I do not yearn for the frenzied fire,
that sizzles, rages and burns.
Or bolts of lighting that streak across the sky,
scorching the air with their striking demand.
Nor do I wish for the unpredictable
excitement of color filled fireworks to light my nights
whistling, booming and crackling loud and bold.

No. I wish upon the twinkling night stars
that have steadily sung for eons,
the quiet, iridescent shine of the moon
that dependably follows her infallible cycle.
I yearn for those cooling, quite whispers of
the gentle wind, who though whimsical in her moods
is always there to breathe life into my lungs.


Give me those winds.

I know I am as weak as I allow myself
And as strong as I make myself
For that is the truth of weakness and strength.

If you never cared,
And never felt,
And never even thought,
Then why’d you
Have to give me
Those lingered looks,
Those secret smiles,
Those whispered words.
Didn’t you know?
what I would give you back?

.

Awe **** my dad says as he chews his cheesy jaffal. Giving his unasked for comment on my mum’s Korean drama.
As he plops into the couch between us.

♥️   I had to play.
I had to play.
           my stolen heart turned rot, to ***** ♠️

Twas me snubbed.
Twas me who snubbed.
         ♦️ And glittery diamonds to dirt, were clubbed.  ♣️

But I had to play.
            I had to play.
               Cause he held all my cards anyway. 🃏
I had tried to run.
I tried to run.
      We were not there for love, but fun.
  And I HAD to play.
               I had to play..
I was his.  lonely desperate slave.

    Now he's moved on..
                 He's moved on.
                        and left his pathetic, little pawn ♟
                       I'd had to play
                       I'd had to play.
  so that from him, I could get away.

    He'd gotten bored
He got bored.
        He wiped away our checkered board.
       Now he's not here.
                       He's not here.
          But I'd do anything to feel him near.
                        
                         Come play.  
                         Come play.

Today a Russian lady
Asked me for the Lou
And I said there is
A Porta ***** colored in a blue

As she left a coworker
He said with a smirk to me
You should have told the ***** animal
To squat on the bushes to ***.

And I stared in dumfoundment
as he turned and walked away
Why would he have said that?
what ***** games a play?

Then I realized she was Russian
And my mind clicked, I see
He was blaming her
For her countries, Recent Misdeeds

but what gave him the right
To decide who she is?
To call her an animal
I’ll tell you nothing did

He thinks he’s high and mighty
Cause he’s male, young and white
But I think he needs glasses
To fix his ghastly sight

For we are not our bodies,
our skin, our hair or face.
And the sum of a person
Is not found in their race.

So what?she’s from a country
That’s creating a hot hell
Does the daughter of a ******
Belong inside a cell?

So what? she has an accent
Don’t tell her what to be
For gods sake man
She just wanted to ***.

I guess it’s time to say goodbye,
To the wilting blooms of youth.
That naively cry out in despair ;
“Come back! Come back!  “
Screaming of my treachery
Deaf to my accusations and pleas
Shouting for me to stop,
when it is SHE
Who is ABANDONING me.
I guess it’s time to say goodbye.
But then again,
She’s already gone.

abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz  
...

I heard a laugh.
Small, yet deep.
It shook my my heart,
It made me weep.

I heard a shriek.
Shrill and loud,
Never had I heard
Such a terrible sound.

My head it shook.
My ears did bleed.
I fell to my knees,
I started to plead.

I screamed. I trembled.
Both did no good.
For still the man came.
With his axe, with his hood.

Then all sound stopped.
And my head it came clear.
With my thick thoughts,
Went all of my fear.

My tears ceased, and with a grunt,
My death swung his blade.
Thunk. Plop.
In the basket my head laid.

eyes wide
A maniacal smile.
Covered,
As other heads piled.

Am I the only one
Who goes to bed,
Only to stay awake all night
Remembering every mistake
I've ever made?

When I'm alone with my
thoughts in the darkness,
  I think of her.
And I wonder.
Then I feel sick.

I'm not very picky, unless faced with:
      Icky, sticky, pumpkin!

                Oh! How I glower!
                When faced with that sour,
                  Slimy, stringy, slush!

                          So I groan,
                                And I moan,
                                      Then I run.

  My arms flailing!
       My feet, slap, slap, slapping,
                          The cold, hard, floor.

                                         'Till a hand grasps my shoulder,
                                            And I'm dragged to the table..

                          Then, I'm pushed into a chair,
                                   And a spoons pushed into my hand,
                                      And that foul mush, is pushed into the spoon.

               That is forced down, down, down,
                        My gagging, unwilling, throat.

I am a poet,
I create my own wings
And weave a world,
While hurtling
towards the ground.

She died today. In my arms.