I’m running out of poems

I need another reason to write again.

I can name what it’s not:
Not the likes
Not the fame
Not the power
Not the money
Not the knowledge
Not the pleasure
Not anything else
I can name what it is:
Your smile
Your voice
Your laugh
Your jokes
Your warm touch
The feeling of home
The safety and comfort to be
That is what happiness is to me.

let your fingers roam
upon my deep blue seas
Aphrodite’s seafoam
heaving under me
hightides upon shallow land
waves pound forth ragged lands
a race towards the shore
by the gods you make me want more

Little starlight do not fade
Do not go away when day comes
I have you to trust to hold to hope for
Until night comes again

You don't need to be superhuman
To save someone
You, my ordinary human being,
Have saved me
From the fear of falling
By telling me I could fly all along.

When teardrops stay in your eyes
Its pretty poetic, don’t you think?
I used to be afraid of letting them fall
But now I let them stay for seconds
So that I know how it feels to feel
The value of split seconds

That split second before -

is a feat rarely anyone
can make nowadays
but if I try and take a step
towards making the world a kinder place
would I make a difference?
What if I can't?
What if I fail?
What if we don't know about kind people because
they turn into bitter tales?
What if it's a lie?
What if I try?
What if.... this is all just a selfish thought,
and the world would be better off
without anyone at all?

i hate how much i think about you
how you pull my hair
kiss my neck with your stubble
i hate how much i think about you
when im with him
him and his ever so wholesome mind
yet you, you make me want
to be consumed whole
****** until i can no longer breathe
i hate how much i think about you
make me scream your name
make me feel the pain
you asked me if you ****** better than he did
and im afraid to say its true
because while im with him
im missing you
the whole of you
can i just say these chemicals
are ******* up my brain
and i hate you for making me feel this way
every ******* day
that passes you aren't pushing me on the sheets
because the devil called
i answered
and now there's no going back

you've ****** me up completely.

There was once a preacher named John
Who'd preach the holiest gospels to anyone
   Using a holy face
   He'd condemn the gays
      All the while praising the Father and the Son.

I wake up everyday to the sight of the New Normal
Open my ears to the sounds of the news
A black man killed before he could breathe
A child bombed before he could eat
And I think
What is normal?
What is rest?
What is hope?

Normalcy doesn’t sound normal these days
Rest doesn’t sound restful these days
Hope doesn’t sound hopeful these days
And I wish they did anyway

I wish writing, making art, cooking,
playing games, short naps, or social media
Were enough to make us forget about
Restless civilizations
These days
Heartless politicians
These days
Senseless discrimination
These days
The failures of the system
These days

I sit with my heart on my hand
Comprehending nothing at all
These days
While chaos all around us ensues
These days
And months seem to go by as quickly as they can
Yet nothing seems to change
Racism is still racism
War is still war
Hate is still hate
These days

And yet we’ve just realized
These days
How much we valued other days
And there’s no longer any returning to
Those days
Cause if it took us a pandemic to realize
How much we’ve failed those who needed us the most
On days
We’ve looked past reality
Just to see what we wanted to see
And believe what we wanted to believe in
That we chose right
That we’d never be able to fear going out
Since we’ve kept ourselves inside our social bubbles
That kept us from seeing
That everyone else had always been suffering
Before these days
I’d rather have
These days

So what is normalcy?
What is rest?
What is hope
To those who couldn’t afford to have those in the first place?

But I’d like to think that we haven’t completely forgotten
Those days
I’d like to think there will be better days
Where we’ll finally be able to settle down all our differences
That we won’t differentiate black from white
That we’ll finally know wrong from right
And we’ll see that days
Are not just days
But everyday struggles for many to live
In a world that hates living so much

So don't just wish these days
Instead help these days
So that others may be able to live their days too
And not just you
Today.

It wasn’t lightning
Nor a forest fire
Not a storm that shook
The depths of a tower
It was a wave that built up
Bit by bit through edges and
Jagged formations
Like all the months that led
Up to this
It was the sweet song of salvation
I tasted on your lips
Made me pick up the pieces yet again
To form a whole
No longer just a hole
A dash of evergreen on a silent winter night -
Holy night
This.

Today is a story
Of doubt
Of self-pity
Of wondering when I'll ever learn
To love the person staring at me
Through the mirror

Today is like any other day

But today
I will pick the pen up
And I will try to end this somber story
differently

I'll yank the smallest thread
Of hope
tugging her heart
And remind her
That she is real
She is loved
She is beautiful
She is the blistering heat
in summer that makes the world
Or of those whom she considers the world
Brighter
Lovelier

And she will get through today
again




again

I look forward to our ordinary days together
Special nights are cool too
But thinking of the groceries
Bills, chores, and old people stuff
We’ll do together someday
Just warms my heart like microwaved
Tuna sandwiches (which I love, by the way)
So listen
While you’re resting and sleeping
Put my dreams for tax calculating
In the fridge for now (we’ll take them out soon)
Just know that this ordinary poet has
An extra-ordinary
Love for you

things did get better
you just had to believe in it

;

poems are great
but not as great as you
art is great
but not as great as you
ice cream too
but hey,
still not as great as you

You may not always reach the high notes
but you try
and that's why I love you

she is a wandering wayfarer
running through life
falling every once in a while
along deep and shallow paths
a serene sight, a rigid ride
passing by other wayfarers too
searching for what's been lost
endlessly trudging towards that final
destination
the wind keeps telling her to stop
with tears that have dried long ago
cracks on her skin
mud creeping on her soles
yet she keeps striving
for that certain tomorrow
finding herself in another corner
of the world
she picks herself up,
and runs once more.

fleeting, confused
specks of dusts, furthering the stories
of dusts long past
giving names to fickly forms of masses
reaching out to skies undoubtedly
unreachable

We are stories from a
bygone era that will be forgotten one day
And we’ll reach mortality, try as we may
ever expanding, ever exploding
‘til the last word has been said
‘til the last thought has been made

We are all the pieces
and yet we are none
We unravel the mysteries
we’ve created for ourselves
Yet the greatest mystery of all
one we have yet to understand
transcends the dusts,
the stories,
and the pieces
because we have made it so

We truly are small.

Our love is a rainbow
It becomes most visible
After the bluest of times
But not just the rainbow
Our love is also the rain
The snow
The wind
The sunshine
But it is ours and ours alone
Through the inevitability of change
Is its constancy
Just like the weather
And the sound of the pitter patters
Each drop of rain makes
On our forehead
The gush of wind blowing flowers
Off their branches for new ones to
Blossom
The heat wave that singes through
All the masquerades we've built
The snow we haven't seen but felt
In a yearning to be warmed all over again
That is where our love lives.
That is where our love stays.

Constantly changing
Yet constantly the same.

well, you see, writers can’t help but write
it’s a part of who we are
the thing is we are
hoarders of words
but givers of truth
maybe man’s footprints get washed away
by the seas
but a writer’s ink does not dry
until it finishes its story

Blotched
ink
blotched paper
Blotched
everything
It’s not easy to
Write
Sometimes

I’m afraid that’s all I’ll ever be.

And I am stevia
Together
We’re a snacc.




Because if my heart ever sought for one taste
It’d be your love.



Interesting, I’ve never tasted peanut buttered fish before.

But I’d like to taste you more.

What was so amazing about you

Pondering over quirks I’ve grown
To love
The more I see
The more I understand
The more it unravels —
My answer:

Maybe it was
The way you held your head high
As if the gods couldn’t make you bow

Maybe it was
The way you went barefoot
When everyone stood comfortably on their shoes

Maybe it was
The way you studied the universe like
It owed you all its knowledge

Or maybe it was
The way you took all our impossibilities and
Shrugged them all off in a few seconds
Just by being you

Being you.

So if you asked me what was so amazing about you —
Tell me, what was not?