Our faces are human faces
Our hearts are that of aliens
Every person, a single story,
Star lights of a tumbling night
So many worlds of degrees
At such distance to another
Lament, that we can venture
Only so far, into the house
Of another’s heart
Only know so much
Of its dusty and corrugated eaves
Of the space besides its pillows
Of the things you’ve lost and gained.
Fingers apart, and worlds diverged.
Each mind an entity alone.
If I poke a hole into your wrapping,
Will out come a tumult of emotions
- Crashing through the dam gate!
Or, if you’re so stoic,
All the layers I’ll have to unpeel
Before touching
The naked skin.
If only I can live
Through all that you lived
See with your eyes the world
I so passionately know
If only I can say,
You are me
And I am you
And I’m the golden Toblerone
Buried underneath your house
Maybe only then
Will I find a softer world
In the caves behind my house.
Oct 24, 2023
Oct 24, 2023 at 8:12 PM UTC
I know you won’t read this
and I know you won’t care
but I will tell you what it was like.
It was blurry.
it was slow
but time was running fast.
It was dusty feet
and dusty souls.
It was feeling nothing
and then all at once.
It was hating you
to drown the urge of hugging you.
It was writing a poem
and post it
wishing you will relate to it.
But who cares,
you don’t.
Sep 4, 2021
Sep 4, 2021 at 7:08 PM UTC
Yesterday I met a poet and her poems
She stands and fights, lives by her heart
A heart of gold, never cold, never old
I see it in her
A spirit untethered by all but the vast sky and blue sea and the seven colors of the rainbow upon her shoulders strong
She knows the sore heart of a falcon gyring above red desert dust
She knows the blues of red sunsets on a crisp starlit winter night
She knows the wordless mantras of dying stars shedding their last stardusts above the great barrier reef
Knows how to number them off like lambs to sleep
She has walked from the break of dawn when the skies are stained with fiery reds
Till the last light of dusk when stars powder the night sky like salt scattered onto a black tablecloth
From the the shadowy allies of Tripoli
(Where peeling graffitis of revolutions beckon from the cracks and crevices of old)
To the stunning waves of Bell Beach
(Where every slam of killer waves against the reef synchs on beat with her pounding heart)
From every lash of the wind upon the harsh highlands of Tibet
To home, where the heart is.
Counted every rise of the full moon
Atop the moonlit snow of Kilimanjaro's peak
A lone soul exhaling softly between the downbeats of the moon's sighs
Knowing everything, everything
Everything goes
And to this poet I give my wishes true
That until we meet again
May the road rise up to meet you
May the wind be always at your back
May you armor yourself with the emotions you bleed into words and the glasses of sorrow you get drunk on like art
Meld yourself into the art you paint
Turn every tear dredged from unassuaged moments of need into an artistic experiment called pain
So this world can hurt you
No more
Live through every second not just along
As though shrouded in a dream but very much alive
Shadows of people flicker across the stage we call life
Living their hearts on Cupid's lasso and necks in a tightening noose called time
In one's brief lifetime we can only bear witness to so many plays before we too
Fade away
But you, dear poet, are not a shadow
You're the black wind of the seven seas
You're the lone wolf who treks the seven billion unspoken corners of earth
Collecting lost tales from parchments yellowed with time and recounting them to winter constellations high above
May you leave no trace but your poems
So I can find you once again
Maybe not in this lifetime but in the end
We'd promise to meet in the far Milky Way
Apr 7, 2021
Apr 7, 2021 at 12:56 AM UTC
if i wrote my future
all would be changed
from the way i was raised
to the thoughts in my brain
if i wrote my future
no love would be lost
so i’d stand right beside you
no matter the cost
if i wrote my future
i’d bring nothing but peace
and save you from sorrow
and the darkness that creeps
if i wrote my future
you’d still be here
but you wrote my future
and i did nothing
but stare
Apr 4, 2021
Apr 4, 2021 at 3:01 PM UTC
somewhere it is reflected
perhaps it is your shadow
that bounces off the moon
and comes back to you
as wisdom dredged from the depths
of the unassuaged moments of need
that stretched you from one point
to the next
from one lover
to the next
from one room
to the next
from one dream
to the next
we spend our heartbeats freely
the infinite supply of youth
they become more precious
as the grave slowly deepens
what wisdoms do we stuff in our pockets
as we step into the grave
and move on from this life
to the next
Apr 4, 2021
Apr 4, 2021 at 2:44 PM UTC