5
                   a
               e      r
           y             s

since I joined hello
a larva with a torn soul
Clinging to Whatever's left of life

since I started scratching for light
Peeking at the  deeming tunnel
but still hoping

since I started dinning with poets
eating haiku in the morning
drinking sonnet in the afternoon
feeling the aching agony of the broken in the evening
falling in love with the dreamers at night

Since my heart was pounded
wrecked and left with unspeakable pain

Since Born was birthed
a crawling character that was literally dying
but still screaming for hope, love and dream

Since Ismael Ibrahim aka Born
stopped existing
and started living

Depression is were you want to be alone,
But at the same time you dont want to be lonely.
Depression is where everything is going right,
But you're still sad.
Depression is wanting to go out,
But at the same time not wanting to socialize.
Depression is feeling trapped,
Trapped in your own mind
and no one understands.
Depression is having scars on your thighs and arms,
Scars from the battle you fought.
Depression is having sleepless nights,
Depression is shouting for help,
But no one hears you.
Depression is fighting demons deep
inside you.
Depression is not something to laugh at,                                    
So grow up if you think depression is just an act,
Depression is something serious.

when a boy shows you his hands
bare except for the dust
he’s begging you to look past
take them in yours.
squeeze them once.
twice.
say without speaking
that you understand that the valleys
in his palms were meant to cradle
shooting star wishes
that he’s allowed to still hope for.
when a boy shows you his eyes
of milk and crimson and melanin
a bloodshot vein for every night he can’t sleep
let him shut his eyelids.
say without speaking
that you understand that the black hole pinpricks
of his irises hold more than the universe
should allow.
when a boy shows you his soul
shivering but still working toward friction
iced over but still working toward melting
let him come to rest next to yours.
say without speaking
that you understand that he is lonely
and that his silence speaks volumes
and that you kept his treasure close
because you love him.
when a boy shows you his hands
show him your hands.
when a boy shows you his eyes
show him your eyes.
when a boy shows you his soul
show him that
this is a comfortable place to rest it.
when a boy shows you the hardness that shaped him
show him the softness
that you have in store.

Judge a woman by her lovers
just another one after others
Wouldn't do that to a man
welcome to bed who he can  

Judge a woman by her clothes
her material and fabric throws
Criticised for what she wears
doesnt matter still gets stares

Judge a woman by her hair
try it different if she dare
It shows now, nerve reveals
surely you know how she feels

I Judge a woman by if she cares
deals with life and how she fares
In what she has a sense of pride
and the feelings she has inside

Judge a woman how dare you
exam her and what she do
It does more harm can't you see
to look at her so judgementally

© One man

when you fall in love with an angel, you must understand that there are things you will never understand.

- when you first go to run your hands through her hair, her halo will slice your palm. and it will hurt like hell. she will mend it with the touch of one golden finger, and leave so abruptly that she is gone almost before you even blink. the thing you will see is her at the doorway. terrified eyes, blood stained hair.

(later, she will tell you that she never realized how breakable humans could be. when she explains what it takes to make an angel bleed, you begin to understand )

- ask her about the sky, about stars and suns and galaxies light years away. ask her whether or not the universe looks like a blooming garden. never ask about lucifer - she will become a soldier before your eyes.

and not, do not, donot, ask about god.

do not ask about rebellious older brothers and absentee mothers.

(do not infer about a war you know nothing of)

- in a science class you are taking simply for extra credit, your teacher will be talking about quantum physics. he will explain galaxies and refer to stars as "celestial bodies," but you won't be listening. suddenly you will only be able to think of the way her mouth curls at the sides, of the way her golden skin glows, of all the puckered scars that crisscross her torso, of the graceful arch on the bottom of her foot. celestial bodies are certainly on your mind but they are so much more than gas and light and heat and touch and --- oh heavens ---

when the teacher asks if you are alright, you will flush an even deeper red. supernova.

(at times it is lovely to be in love with an angel. but at other times, it is not)
- beware when you fight, it is like the world is ending. her anger conjures a thunderstorm, and soon the entire country is three inches deep in water. you shatter a picture frame. a bolt of lightning catches the house across the street on fire. you are screaming at the top of your lungs – something about duty, something about god – and there is a crash of thunder that shakes the foundations. the weathermen talk about the storm for days. you flinch and change the channel.

(no matter how right she is, she will always let you win)

- there are times when she won't visit for months on end, and when she finally comes back to you, she is not herself. there are new scars across her chest, and she does not speak. she sits with you in her arms for hours, her nose buried in your hair, and her arms squeezed tight, so tight. she does not cry. you do not cry.

you do(not) cry.

(but you do remember the miles and miles of white scarring. you wonder if angels are as immortal and unbreakable as they think)

Don't sketch me
the outline
of a broken heart.
That would be
like wearing jeans
to a funeral.
Instead,
paint me
a granite boulder
fractured
by the roots
of a cottonwood tree
that grew atop it.
Drench the rock
in golden
leaves
that the tree cried,
but leave a couple
on the nearly
naked
branches.

She asked,
"How've you been?"
He replied,
"I've been getting older."

If you want to know
what is happening
to the world,
don't just watch
the news every night;
watch what happens
to yourself
after watching
the news
every night.

We write of hate
We write of love
And other things
We know something of

At different angles
Add our lines
Take a spin
With what we find

Fact or fiction
Lies or truth
Being poets
It's what we do

We write of needs
We try and fill
Tug at hearts
Strengthen wills

From natures plight
To the call of man
We hold it all
Inside our pen

As the sage speaks
The pen moves
We say it all
It's what poets do

We write of days
Given away
A solace with
Something to say

Glimmer of hope
Much needed laugh
Rhyme for the reason
For feeling sad

A little off beat
Yet still in tune
Filling a need
It's what poets do

Remember
When we were kids
And a planetarium
Was a most wonderful place
Everyone simply obsessed
With outer space.
It was strange
And new
And beautiful
It was full of wonder
As was everything
A galaxy of stars
And empty space
We were flying through it all
To a new planet
For us to discover
Floating towards the future
It was like a dream
But as we grow up
We realize
Falling stars are chunks of ice and rock
Not wishes
And stars and the sun
Are ***** of flaming gas
The wonder fades
And you realize
Outer space
Would truly be a lonely place
Alone out there
But I guess it would still better
Than here
And you yearn
For that wonder to come back
But even if it would
Someone would take it away
They always do.
Growing up is sudden
And shocking
And changes you
Forever
And you wish you could go back
To planetariums
And outer space
But you can't.
We are all stars
***** of fire
That will eventually die out.
But some of us are falling
And hoping someone will catch us.