not be the burial
to my very life source.
No.
You can not reborn something
that had never been destroyed.
I am not a flower.
I am a survivor-
in the light and in the dark.
Apr 13, 2021
Apr 13, 2021 at 11:35 PM UTC
Of all the things
I could have been-
I am a stray voice
of a peculiar tone,
bearing no face,
stumbling within a crowd
of congenial strangers.
I am an astronaut
trapped hovering above the Earth-
not truly a part of,
not really connected,
but an outsider left
in love with the world
and all its beauty,
from a distance.
I am the painting
from a surrealist mind
of no name
that hangs in the
shadowed, empty halls
of a foreign country.
Apr 13, 2021
Apr 13, 2021 at 11:26 PM UTC
And so it comes-
all at once-
like a swarm of horseflies,
plump and ugly,
filling the space around
the air that I breathe.
They are persistent, quiet creatures-
all but a low hum of a noise-
stabbing and striking,
then, returning for me
once more.
They find me
wandering peacefully
alongside the riverbank
while fresh, clean air fills my lungs
and the warm sun glistens off
the whites of my beaming teeth.
But, these horseflies are poison
infecting me with the vile they hold.
And suddenly,
I am so crowded
I'm sure I'll suffocate by the air
they are swarming around in.
Then suddenly, I'm so sure that
the river will swallow me in an instant.
And I am sure to drown in it's waters-
my own body controlled by
where it's current takes me.
So sure- that the sun will go dark
and the warmth will but be all gone.
The tranquil of this riverbank
transforming into the remnants of
chaos and disaster.
Until, at last, I recall that this poison
is just that-
Poison.
It's all but a temporary illusion
by an infected reality.
For I still walk alongside the riverbank.
I can still feel the air in my lungs.
And the warmth of the sun still embraces me-
it's light still shimmering in my eyes
and on the whites of my beaming teeth.
Mar 3, 2021
Mar 3, 2021 at 10:44 PM UTC
Most of the political world
needs to reevaluate on
how indifferent neutrality
and tactful compromise
does not amount to
equal measures
in a thriving democracy.
Mar 3, 2021
Mar 3, 2021 at 10:23 PM UTC
Like a smoldering
black tar smoke
erupting the demons
of the world's
very own Pandora Box,
it engulfs me with
a thick heaviness sticking
into the walls of my lungs.
I can feel every particle
burrowing into my life source.
And I cannot breathe
as these entities named
Apparent Cruelty,
Blind Prejudice,
Self-righteous Greed,
Conformed Ruthlessness,
smother me like a form
of slow dry drowning.
Helpless.
I am a foreigner to these presences-
they find no home,
no comfort,
within me.
But, then my sweet daughter,
reaches her hand out to me,
asking me to hold her.
And these entities,
they cringe away
from her touch on my skin.
Scurry away from the light beaming
from her eyes as she looks at me.
The world's Pandora box
around me slams shut.
And I can breathe again.
Because inside me
I house the embodiments of
Kindness,
Love,
Consideration,
Gentleness.
And in there, also, lies Hope.
Feb 13, 2021
Feb 13, 2021 at 3:36 AM UTC
When an Autumn
starts to truly come
I like to sing into the air
of the world
the sweetest spring lullabies
of much sunnier days,
just to try to
hide away the crumbling sound
of falling dry, dead leaves.
Feb 1, 2021
Feb 1, 2021 at 10:06 PM UTC
How does
one single person
change
the world,
their country,
when the world,
their country,
finds comfort
in their
oppressive ignorance?
Jan 31, 2021
Jan 31, 2021 at 12:06 PM UTC
It says,
“For all have sinned
and fall short of the glory of God!”
So, I ask you,
just how much have
I sinned in comparison
to the pedestal you
set yourself upon?
How much have I plummeted
beneath our great Lord's
merciful feet,
when I dare to challenge
the oppression of earth's
white-man evangelist bigotry?
I ask you,
most wise and knowledgeable
devoter,
just how far do I fall
from the Lord our God's
reaches of heaven
when I have questioned
on the magnitude
of our fellow man's
prejudice and injustice,
and you have not?
Jan 28, 2021
Jan 28, 2021 at 9:27 PM UTC
Will there ever come a time
that I find myself unable to
write the tune to
the same ballad twice?
I've always prided
this part of me
as my sole therapy to heal.
My method to self-preservation.
To speak without speaking.
To crack without crumbling.
To have vulnerability without being
vulnerable.
But,
which time will it be
that the thread within
the needle of my own words
is to stitch these
old wounds finally shut?
Jan 28, 2021
Jan 28, 2021 at 9:26 PM UTC
A lot of times,
I only wish that I could
just believe in myself
to the same magnitude
that other people believe in me.
We are truly our own worst enemy.
Why is that?
Self-doubt is an infectious thing
that seems to spread alongside
the years you age.
And it tends to feed off
the things you like and love the most.
How do you break,
cure that cycle
with the thing others call
confidence?
Or even with
the thing called faith?
Jan 28, 2021
Jan 28, 2021 at 9:24 PM UTC