Today there is no work to be done.
There is only rest
and the simplicity allowed
as the spaceman sleeps.

He dreams not of galaxies,
but the land and ocean
as he catches bass
down by the bay.

His peers worry
about opportunities missed
amongst the stars
as their astronaut
is calling in sick today.

He opens his eyes
and mumbles
about the plentiful
amount of fish and waves
the men down by the dock
get to catch each day.

Memory will fade
like all else does
once my demise has come
not even memory will keep me alive
nothing will know
my unrequited feelings
nothing will know
my longing for companions
all that will be left
will be this
although it will not last in memory
at least it exist as such did I

Some days, being me is a burden.
Not onto others, but onto myself.
Those around me do not respect me.
But when they seek memories of better times,
I will be the one they ask to speak.

Education was a tool intent on developing me,
instead it became the ropes that bind me to my family.
These ropes latch me to a home I have outgrown,
but no one allows me to leave.

Instead of vindication
I have found desperation.
Those who know me speak fondly
of my aspirations, but do not realize
that their praise weighs more than,
the stone god was unable to budge.

I lie to you -
true agony is not shelved upon by others,
it is the listless illusions I pander to myself.
The ambitiousness of decision making
and feeling that any course directed by my own hand
will end wastefully.

I've learned
how to be a child of divorce

not through the quarrels
of mother and father
because mine still haunt each other.

But through my own
struggles of living
two separate lives.

One of a student
bound to study
being a socialite of aristocrats  
through my informality of university.

The other a family man
or a family boy
one that wants to soliloquy
and urge the importance
of unity with my brothers and sisters.

Spread between
two homes that don't quite
fill my needs or
meet my enthusiasms.

They are lost to me
equally lost to each other--
these two homes
used to be equal
but now they demand to be separate.

My dreams
do not come attached to
the ideals of my people
or the sacrifices of another country.

Instead I am poor
and mine are clinging to life
the very idea of existence.

Mundane flashes--
not adventurous endeavors
nor flights around the world
this is what richly folks do.

Simply a mingler
someone whose life
flourishes around the bends
of florescent street lights
and panhandling
nearby a farmers market
just after sunrise.

This remnant is few
as these are neighbors
local countrymen
who stoically face
the world's deviation
and deprivation
from coexisting

by the bonds of
agriculture and personality
even as a beggar
it is but a joyous memento
to a world that
no longer thrives.

Click
light, energy breathes in
the machine comes to life
knows nothing, new and fresh
see symbols, hear clicks
one room full of ONE thousand friends
facebook, twitter, reddit, youtube
tweet, like, spread, watch
program after program
you spread what you thought
another mega byte out of your life
data stored in the "cloud"
past saved in imaginary space
enter the net to endure a flix
another box opens but this ones RED!
open another portal and jump on in
tab to google to find your best friend
can't ask for direction it shows where you live
words of the past, "call me"
now instead skype, oovoo, tiny chat ME
glitch in the system, there's an upgrade for that
version 1.29875CYBORG
complete!
*click
the energy goes down and your world is DEAD
walk outside when you want ONE real friend

I remember Icy cold hands softly grasping my wrist(s).
As they lead me down to the water.
It's a brisk sunny day clear of clouds and void of life other than us two.
Upon reaching the brim of this secluded lake I dive right in.
Solemnly sinking lower and lower until something whispers for me to open my eyes.

I remember thinking to myself how much longer can I hold my breath.
As I peer at this underwater world around me, quite a masterful landscape.
This could be a mini coral reef I thought as many creatures scuttled across the mossy corpse of what I assumed used to be a tree.

I remember the feeling of those same frozen hands.
Gently and tightly wrapping themselves around my chest.
I feel stuck and held in place as my eyes peer ever deeply.
Into the lush and overgrown thick of seaweed.
That looks as if it is waving for me to come closer.

I remember a minor sharp pain as if ice was arching its way inside my spine.
Slowly sending a tingling sensation into the back of my mind.
This world really is something as I ponder about an over sized rock. That was more than likely large enough to be called a boulder.
Also how did it ever came to exist right here in the middle of the water.  
Silly I know, but I also wondered if the fish same as people .
Would praise this rock to be something more than a pebble in a lake.

I remember a peaking feeling where everything began to rush to my head .
As the chilly edge slipped into my limbs as those hands caressed me.
Amongst this lavishness was the **** realization .
That the only thing that stood out in the realm was my existence.
It was my opaque form that caused quite a stir in this mundane environment .
If not for my involvement .
Today would have been the same as any other for these creatures.

I remember being enveloped into the pleasantness and peacefulness that the cold brought.
When I could finally no longer feel the hands pressed against my skin.
In this brief moment all I could do is take in what my gaze could hold. This moment could no longer last as my vision became hazy.
So I closed my eyes to accept what eventually had to come.

A heart that beats true, but it's only for you

A sky is gray, but you light up the day

A heart was kept in a chest, but they feel like it has gone out west

The sky is stagnant, and they fall for you like a magnet

A heart is in the dark, because you left a deadly mark

Like thunder and  lighting, you are just something

The heart is fluorine while you act like chlorine

You soak up the tears "oh, why" and when you come all you say is bye

My heart beats true, but it's NOT only for you

My words form a humble abode
only if the words would form when prose
words crave to expand when exposed
I never grant them the ability to unload

    They complex to lyrical nonsense
    Ravage my identity towards confidence
    knows nothing about prudence
    they insist upon clairvoyance

Words manipulate to suffice
although I contort them to be precise
they matriculate to my vice
We both only want to be concise

When is your birthday
I only wonder when so I can wish you the best--
each  year you may not ask me to show up at your door,
but I will gladly surprise you with a cupcake and a smile.
Maybe a card that randomly says way too many things;
muddling the message that I really was trying to say, you are special.

Not only today is your day, but today is more your day than anyone else--
That while I celebrate when you came to life,
I also celebrate your struggles and I celebrate your victories.
Cheering, screaming, and chanting for the public to know, today, is yours!

I will gladly burn down any building with the candles from your cupcake--
Because you are getting older, but **** it, it's tradition.
I have to pack that cupcake with 24 candles,
even though they stopped looking good at 16,
I could have gotten smaller ones, but I keep buying the same pack every year.

No matter who you are, I will bring the cupcakes--
just accept that while I attempt to ****** you with diabetes
I'll also be showing you to the whole world around us,
so don't be shy, because it'll only give me more ideas for next year.

Today is Christmas
sprinkling snowflakes onto pancakes,
where we serve hot cider
in the morning--
"**, **, **"
can be heard right outside
our dining room window
as our decorations jingle away.

The Faux Christmas tree
frosty white and spinning
slightly brushing past
each gift that will be
torn open soon enough
by our foster kids.

They simply glee
and chatter of how Santa
knew exactly what to get them
and how glad they were
for him to actually show up one year--
not remembering him stopping by
but muttering strangers
angrily saying
"santa's not real, grow up".
every time before.

Gingerly patting their heads
whispering to each one
"oh, Rudolph must have been tired"
as I ask them to pass out the presents
that were still wrapped.

We have walls that you can’t see and we bleed to keep them up

Some of these walls hold our pain back while others hold it in

My wall is a wall that you don’t even think about, obviously

I’ve been told too many times how I’m awesome and funny

Well where are you guys when I need a laugh and a friend

Where are these people that are my “friends”

I guess I have a wall that puts you all away

That makes me standalone even though I give you my soul

I tell you all what’s on the inside, but I still do not see what makes you

I do what I can, I’m involved in many things, but am left in darkness

A personality one of it’s own, one of strength, power,

Will, tranquility, but is left alone to Wallow

It's hard to write
because I crunch the numbers
and realize their
is more words on the page
than eyes will ever read it

Going to war
was a piece of cake
compared to coming back

In war I always knew
at least a few things
would always happen.

It became my home
because my family lived there
my comrades became
the stability to continuing on.

Each indifferent day
was a lasting piece of our humility to living
and our bond-ship to pride.  

I slept in trenches,
in the open air,
under the protection of some thin vail
that'd we all make it back together.

Here in the common wealth
I sleep in alleyways
and under bridges
with the aspirations
that someone will spare some change.

Meeting the wonderful
people who will sparkle in the night
are the guiding lights
to blossom in the world--
even as despair tries
to take place in our minds.

Shootings will gander
the cross hairs of our media
causing freight to spread,
even in those we
call our friends.

Bombings will spark
national outcry
in between each sentence--
people will begin
to speak hatred.

Terror will be uprising
creeping into homes
pushing out demands,
to replace our happiness
with their fear.

Against this
I speak for you
one human to another
do not give in
even in desperate times
there are amazing people--
please sparkle
because I know you can.

Merry Christmas Eve.
Merry Christmas Eve.

If I said holiday cheers one more time
it'd become redundant,
but to each of you
that chance upon this--
know that if I could
I would wish you a thousand splendid
Christmas Eves.

I would become the chain
children make in school
counting down the days till Christmas.

I'd become the warm smiles
with hands holding
even warmer coco
to keep you toasty; tis the season.

I'd bring fresh pine scent
and logs for the fire,
these will be here
to bring the aura of the holidays to your home.

I may not be a rich man,
more near to those you see
pitching for spare change;
this would never stop me
from finding you a gift to cherish.

I would give you all the time
you ever wanted and needed,
because I know that around the holidays
we all need a little bit more care.

Merry Christmas Eve.

I stand at the forefront
of human existence
and all that stands
is an empty vessel
of idealism
and missed opportunity.

A shallow mass
of pathetic selfishness
instead of selflessness;
a common mistake
of mixing words
that sound eerily too similar.

All the people
that stood here,
may become hardened
or maybe they never stood here at all.

Maybe they sat
at the center of the world
where they never crawled out of,
so they never saw all the beauty
or opportunity
that rested
right above their heads.

These are the burial grounds
for a peaceful existence:
one where equality lies,
still alive,
but buried so deep,
that it hides right outside of thought--
and each person mistakes
helping themselves
for helping the world.

Defeat


The color of black n white just like a tuxedo, deceiving. telling others that your fine

something that you pick that looks delicious, but is rotten to the core

the smell of your own burning home. Leaving you with only smoke and holes

a village line up shot and killed. Never had a chance like your hopes and dreams

like asking a girl to prom and hearing the words that you don't want spoke

being infected by some never known disease, making you lose all hope


Defeat

The garage opens
light floods in
the sky is blue and solid
the ground is black and clear
the bike is white and prefect
strangers ignore it all
the bike is moving
passing my own view
cars keep chasing their own tail
the bike doesn't hesitate
into a white car it goes
the car isn't white, but red
strangers stare at it all
there is no bike of perfection
the ground is also not black, but red
the sky is dark filled with lights
my view is darkness
and the light cannot flood anymore

How to imagine a poem--
when you speak those lines
do not say that you are dying or inlove,
but describe the way it's happening.

Death/Sad.

There's a noose around my neck
the rough fibers are digging in
reminding me of my fathers hands--
when I was eight years old
as he strangled me to sleep.


My helium light in the corner
begins to flicker as it always does
when there's a thunderstorm,
even as my world fades
I know it's sunny skies today.

Love.

There's a difference between smiling
and the way your lips slant upwards.
They remind me of my favorite nuts;
cashews are the happiest of all of them
the only ones able to make a smile
that puts all others to shame.

Nature/Happy.

As hydrogen and oxygen combine
making my sweet abode the ocean--
I sift saltwater side to side in my mouth
as I attempt to draw the air into my lungs.
Fish were born to exist here
where I am lucky to float in their home today.

End.

Poems are the hidden lizard in your back yard
that always seems to be there watching you--
or the pesky neighbor cat which hangs on the fence
riskily tightrope walking to sneak upon it's prey.

**...The meaning is always there, but sometimes it's difficult to see...

Don't
it's that simple.

Really, curiously, and honestly.  

You think that you want to do so.

Boy oh boy!
Girl oh girl!

You both assumed with
only a smile that they longed for more.

Their genuine smile
and hearty laugh
was more than a stranger would
ever offer to a nobody.

But to me
everyone is a somebody
cheesy as cheese fries
without the fries.

That's what make my day
meeting and greeting--
sadly I've assumed a false identity,
if only they would let it go.

And take the chance
to make an honest friend.

Human hubris
is believing that you're special
it's waking up in the morning
and thinking
'gee, I really do matter'
and we do this
in so many different ways.
Thinking
'I'm going to make the most out of my day'
'I look really good in this outfit, becky!'
'I wonder if they'll miss me when I'm gone'
Hubris.  
It's the human condition
where a hubris mind is a healthy mind
and the opposite is a depressed mind.
The human condition
is an egotistical one
so when we wonder
why does the world suffer so much
also remember
that we were conditioned
to believe we matter
when actually
it should have been
everything does.

People on the internet
are like any others
and talking without reason
terrifies us.  

‘Everyone you meet
is the monster under the bed
the skeleton in your closet
the psyche of horror
haunts their dreams.’

Maybe
every fable
we’ve ever heard
is lingering behind
the veil we call
our lives.

Or maybe,
if we were
really honest
for one moment,
a single breath.

We’d all come to know
spooks and goblins
didn’t come from tales told–
it is our personal fears
hiding within the mind.

Our unwillingness to believe
that anyone could come to love us
and the doom that suffocates
is the feeling no one will ever know,
who we are.

If people ever caught sight
of our bones
sleeping underneath skin
they’d run
leaving us with scars
scratched so deeply
we’d never be able to recover.

Today, I read, in the newspaper
about someone's daughter drowning
an accident,
an unforeseeable misfortune,
and I've come to the reality
that we can never know
the truth depths of what has happened to this family.

From this moment
their fleeting lives
will be droplets of water
that are trying to fill--
some void of where their
daughter used to swim.

And no matter
how calm the ocean becomes
it will always have the waves
that started from this day,
till the day; they too die.

It shakes me
and causes me to grieve for them
that I cannot share their pain
that as an outsider
I can only imagine the anguish.

I do not know these people
I have never met their daughter
and I will never meet them or her
but I can dream of their emotions--
it is a think haze of disbelief
"that something so terrible
would happen to me, my family."

And not only is their daughter dead
but they are empty--
They have now a room
full of belongings
that some how no longer belong
to anyone in the world.

Their suffering has only begun,
because the rush of death
leaves each person breathless,
and it is only when the air
decides to come  back to their lungs
and the ripples of the waves
have begun to subside
that their real world will set in.

And their bleakest truth will come to fruition,
as the family sits bedside
to an empty bed, where their daughter sleeps--
they will imagine the same as me
that maybe they're just dreaming--
when they wake up
she'll be back with them again.

Do you know

How I know

That there is no God

...

Because I prayed

for him to **** me

and yet

I still

woke up today.

Going in multiple directions
is touted to be better than one;
it's better to have two hands than one,
a double rainbow is twice the taste.

My two ways are
the hard way or no way;
I'm a car that will speed
down the highway going 100mph
to a destination I've never heard of
with a turnout sign that hasn't been made.

I'm a stalled out car on a hill.
I'm a little beater car that should have
been lifted for spare pieces years ago,
but instead of caring for my parts
I've made myself die on a mountain
made out of molehills.

I can drive myself hard in either direction
both of them end up with me digging dirt.
One I'll bury all of my ideals,
and the other I'll dig up all the reasons
I never should have been driving in the first place.

I would have really liked
just doing laundry and taxes with you.

We're near the avocados
and I can't help but tease you
"when are you going to make the avocado dish"
it's with a sly smile I ask this.

I can't resist,
seeing your little dance
your face scrunched
and you're flustered -
"we'll get them right now, so I can make it this time"

"No, no."
"We'll get them next time"
but really I don't like avocados
it's just part of the fun.

You drop some blueberries into the cart
"they're good for the heart".

Depression
Pain, anxiety, fatigue
Not physically just mentally
The activities of life are shambles
merely there to associate life
meaningless attempts
to persuade the carcass
the space occupying monstrosity
hopelessly slumped into the paces
ever arching patterns of sobriety
a single evanescent ending
enlightening the crevasses
how the end can and should
come abrupt.
Awakening

I am a boy not a man.
I speak words of wisdom, but have none to give.
My age is a reflection to my whims.
My lines are lies that speak for you.
I don't know the way forward or backward all is up or down.
My fear is a child's fear, but what a man fears too.
This has no reason and no point just crazy spilled across it.
Wonder. Random. Wilderness. Breathes. Dark. Eyes. Invisible.

I can't wreck this boat
I can't crash it into the depths once more
I gotta clean it up
I gotta clear the skies and wasp this deck
Otherwise these sails will forever fall
Otherwise the murky waters will creep aboard
Underestimate the strength of a breeze from the past
Underestimate these old boards, but they can float
everything can fall off it'll come back to the surface
everything can't go back together
NOT this time, no repeats, this boat is no Delorean
NOT in the past everything is right now
again no thanks my friend
again this boat has life preservers hope you can find them

Losing time is my specialty
as I am a nation of one
that has no people or land
that must be amassed.

To sustain myself is the simple tidings
that would hardly fit
even a wanderer stranded on a mysterious island--
one where the tide brings in
the luxury drinking water
and a plateau of shifting sands.

The subtly of time
is a puzzle to me that I hardly understand,
as it's pieces seem too difficult to place
having no matching parts
to put them together.

Time has no place in our minds
but is everyone's jigsaw
without it; we may become complacent
or at least that's what
we've always been told.

5/20/1994
I'll forget your face--
even those hands I fell in love with.
The soft way they grasped my hips
as your head nestled into my chest.
I always admired how petite those fingers of yours were,
when compared to mine, they were inch worms wiggling between the earth.

6/20/1994
I'll forget our first--
even our first kiss that was always our biggest thing to laugh at.
That little parlor, was our first kiss,  
To find out how it would be with ice cream in our mouths
Little droplets of your favorite ice cream, vanilla cranberry.
Surrounded the bottom part of your upper lip,
slightly puckered, bending over the table towards each other.
I started to laugh before we even touched,
accidentally getting some raspberry on that sundress you love so much
Our lips didn't touch that day, but I still consider that our first kiss

7/20/1994
I'll forget our last--
Even our marriage, I can no longer remember what day it was on.
Although I replay that moment in my mind almost every single day,
trying so hard to keep it stored inside me, that even today I prayed to remember.
Your admiration for Swan Lake was obvious that day;
no wonder you had to dress in a black dress, and brides maids in white

8/20/1994
I'll forget the tiniest and the most important details to our wonderful life--
Even the ones you thought I never could:
we live at, 197 oakwood lane, or is it pinewood road,
we have three children...I love them very much

9/28/1995
I'll forget everything--
Except what I promised to always remember.
Dear, to me every day is our wedding day
It's the only thing I've been able to keep
Thanks for playing along with me,
It's been magical to marry you everyday,
to feel as young as we were back then.

You want me to be Brutal                                     You want me to be Brutal

or do you want me to blunt.                                or do you want me to be blunt.

Disregard your feelings.                                        Realize your feelings.

Let me crush your soul.                                        Let me find your heart.

I'll show you the real me, once again.                I’ll show you the fake me, once again.

I just want to hurt you.                                         I just want to care for you.

Do you enjoy my truths?                                     Do you enjoy my lies?

I would speak truths upon truths for spite.      I would speak lies upon lies for love.

I'd share this poem.                                              I'd share this poem.

To break your spirit.                                             To embrace your spirit.

The truths only breaks you.                                The lies only breaks me.

I could never speak them.                                    I could always speak them.

I would fall to pieces.                                           I would fall to pieces.