A life without problems is something that we all secretly wish for.
I think more than we realize, problems is what makes us who we are.
Every single day it's a battle, whether we know it or not.
We dress in our armor, shoulder blades and helmets.
Made out of steel to protect us from the world and from one another.
We charge head first into a fight, blinded by adrenaline.
And get torn down to the bones. We can see your skeleton.
All of your deepest aspirations, the love and hatred all blended into one.
Displayed out on the floor for everyone to see.
This isn't the person I wanted you to be.
Who are you? Silence abounds, the decisions have become so muddled.
The door has been shut.
Take a deep breath, try again.
Once again, you put on your armor.
Sliding on the metal chest plate and helmet, you feel redeemed.
There was nothing in this world that could hold you back.
Or so you thought, you were so sure that you would succeed.
You were so sure that nothing in this world could stop you.
And that any foe you ever met would just leave you alone.
You were wrong, and I was a fool to believe you.
I sat idly by while you fought in the war, not saying a word.
I was too afraid, terrified really that you would come home too soon.
I listened as you rambled on about your buddies and your struggles.
I enjoy the way that you strung words into a sentence in a manner that was so elegant.
You told me that, everything was going to be okay, as long as you were in control.
Speak only if spoken to, you're wrong, I will speak whenever I please.
I prepare for a final battle. I slowly put on the mask of a warrior.
You stand up tall and look down at me and laugh for you underestimate my tenacity.
To you, I was nothing more than a memory.
The bell rings and the fight commences.
Two shots at my face.
Three shots down the drain.
Four shots, and you scream out my name.
Five shots, I’m tired of your little game.
Six shots, I will no longer cower in shame.
You taught me what it was like to have freedom.
The freedom to live, the freedom to explore, the freedom to be me.
Why did you take it away? I ask with tears rolling down my cheeks.
I fought for this life, I fought for this love, and I fought for my choice.
A world where I cannot speak, is a world not worth living in.
Because in this world, I have chosen to fight for my voice.

Some people live purgatory lives;
they dance with the invitation
of death
just long enough
for the moment
to become romantic
then they usher the
entire idea
right out the door
as if being
friends
with the end
is an easy way
to pretend

they cannot
         go at any moment.

Some people chase
   the idea of death
so much
they forget to
do something
as simple
yet profound
as live.

We spend every day
repeating cycles
and trying to make
our routines
perfect
then remain
frustrated at

     everyone and ourselves

for not being able to get this fluctuating life right

yet-

I am learning that getting it right
takes doing it wrong
more than
quite a few
times

and

that is simply something neither you or I can be ashamed of.

We cannot substitute the lessons
that failure and patience bring us-
all we really can do is
face our hardships
with limited understanding
and obtain what we can
from our moments of misery.

I am finding more and more
         that myself
  lingers in those moments
and I am beginning to appreciate
the days
I spend
catching
       bleek
          & subtle
                     glimpses
           of what I can

become.

You see,
I used to fear my own presence.
Shake my head at my own sight.
Be disgusted with my thoughts
and ruin my existence.

I used to do all of these things because I felt
helpless.
I was not the person taking charge
      for my life.
I was not the person owning responsibility
for their actions.
I was not the person acting on their decisions
although the choices were petrifying.
I was not that kid because

I DID NOT YET UNDERSTAND WHAT I WAS CAPABLE OF.

I had yet to find the opportunity in my failures.
I had yet to see the potential in my flaws.
I had yet to understand that there are twenty-four hours
in a single day
and we can own every single one of them
when we are not focused on defeat.

And that sounds a little extreme at first,
I know,
but if I can convince you of anything today-

please do not be afraid of change.

Welcome it with open arms and be prepared for
your entire life to get uncomfortable
when you start being honest with the world
and most importantly-
yourself.

I have let go of so much heartache
from no longer pretending I am okay.

I have let go of so much anxiety
from not allowing others to hold
their expectations over me.

I have let go of so much depression
from standing up for myself
because I was sick of the world
telling me NO.

I have let go of so much
useless negativity
and have said goodbye
to so many friends
and relatives
because
choosing compassion
over what they took from me
always kept me on
the better course;

a step ahead
when they were looking behind
and reflecting
by the time
they could realize
intuition wins.

but I guess depending on which way you are looking at it-
all of this is just bragging of course.

So I will never mind you
if you are not listening.

I will forgive you
when you come around.

BUT IF YOU ARE LISTENING LOUD,
HERE RIGHT NOW-

know that I am too.

And for every dream you are chasing-

    it is chasing after you.





Thank you.

By Arcassin Burnham


Beautiful and unique snowflakes fall from heavens
And each and every one of y'all had fallen in deliverance,
The kids that were always quiet and a lil crazy in disguise,
But will open up hearts even when they were despised,
And when the others bully you,
Make you feel like an disgrace,
The emptiness consuming you,
To make you fail at any pace,
The memories will go away,
Thinking nothing will ever change,
The memories won't go away,
Almost nothing ever changed,
Feeling like no one had cared about the things wrong in your life,
I would have always been there for you anytime, day or night,
I hope you sit up in the stars and embrace life eternally,
The memories are dead and gone,
And now you can be free.

By Arcassin Burnham

No toss and turn but sleep is lost,
I live to trust myself and the ones I love,
But you gotta learn to take a loss,
For everything in this world has a cost,

You know me from distant memory,
If you were my enemy I trust you less,
So not what you appear to be,
The epitome of vanity,
A lost hope to a broken dream,
Your mad at me but you ruined your life by parenting,
And even in the darkest days,
I still wanna have all the times of my life,

To look back and say I shouldn't stay,
I couldn't find the truth on the brightest day,
In knowing that would be okay,
I just headed for a lil delay,

Tough today , and then tough days ahead,
To sin and then be sinned on is hard to maintain,
Any day I could've just been dead,
Either by a random mugger or a racist fed,
And even in the darkest days,
I still wanna have all the times of my life,

I just wanna get away from here,
Not just here but out of this world as well,
See fear in every corner here..
There are no guns in where I wanna go.

called, "when I am dead"

and what came to mind, while
pecking away

were thatched roof cottages, hedgerows
all along a cliff,

and waves below whipping against
earth's spine

farther out were great swells
and black ships foundering

sea serpents were darting through
the green depths

this spectacle was silent, the screaming
men, the crashing waves

even the charcoal sky, threaded with a
thousand bolts of lightning

birthed no thunder, though I didn't
wonder why

I was supposed to among the dead
where vibrations abound

though none pound against
eardrums

such silence, I was told, was tantamount
to solace

but men were drowning, and fires leapt
across the waters

and no passage led up the cliffs to home
and sanctuary from this terrific tempest

A rugged sidewalk cried hard by the way-side;
Its fissures could not hold their tears anymore.
A puny man pushed a red cart in the tide
Down a darkling, narrow street in Salammbô.*
He mumbled to the waves on his way to the market
As he gasped behind his laden chariot.

His merkabah bore many a lost things
Which he had found buried in the quicksand.
Among them a fountain pen and a helmet,
A pair of eyeglasses, and a trumpet.
I wondered, gazing at the old man’s washed face:
"Will this worn-out scene ever reach the marketplace?"
© LazharBouazzi