Glance
Look
Tap
Poke
Whisper
Text
Talk
Call
Shout
Scream
Yell

..­. and they still ignore you

My eyes, like camera lenses, can focus on sole object and blur the rest

For so long,
you are all I saw
For so long,
you were the focus
For so long,
I thought I was yours too

But just now
I realized that it was my imagination

but still
when I tried to blur you
and focus on the world
the other things that actually matter

you still are the focus
the crystal clear form
while the rest of the edges are blurred
through my broken camera lenses.

Drown Drown Drown
racism and sexism and discrimination
   and cancer and **** and abduction
        and cutting and suicide and drugs
               and broken hearts and torn souls
                      and ripped families and terrorists
                            just Drown Drown Drown

Drown till I can't see you no more
Drown without a sound
Drown Drown Drown

Please... Please... PLEASE...

before it Drowns Drowns Drowns me.

i think i like the illusion of you more than you

there are beautiful people
those who are easy on the eyes
for a moment we all fall in love
for that single eye contact we are all happy sailors
over the moon and the stars

yet they never last too long
just that forever of a second

there are kind people
those who give everything and more for the sake of others
who share when they are starving
who smile when their world has fallen apart

yet they are abused
people take advantage of them and stomp on their fragile hearts
and leave them broken

there are brave people
standing for justice, for law, for happiness
they perish everything

yet they are dead
the cause they have lived for only turns
into the ashes and dust
cadaver 6ft underground

there are dreamers
they say but never do
they think but never reach

they live and die content
unknown geniuses the world has missed

the world is cruel
yet the beauty, kindness, bravery, and genius still do exist
yes they do

the only problem is that these qualities
are poisoned by the very human nature that longs for them to exist

There is an untold story of that night,
when the Trojan Horse won the ****** fight.
There was an unsung hero on the Greek’s side,
by the name of Prisius of the Pride.
He was strong, stronger than the valiant Odysseus.
He was brave, braver than the courageous Menelaus.
The Greeks fought for their lives,
on the very tip of their knives.
Cries of mercy, sorrow, pain filled the night.
Greeks prayed and prayed with all their might.
Then, Prisius came down from Mount. Olympus itself,
with no one but his horse and himself.
He conquered and captured, and at last had Odysseus at his feet.
“Oh! Mighty One, spare my poor life!” cried he in defeat.
Prisius wasn’t cruel, so he freed Odysseus with a solemn vow.
As soon as he freed the lying hero, Odysseus faked a gracious bow.
Then in moment’s notice, Odysseus slit Prisius’s throat
rolled it down the open sea, the head still floats.
Oh! Tragedy befell the town, the death of their only hope
gone out in the open, down the dangerous *****.
Prisisus lies, cold and dead, from an unfair fight.
This is the untold story of that night.

Trying to write poetry again after months and months
is
like
rereading all my Shel Silverstein poem books
&
attempting to create a time machine to go back
to
my
*good old days

For a moment, let's reset our society

VIctoria Secret Models are chubbier,
shorter than 5ft.
and don't have those golden locks with shimmering eyes
nor the perfect skin nor smiles

Yellow and crooked teeth are to be admired upon
chapped lips and no make up is the ideal beauty

McDonald's sells the most exquisite burgers
while Fogo De Chao is frowned upon

Harvard and those Ivy Leagues are
safety schools
and the community colleges have
an impossible admission of 70%
UNBELIEVABLE, RIGHT??

that gardeners and janitors were respected
as the kings of the world
and government and the congress are
to be denied, devalued, and made fun of.

now open your eyes
and hear the cars
and turn on the tv
and smell everything

which one would  you rather prefer???

Maybe one day

everyone here-
torn
happy
broken
worried
thinking
thoughtless
angry
emotio­nal-

can get together

we bonded through the internet and the technology

but perhaps one day

we can be more than the poem we liked
a picture on the profile
or a compliment we gave

maybe one day
we can see each other face to face
and become a bit more than a mere stranger
because a poem says more than we can ever say to anyone else
it reveals your inner soul
because each comment has a thought of its own

there has to be some stigma that brought you here
depression
anorexia
loneliness
sadness
felicity

the truth is I don't know your story
but I promise I will tell you mine
when you tell me yours.

I was the one who received the faithful letter from Mr. Darcy
I was the one who held Holden when he cried
I was the one who Guy Montague thought was beautiful
I was the one who Heathcliff came back to the Wuthering Heights for
I was the one who Mr. Rochester tried to illegally marry
I was the one who D'Artagnan grieved over after the abduction
I was the one who Captain Wentworth fell back in love with
I was the one who Dorian Gray actually cared for
I was the one who Candide brought the gold for in El Dorado
I was the one who Winston Smith kissed in that attic
I was the one who cried when they all left me with a silent flipping of a page

when you die
  where does the soul go?

back in the soil
to grow out as a beautiful daffodil

up to heaven
to reunite with your loved ones

below the earth
to enter the gates of the Underworld

into someone else's heart
to spread the legacy

when you die,
   where does the soul go?

because I will search every plant, fly up to any distance, dig every grain of dirt,  delve into everyone's heart

to find your soul once more.

9-11-2001

the ugliest numbers

the last minute good-byes

Sudden crash all red and black

Falling bodies thumping agonies screeching

No innocent nor guilty nor black nor white nor asian nor latino

no lines

just the blind eyes of death

fueling getting bigger becoming stronger eating and taking more and more and more and more

subdued quiet memorial

reconstruction better rise of the new

still

when this moment comes

red and black and dead

the ugliest numbers

9-11-2001

She took me in as a stranger
loved me like her own
thought of me as her own
gave everything to an ignorant and rude little girl

She taught me how to chew with my mouth close
she taught me how to recite the months
she taught me how to write perfectly
she taught me how to eat food
she taught me the basic guidelines of BECOMING HUMAN 101

She didn't get anything back in return
didn't ask for it nor expect it
just wanted me to become my best
just wanted me to become the greatest

the little girl became a teen
she started talking back to a person who most cared about her
she became a little snot who thought she was above it all

Yet, for everything she ever did to me
she altered my life
she changed my destiny
so
this is for you which words are inadequate to express
this is for you for every tear drops and heart breaks I gave you
this is for you who has no vanity whatsoever but truly, genuinely wishes the best for me
this is for you
one person in this world who I believe embodies the word Perfection
this is for you whom words i love you are inadequate

this is for you...

darling,
don't you wish you knew?

that somebody, some angel or devil, will give you a shout out from above
just an alert to tell that your world will fall apart?

so very soon....

and maybe you could have smiled at the bullied kid and given him your peanut butter sandwich
you could have enjoyed every bits of information flooding in your brain
you could have treasured every test, quiz, and teacher
you could have told how beautiful your mom looked today
you could have told your dad that he will always be your role model
you could have given a small kiss on the cheek to your baby brother
you could have hugged your best friend a bit tighter
you could have felt the rain pattering your head
you could have told a stranger that you want them to hold on, be strong

darling, you could have, didn't you
before it all evaporated?

they say that monsters live under our beds
or in our souls
or in us
but they are wrong.

monsters live in the dusty corner of the old memory lane
it lives in his fleeting but indifferent smiles
it stitches back the broken heart in an old band-aid
already used and covered in dried blood

monsters live in the notes of an old lullaby that mother used to hum
it drifts within the chilled November air of the time she gone to heaven
it breathes the familiar smell of burnt twigs and spray cans that decorates her tomb

monsters live not in the souls of our hearts
but around the souls of the gone and the dead

we think their memories are safely tucked and locked
the key thrown all the way in the middle of the Pacific Ocean

but no,
it always comes back
at night
through our hollowed brain
we see them
not the beautiful humans they once were
but as hideous monsters, slowly eating up our hearts

One who longs too much
        who romanticizes too often
        who dreams impossible dreams*

yet

when faced with reality
retreats to the dark corner

death:  |deTH|
              noun
              the end of the life of a person or organism
doesn't scare me



death*: |deTH|
             noun
            the inevitability; fact that it will eventually visit everyone sometime; no way out; the waiting
does.

the locked, glorious empire emboldened with gold and silver
adorned with the flowers grown from the Garden of Eden
within the lingering scent blended with the thrilling chirping of the bird

the haggard man in the darkest corners of LA's scariest
trying to breathe despite the strong odor of ***
licking the burnt part of the cinnamon roll dropped accidentally from a red coat's pocket
only possession being a rusty old key from his father years back

the secret palace: the new buzz in Hollywood, New York
billionaires spending millions looking for this key
a peculiar shape, indeed, impossible to mold
just one key, the world is upturned

the man, living on months-old underwear and torn coat
broke, tired, poor, hungry
until a red coat offers him something else,
a hand, a place to stay, and a day's meal

red coat, lives in the ghetto
still with a roof, a table,  and a book
the red coat is happy with the minimum wage at Burger King

In return for the kindness
the man gives the red coat a key
not much, just to show gratitude
***** and rusty
a peculiar shape indeed...

I saw something today and it raised hell and flipped it over
I was walking
and then on the other side of the road,
there was a Mexican lady walking, minding her business, not bothering anybody
and then a kid, some 10 year old child, shouted to her from her window
"Hola!
Como Estas?"
the lady turned around and kept on walking
and that kid yelled
"No ingles?"
and laughed and hid behind her house
then when she came back out again, I stopped and glared at her.
She looked like she was going to say something back, but she just went back in the house.
I was fuming and when I was crossing the road,
I ran to that sweet Mexican lady,
and told her,
"She doesn't know what she's saying ,
ignore her,
Have a beautiful day."
she smiled and it **** made me cry.
She was a beautiful hardworking person.

How she probably works hours and hours
for her kids at home
How she would be a loving mom, hard worker, and a kind hearted too

It was as if God's telling me,
Anna do something.

and guess what,
I will.

I am done telling lies
the outer shell is thicker
than the broken bulb inside

the light is out
the heart is dead

the thin film only holds itself high
the dead inner ignored and unburied

Far away, fire casts a warm glow of an everlasting sunrise
the hues of oranges and red blending with the sun above
It's quite beautiful really

then closer, almost that you can smell the dead flesh
but not close enough to feel the radiation
the blues and red and orange cackle with the burnt wood
it's still beautiful, really

finally on the tip of your eyelashes, the fire softly kisses the pain in your eyes
the **** tears that wouldn't stop flowing
it's still beautiful, really

all I need to remember is that
no one has everything,

*but everyone has something.

Let's pretend that the rain is the droplet of silver
the wind a flicker of gold
the tree a carat of emerald
the sky a carving of sapphire and stud of diamond.

Let's just pretend that
the same old me is

beautiful.

the lullaby the silence sleeps in
is
the vibration of your laughter

the rhythm the eternity breathes out
is
the thumping of your *heart

we are all laughing to cry
we are all playing to forget

we are all living to die

we are all loving to lose


we are all breathing
to
stop*


but each moment you
laugh, play, live, love, breathe

is

one less moment to cry, forget, die, lose, stop.

Do you see that homeless guy, right there?
Yeah, the one with untrimmed beard, empty stomach, and desperate eyes?
and do you see Ralph's, Pavillion's, or Trader Joes's
Stacked with Miles and Miles and Miles of food
Meat, Veggies, Canned, and Cooked
Shelves behind shelves, overload of trash of a day old food.

Can you tell me what's wrong with this picture?

you know... there are three phases that I think of choosing
well, not phases, but states. State of death ,State of living, and State of well nothing. State of death. Sometimes you just don't want anything to do. You don't want death necessarily, but eternal sleep sounds not too bad and pretty fancy. It's as if you are so caught up with everything, that you want  a halt. Tires don't screech for everyone you know. But there are times when I want to live so badly that it nearly kills me. That I want to be so alive and breathing that it knocks my lungs out. But there are times, when I just zone out; actually those moments are majority of my life. Listening without hearing, staring without watching, being without thinking. I don't know which one I rather choose, and maybe I will tell you my story sometimes in the future...

Multiple Choice
Please choose one.
a). Cadaver 6 ft underground
b). Audrey Hepburn
c). Particle of matter

of beauty graced by a kiss of an angel
                               *&
*of heart caressed by a hand of a cupid

At least when they leave

the

e a r t h
                               for good,

you could

t
e
l
l
                                                yo­urself,

that they
s t i l l
love

you.

But when they are
breathing,
healthy,
glowing in someone else's arms when you are standing

           in
                   front
                                of them,


*how the hell do you explain that
to
your
self?

IF,
All of a sudden,
   you feel lonesome in a crowd of people on the New Years day at Times Square
     you feel that chill crawl up your neck to your eyes on warm summer day
             you suddenly feel scared, afraid, and cold
                      You feel UNWORTHY, UNLOVED, NEGLECTED, IGNORED, SCARED

                 Then,
can
                   we
be
.....................................................
friends?

I wish I could write
in an effortless way of a transient thought

release the anger, release the pain
in some agonizing yet delicate scream
all conveyed in typed words

I wish I could write
but the unbridled passion only is just my passion
not talent

the emotions capturing me into a haze
yet the words refuse to come
only the feeling, the moment's exhilaration disappearing in thin air  

I wish I could write
well enough not to doubt myself and have inner brain debates against myself
that only momentarily quiet in my blissful sleep

I wish I could write...

a piece of paper really
with bunch of faces and numbers printed
all coated with green
just a piece of paper

funny how it controls the way we act, the way we talk,
it controls the future, eh?
people say it doesn't matter how much you have of it
but we all know that's the biggest *******

a piece of paper
shouldn't define where you sleep at night, what you have for breakfast
shouldn't define how you get your education, how much more successful you will be
shouldn't embody tears and hearts
shouldn't depend the loss of innocence

a piece of paper really
just a ******* sheet of paper

oh, and in case I forgot to mention,
it controls everyone's life

I truly don't understand how you do the things you do
You have taken an infant, someone not your own, but a generation down
looked at its little squirming toes
and declared that you would love it

you have taught it the most important values in life
you gave it the greatest secret you have learned in the 77 years of your life
one which I won't tell

your weak body does not represent your strong soul
the biggest heart, one which the cosmos above can't compare

you have lived and seen
the extremes of life

you have done
extraordinary things

you have breathed
the best and the greatest

yet, for a man that deserves so much, a man who even God knows deserve the whole Kingdom itself
somehow,
you humbled yourself so low that you scooped it up in your arms
and raised to a little young women

so thank you
in fact, those words do not describe but then again, what will?

dear lovely stranger,

perceive your life, in its exact and precise moment with all its jagged wounds and bleeding scars and broken smiles and flittering moments of happiness, as you would in the eyes of a stranger you can't seem to forget from all these years ago who only lives as a fading silhouette in your memories.

And I promise, lovely stranger,
that they will see the magic in you that you can't seem to recognize in your own eyes.

We blame beauty for all our societal issues.

The problem in our society
isn't
beauty
:|ˈbyo͞otē|
noun
a beautiful or pleasing thing or person

It is
conformity
: |kənˈfôrmitē|
noun
behavior in accordance with socially accepted conventions or standards

If I could get closer to a tiger then
i would
   kiss
       it

                                                            ­then maybe
                                                           ­            i could absorb its strength

and **roar

we dream
not to
see
smell
touch
hear
taste

but to
*be

they say that self-pity is the worst medicine
but then again
you were my worst habit

1 Don't and 1 Do in Life that matter*

Don't*
Don't Ever Say "If I were only . . . "

"Do"
Do Always Say "Since I am . . ."

hammering the hammer of wit
drilling the holes through friendship
breaking the walls with a smile
paving a path

down his cold, steel, hard heart

until it's **b r o k e n

because
            darling
                         we
                               believe
                                             in
                                                  that
                                                          1%