he is always mad at his own child
for the stones that come his way
but his child will forever be grateful
for what he has done for him

he is always mad at his own child
the one he raised under his roof
to make him into a man, only to
crush him under his own trauma

now grown into an adult
he wishes to run away to a place
where land stretches upwards into hills and peaks
and there are valleys to jump into

Here ─
In the loquacious silence
Of the white noise in my mind
I knew I wasn't present

My mother was near ─
With her mind withdrawn
Absent to some place
That dated from ages ago

My father would disappear ─
Only to continue being far
Once he was back
Now travelling into the future


And I have gathered a life without
Now
Right
Here

A story unfolds in her eyes,
the little runaway recites,
depth in an iris of secrets,
halcyon days and sapphire nights.

Release the words dearest youngling,
bleed the emotions you regale,
let the narrative entice time,
weep the history of your tale.

She blinks and the page slowly turns,
another chapter taking shape.
The story unfolds in her eyes
and lids close as she seeks escape.

i feel their eyes on me
and can't help but wish
they were yours
your stare always enough
to set me alight
pinning me in place
a lamb longing for the wolf
for only you
can capture me so wholly
like prey greedily awaiting the hunt
their eyes find mine
and all i see is you.

worlds are collapsing, rising; dictators exhale,
entangle the veins of the world
some ideas preserve salty streets like janitors of the dark
summer keeps the score of perfumed nights
I indulge in the womb of heat
wounds are retreating in sequestered spaces -
the seeds of the future.
there is a chill in the air, dread strikes near and far
light flows like the dance stuck in my bones
everywhere the pulse of time, dreaming

There is no glory in just managing
And small reward for only trying.
Flags cannot be proudly planted
Only half way up the mountain.

Footprints must be left in concrete
Never in the sand of trends
Where tides of fancy wash across them
With only ripples left behind.

Hearts blood must be spilled on altars
Situated in the realm of wonder
Never on the mundane pathways  
Always walked across by Rabble.

Raising up the tallest flagpole
Is a useless exercise
Unless the banner hung upon it
Imparts healing to the masses.

A follower is not the leader.
The helper never wins the crown.
The one who fires the starting gun
Is not the one who wins the race.

There is no gold in rocky caverns
That have all been dug before.
Diamonds can be manufactured
But their shine is not the same.

All that’s left is conquering
Impediments that bar the way
To ribbons, crowns and accolades
That etch your name in history
        ljm

What a night tonight…
It’s quiet, quiet!
No sounds, no crunches, no breeze,
It’s not like last day.

Now it would be the time
To talk about love with you.
But the Night is wild
Let’s not stress her out anyway.

What a night tonight…
It’s dark, dark!
There’re no grudge, no grief, no sorrow.
It’s all gone.

Let’s sit in silence with you
Meet the dawn,
And both dissolve,
When it gets light whole.

There’ll be the dawn, and we’ll realize,
There’s no need to lie.
Cause there’s no love, only a plume
Of empty hopes.

And we won’t have to break and tear.
It’s all empty.
There’s no you and me, no us.
It’s just a mope.