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Jabin Jul 2018
My pancreas busted.
Sugar was too sweet.
The candy I trusted
Has taken my feet.

I thought it was virtue.
Truth, I always sought.
I must now bid adieu
I won't take the shot.
Jabin Jul 2018
It spins. It spins.
On it goes within.
Tomorrow comes
Until the very end.

The fall and rise
Around my own eyes.
Look at these thumbs.
Look at how I pretend.

Up from the dust;
In God we do trust.
But, is that true?
Come see all that we've made...

Through mist and pall
Pride's taken us all.
Clean sky so blue.
Our clouded scruples swayed.

A new day dawns
From times full of bronze.
Sundry chances
To smother out the flames.

The waters drown
This wicked old town.
Moonlight dances
Upon our many shames.

Rotate once more,
This sight we abhor.
Time is too short,
For wish to turn the ships.

The stars twinkle.
Time will not wrinkle-
Spite, any sort.
Grant us our full eclipse!

But nature knows
Our craving still grows,
Overtaking
Limitless wingspan.

So on we fight
Against what is right.
Mourn not breaking
The cursed night of man.
Jabin Jun 2018
Towers of cards, they fall.
As if bombs could build a wall.
Like miners who die for fuel,
But we don't count ourselves cruel.

Falsehoods can be true
As long as they don't impose upon you.
The tithes we give at church
Don't keep the birds their perch.

The oceans run green with gunk.
All that's left of the tree, its trunk.
In the morning we go to work,
But everything else, we shirk.

Thankful, the world spins on,
Long after we have gone.
Can't sleep, so here's another one. I feel so hateful.

It's hard to know what to do sometimes. And even if I did know, it so often feels as though my hands are tied.

Thanks for reading.
Jabin Jun 2018
The love I hold, tempered by my anger.
I see so much, and yet I cannot take.
Ears they burst from never ending clangor.
The smile I show is oh so very fake.

The care I clench forced me as a hermit.
Buried within this pristine outer shell.
Hatred abound, and the news confirm it.
Would not show my face till the devil fell.

For wishing someone would come to save me,
I love the world. Alas, I hate myself.
The world outside seems to be so crazy.
That’s why I leave the Bible on the shelf.

Oh, God! Oh, God! I pray for your guidance.
But I’ve become cozy with your silence.
Jabin Jun 2018
We sit as children on paper with crayons.
The timing too perfect, as soon we will learn.
Sifting through albums of family photos,
we struggle, endure; tomorrow we must fight-
for semblance of self in uncertain future.
The reflection we see tells "truth" to our eyes.

Frantic, we hope someone will see through our eyes,
see the artwork we’ve crafted with our crayons.
We fall wayward as they continue their fight.
But were we not supposed to be their future?
Onward, we find, only refusal to learn,
and they hope to be remembered in photos.

Happily we sat in booths, taking photos.
Love for each other, blooming shutter of eyes;
snapping so clearly: destiny, the future.
Making love through the pain, we began to learn:
Romance is like the colors of our crayons;
Red passion, blue tears, green envy, the black fight.

And from gray ashes, we gained strength from the fight.
Made a history of our lives through photos.
Our own child is coming. So much she will learn.
In her tiny grasp, she’ll struggle with crayons.
Let’s color a better image for her eyes;
help her discern a multicolored future.

For we have reckoned our own troubled future,
must be rife with the educational fight,
lest we forget our past: black and white crayons.
We’ve witnessed the agony, beauty through eyes,
deceived that the past is happy as photos,
as though there was nothing more for us to learn.

As for our beauty, she’s but begun to learn
that always we’ve waited for her, our future.
The love we’d not gotten, sadness in our eyes.
Thankful we are, to have learned from the photos,
to muster our strength and our love for the fight.
Imagine the hue she’ll paint with her crayons.

Remember to learn, that we must also fight.
Leave behind your photos. Look to the future.
Behind those eyes, do you remember crayons?
This is my first attempt at writing a sestina poem. This is for my wife and daughter.
Jabin Jun 2018
I'm sorry, all
for getting angry.
My vision blurs.
My sight recedes.
I think I'm right.
The same old song.
My heart is right;
My love is wrong.

Can you comprehend
the pain I must feel
to see through my own disguise?
How can I let go
when the things that I know
got me here, with you?

Last night, the moon broke orbit.
Back and forth it wavered.
It seemed to be drawing closer-
I faced imminent obliteration.
But I recalled from my study of
ASTRONOMY
just how unlikely it was.
And just like that,
the moon snapped back into place.

I was born right.
But loved wrong.
Jabin Jun 2018
The children, they don't need us.
In fact, they repeat us.
And what ungodly error.
Collecting our wounds en masse,
spreading our crimes so fast-
continuous looping terror.

We spit upon the face of the devil
and bring ourselves right to his level,
pray for consuming ignition.
With triteness we scheme for money,
and laugh at things unfunny
to dodge the hard decision.

**** me, my God I'm not ready.
This burden feels so heavy.
But will it save all creation?
My child, I love so dearly.
I see what love is so clearly,
and gained such appreciation.

Remorseful I am for pain I've caused.
With arrogance, I've rarely paused
to accept the pain of my brother.
And in my soul harbored hatred
and never known what is sacred,
Blamed this disease on father and mother.

What shall we do now to gain redemption?
Life's too vast for our comprehension.
Apes that we are, we continue to wrestle.
*******, we **** those who're different.
Though we fall from a common descendant.
I pray to our God, re-brandish the pestle.  

Live for each other, I'll tell her.
Into *******, I'll never sell her.
But unto the enemy, I'll submit.
And those who subscribe discrimination,
and from torture derive their elation.
I tell you the truth, you're all full of it.
Isn’t interesting how much fear we hide even from ourselves? I think that if we’re mentally healthy people, this world and living in it is a terrifying experience. The thought of our inevitable death alone is enough to humble anyone, if they let it. Some people are stronger, and some are weaker. Some pretend to be strong, so they don’t appear weak. That is a dangerous path. When you start deriving your self identity from the thoughts of others, you become as weak as a person can be. It's okay to be scared. It's okay to be angry. We have to accept these realities, and if we do, I think we can begin to accept each other more thoroughly. We just have to realize that we all have control over our own lives and our own selves. Look deep into your being and seek out the truth. Let it guide you, because lies are stumbling blocks no matter how you slice it. The sooner we become more comfortable with the truth and the telling of it, the sooner we can actually deal with our problems in a healthy way. I think a lot of violence, depression, anger, etc. could be avoided if we made honesty more of a priority in our lives. And the truth is, we will fail in this quest from time to time, but it's one of those things that gets easier the more you do it. And you will feel much better about yourself if, when you realize you are wrong in a particular moment, you are able to openly admit your error out loud. It doesn't feel good in the moment to be sure, but pulling those weeds up as soon as they sprout will always help ensure a more healthy garden. There is an idea that everyone lies, and that might even be true, but by repeating that mantra throughout the generations, all we do is justify our own dishonesty, because hey, everybody's doing it. Do not be afraid. You might lose friends or even family over honesty, but sacrifice is a fact of life. And who's to say that your influence won't open their own eyes, leading you both down a path to a better relationship in the end?
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