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 Mar 2015 Cristina
authentic
I think maybe I can give myself time
Teach myself to love you and only you
Learn the ways of isolation, confine myself to you
Maybe one day I will be able to do it without trying first
I often confuse love with loneliness
Give myself away just because I am tired of holding myself up
If only I could dig myself out of holes as easily as I dig myself into them
Digging my own grave just because it is something to do
I am trying to love you but love takes a little more work than I'd planned
I am not sure if time will be enough
Because time can't save anybody, it only adds wrinkles to your face and fatigues your body, you are only getting older
Maybe the hands on the clock are better off broken
Because imagination suddenly becomes matter and I am here standing in front of you trying to love you, and I do, so much, but not quite enough as I need to
And for that I am sorry
 Mar 2015 Cristina
authentic
I cannot hear someone talk about love without thinking of a plane crash
The sudden moments of ecstasy and then the drawn out turbulence
In trying to decide which loved one is the one worth calling
Which memory will lace itself through your mind like a drug
Love does not care about your disposition, it does not care about the timing
Love comes when love feels it should, even when it is wrong
I have noticed that I love far too fast
Stare the beast in the face and
I break like a fever, like a bad habit, like a windshield
Under the sound of his roar
He does not care how loud I scream, it only screams back louder
Love does not care about my disinclined heart beat that races too fast for too many people
So when your friend introduces you to a boy, resist making a memory of his cologne
You do not need another memento of a love that may never be
Do not fool yourself into thinking that this is okay
You are not supposed to be at war
So why do you insist on putting yourself on the front line?
 Mar 2015 Cristina
Dreamer
Ignorant are the people,
who brush off the most sincerest of hellos
or the genuine gratitude of someone else.

Apathetic are the people,
who has seen yet have not done.
Witnessing so much
yet reluctant to take action.

Cowardly are the people,
who inundate their catharsis
on the well being of someone else.
A life so useless they find joy
only in the torturing of others;
spending futile days
living as sad, pathetic sadists.

And myopic are the kind,
for they are clearly aware of what’s bad for them
yet they are too blind to listen to their heads
only to follow their hearts.
stupid hearts.
Sorry, this poem is rather pessimistic but
I just had to channel some candid thoughts
#i thought you should know
 Mar 2015 Cristina
SE Reimer
these golden days 
with cool, crisp air
finds me dreaming 
of days more fair
when our golden boy 
raked golden leaves
your work now ceased
you rest in sleep

i looked out today 
on an autumn-colored lawn
but you’re not there 
they say you’ve gone
where once you stood
on grass so green
now lies a stone
you rest beneath

the seasons change
while I cannot 
for without goodbyes
my heart’s in knots
my fall is passing
my eyes still weep
my winter dead ahead 
while you rest in peace

*rest, my sweet son 
rest in peace
today the sun came out for a few late afternoon hours to highlight the autumn colors collecting on our green front grass. seeing it, i grabbed my camera to snap a photo and while doing so was instantly taken back to a similar fall day four long years ago, our Daniel’s last Fall, when he enthusiastically raked these vibrant colors of orange, red, gold, brown and rust, into mounds of beauty cascading across the yard. we memorialized the moment that day with a cherished photo of he in his wool stocking cap, rake in hand amidst a sea of color.  

like color contrasts create turbulent beauty, so life when contrasted with loss shows the beauty that was, making the ache all the more poignant.
i miss you... terribly, Son!
Spring is going to back
Silently dropping  the purple petals  
Bored noon,  
The melancholy flute's of Shepherd
Seeking the missing spring

Roll up,
Roll around the idle noon
Random impulsive air
Bunch of dark clouds at the sky
Pensive
Seem illusion of that known
Pied crested Cuckoo

Beyond the horizon,  
The eyes looking for
Sounds (Tip Tip) of the sudden drops of rain,
On the leaves of Quail,
Washing
Differentiation of mind

On the leaves of Arum,
Ever Keeps as the containers
Integrating
Concentrating 
Compiling of soul 

Weird one wrapped in mystery
Mind
Life
Seasons

Coming up the lyrics of rain
Fusion with thy mystic music
Afternoon has grown heavier  
How my mind moves!

Chased away birds returning home
The heart is rapidly expanded
Rain continues to move around
Nature demands a new ground

Looping, hearing of the same song
Shadows filling with the feelings
Perhaps this change of thy
Bound to sketch
A new face of impression
*weird one wrapped in mystery*

*if like please put your comments/share*
 Mar 2015 Cristina
Born
Dark
 Mar 2015 Cristina
Born
The guest is gone
I can't help it but weep
For sure am heading back to sleep
My lost soul chained i  can't leap
I still joke that the guest is gone
So i meek with destiny for my own
nake

tell me why we never changed
tell me how we always go back
tell me why we are still tamed
tell me if there's good in badness that
we aspire

change is a difficult deed
your only required to decide
though the puzzle is their to 'slug'
you behind

don't let your spirits and confidence
be undermined
with void and vanity of this world
protection comes from your lord
So seek guidance from greed
with the world coming to a certain
end
cynics as brothers you don't need

pray for us and them
that we all glow while darkness fades
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