Life isn't a race,
It isn't a marathon,
Neither is it a paragon.
We live as we breathe,
We die and we leave,
But when the night ends,
Morning is across the corner,
Right where the road bends,
Is where we find ourselves.

As we live,
We await to see another day.

Home is where the heart is,
Home is where love resides,
Whether it'll be rocket rides,
Where kids seek and hides,
Where one confides,
Home is where love resides.

Some days I just want to crawl back into bed
lay my head to rest on the pillow that comforts my cries.
I wear a disguise, the strong hearted, thick willed man
but a simple scan of who I am, proves I'm the opposite.
The optimist inside me is losing the battle, rattled
by heartbreak taunts and the gauntlet I once wore
and the pledges I swore held no real strength in guarding me.
The garden seed that was supposed to blossom and bloom
sits as seeds in a shaded room, aided by strong winds
and grinned at the sunlight admiring the caressing lights.
My heart alike, sat behind my ribcage admiring her smile,
admiring her eyes, admiring the thoughts she shared
and bonded pairs led to love but tonight it was different.
Not for a lack of interest but tonight I sat in bed crying
smiling at my pillow that soaked up my tears and comforted me.

Tonight I watched the stars hoping that she would watch them too,
hoping she knew how much I would have given to make her smile,
but the dying light is fading and sun up seems to be approaching fast.
My beating heart seems to beat on, but to what tune does it beat to now?

Curvaceous Katie
Made the little boys go crazy
Made their little hearts race
Enthralled by a game of chase.

Crazy ken was one of the boys
Who saw Katie as one of his toys
A plaything for lust-filled minds
As though her chest were gold mines.

She wore a smile on her face
And confidence in the form of a bikini
Her ***** wasn’t the least bit tiny.

Crazy ken reflected,
Not sure what he had expected
As he lined his wallet slots with
****** packets
in hopes that in any case
She was feeling up to it,
He would have his *****
become latex encased.

Upon further discussion
A bit of complaining
A bit of fussing,
She comes to agree
On his plan,
After all what good is a tan
If no one can see it.
Crazy ken was certain
That he had packed
His ***** curtain
But as he looked at his wallet
He noticed empty slots
He gestures to Katie,
and decides to ask her,
‘We can still make it occur,
If you lets say were,
To let me go unwrapped?’

She lets out a confidence smile
And held it in its place for a while
‘Buddy, you can go **** yourself’.

I hold a smile
Cause maybe the memories
Might just fade awhile
And
I hold my shoulders high
Hoping that I'll soar
One last time to finally
Understand what it's really like
To be able to lift myself up
And not get scared of falling.

They say,'the strong falls
Three times but gets up
Four times' and I just hope
That I can pull the pieces
Of what remains of this corpse
Back together, so that it could
See the light of day to stand
One last time.


------
A house that used to be a home
A heart that roams alone
And what I've come to learn:
I'm rather forgetful, and
Though I carry memories
For eternity; I'm easily
Forgotten, just like a speck of dust
In a thunderstorm or like a
Drop of water in an ocean
Or
Like me.

Created armour that was bullet proof
Science created a pill that was bully proof
A little pill filled with happy magic
But when magic lay to waste
Pill-takers travel in haste
For the wondrous worlds filled with magic
Will collapse and crumble,
Tip over and tumble
For the bully's words will once again
As assured as ink within a pen
The bully's words will wreak havoc
And with no pill to make you feel numb
Words like 'Hey spastic'
Become shells that ricochet off the soul
Into a heart that is filled up with holes
To a point it crumbles
and as tragedy is tragic
collated poems collect dust
like iron sets with rust
the bully's words destroy worlds.

Created armour that was bullet proof
But there is no material
Nor kevlar in this world that is ever
strong enough to shield
from hate, from anger and from words.
For every bully victim within this world,
For every damage soul within this world,
For every hurting heart on Earth,
Just know the pain felt,
The damage dealt
Absorb into the very soul,
Shattering the existence
Despite attempt at resistance,
There is very little can be done,
Except believe that one day,
The heat from the burning sun
Gives comfort enough
To live on,
To breathe in,
To breathe out
And to see tomorrow.

For a long time coming I have known things weren't going to be easy
the genie isn't going to give wishes like it was candy on halloweens night,
every night I'd lay my head on my pillow and cry for about ten minutes
"it'll be easy soon, isn't it?" I'd ask myself convinced myself to go on
like a parrot repeating the same old song, I said "it'll be easy soon",
and come noon of the next day; I realised it had been a routine,
a living pattern of new scene each stained in the same old ways,
the same old days reliving itself in front of my eyes.

A few nights ago, I tried to **** myself and I did not die,
somewhere, something is keeping me alive and tomorrow
I'm going to stop trying, because trying to die was more exhausting
than trying to live. I made a promise a long time ago to keep going on
and that will be the path I am on.

I am choosing to try to be happy for this year
I'd fought my fears and I'm one new day into my life,
and tonight, I will try my best to invent dreams in my head before I sleep
rather than spent the time in a deep cry, because tonight,
as lights go off and my head hits the pillow, I will be thinking happy thoughts.

I love all of you.
I'm going to keep on going, each and every day.
Until old age rips me away from all of you.

If I admitted what I did last night, most might cringe
as it involves a black object that is about 50 inches,
I won't profess that I had some sort of ***** ***
No, I was on an extreme animated movie binge
And I had snowy mountain equivalent of tissues
Not because I'm riddled with problems and issues
It's because animated movies are tragically beautiful
And though I might not fit into the category of real men,
Because from Superman we learn, real men are steel men
and real men are constituted as muscled men
so by most, I would not be defined as a real man.

Last night I cried with a pair of eyes that grew so red
Not from an outcry that pink eye has finally spread
But from an emotional connection to animation
Because last night, I cried watching The Lion King,
When Simba lost his father, I felt my eyes sting
I cried watching Pixar's inside out
When Bing **** gave his life for his friend
I felt most of all that I had stored inside come out,
It gave me an insight into witnessing depression
And I found myself caught in between the tension,
So last night I felt an emotional connection to animation
And I disposed of many tissues, not out of temptation
From lust filled mind but from animated creations.
So last night, I realised I was more of a real man
Because I expressed how I feel and
That it was ok to cry lake from my eyes
because real men are not steel men
and real men are not required to be muscled men.

Don't be caring towards me,
I might fall for you.
Don't be sweet towards me,
I might fall for you.
Don't be kind towards me,
I might fall for you.
Don't be affectionate to me,
I might fall for you.
Don't joke around with me,
I might fall for you.
Don't make me fall for you

Because when you leave
I won't move on quickly
And I will surely grieve
Until I become sickly.

Don't follow my words
Make this part clearly heard
I want to fall for you
And I want you to fall for me too.

I want to hold you
Whisper in your ears
That 'It'll be ok'.

I want to hold you
Whisper in your ears
That 'you're amazing'.

I want to hold you
Whisper in your ears
'Please don't give up'.

But

If Chinese Whispers
Have taught me anything
All the things I whisper
Will change upon
Entering your eardrums,
Soon 'it'll be ok', will be
'it'll never be ok',
'You're amazing' turns to
'you're nothing', and
'please don't give up',
turns to 'just give up',
But know that no matter
What you hear,
I will always be whispering
Into your ears
'I'm here for you'
and I'll always hold you.

I want to love you the way I love the stars. I want to stare at you with pure admiration, inspired to think about the future and let the moonlight dance a little on my skin. I want to love you in a way that I'll be afraid to blink because I fear with a single blink I would see your beautiful face and in another blink I would see your back as you walk away. I want to love like I would be afraid to go on without you. I want you to be my breath of air, my drink of water, my means of life and my everything. I want to love you to the point that I would crumble if you were to let go of your grip, I would shatter and break. I want you to be the adhesive that holds me together while at the same time I will hold you together. I want you to feel your hugs with the sun's rays, I want to feel your kisses with the sea water drifting along the winds, I want to feel your happiness from everywhere that I walk and I want to see your smile twinkle with the stars of the night.

√1 x √ 1 = 1
Root one, never felt like a full piece, never one,
Root one, met another number so alike in style,
Their common interest multiplied and became one,
And that was when they both let out their first smile.

When other numbers counted the bees and the birds,
Root one and root one counted fractions and surds,
In hopes that no one ever knew or ever heard,
They spoke of words like how absurd was the word surd.

Root one who never felt more whole than anyone,
Finally found another soul to make him a whole one.
No need for imaginary numbers of root negative ones,
Because Root One found a positive match, Root One.

So as night approaches,
Root one and Root one now a real number
Surrounded by the petal of roses,
Fell into one another arms to slumber.

Night and day comes to an inevitable close,
Root one and Root one became a complete whole,
This simply goes to shows,
That you don't have to be without flaws to find another soul.

--------
√1 = 1
In another universe, root one was happy being root one,
Because root one found the one within himself, root one.
They say one is a lonely number, so a root one,
Must be the loneliest number with no need for anyone else to be one,
Living a sordid life of loneliness, no other numbers left to join,
And at the flip or toss of a coin,
He will remain a never used piece of conversation,
But this poem must come to a close, no point in elongation,
Root one is a lonely number with no one to root,
But his own self, what a lonely shoot....

Blanket on ; too hot.
         Blanket off; too cold.
One foot in ; too fast
          One foot out ; too slow.
One caring word; too less.
          One mean insult; too much.
One huge sky; too much blue
           One huge heartbreak ; too less you.
One chance to move on ; too slow to do.
           One chance to stay; too much for you.

I bumped into a girl in an elevator
Hair as crimson as the devil's eyes
Voice as sweet as the devil's lies
And as the elevator stopped at my floor
I left out the silver lined door
Thinking I'd never meet her again.
It was in between lost and found
That I saw her once more,
The girl from the elevator.
She speaks to me, noticing the same things
I had noticed,
If I had a diary, today would read 'note this:
you met a lovely girl in an elevator',
She asks me 'Hey do you like s.....?'
Forgetting her words she started
Hissing like a serpent,
The wait for her to ask
Is extremely agitating,
'Sugar? Sweets? Sushi? ***? What is s....?'
My mind questioning itself.
She continues
'Do you like sandwiches?',
My mind again going into overdrive,
'was that an innuendo? Did she mean....?
Does she have a friend that I missed?',
'Yes' I replied,
Shaking my head to the side
Playing a little shy.

She bought me a sandwich...
And we went our separate ways.

To this day ,
As far apart as she and I are,
I would always hope
That the girl I might fall in love with later
Is the girl that I met in the elevator.

I used to laugh at the boys who felt heartbroken or saddened by a girl, I used to think of it as an absurd emotion. I am grown up now, and that kid inside me still wishes I could view such a thing in the same light mannered way, but I can't. I wish I could still laugh at those boys without a few painful memories of my own. I remember the first moments of shyly teasing, pretending that we didn't know what was going on, pretending that neither one of us will grow to develop feelings but I guess that is how the world works nowadays. I remember seeing her smile and it is the only thing that I needed to pick me up from a terrible day, a terrible day dripped off the page like rain of an umbrella, the very moment that I saw her smile. That smile, it's a rare smile, so beautiful and yet so mysterious in a way. I was content with just seeing her smile from cheek to cheek because it meant that she's happy and I guess all I wanted was to make her happy. I remember getting to know her, the more I learnt, the more I was intrigued. Sadly humans are the one beings that aren't living in a simplistic world where dreams are made to come true. I remember dreaming of her, and me, together (not in that sense for those with a slightly dirtier mind), we were together drinking coffee, drinking liquor, playing chase on a beach, watching time pass us by in each others arms.
I remember her name, and it may seem so simple but nothing was ever simple with her. Her name was complex, her personality was complex but it's the complexity that made her stand out. I wandered off a wrong path once or twice but suffice to say I knew which way I always wanted to go, I knew where I always wanted to go and it was right to her arms. In my eyes, there is none other more beautiful, more special and made me feel alive as she did. So although I haven't met her in person, I always knew she would become amazing things, only suitable for an amazing person.

I remember many details about that time of my life, the wounds are still fresh and the memories are still haunting me but that's the good thing about it, I can still remember everything that ever made me smile.

[The girl who made a million of my dreams come true.]

In the wise words of Kendrick Lamar
I love myself.
Who is it that I see high up on that shelf?
Oh, just myself.
I choose not to love another person yet,
Till I can love myself.
So as a result,
I abandon my search for love,
And I will let love search for me.

Cupid isn't as stupid
As we have been told.
So while my life is a dream in lucid
I will wait till I get old.
For the one to fill my heart,
And promise to never break it apart.

She lays alone in her high tower castle,
playing pass the parcel by herself, lonesome-
she groans for help, but it never seems to arrive.
Her eyes are fuelled with desire for company-
plagued by puppetry, the puppeteer-
steers her every action, every breath of air taken
is monitored.

She once spent days brushing her silky hair,
known that life was fair and just but time changes-
as a pendulum continues to swing and sway.
The nights played like a recorded noise,
no choice but to stay awake as the beep continues
and the tribute made in honour of her grew larger.

In the multistorey hospital where laid her brush,
the cuts and bruises came to be fixed with care,
but her hair grew thinner and shorter day by day.
In her hospital bed, where she laid asleep-
with ambient beeps, she no longer lays there
as she takes her lonesome stare into the light.

Somewhere along the way
I've seem to forgotten your face
Your name somehow became a mystery.
Somewhere along the way
I've filled in the empty space
your name somehow became a mystery.

Somewhere along the way
I wish I could remember you
but I do not know who you were
or who you are...

So tell me, does the clouds miss the raindrops;
did I wake up forgetting teardrops,
because I've seen sunny sky turn grey
and still I wish I hadn't forgotten your name.

But goodbye to you, who I once fell for
so goodbye to you, who made bells roar...

So please just say goodnight,
I've fought the midnight blues
So please just say goodbye
because I've forgotten you

Too weak for the word-
Love and too strong for hatred-
What word do I seek?

Home was with you,
And without you,
Every place seems blue,
But only if you knew,
How you made a house,
Become a home.

Now I am without a home,
Left to constantly roam,
For another soul,
That could make me whole,
The way you made a house,
Become a home.

Now I am without a home,
No place to call our own,
No such comfort zone,
And when I'm left alone,
I always just let out a groan.
I always reach for the phone,
But I never hear a dial tone,
I always felt naked to the bone,
With you around this place,
Because you made a house
Become a home.

Now my heart is without a home,
No ribcage to situate in,
No response to any situation.
They say love is patience,
But my heart is not a doctor,
All our memories in a locker,
I reminisce on what was proper,
But my vulnerable heart bear wind,
And there was no way it could win.
You made a house for my heart,
That became a home it couldn't part.

It had watched
her grow in a way
that a horticulturist
watched its own
creation sprout
and blossomed.
She had grown
like a rose; filled
with her own
thorns upon herself
that only came
to hurt others that
got too close but
in her own way,
beautiful.

Before every sunrise
It had opened its eyes
with a clank, like a coin
rattling inside a coin-
filled purse.
It was there to provide
the ambience of peak-
hour traffic; "Get off the
******* road you
******* lunatic. Where'd
you learn to ******* drive?"
would be the sound
that she woke up to every
morning. She has had
guests comment on its
vulgarity; but she defended
that it soothed her every
morning, and though
it was a recording
projected from speakers;
guests and visitors,
would denounce 'it'
as well as refute their
acceptance of 'it'.
She would gently tell it;
you're the best alarm,
and if she did not get up;
it would pull on her arm,
so she was always
moving in accordance to
her schedule.

She had been an orphan;
She still exists and lives,
as an orphan with her
orphan blood running
through her bloodstream;
and those who never
could understand what
it was like to be an orphan
would mutter "so you don't-
have a mum or dad, so what
it's not a big ******* deal;
it ain't like you're going to
be successful even if you did".
So came every night, though
the moon glowed upon her
pretty little face, she had
tears stream down her cheeks
that would reflect the moon's
gentle glow against her.
In a hollow home, nay!
In a hollow house, she
felt as though her sanity
was only stored by the whirring,
the buzzing, the sound that
mimicked a refrigerator from a
time before refrigerators were
considered 'in need of perfecting'.
On every night, it would read to her,
'as a mommy and daddy would'; she'd
use to say. Though it never had
an exciting tone and only ever
spoke in a monotonous way, she said
it had the mechanisms of being
the perfect parent a parent should
pursue to be.
It would read, every night 'Goldilocks
and the three bears' and though she had
grown up and grown old, it would
continue to read the same book and edition
as she had wanted. To her, listening to a
story was less to do with the story but
more to do with the comfort and reminder
that there is normalcy in her life that
mimics those of the child she had envied
at school. It would always after the
monotonous reading of 'Goldilocks
and the three bears', would include
a joke; "Do you wonder why the bears
had beds? I bet they bearly slept on them",
and though the joke was told a couple
thousand times, she had always giggled
at it's little joke. In the night, It would
close it's eyes, clank.

On one evening, she had invited a
male friend over for the night, it
would stand steadily still, inoperable
until commanded by her. It never
understood her connection to the
male friend, but it wasn't built to
understand. It watched as her mouth
connected to the male friend, it was
built with a action deciphering sequence,
so it determined that she was giving
him Cardiopulmonary resuscitation in a
standing position due to her lack of training.
It continued to let off its whirring sound,
an ordinary day ambient to her ears, but not
so much for her male friend. Her male friend,
in a quick procession of pushing her lips away to
saying "YOU'RE A FREAK. why do you have a
killing machine in your house?" He stormed out
before she even had a chance to explain its role
in her life.

In a stern and loud voice she screamed
'I want you to die!' and it responded in a gentle
voice, "what colour did you want to dye it?",
"******* and die!" she shouted with a flaring red face.
It did what it always does, responded to every command;
"There is no king here. That is an impossible request. Do
you have any other queries?" it had said in the most gentle
and softest voice that seemed almost like a whisper had it
not been monotonous. She shouted once again,
"DIE!" and as routine, it responded "A die is a cube
fitted with numbers to arrange a probability situation.
The sample space of a die is one to six".

She, tired of hearing it, muttered the words that
her late billionaire parents and maids regarded
as taboo; "PERMANENT TERMINATION!
EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY! I don't need you,
I have a cell phone, it does all that you do."

'My job is done'
Said the android
As it closed its eyes
One final time.
**Clank

Like the whistling
sound of a steam train,
that was muffled
by the crowd of people.

Like an explosive sound
contained in a vacuum
waiting for the pressure to
create something that matters.

Like the sound of a bass guitar
playing a bass line,
drowned out by the sounds
and songs of people screaming.

Like a single drop of water
crashing against rocks,
following the flow of the
cascading waterfall.

Like the sound of a scream
in a vacuum,
like the sound of the words
"doesn't matter".

Sinister sibling of a spoon,
Merciless metal monster,
Trusting tenacious trident,
Impaling inwards.

Oh how I could trust a fork,
Till that one day,
When my older brother,
Impaled a fork,
Upon my soft skin.

Do I lose trust in the fork,
Or,
Do I lose trust in family?

I saw a world in your eyes
Broken pillars, dilapidated buildings
Dead batteries, and broken ceilings.
I saw a painful burning empty sky
I saw little boys and girls cry
I saw all losses no winning,
Children death and soldier killings
I saw the pain inside your eyes.

I held you together from crumbling
And as the skies started to clear up
I saw volcanos reverse erupt
And the ground wasn't rumbling.
In my arms, you saw a future with me
And all I could see the seeds of a new tree.

Lullabies does to eyes
What goodnight kisses
Does to kids.

I've hidden many things
in this lifetime,
take it from someone
who's hidden courage
On a bookshelf
saying that books help
the weak like
an elf and a dwarf
because those who wander
are not always lost
but those who are lost
tend to sit and wonder;
as to how I've come to
hidden courage on a bookshelf
and those books didn't help
because i've hidden courage
from myself.

I read my nights away
Afraid to truly say
What sits on my mind;
Accompanied by those
Deemed unkind,
because an orc's kiss
will always be sweeter
than the thought
of escaped lips
kissing on the cheeks
of someone else.

Take it from someone
who's hidden courage
On a bookshelf...
sometimes books don't help;
sometimes they do to eyes
what goodnight kisses
does to kids.
Sometimes things weren't
Meant to be kept hidden...

Many nights I have spent wishing you would come back
I'd combat the thoughts of you with numbing substance
pressing random buttons forming words and sentences.
I have mentioned this about you a couple thousand times
"each succeeding line is all written in the presence of her
as the nights bother the days; I've spent minutes dazed,
felt crazed that she would be so far and so distant".
People say time heals all wounds, as if tombs would open up
and frozen hearts would start to roam the Earth once again.
It's all a fantasy, to fantasise a world where time heals wounds
is like repainted rooms would had not once held the colours before,
the pretence and second layer is a covered decor, it's fictitious
to witness the ticking of time and suggest that scars fade,
and part ways are path ways that don't necessarily mean anything.
Times don't heal scars, nor do they properly heal the wounds,
the tunes that once shared between two people in tune still hurt
and words spoken between the two lips and heard by the two ears
are fears of memories still trying to dig itself out of the coffin
buried beneath the passage of time and the belief that everything is okay.
It isn't okay...
It hasn't been okay...
Time is supposed to heal wounds but I'm consumed by the memories
the Decembers, the Februarys; months go by and the scars are still there
the wounds are still bare to the touch and all I can do is open up
the poison that numbs the feeling.
It isn't okay...
It hasn't been okay...
They keep telling me time heals all wounds, but the golden minutes
only brings up old memory visits that lead me back to where you lay.
I'd play would you rather with you one more time if I could talk to you,
but time undoes what I couldn't do. Time keeps passing and it's letting me
still remember you and for that I am thankful.

I love you.
One more year has passed.

Hell is the sadness
Of losing a best friend and
becoming alone.

We're all so captivated by the moment
Letting it slip by as eyes lit up by phones.
We've created sadness and happiness
In rectangles that connects those alone,
Except it's just a different kind of loneliness;
Hit escape, backspace, redefine the definition
Of what it meant to be alone.

We're all connected, we've forgotten
Whether to check or uncheck the connection,
We've lived as circles on a square nothing
More than bits of bytes for an avatar;
Where we witness *** before driving a car,
And we're caught in some lie the world built
That we are so enchanted by thoughts of
"The single ladies are in your area"
So we build blindfolds on what truth the lie beholds
We're all just bits and bytes of data.

So how much more of mankind are we
Where our eyes are glued to a screen
And chatrooms are as far as we've ever been.

We're all striving to be  in the latest social circles
That we redefined circle to mean a locked box.
So hit escape, backspace and in either way
we'll always find ourselves unchanged.

In a world of wires and threads
Of bits and bytes of data
How alone have we become?
Where information superhighways
Are all full of passing cars.
Tragic that traffic keeps moving
And we'd forever remain friends
But yet strangers all in the like.

When I was a teen,
I went to school like any other kid,
Struggling over acne I can't rid,
Lifting weights so my weight was hid,
Pivoted on a group of friends,
Who never knew what words end,
So when they ripped on a kid whose sister died of sids,
I stood back and watch this kid's world end.
I tried to help, confiding with him,
Taking the time to let him know I was with him,
Giving him the heads up of what the others were going to do,
And made sure his hellish world a little less blue.
But I was afraid thanks to this hollywood lies of popularity,
As though being hated was so frowned upon,
When being hated meant bearing a heart.

Don't get me wrong,
I never really did ever grow strong,
But I was mixed in with the wrong crowd,
As though insults to injury made people proud,
And a cigarette in your fingers meant you're well endowed.

I didn't really fit in myself,
They would say things like,
No one would put you on a pedestal cause you'll break the shelf,
But the only thing that ever broke was my self esteem.
Broken bones and bruises came and go,
But the words that they preached to me is all I know,
So when I was sober at a show,
They fed me with alcohol and told me to party more,
Looking around surrounded by guys treating girls like ******,
And people who saw hearts and souls as toys and objects.
But I had a brittle voice never able to speak clear enough to object,
And when the school found out my father had died,
The jokes never ended at body image jokes, and all I did was sigh.
They shunned down on intellect,
Like if you were smart "go eat an insect".
They wore it on their shoulder with pride,
Of how they never once ever did hide,
And they were cool because they made a person,
feel "rekt".

So the words they tried to preach,
And the lessons they tried to teach,
Was you aren't cool enough if you aren't perfect,
But the real lesson instilled in me, was that I was perfect.
They hid behind hidden cameras,
Taking photos of torture and suffering,
Like they were engaged to it.
They were no better than me,
They had their own burdens but mine they couldn't carry,
So as tales are told, I learnt....
The weaker you are, the more strength you have got to show.

More than half a year ago, I found myself in your life,
trusted your light as the guide to find my way back home
because walking alone left me the possibility of being lost,
upon seeing frost nestled between the barks of trees
I've seen what it really means to possess a cold exterior.
I watch your world and mine, conjoin like shortcuts
in the road somewhat leading people to the same places
but some roads aren't meant to be hastened, it's not tasteless
but the faces I began to recognise isn't the one walking with me
it becomes a mystery and before I falter from the trail,
I walk myself backwards, too afraid of you, too afraid to go on,
I found myself walking to the place where I came from.

I was lost, because something happened, something changed
when you took the shortcut.

Claiming same *** relations
To be the pitfall of a nation
Cleansing complete souls
Causing shattering and holes
In the name of fictitious practise
Of a religion that asks us to act as
A dictated definition of normal.

A savage hypocrisy
Between finding love
And finding acceptance
With belief that
Same *** relations
Calls for some repentance.
We forced kids out of homes
Pushed adults to take their lives
Yet still claim we support
Their conquest for love.
Where kids held their heads in shame
As though they are ones to blame
For all the wrong turns the world gives
And all the insults they receive
cut deep into a part their flesh doesn't enter,
Into their hearts.

We tried to play god,
Generate a society of facade
And the resulting chaos,
Heartache and suffering
is merely a start.
So until same *** relations
Is fully accepted
We'd always be indebted
To those who walked
In silent shambles,
Indebted to those
Who became voiceless
Not from fear
But from tireless
Nights wide awake
Struggling between themselves.

We tried to play god,
But instead god played us.

How do you write about a person whereby words don't exist to describe
Someone who pulls at your heartstrings and makes you feel alive.
I met this beautiful person and I have not had any regrets
Nor will I reach a time I'll ever come to suddenly forget
The dearest and sweetest girl who has made smiles light across my face.
Messages from this gorgeous girl stabilises my world and makes things in place.
She asks me 'Can I trust you?' and though 'yes' was the answer my heart yearned
I have come to learn in my life that trust is not something that is given but earned,
So though I am not a liar, nor a spider creating a web of deceit I set out to earn her trust
The resultant is that I have allowed her to get to trust me , in a way much fairer and just,
But I know with absolute certainty is that I promise to never hurt her
And I can not fathom the people who ever allow it to occur.
She is a remarkable, beautiful, kind , friendly there are more words I haven't known
But I hope that one day , the rhythm my heart beats to when I think of her, can be shown,
Not just in my words but in all the things I am willing to do for a soul as precious
As a rose standing in a world, I want to perform complete loving gestures
Not with the requirement that she returns the love
But simply because seeing her beautiful smile is enough.

She is, in one succinct word  - indescribable
And what I have just described to you ,
Is a minuscule spot of ink on a magnificent masterpiece
With a clear expression of care and kindness that never ceases.
Indescribable.

I stood barefoot on a porch,
Yelling ' Juliet, Juliet wherefore art thou Juliet?'
Maybe I haven't met you yet
Or you have found your Romeo,
guess that's how the story goes.

Where are you though?
Juliet, Rose, Daisy...
Why haven't I met you yet?
Or have we already met?
...

----------------------------------------------------
[ Why did you leave so soon,
I can still remember the moon,
Of that night you decided to go away
I tried finding people
But there's just no way of doing so.
I have indeed found love a couple times
since you have been gone,
but none of them ever lasted.
Not even the ones I deluded myself
Into believing were real and fated.
Did you really think I'll be fine alone?

I miss you...

What's it like up there by the way?
Is it as beautiful as you are?
Or is it even more beautiful?
Just kidding , nothing can be as beautiful as you...
actually I have met quite a few beautiful girls,
some beautiful people,
some even more beautiful than you ,
then again I havent seen u in a while...
but you know me well enough to know
that things don't last with me.
Either people grow to hate me,
or well they fall out of love with me
or they ....you know, like you....
I haven't been able to give you flowers
Tryna buy a car yknow....
If you were here I'll drive you around
after all you will always be my princess
but ...i do drive you around,
I drive the memories of you around,
I drive you around in my heart.
Remember that time when we sat up
on the hills and just watched the stars
Do you remember we caught a glimpse of that car
The one that bounced up and down.
You ever wonder if they ever got married?
You know, that night I can remember your smile
I can remember the words you say
I can still remember how you use to say
'you're an idiot' with a smile.
I miss all of it.
I miss all of you.
I miss you]

Mom was always a questionable figure in my life. She has inspired me but nonetheless not every parent is perfect, not even in the eyes of their child. I can remember at a young age of eight, I asked mom, "Mom, how will I know when I'm mature?" Her response still echoes in my head when I come to a stand still situation. She said "You are mature when you realise that going into your room and slamming your door does not make your problems disappear and they may be lurking in the room with you or right outside of the door". Obviously at the tender age of eight, I had no idea what she meant so I decided to give my own interpretation; "so there will be times we need to get a new door?"

Since I grew up without a father, Mom was forced to work to take up the bread-maker role and provide for my extra interests and any other things since I wanted to grow up slightly interesting. So "James Patterson books that you're probably going to read once and costs $50 sure son, I'll buy it for you". "Guitar lessons for your clumsy hands so you can woo the ladies? sure". I wasn't spoiled, don't get me wrong. I worked with my Aunts cafe (they are extremely successful; I think it's ripping off her employees and sacrificing the blood of a thousand babies or something. You get the picture; even though they are family, they aren't exactly the best people in this world. Then again you might argue success is the outcome of severity).

My mother was also the one to give me the talk (yes, that one with the bees,butterflies, magic liquids, ***** and elephants) , I could recall the embarrassment I felt from that moment. To clarify, I wasn't exactly old (about 12-13) nor did I have the maturity of a child but the conversation went a little like this -

      "Hey, do you know how to use a ******? To keep you safe in case you are ever... if you ever ... want to engage in intimate activities with a girlfriend".

      "Yea, mom I'm good. It's just like wearing a hat".

      "You know, if you put it on your head you will probably get someone pregnant".

      "Mom, I didn't mean I'm going to wear it like a hat, I'm going to wear it where I should be wearing it".

      "Don't fill it up with water and pretend its a water balloon before too and don't blow it up like a balloon".

      "Why are you telling me this mom? Sounds like you know someone who did it before?"
        
     Mom with a giggle and starts to sidetrack to an anecdote of the past; "Yes actually, when you were little you thought they were balloons. You were so small and adorable, who'd known so many years pass".

     "Ok thanks Mom, I got it. I don't think I'll ever get a girlfriend in this life though, seems a like a lot of work. The flowers, the gifts, the talking. I don't even know how to talk to a girl".

     "Simple, you talk to a girl, by talking to them like anyone else...Do clean up your language and don't be too stupid though. It's ok to show people you care about that you care, no matter who they are to you".

Now earlier I said, questionable, that's because she at times can be a hypocrite. I recall asking her at about 15, -

"is it ok for me to cry? I mean it feels strange, there's this something I can feel. I don't know how to describe it, but I don't know whether to cry or to scream or to just ..."

"It's ok for a guy to cry, it's ok for anyone to cry. The biggest importance is that you know to wipe those tears and keep going. Tissues work but I would recommend letting it roll down your cheeks and you'll realise, all you are doing is making yourself look more miserable and it's really not going to change much".

"Did you cry Mom? Like when ... passed away?"

"No. I didn't shed a single tear".
                    (Obviously she was lying because I had heard her on many occasions on my fathers funeral day sometimes every third year or some years in a row. We live in a small house where the walls are thin).

Mom being the only person I know to ask for advice. I approached her with question on love, when I was about 17 after somehow finding a girl who said she liked me.

        "Mom how do you know when you are in love? Or how do you know you should love that person and what if they don't love you back?"

       "Simple, love is when you miss the presence of someone in your life. Love can be between family. Love is thinking of them even when you're suppose to be doing other stuff. Love is caring how they are or how their day goes. Love is like seeing a light at the end of a tunnel filled with roses".
(Roses have a significant meaning to me, I always place Roses at the two most important people in my lives, one is my father, who altered who I have become, and the other is my greatest friend. Roses aren't something I give away, I have never given a rose unless it came straight from the heart. I know, you're probably thinking it's just a flower. It was the flower that my father first purchased for my mother , it was the flower that was at the wedding reception, it was the flower that I had placed on the casket and it's the flower I give to people I know I will always cherish with my heart).

Mom was remarkable, I would have not been happier with any other mother. There are times we fight but we always mend things.

I remember staggering home drunk, unable to fit the key into the lock and face reddened by the number of friends who kept telling me "just another one".
About a week later, my mother who doesn't drink except an occasional beer to fit into the mood of a party sat me down and asked me how many things did I drink that night. I started listing drinks, thinking she would be proud (stupid teenager brain, I know)... " So i had a shot of some vanilla ***** thing, but I was already drunk at that point. I had some absinthe thing....Oh i had some wings. I had about four beers. I think I had hot chips. I think I also had some Hennesy but it might have been water".
        Her face reddened and for that second I thought my neck was due for a snapping, nothing happened. All she said was -

          "At least you knew to eat, but don't drink too much. I raised you this old all alone, I don't want to have to lose you to something as stupid as alcohol. Also if you want to drink, just don't. Not until you are 18 anyways".

One more fight I could remember which happened quite recently was the passing of my great grandmother (god bless her soul; r.i.p), I remember being upset at my mom for not telling me about great grandmas passing, especially since it was during Final examination periods and she waited till after. Which in retrospect I had no idea why I was mad, just failed to realise it must have been harder for her than it was for me.

There was this one time, when I was about six, a boy in my class, lets call him Peter had teased me about my dead father. Kids will be kids and kids will also be cruel. I came home that day after school asked mom.
            
                   "Mommy what do you do if someone you don't like talks about you?"

                  "When I was a kid, I knocked a girl down and stepped on her neck but you shouldn't do that because when you do that, his mom will surely get upset same way I will get upset if someone hurts you".
                
Ignoring what she said , six year old me shoved Peter to the ground and placed my shoe on his neck screaming things, I obviously must have heard somewhere
               "You're lucky I'm sparing you".

Since this was still before school , my mother witnesses this, pushes me off the kid and makes me apologise and checks to see if the boy is alright. My mom told the teachers on me, and I don't remember the consequences but I can recall she told me to talk with Peter after the apology. Peter forgave me with his open heart and became my best friend from 6 till 18 ( at 18 we had a falling out but we've been best friends for long enough for me to cherish and forgive him for everything. We just never grew closer ever again. Plus congratulations, he's getting engaged :)   ).

             Thank you Mom, for raising me to be the man that I am today. I still struggle speaking to girls ( I didn't speak to a girl till I was 14, so I am sure I have some social issues but I try to make things work), but Mom you've taught me everything from driving, to shaving, to cleaning up after myself, to knowing how to respect people and understanding that sometimes things need to be talked out and that's all that's required. We don't say "love you's " in our family but deep down in my silent heart, Mom just know that I love everything you have given or tried to give me and thank you for letting me live the life I have lived. Bye

It's 10 pm, Saturday night. I'm down in Jessie's place, just to join her in a lust filled night of sorts. Her blonde hair radiating from the lamp on the night stand. I carry her in my arms, both arms out resembling a father carrying a newborn baby except she wasn't my baby, not in that sense anyways. The tension in the air was so thick that even a butter knife couldn't spread the tension, but me and jessie had spread on our mind.

I could smell her alluring scent as I lay her down onto the bed, it must have been the thrill of daring to step into a boundary we had no knowledge existed. Love thy neighbour as heavenly quoted by men and women all around the world, I guess I was abiding by what I have been taught.

A little bit about Jessie, Jessie had these mesmerising blue eyes and had a husband, John,a fine husband, a brave husband who was filled with love.  John wasn't ever one to toot his own horns but he had the right to refer to himself in the third person, why wouldn't John be given the right? He's awesome and extremely brilliant at that. Nothing short of Superman or Einstein is what John has been told.

Jessie has been my neighbour for years, ever since I could remember. I drink a lot, so I haven't exactly the best memory of when or wheres. It was how we met, she was my neighbour and I was hers. Now we were closer, so close to the point that I could see her blue eyes staring into mine.

"Jess, I hope it's Ok, I wrote you ... a little poem. That's not...umm too weird right ?"

"Sure, as long as it's not something too eerie. Don't be too...what's that word?... Sappy" Jessie nodding in agreeance.

The words glided out of my lips like a gold medalist ice skater, with elegance and soft subtle seductive intentions.

'Love is like an ocean,
The sounds of crashing waves against rocks,
That mimic the sound of my heartbeat,
Love is more than an emotion,
Love is the echo of water dripping in a cave,
Love is a poison and a potion,
It is the pollen that fills the spring air,
Love can cause chaos and beauty
It holds onto your hearts and never lets go'.

I ended my recital by looking into Jessie's direction for affirmation of its quality, I couldn't actually pinpoint her ****** response but I'll try my best to capture it. Her eyes, rolled to one side in a condescending and demeaning manner but her smile was filled with some sort of ...actual craving for more.

My lips shot forward similar to the teens 'duck-face selfie poses', and I asked "So... do you ... like?".

Silence...

I waited for a little longer, or what felt like an eternity in my mind's timeframe.

Silence again...

I expressed my regret "Sorry, I'll recite another one?... Yes? "

"The sun and the moon,
You see they were friends,
But not everything twist and bends,
And even though the sun loved the moon,
He had loved her since yesterday's noon,
When she wasn't even around, he loved her.
Somewhere far away in the horizons,
It clearly never seemed to occur,
In her mind that he was thinking of her.
So every night, while birds and bees went to sleep
He died.
Just so her light could shine above his.
He died.
Just so her close friends, the stars could visit.
He died.
Just so the world appreciated her beauty,
Rather than his necessity."

Jessie still dressed in her singlet and underwear, quickly rose on two feet as a Chevrolet pulls up her driveway. A man with a neanderthal-like figure burst through the door yelling, ' I leave for business... and ya'll ******* in my house? ON MY ******* BED!!'

I tried my best to get past his door, because it was the only way I knew I would be able to keep my current state, the state of being still alive.
...

Jessie trying to explain everything with words, yes ...trying to use words with what clearly is a caveman.

'Darlin' we didn't do anything, he's just here yappin' on about something with moons and suns. I swear, I didn't do anything indecent'.

The caveman spoke again, in proper non-swearing, non-screaming English.
     'Sons? He was tryin' to put a baby in you? THAT'S IT!!.. Imma **** him!!'

That was the day I met John.

Hi I'm Bond, James Bond,
I hate having to despise
The work of these spies.

Being fine with being you,
It's not a struggle that is new,
We battle the demons inside,
Ever since we were five,
Keeping them alive,
By feeding them insecurities,
They need to survive.

Unhappy with our own bodies,
As though big thighs,
Meant being ostracized,
I personally prefer bigger thighs,
Not for the thought of bearing child,
But that they are fine not living lies,
That they could flaunt their mind,
Above the shallow part that is their body.

I remember one day of school,
Being in a restroom, peeing in a ******,
Clinging onto my exposed genital,
A boy who gazed upon my manhood,
Tell me that I was made wrong.
That because my genitals wasn't long,
Somehow I was never right,
Between being too white,
Being an ugly sight,
Regarding my genitals I didn't give a *****.

So purposely I burnt myself on sunlight,
Days out in the open sun in hopes for a tan,
And that was when it finally began.
Words of how I might get skin cancer,
If I ever wanted to get any tanner,
And yet I still took the risk,
Because being accepted for being darker,
Meant being more spiderman less Peter Parker.

Now that I am where I am,
I am fine with who I am,
Because who I am,
Is a path I can't escape,
So I embrace it,
And even if I wore no cape,
Was no superhero to others,
Was different to another,
I was finally able to be more me,
And less like others.
What's good about being a white sheep,
Be a unicorn, be a black sheep,
Because people never count on black sheeps,
To fall asleep.

You are you,
You are beautiful,
You are amazing,
You are you.
And
You are perfect.

The demons run rampant
Yet no screams pour onto page
Voices slowly dampen
While whispers whistle rage.

Fiends chase the silence
Held hands with beasts
Caged thoughts with violence
Till words become decease.

A thousand thoughts run through my mind
The ink is full but the page remains empty
What I seek for I shall not ever find
And silence forever remains hefty.