Quote By: Sofia Rojas
The wrong person will find you at peace then later leave you in pieces
The right person will find you when broken and help you find peace again
Both are necessary in the development and learning of your existence.


So many years of trying to find the right partner
all I got was pain and heartache, where did I go wrong ?  
Guess I spend too much time trying to protect my armor  
lost in my loneliness I always felt like I didn't belong;

Then I learned to self soothe and sing my own lullabies
stitched my hopes to trust and prayed him in, Wow ! Who knew !
That the right one would come along and hear my cries  
yes he came to my rescue, right on cue !

Sometimes we need to find many Mister Wrongs
before we can finally find the Mister Right  
It doesn't mean we failed,
it just means your prayer never got mailed....

lying on a road of cars,
empty beneath the sky of stars
I ask the God who made them,
He who said do not fear
Who am I?
Where go I?
Why am I here?

My God, oh my God
I feel so endlessly lost
My God, oh my God
Neither leave me nor forsake me
Whatever my cost

Flames lick the edges of a city that never sleeps,
where dreams are charred, and hope smolders in the ash.
The night is a canvas of ember and smoke,
painted by hands unseen, indifferent.

In the alleys, shadows dance to the crackling tune,
while sirens wail like distant, mourning lovers.
The air, thick with the scent of despair,
chokes the whispers of those who dare to breathe.

Neon signs flicker, their gaudy promises
melting away in the heat of reality.
The boulevard, once a river of aspirations,
now a barren wasteland of forgotten footsteps.

Yet amidst the inferno, a lone figure stands,
eyes reflecting the chaos, unblinking.
A poet, perhaps, or just a fool,
scribbling verses on the back of a scorched receipt.

“Fires, fires everywhere,” he writes,
“and not a drop to douse the soul.”
The city burns, but he remains,
finding beauty in the blaze,
and solace in the ruin.

One day, I was sitting idle,
feeling so lost, so lonely,
wishing for a friend
who would sit by me,
listen to me and make me smile.

A thought crossed my mind-
why not create a new friend?
So I decided to create one.

I took out my paints, brushes,
and a pristine canvas.
I painted a portrait of a girl.

Flowing hair, gentle eyes and
a beautiful calming smile.
I named her Ayliz (The Moon).

Now, every time I feel
lonely and sad,
I speak to her,
and she silently listens.
Her smile has healing power -
it makes me feel better.

Waste not a single word
Though syllables scream for release,
Consonants flap to fly and
Vowels seep through cracks

Waste not to want
For nothing to
Finish your perfect
Death poem

When the yellow/green face
of this furnace valley is smudged
with summer's first rain runs

I dream about dad again:
7 years since that hospital bed
in Georgetown where he turned

to wax and I turned to water.
In the dream I was so small,
he took me to his old '80s office,

the tan portable in the field where
everything was cheap wood panels,
thin mouse-brown temp carpet.

He sat me down by his blackboard,
jotted with number theory,
& left to retrieve a book he needed.

I sat among the dry sun and dust
until I realized I was an adult now.
Eventually a man came to the door,

& said "why are you still here?
Your dad died years ago,
& we need the room."

To the caged eye a keyhole can whisper of the sky.
Because even the smallest crack lets the universe in.

I think of
church’s and trains,
I think of your
interpretation of the
truth, I think of going
to someplace mysterious,
I think of quiet rooms with
sixty watt bulbs softly
swaying above empty
bottles and scattered poetry,
I think of the city birds
scaring the crows, I think
of Wagner and the death of
young soldiers, I think of
naked ghosts in the garden.
I sleep into the late afternoon,
I open the window to smell
the rain, I watch the winter
trees undress -
I wait for the storm …
Clay.M