The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.
When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.
If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.
But most people don’t see it.
Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.
The poet lives in two different worlds.
Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 9:42 AM UTC
She always loved a little magic.
But, don't we all
Admire the art in deception and
Manipulation of the truth?
I guess we all love a little magic.
Maybe, even too much but
We are taught to do what we love.
So she picked up her wand,
All smeared in black,
Her eyelashes her stage,
And performed her illusion.
Dec 7, 2017
Dec 7, 2017 at 8:41 AM UTC
I wander through
the days now
waiting
I am becoming
purpose
All of the other things
are slowly
dropping away
Surreal machinations
move things closer
Inching day by day
In the meantime
Life speeds by
without me
Blinding lights
speeding traffic
and all I can do
is wait
wait
Until I can wait no more
Dec 3, 2017
Dec 3, 2017 at 4:41 PM UTC
Dear girl who works the security desk at my friend's dorm,
blonde hair or purple, you get me going
and I'm impatient
i don't go in for the dating game
so wouldya do me the service
of maybe
possibly
marrying me
me you and the blonde barista would be happy together
until death do us part
Dec 3, 2017
Dec 3, 2017 at 4:39 PM UTC
Dear boy on the bus
You had to sit beside me, today of all days
My hair a mess
Bundled up in a black winter jacket
Acne and tired eyes
It had to be today of all days, didn't it
Dear boy on the bus,
From my peripheral vision I saw a golden mop of hair, which I find to be attractive on the male species
I’d call you an angel, but I don’t even know if you were attractive
I’d glance over at you from time to time, only because I was afraid you’d notice
Dear boy on the bus,
I don’t know whether or not to call you a boy or a man,
Because at this age, we’re younger than we look but older than we feel
Dear boy on the bus,
they say age is just a number, but it’s also just a word,
But I’d feel weird if you were younger than me all the same
Dear boy on the bus,
Do you realize how loud your music was playing? Apparently not, since it lulled you to sleep
Even if it was a few decibels lower, heavy metal isn't what comes to mind when I think of ‘lullabies’
I stole glances at you and your sleeping face, praying slightly that the bus would do a wide enough turn so that your head would sort of rest against my shoulder, even though I’m a lot shorter than you
Dear boy on the bus,
You could sit anywhere else after a few stops. I might have been a little hurt if you moved, but it’s normal.
So why didn't you?
Dear boy on the bus,
With bags on my lap, I felt closed in: I was too afraid to move, too afraid to touch you—I felt my arm brush against your sweater through my jacket and my stomach did somersaults
It’s not that I didn't want to touch you, but I didn't want sparks to be sent through my body—my mind was already going wild with the many scenarios playing in my head as we sat there.
Dear boy on the bus,
My heart was shivering as my stop got closer
I didn't want to leave before you did
I imagined you didn't want me to leave either
Dear boy on the bus,
I was thinking of pulling out my phone to text a friend about you, but I was afraid you’d notice.
I was thinking of pulling out my phone to write about you—would you think me a poet? Or a creep?
Dear boy on the bus,
I wish you said something
Dear boy on the bus,
I wish I said something
Dear boy on the bus,
When my stop came and we awkwardly got up, I wonder if you thought my sheepish smile meant something, or anything at all.
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 8:02 AM UTC
I owe you, my friend
You do me a great honor
by helping me
by inspiring me
I am humbled
by your kindness!
Thank you so much
and much love to you!
I am so sorry if I bother you
You're so amazing, beloved
You're so kind and so loving
You've my love and respect
for my whole life!
You make me want to cry
I owe you for helping me
I'd write for your support
Your light is inside of me
I love you, my sweet friend.
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 11:38 AM UTC
A boat, beneath a sunny sky
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July --
Children three that nestle near,
Eager eye and willing ear
Pleased a simple tale to hear --
Long has paled that sunny sky:
Echoes fade and memories die:
Autumn frosts have slain July.
Still she haunts me, phantomwise
Alice moving under skies
Never seen by waking eyes.
Children yet, the tale to hear,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Lovingly shall nestle near.
In a Wonderland they lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as the summers die:
Ever drifting down the stream --
Lingering in the golden gleam --
Life what is it but a dream?
Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 5:28 PM UTC
anxiety comes as a haywire mind
a situation in your head
worlds away from everyone
words unsaid
scared to be anyone, much less yourself
but most of all
it comes
and it never really leaves.
Nov 2, 2017
Nov 2, 2017 at 3:06 PM UTC
Oh, My Dear Motherland
You're beautiful, beloved
amazing and green
Your cold breeze, rain
Dew and the touch flower
Make me happy and glad!
The sky full of stars
And the moonbeams
Kiss me pretty and
Hold me like I'm a child.
Under the tree in the heat
At the shore of the river
My mind becomes cold.
I would melt forever
In your green paddy field
Not anywhere, I'd sleep here!
Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 10:40 AM UTC
We're young like the bright sun
in the quiet morning
The night will be gone soon
and the victory will come easy
by the youth of us.
God believes the young people
and others are afraid
The work of a younger generation
is the best choice to the Lord.
People are free; the best of mankind
it's the truth because of youths
The child or older can't help saving
the freedom in this world.
The youth is in the dream of the child
and the regret for the old man
The desert rain of a thirsty young lady
and the satisfaction to every mom.
We're young,
We're the biggest mind of the friend
and the confidence of the world
We're the happiness to the sadness.
The enemies are terrified of us.
We're young,
We're the brightness to the darkness
and the sunshine to the clouds
We're the optimistic person to the Creator
and the pleasure of the wretched.
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 7:29 AM UTC