maybe one day
a stuttering light
will evade hindsight
to the paradox given
in the palms of my hand,
words spilled
~promises evaded
left to dwell alone
under the cast
of lampshade gone,
another severity
vastly overrated
sitting on a fence post
wild daisies swaying gently
seeking for the equilibrium
between earth and cloud
yet how can there ever be
such a thing
if the trees
only obscure the way

possibly cannot control
the deviations of man made fright
the gleaming glint of commercial consumerism
the televised divisive specialty of food and luxury
I feel powerless over my body and mind

a fuzzy head beheaded upon weight
of assorted niches created to promise
to fatten us like contorted buttons
that our life "will become better" notorious professions

we lose ourselves in quests
credit cards billed and shopping bags filled
shiny glossy floor and florescent pale lights
trailing our every shop like ignoble ghosts

not a single vein of sanity
but collection of clots leading to profanity
a manifesting destiny to broaden our mouths
as we try to twist every crook of our limbs too stout

sized proportions frustrations and collaborations
reflected uncomfortable orthodox segregation
what is real and what isn't
eclipses over what is cheaper and what's isn't

flagrant benchmarks tightens like nooses
bestow upon despair of cellulite thighs
each Hollywood conformity adding height  
and soon we shriek denial if it doesn't tighten

soon enough

running by the seaside where the foam fizzles like sparks
where the imprints in the sand Time has left
in a great, furious hurry, oh  how those days recollect
the late, late nights with the air soft like a pillow
soothing to the soul as it whispered
where the cuts laid in too deep,
Time, oh Time, where have you gone
with the crunch of gravel underneath my feet
and the pump in my arms, the twist in my spine
as I sprinted down the shoreline,
yet you always stayed out of my reach
the sun was beginning to set,
its golden fingers licking the water
and the salty, brittle air buffered in my eyes
so by the labor of my lungs tears sprung in my eyes
Time, you marvelous hypocrite, I can never get
the hold of your hands

cannot catch the lanterns aflame  
the oil reeking, creases in the folds
the droning silence of deserted verses
the smoke piling from smothering affection

gone fragile, aboard a sailing boat
it cruises slowly going under
and as the salty kisses whisk the sails
the frothy waters, it leaves a white trail

twice I turned my back to the shore
where could I possibly go?
still as the compass spins encrusted upon frigid morals
gripping the ropes so the boat can stay afloat

thinking I had the steering in pins
thought I could set sail to the settling murmur
thought I could find the words to speak with,
the light retraced, now a surface of mirrors  

slowly the water ripples in coiling gleams
leading me on into a frightening wonder
lost at sea like a discarded ice berg
a lone passage, a nonexistent oar, I wonder

Flashes of serenity immersed
within vast extremities of
flashing,  vivid lights
sirens surpassing my
peripheral vision, a dizzing
mixture of loss and affection,  
tragedy regurgitated mounted
upon treasures hidden,
and right now I am
on that peak,
the stars glisten and moon shining
Words flirting and souls sharing
a single frame put on pause
in this ****** up world

a marble statue carved of stone  
fluttery etches in malachite graves
sweet fertility frozen once roamed
this marble statue a beloved rave

wisps of cloth transits deposits stone flesh
slivers of cloth entails upon breath
sleek shoulders rising abreast
hence majestic tragedy rendered afresh  

ivory veins, a ripples of waves
cracked splintered  hopes endeared in stone
lost imaginations wandered restlessly, now shaved
for historical miracles etched forever away

a Japanese word
tattooed across
my thumping heart
honne, it speaks
meaning of one's
true feelings,
that's the way
I should be
I promised when
I was young,
to all those I love
to all those trembling hands
I wish to hold still and hold
when the darkness
presses without permission,
I don't want to be
a master puppeteer
no, I just want to
genuinely be
what my inner desires
resembles to be

please, let the crickets know
their melody of wind found harps
are meant for ears
who listen to the gnarliest hearts

There does not need be
A king

And do not praise me
A queen

Fixate the hole in the ground
The blisters in the crease
The black eye and sore heart

I carry the shovel
Where ever needs be

A desecrator with a fearless
Grin nestled in the crooks
Of my painted red lips

a capsule, narrowing tombstones
engraved upon fine misty grass blades
yawning sun, mellow yolk yellow
gleaming across the hurt inflicted on
see the scars, the rugged trenched dug into dirt
sheared guardrails where the car
missed the next right turn,
logged trees weeping silently
invisible to the tuning in the pearls of our ears
a brisk morning with melodies singing
sweet blossoming lilies sticking to the breeze
like saturation sung harmony
visually like honey woven on cream cloth threads,
these tombstones behold pasts of great tragedy
yet what once welted deep hurt
in the hearts of young minds
and delinquent lovers
remain far into the enriches of worth,
no matter the pain struck lightening and cursed
finer mornings will spread its succulent kisses
of mildew honeydew and crisp morning sunny breaths

drift pleasantly into the wafting glimmer
the enunciated murmur of a purring simmer
the tickling breath chilly spite of the victor's vigor
the momentum upon present infatuations
sought for the hands of the lost bridal remnant

feet brushing the moistened soil
milky coral china topple the path
the splash of hotly brewed tea
lavender and jasmine and lemon ginger
seeping into the cool, hard ground

feel the air swirl in your lungs
the colors of the trees a respirator  
glinting their fiery embers
they embark far into the silly autumn night

cool blue shadows creep uphill
stretching and lengthening for night's full bloom
the hours have waned, the sun a lovely hue
as the woes of nature have come down to hunt

Swiftly.

Swiftly, the golden liquid entailed the burrowed shadows crested within the grooves of earth
The grass jeweled of impeccable brilliance
The air sighed its silvery rush, a singing river kissing the bare of my neck, my cheeks
The curves of soil swelled with intimacy
And shadows thrown upon the land spilled in grooves as inky as distant space
The sky unburdened its fury sorrow and emblazoned
A vivid turquoise, a tangible race among the heavens

And swiftly.
Swiftly I lived among the breezy bliss, the spilling of heavenly light
And the fury of the sky so clear, so blue
My feet carry me so far, so anew
I drink in the golden brilliance of the sun
And roam the beauty with a steady gaze

I breathe, I sigh,
I see, I choke
The sun smiles, its radiance spilling
And lifting the rusted film drowned from a weight
—that is, a weight I know too well—
A weight hidden within the roaming waves
A weight, washed ashore upon tempest burdened of a woman’s cowardice, isolation and fear

I see, I choke
I believe, I don’t
Swiftly, the brilliance returns to the depths of the sea
The cold brews
My breaths are sharp, short, burdened with ice
My steps fall aloof
And I fall

Shut my eyes and there is nothing I can see
Nothing to tell
Feel the earth upon timid, outstretched fingers
And nothing befalls
The wind howls, and I curl in a naked groove
Where you are
I will be, gone, gone, away
Anywhere in between, take me
Will you emblazon my world as once forth?

And as I quiver within the frozen ashes
And swim within the depths of my misery
Will thy hour come upon me?
I keep afloat yet my feet dredge
And I wonder upon the path,
Blind,
Passively

And forever, I will wait
Forever I will wait,
For that golden smile to cover me in sweet melodies
And to roam my eyes upon the emerald blades once again?

And forever, I may wonder,
Slowly,
Entranced in grace,
Quietly, silently,
Yet peak bravery, courageously
I may desire your light
But I will take my own flight.

Will you return into my arms?
Will you kiss the nape of my neck, as once before,
In a distant memory?
Nay, I say, I have grown.
I will pave my way, wield my own destiny
I will leave you
Yet cherish the memories I have gained from you
And carry my own heavenly stars
Forever in my heart.


That is my way.
And only my way.

Anywhere the sly glance of fallen tapestries
Swinging restlessly in evening snare
The ringing sensation of a clinging majesty
Furrowed in miles of in-between stares

The chilly tang riveting in the air incomplete
The melting melodies of hovering lights
The echo of heels and ringing concrete
The hover of laughter caught by intoxicated sights

Skyscrapers reaching to kiss the dark woven sky
Sunsets skittering to isolated corners
As the darkness befalls to ascend in nigh
As the night comes alive with sight of starry killers

I sit in a place of concrete corners
Of spilling sunlight brimming poignantly
As the leaves go about swimming
On etchings of passing neighboring ghosts

The air cool to my cheek
And the sky baby blue in yawn
I sit in a place of concrete corners
Surrounded by elements my mother brought upon

See the nurture of her hands
The dew drops which bead the petals
The butterflies which flutter upon sunlight demand
And the soil which seeps in beckon to bite of metal  

Lonely I sit, surrounded by granite shavings
And a wandering mind which refuses to sink
I twist my fingers saturated with craving
For the nurture of her words and love without despite

Lightening forking the sky
Dazzling spray of dissonant cues
Crackling, mesmerizing
As the thunderous clouds
Bellowing, rumbling in cry
After the screech of the light
Wind spark, whipping a tempest
Never to have behold before
A dancing feat of grace and defeat
Trailing entrails of vivid wonders
Across the night, the dusk descending
Warfare of gain and spell, transcending
The terror in beauty and rolling nolstagia
Of the silly pouring rain mantling sails
To whisk a soul to another world
Like when you press a hand against a window
And it's cold so that your warmth
Shroud and condense, dew drops
Leave a trail of words, rhythm to rhyme
A flutter of ghostly syllables
And warm intentions, like fingers strumming a guitar
A single string or a flood of
Pressed strings reverberating in the belly of plywood
That takes not wisened girth
Only the way to make your words and music
Weep and laugh with that of the tempest
Brewing outside

a field of wheat
blue scoundrel of sky
clouds pearly fond like marbles
as ravens streak unbending nigh

A boisterous sky shattered with white
Boundless dew drops of blazing stars
Streaking stealthily through
--A sprinkle of thunderclap--
The noise rolled profusely, so anew

there's a beat
a rhythm to the step
in which the festering wight
ascended those steps
carved into the great mountain

a certain heat
escaping from its lips,
shrouding and smoking,
leaning great rimmed horns
and a snarl to match the dip

a certain weight,
involuntary and hidden
burden carried without sight
knowing, diving into the unknown
into the orchestra of this strange creature

dancing among the prongs  
facing headstrong into the blazing wind
a gasp of relief, a sigh of terrible scare
as the stairs welded narrower
it had not the wings to fly
but save for the fire in its words
and the power in its horns,

an ugly beast set out alone
a wayfaring stranger like
any other,
it feels the notion too
feels the fragile, flickering gaze
of empty space underneath
its feet

just a bunch of kids standing in front of a white board
look, look closer, pay utmost interest in the direction of their gravity
syllables that sticks, muddy soles and sloppy shoe laces
pigtails and shaven head, bowl cuts and ponytails
a bunch of kids, ten years ago with crayons in their fists
where they colored their minds and drawn wonderful lines
yet as hours dawned and spawned broader collisions,
pencils gradually drew calluses and grew to quiver,
erase and replace, smaller and neater
in-between the lines where a finger is easier to place,
never in pen, the jet-black ink or purple lavender can stain
in pen the past cannot be rewritten
in pen they wrote their lives with finer attention
with pen, they weren’t afraid to hold onto
every past mistake and embrace someone they once knew
in pen, the bunch of kids filled the paper,
in pencil, the students were told nothing but to stay still
so here they are, standing before the white board
can’t you see their lines, the overlapping chaos
of pure, imaginative ingenuity
they wrote in permanent markers
for the entire audience to see

it reaped the embodiment of practice
teetering on steep deprivation
from that chastising realization
to retain an enigma spilling
all over the porcelain floor
laced with veins of blue inked vines
a ringing not of pouring water
splashing all over the carefully polished stone
with that of dust motes made gold
from the shafting sun,
it was the feeling of loss
it was the sensation of pain
left alone in the far dark corner
swept to the far corner of a home
yet the water brought it back to the light
and all of a sudden
fear didn't hesitate from
the lone, lone fig tree
which grew and overtook
the construction of man,
crushing the porcelain
and splintering woods against stone
this lone fig tree of perfect,
indestructible bark
caressed pain and loss,
saying "I will not move away"
and embraced pain and loss
so then the once perfect bark
crackled and became streaked
with scars and gruesome knots
yet the fig tree cared not,
remaining still, knowing vulnerability
and becoming compassionate
suffused into beaming rays
knowing utter peace needed
a place to rest without being rejected
and thus became the trees
scarred to mourn with sleeping incapacities

at glances of you
in memory behold imagined
shimmery doves uncertainty domain
too risky to remain

by your side, I know
though one can never truly realize
unless courageous
like frosted shimmering snow flakes
cascading from bleached skies
oh how I wish I could reach
and speak how my heart flies

A raining brethren of splintering rain
Lacing the woes as knights filled fists
Clashing with that of trembling ground
Each footfall a smog in the glimpse

Wading through the haunt of hollow words
Sometimes the leech and gag in the pool
Swimming in the tankard clasped to my head
Needless to say pouring words which built instead

Trembling, capsizing, leaking through defenses
Once fortified with daisies akin glowing reminiscents
Numbing in nights such as this
Solitudes dispairs respite multitude aware

a collision propelling to the imagination of afterworlds
twirling, crying out at the spiraling dizziness
ignited the wretched fire in the pit of his stomach
painfully the pinpricks settled to belittle and mock
to sneer and to gloat as the giddiness of his steps
rattled down the cobblestone street under
the yellow-waxing moon,
he howled grandiosely, dripping golden-honey
of his joy, his laughing wild ecstasy
the cold seethed and glittered frost on the stones,
unsettled this scene untold,
wondering how this young man
had room to grow,
he took a breath
cheeks burnt with fall's amber
and sprinted down the cobblestone and slippery dark
shrilling without intention, yelling indefinitely
and he ran without notion
and maybe that is what we all missing
from our lives,
a little weightlessness

what do you expect?
In all the things I do
in such as collage of a person's dream initiation
what kind of things leave you in sweet appreciation?

who do I call, my mom?
my brother, my father, sister and that dude on the street corner
in fact a completion of four blank corners
achieves nothing but to a getaway box of concealment  

wait, that's not what I meant
to say,
to do,
what I ought to be,
*******, society
what are you thinking of me?

Why is it that your thoughts justify
that a ballroom of hot gaseous stars
rooted in a seventeen year old dream
is nothing but hallucinations of a childhood...

you make me want to scream

what makes you think any better
to take, a list of vocabulary as mode of expression
people smirk at the reflection in transition
yet in a world gone of such things
you try to mumble, stumble, tumble
on your own tongue
as nothing retreats
and substitute it with useless prepositions  

blank stares on blank fat faces
greasy slicked tongues attached to an ugly wrought of body
stop stuffing your face with social media
our lives are capable of much more authenticity
stripes red, white, and what, green?
I'll make it whatever I want it to be

you say I am wasted away
that thought, that havoc, that pleasant furnace
well thanks a lot
to you, my thoughts are burnt out
like a light bulb in a dark room of four blank corners

channeling riot thoughts onto paper to screen
composed in depths of my dead weight backpack
crumpled under the weight of text books
explaining how we should live better
and how I am suppose to be  

well it's my mission to live outside of conformity
and as words fly in class, in halls
first only to myself, then vulnerable to the audience of you...
wait, virtually the entire world?

understand these words are as raw as lemon
fueled by thoughts, cynical, you can reckon
and **** as my teenage mind, naive
just like the shadows of you and me

understand these are reflections
we are starry magicians in the game of complexity
constantly fluctuating upon gravel grounds
it stems from existence we label into nouns  
we string words together
and if nobody else ever reads this
who cares?
your name is the last thing we'll
care to pronounce

The snow chastised, floating
Swirling through the blue ridden air
Smokey haze, crackling splinters
Of wooden fibers wretched from their lair
A washout water mark
Radiating flowing heat
Crickets weeping viola harmonies
Reminiscing fiery ambers singing
In memory of months laden with snow
When man could skid on the lake  
Skating lavish traces in echo
Of ghost striking pitched chorus
Something like mourning
Fluttering in the reflection
A bittersweet harmony with