me6d
“Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person; having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but to pour them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, knowing that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then, with a breath of kindness, blow the rest away.”
Living is often like drowning, and sleeping like flying,
So bridges and tall buildings always tempt me.
When I talk about death I feel brave.
I've always hated how recognition can so easily turn into pride.
They say pride comes before the fall,
But I believe that various kinds of self-centeredness are the origin of all unholy descents.
I remind myself that I shouldn't take my life because I didn't give it,
And my heart continues to beat on its own.
Blood doesn't stain crimson red,
It darkens and crusts on the skin.
Everything that is dead becomes only a memory,
Then it disintegrates and washes away, eventually becoming nothing.
I can’t remember anything from before I had the ability to reason,
So when did I come alive?
I wonder if all people valued beauty,
Would there be peace?
Because I sometimes wonder whether Neil Armstrong meant to say what he did as took his first step on the moon.
I think trying is as valuable as doing,
But justification is a dangerous tool.
I am cautious of failure and success;
But count this as my eulogy
A list of things that I am going to say before my untimely death.
*I recognized the world for the canvas it was and I didn't waste my life.
My dreams were my motivation,
And they were fueled by those that underestimated me
I walked streets day and night and prayed that I would somehow run into the girl of my dreams,
and when I finally found my missing rib I looked at her like she was a piece of art that I just couldn't keep my eyes off of.
I suffered and I found its nectar bitter-sweet.
I didn't get the best of life, but then I made the best of life.
I never stopped caring,
my love for the unlovable made me daring.
I trusted too easily so I was always broken.
I always found things to love, but they never loved me,
But despite it, I still loved, hard, even though it hurt me.
I couldn't comfort because I had never been comforted.
After a lifetime of battling myself, I finally took off my crown of thorns.
I didn't let the past get the best of me,
I gave the future all of me.
I hated animosity,
War was despicable to me,
And I always preached peace.
I prayed constantly that my efforts would not be in vain.
I never actually could stop sinning, but despite my ugly sins, I never stopped straining.
I was not perfect, but I did the best I could.
I never ceased to hear the music.
I still played, even when I felt like I was playing solo, I still played my part in this symphony of life.
My eyes were aimed at the director, and we played through the storm,
We played even when all hell was against us,
We played, and played, and played
Until eternity came through.....*
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 2:07 AM UTC
She skinned her knees crawling through her emotions
She opened her veins on paper and let the thick blood come trickling out
Her heart is made of glass and if you touch it light enough it will break into two, releasing a new beat
She lost her sight in love
She carved words on her chest as if without them she couldn't rest
She scratched words on her throat and clawed them on her tongue like they were her new oxygen supply.
She is a poem who I'm glad lived.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 2:04 AM UTC
her heart was ice
and his was fire
and together
their love was
as fierce as ever
but as soon as
they were apart,
she turned numb and cold
and he turned to grey ashes
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 3:53 PM UTC
I used to think courage meant keeping everything to your self
That strength was bottling things up to deal with on your own
That crying was weakness and vulnerability was foolish
It’s not.
Somehow you’ve managed to teach me that
Courage is sharing your burdens and
Real strength is sharing your soul
Even if tears fall as you do it
And you’re left feeling more vulnerable than ever.
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 3:49 PM UTC
As twilight softly kisses the horizon
I skip down the street fighting my uncomfortable green school uniform
My 6 year old dreams keep me dawdling every couple skips
Taken captive by the resilient flowers that grow amidst these trash ridden streets
Like little shreds of hope they peek out just above the cigarette butts and plastic bags that litter these dirt roads
I stop to muse for a moment until the cold water that is reality splashes me in the face and
I realize I must get home before its too dark
So I run until I step inside our gates where I decide to give my little lungs a break
And there you sit in your guard house
You smile a smile the Cheshire cat would be jealous of then beckon me to come to you
And having been taught that disobedience is wrong and obedience to ones elders is imperative
And you not being a stranger
I walk to you
And I feel your rough ice cold fingers clamp around my arm
Yet I refuse to afraid because my logic tells me you are our guard, here to protect not to harm
But then you strip me of my clothes and of my innocence
You devour my self-worth for your selfish gain
And with your stale beer breath, you tell me to go home and tell no one
As I walk away, I reject the tears that try to form
No longer filled with dreams of 6 year old things
Feeling nothing but brokenness and the cold place right below my shoulder where you gripped my arm
I see a little flower peeking out from beneath the cracks
And I make a point to step on it
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 3:48 PM UTC
A great author once wrote
We accept the love we think we deserve.
And though the words were not my own
They stuck to me like gum beneath the chairs in my school
And I found myself reading them over and over again
Doing my best to soak in every single piece of truth
That was crashing on my head like waves
And when you told me that he really loved you
And you still believed him
You broke my heart
Because the love that you know
Is not a grain of sand on the seashore
Or a star in the heavens
Or a blade of grass in the forest
Or a snowflake in winter
It is a word that cannot be found in the dictionary
A letter from no one's alphabet
A direction that can never be travelled
A lantern that cannot be seen in the dark
You have never heard
That love is for real
That it will strike you like lightening
You will feel it in your fingertips
In your lungs
In your bones
You have never heard
That there is a man who will never leave you
Who will love you like a word
Not like the weather
You tell me that there is nothing to be said
Nothing helps
But I disagree
You don't know love
But one day you will
And that love is not temporary
It is forever.
Just wait for the the storm
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 1:08 PM UTC
Honesty is so freeing
but so terrifying
Like bungee jumping,
with the pure sweet adrenaline
pumping through your bones
telling you you'll be okay,
you'll be okay,
You're okay.
That's why
I'm still wavering
on the edge of the cliff
feeling the tight straps around my legs,
knowing I will be caught
when I fall
but still seeing the
thousand foot drop beneath me.
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 3:26 PM UTC
Sometimes I spread my hands to the sky certain that they can grasp the stars but they can't, yet I keep reaching anyways.
And there's something beautiful about spinning on a field when the only thing visible is the night sky, and the only thing insignificant is you.
When I was young the thought of the world revolving around the sun intrigued me, and those moments somehow made me feel at one with the world.
Spin, spin, spinning, but then I would stop and my feet could no longer keep up with pace of my head, so I’d go flying in all directions just like disillusioned men when they go stumbling down streets unfamiliar to them.
Sometimes I wonder if the world is the way it is because it is in chaos and no one even knows.
Like somehow everyone is at a disadvantage,
Like no mind is sober because of a natural disposition pinned against us by gravity.
What if that is why men do the things they do, because I always wonder under what spirit do they operate, what demons have they encountered, that cause them to be possessed with this hate that makes *** slaves of the unfortunate, orphans of the unprepared, single mothers of the lovers, victims of our children, and on and on and on and on again.
Life just keeps moving and we just keep making the same mistakes. generations pass, people die but no one understands that we are just animals, caught in a war against ourselves.
Against our greed, our pride, our lust, our security, our beliefs.
We are so full of ourselves that we don't notice what is happening around us, we don't know that the world is spinning at 1000 mph; we have lost touch with the things that matter, lost all connections with the truth in the sky that enlightens anyone who dares to approach it.
always forgetting that it is the beauty of the moon, and the millions of stars that remind us that We Are Insignificant
But instead we are grounded and we have stopped so our feet cannot keep up with the pace of our heads so we have lost our balance.
You know I'm afraid, I'm afraid for my life.
On morbid days I envision myself in my coffin, I see my lifeless body and the pastor walking up to the podium, he says,
"Jal, he was an average man, maybe a bit eccentric, tragedy struck and this young man was taken away from us way too early by the devastating actions of an unidentified person.”
I watch the whole funeral and in curiosity I wonder which belief was it that killed me, or was it something outside my control like the color of my skin.
You see most people pray to be put down while they are sleeping by the famous killer, old age, but I don't know if I'll make it that long.
I've always said I want to be fully aware of the moment I die.
That's why when I was young on family road trips, when the only thing I could see was the 350 ft. ahead of the car illuminated by the headlights, and the determined face of my father, I would fight to stay awake because I couldn't let death take me by surprise.
But now I'm eighteen I occasionally have nightmares of my loved ones dying, but then again I don't really sleep anymore because death threatens to come at any moment.
A terrorist attack could shatter the windows of this house I consider impenetrable, or even a hungry thief thinking irrationally about his rationality.
This is the world we live in.
The world is spinning off its axis and things that used to seem so far have slid closer and closer, until I’m looking right into the eyes of death.
From 9-11, to Westgate, to genocide, things are closing in on me, and the “what ifs” are no longer so improbable and I am afraid.
I'm afraid that the world will never change, that people will stay the same, that I will go insane.
I’m going insane.
Could people just understand, could we just stop for a moment, grab each other’s hands and walk to open fields together at twilight after all traces of the sun have gone, could we whirl around with our heads to the skies, our nature abandoned, and our bodies in sync with the world,
Could we just spin and spin and spin until we once again become what we were made to be.
Could we just be more than animals?
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 3:28 PM UTC
“I miss you” is an understatement
Because when I say “I miss you” what I’m really saying is that
Every day I go without your laughter
Without your smile
Without your voice
Without your intoxicating presence
Is a day wasted
It’s a day the sun is a bit duller
Food a bit blander
And oxygen less satisfying
Suffice it to say
“I miss you” is an understatement
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 3:25 PM UTC
I’m strong, I can stand
against the buffeting winds
that try push me down.
(I’m weak, too easy I fall,
giving in to the pressure
that mounts from within.)
In the face of your discrimination,
I’m courageous
(I fear your abuse)
Yes, I am strong.
Though my gnarled hands
bend with age,
my roots…
(break, there is no
vigor left in me)
Sighing...my mind twists
that which should grow
into a solid foundation,
turning it into
(groans of pain,
mental anguish.
Weakness takes over)
A tired thought dances
through dim light,
bringing some joy
into the
(bleak. All I see are
shadows. Mocking shadows.)
Once I believed I had it,
an inner strength to deal
with anything.
(Like a mirage, my spirit
couldn’t grasp what it needed.)
Now I envision…
no, I see what I truly am.
My hands are wringing,
I’m cold...so cold.
I am
not
strong.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 1:28 AM UTC