catch me professing
the solitude crawling
all over my body,
insist to me
that everything will be alright,
force into me
the perception of getting by.
love,
why don’t you advise
all the lies
you have incessantly
been telling to yourself?

i cry out for freedom,
not from the government or
from the society or from
any other thing that holds
absurd rights of caging
one believed free spirit;
i cry out for freedom
from the only thing i
cannot escape,
from the only thing
that has all the rights
to embrace me,
i cry out for freedom from
myself—
my body, my mind, my heart.

a skeptic and a believer
in one cracked soul;
a not so lover of words
and a poet in one beating heart;
a grotesque and a beauty
in one complex mind;

it’s a person against the world
and a human against himself.

it is not the poetry perse
that we depend upon as an escape
it's  the words that we use
to keep our aloof soul safe.

we are the visible boundaries
between our hearts.

"If you could only hear my genuine feelings within these locutions,
If I was only good at expressing my exact emotions,
Then maybe I wouldn't be giving you these mixed signals
And maybe I wasn't left with the segmented petals."

I wonder how many times the owner tried to find this letter,
I wonder how much effort was made before he gave up
Or did he even find time to look for this? Did he even read this?
I wonder how he felt.

I wanted to tell him, "Don't give up!"
Don't we all show confused emotions?
I wanted to tell the person who wrote the letter, "Take the risk!"
Aren't we all eager to know the after-possibilities?

Yet, I can't.
There are reasons behind every action.
She's perchance too hurt to give her whole soul,
He's perhaps too tired to have another heartache.

You're a Poet, but you don't just write poems, you're so much more
gifted with the power of perception, knowing how to make hearts soar
compelled to share your heart's impressions, both the good and the bad
taking the beautiful and lyrical, making them happy, and sometimes sad

You're a Poet, writing poetry, sharing imagination with a flowing creativity
wanting to bring people close, ever watchful to avoid unwanted negativity
coming from the Greek word poietes, poet, which means maker or to make
allows us to appreciate each other as poets, life's all about the give and take

You're a Poet, loving the world and the people in it, wanting to see the truth
knowing your limitations and flaws, always open to introspection and proof
self driven from a powerful force within, and needing to share your thoughts
you tailor words just so, keeping your objectivity intact, as your poetry talks

You're a Poet, unlike the rich and wealthy, your treasure will never be stolen
a power to create, using the simplest of tools, even with a measured semi-colon
you have a venue for sharing and caring, you warm the feelings of those around
drawing people into your inner world, giving them words with a beautiful sound

You’re all Poets, all having the power, and making the difference to someone dear
never stop giving of yourselves, because so many find direction in what you share
so to all of you calling yourself poet, my friendship and admiration for you is clear
honorably spreading messages of hope, by disseminating poetry to those that care

He was not difficult to love
but hard to forget.
He would make you fall in love
with the letters
he writes using his soul,
it would tattoo on your bones
and you could never erase it,
for when you try, you’d only get hurt.
The pain of losing him
feels like he’s using your heart as his scratch
and you’d choose to feel another heartache
than to completely destroy the love he built
and be vanished for a lifetime.
You live to hear him.
He loves to write; lives to die.

darling, you may not understand,
but it's more heartbreaking to leave
than to be left behind.