I seek peace
in observing
all things
that flourish
around me.

There are greens
and deeper greens
galvanized
by daylight
to a shimmering effect.

But every drop
of coolant,
or subtle variation of sound,
every unexpected vibration
makes me anxious,
because I am hyper aware
that my safety will disappear
because it is an illusion.

The earth beneath my feet
has been dried and bleached
to the lightest brown possible.

I am still seeking stillness
but my roommate’s presence
is a jagged intrusion,
with irregular outburst
of unpredictable rage.

There is the sound of birds
whistling all around me
unperturbed
by the train I heard
in the distance.

I make it to work,
in time to observe
smiling stranger’s
who want to converse
with me,
and despite all distraction
there is a certain satisfaction
to that human interaction.
It is a peaceful moment.

Everyday seemed darker than the one before.
Encasing me and shutting away everything I knew.
I tried reaching my hand out and didn't have anything to hold on to.
Just when I was about to be swallowed in, I saw a crack of light.
I started hammering at it.

With each pound of my fist, the walls seemed to start disappearing.
I did it again, again, again until my fists bled.
Finally a doorway opened with bright light shining.

I walked through and I saw everything with fresh eyes.
Everything I had held on to for so long started letting go.
Barriers one after another coming down.

Every little thing exposed, with nothing to hide.
All my fears presented.
An angel came down.
Scooped me up and saved me.
The light shone like a beacon.
I held the light to protect it from the darkness.

Our friendship got caught in a
Hurricane
That, ironically
Bore your name
Since then, you've been lost at sea
I, too
Am reluctantly free

****** believed in the Aryan [Nordic] (
Superman - ****** was a crazy vegan;
Vikings weren't going to take over the world -
but in these days & times I believe (    
in the Natural Queen of the World who will
rule w/ the wisdom from her  mythic milky  ****;
mother of all women & sole reproducer
since queens in nature   are the sole reproducers
& fight each other to the death; (

you can dip your words in honey and sugarcoat your wicked tongue,
but nothing can change your rotten heart or change what you have done.

― poetry doesn't make what you did pretty

"We've used up and wasted all of our resources, so now we're gonna steal them from you.
And charge you for it"

I feel like there is this feeling
that poetry is suposed to make you feel.
I feel like that's *******.
There is no universal rule for poetry,
no arrow to follow,
no points to link.

Just write.
You can write how you feel, that's ok,
but you can also write how you think.
You can write what to think.
You can write to make others think.

Just write.
You can write like you breath,
you can rime just for fun,
you can randomly join words an call it poetry.
It is.
Poetry doesn't mean good poetry.


Just write.
It doesn't have to be good,
for you are only one to judge,
and art isn't a universal thing,
so it might inspire others.
Share your art, share your voice.
It will be welcomed,
in the choir
that is life.