What  are you doing my lord?
Sometimes, I simply don't understand....
Have I deviated from my path?
Have I forgotten why I came into this world?

But every now and then
When I listen to the silence in my head
I hear the throbbing of my heart amidst my chest
And my senses perceive what I meant to do

Breathe.

I breathe the essence of the day,
I breathe the thoughts that come into my head
I breathe anything
So long as it doesn't suffocate me

And here I'm my lord
Grasping for air, I have come to a stop
I'm no longer sure
If this is the path that I must walk
To get to you

She said, “randomness is non-existent, right?????”

I replied while quizzically looking at her, “I supposed...”

Then she went on to say:

When I was at the bus stop, I looked at the blue sky, and suddenly, birds were flying into my mind, but there were no birds in the sky. There were only clouds, and these clouds, were shaping my thoughts and the way I experienced my reality.

Anyways, while observing these birds flapping their wings, I saw feathers rain upon the sidewalk. These feathers tickled my senses to the point that laughter took a hold of me and made me sputter nonsense to the guy who sat beside me. Eventually, he looked at me soaked in bewilderment, and subsequently, ran to the next bus stop to dry himself out of the fear I had drenched on him. Meanwhile, the feathers gather together in ponds, and a small child who stood silently behind me, jumped to Splish-splash them upon the air. Everyone around him got wet in amazement. Their eyes wide-opened while their mouths wowed as the child in the spur of the moment looked as if he grew wings to fly towards his mom who just minutes ago had called him, “Angel!”.

Sigh she took a deep breathe then whispered in a excited tone, “it was a magnificent sight.”

I looked at her puzzled and when I was about to utter a word, she looked at me attentively as if inspecting every hair on my head then she went to ask again:

“Randomness is nonexistent, right????”

I may stationed in my dreams,
seeing the past pass by,
And reality collide into memories
that I have yet to live

That's what it seems

little frogs
water plants;
with a jump

I have no written my thoughts
I used to carry with myself a phone
And though, I still carry with myself a phone
I have not written my thoughts

I became busily scared
to type then share
what goes on in my head.

I used to type what came through me
With no worries, with no stress,
I only typed as my mind became blank
Then images popped and form Just like that
They appeared before my eyes
Then my heart became a brain
And the brain became my heart
My fingers suddenly listen to my soul
And I found myself typing words,
The connection of soul, heart, and mind
Something I cannot explain
But I was typing what I felt
When my mind became blank
As my heart became my brain
And as my brain became the heart
That pumped the words
to be written by my fingers
Onto my phone

And that's just what I used to write
And I became busily scared

a cricket
bugs a frog
on a log

And so my will,
It's the captain and I'm the ship

It guides me out of turbulent seas
It leads me towards peaceful seas

Or with me it sinks.

a deer eats green grass
as winds sway pastures in warning;
a tiger leaps, ******!

Ripples of emotions forming on its own;
My heart seems to be a lagoon
And my feelings some kind of rock:
First, tossed over the surface,
Then, falling deep within my soul...

I guess, that's what some people call love.

I've grown to hate you Hate
And I hate that I hate you
Because I've never truly hated you
I simply loved every feeling
Every emotion
in my body

I cherished everything
Every single feeling that made me human
But Hate, you are inhuman

a cricket
chirping
flies

a spider
webs a plant;
on the wall

Poetry is not about how well you rhyme
or how good your rhythm is.
It's somehow similar to life,
in the sense that you just live like this:

           Not knowing what it is.
           Yet searching for bliss,
            we live just to live
           With or without a motive

The same goes with poetry
We don't know what truly is.
Yet searching for bliss,
We write just to write
With our without a motive

Will my Will ever be
my spirit taking a hold of me?

Yes, indeed
that's what it is

a captain taking hold of his ship.

I long for the day, education would be free
Where studying is not an obligation
But a passion to know about our world
Where hunger is a forgotten word
amid our stomachs
But not amid our souls

I long of the day, when starvation would
**** no one but the spirits of evil doers
To be reborn
Into a world
Where those who work work:
As a means of filling up their spiritual void,
of giving their time to our world,
of Passing up time for the sake of protecting those
who would decide to live a normal life,

But also
As a means of getting closer to God.

I don't know
But somewhere in my chest
I feel you

It must be the warmth
This energy that comes from within
That keeps me alive
And at the same time feeling stable

It must be this feeling
That comes from within
that warms me up
From the center of my chest
Until this energy flows
Through out my body

It must be this feeling I get that I don't feel anything else

Love, you are like a bee,
You make my heart buzz and buzz,
Until I work to make honey,
That I won't even eat

Can I tell you something?

I dislike planning.

Whenever I plan, things don't go accordingly.
Plus, with the whole concept of planning,
I immediately force myself to expect
an outcome. And as many of you know,
expectations, if don't met, can hurt.
Does this phrase sound familiar:

"Never expect anything in return".

But why are we so afraid of getting hurt?

As far as me goes, I am not afraid of getting hurt and experiencing
disappointment because disappointment (if handled correctly, with a positive view) can help an individual grow.
It can make a human become down-to-earth because it constantly remind us that all of us are humans and thus are perfectly imperfect.

Then why is it that I dislike planning?

If you listen carefully, you will hear the waves:
come crashing at your feet
then ebb back to the ocean - in retreat.

With no will.
With no will.

And if you see carefully, you will see the waves:
rise up higher, in turmoil,
then be plain with the ocean - remain still.

With no will
With no will

And if you feel carefully, you will feel the waves:
wet your skin
then dry off

With no will
or so I believe

July 10, 2016

What if in our brains lays the answers to our every question?
And poetry... is the method that we can use to Find them?

Let's say our brain is a big maze in which our answers are scattered throughout.
And the only way to get them, it's to find the path that leads to them.

Let's say that every activity that each of us does, creates a new path within the maze...
Then poetry is the activity that could open and create different paths in our brains that could trigger the finding of new answers.


April 30. Ramblings.

May be, I am this book on my lap?
the one I usually close to nap.
Then I awake to open it again
but its content makes no sense
Then it does, later, it does not...

May be, I am this pen on my hand?
The one I always seem to understand
whenever I write my ideas down.
It feels like we are fully synchronize
except when its ink runs out...

May be, I am the sofa where I sit?
The one that's quiet and usually doesn't quit
it keeps on holding someone else's weight
Until the weight becomes too much
And then it breaks...

May be, I am just a human like everyone else?
The one that's feels a certain way
but the way she feels
It's not justified by the way she lives
Yet still, she feels like this....

And she doesn't know

Why?

From today onwards,
I will choose to see the world
as there is no evil nor any goodness
But rather
as there is a bunch of ignorance
caused by a lack of a fully developed intellect
in humans

Everyday,
I will strive to be less of an ignorant
But I will try to remember
that no matter how much knowledge I posses
I will always remain an ignorant

I will choose to give my very best every single day
even when my very best isn't enough,
but least, at the end of the day,
I won't live with regrets;
Other than, with the regret
that my very best isn't good enough.

I will also choose to doubt everything
Even my own self
Until I no longer doubt
And everything becomes clear.

And when I find myself thinking negatively,
I will continue to do so, just to get an idea of
the worst case scenario
To later gather the positive aspects
And move forward from there

I will choose
while I have the choice to do so.

I wish to sleep
In the petals of a rose
And never again open this eyes of mine,
I wish to smell the fragrance
and sleep, forever,
forever more

But everytime
I close this eyes of mine
I awake somewhere
And I do not know where i am at,

Though it isn't a rose
Where I sleep
Nor the petals that I feel,
It just my bed,
The bed sheets,
And me,
awake again

Trying to find some rest

In my dreams

I'm a plant, aren't I God?
I always seem to extend my faith
towards the light

As if my faith were branches,
trying to reach you
wherever you are,

It's just growing and growing,
Becoming greener and greener,
But too green
to fully understand
that the drier One gets, the easier
One burns with the fire of hell

You know it,
I know it,
We all know it,
So what's next?

I am not deem to be a judge
Whatever I read
Screams back at me

And I can't tolerate the screams
They are too loud
For my ears to hear

I try to stretch my thoughts
like mozzarella in a grill
but all I end up with
is with a burnt cheese

You were like an eye lash stuck in my eye,
I felt you there, but I could not see you,
I always cried but I didn't know why,
You bothered me, and hurt me,
But I pretended nothing was there,
So I rubbed my eye until the tears faded.

If by chance my lord you hear me,
Please, help me think clearly,
Help my heart feel ease
Help my mind feel at peace
Help my soul connect with both
yes, with my heart and mind, with both

And if by chance dear god you hear me,
Help me be at peace,
Clear my thoughts from unwanted thoughts
Yes, my lord purify my body and soul.

I'm feeling it, is coming,
Is near... My dear,
The year of fear...
But I won't shed a tear.
Courage would be the gear,
I'll wear.
it'll protect me from the spear
that fear may throw at me.

My lord, my God,
You are my world.
In you, I live.
In you, I am alive.

Without you, I'll be
not even dust.
I'll be nothing for sure,
yes, not even a ghost.

Whether this feeling I feel
is mine to keep
is not something I feel
that should deprive me of my sleep

Often, those feelings come
like a flame burning my chest
and I guess,
I feel like remnants of a mess
left after a fire has devoured
what was once

a me

but now

with the opportunity to start
Afresh.

And if in my sleep, I find me
widely awake,
I would question, if this is me
Or just a dream
But if in my sleep, I find me
Well asleep,
I may not question, if this is me
Or my dreams,
I would simply sleep.

Subsequently,
If while awake, I find me
Kind of asleep,
I may question, if this me
is me or a dream

Though
if while awake, I find me
Widely awake
I have to say, I would simply live.

If you are going to do anything
Do it without regrets
Don't think about it twice
But if you do, then don't do anything.

And I guess
All I really want
Is silence
Peace
Resonating within me

From arrows
hangs my heart;
feeding crows

fireflies in the sky
as night time falls with a kiss
lovers in the park

a green leaf
houses dews
like rivers

a toddler
with loud barks
jumps the dog

One thought can be good
While the other can be bad
And then, those thoughts fight,
Until one of them wins the battle...

But which thought might win
Which thought is it the good one?
Which thought is it the bad one?
How exactly are we to know?

I know both thoughts are fighting,
And not always the good one wins
it's until we see the end effects
That we can know which one was which one.

But is there a way, to actually identify which one is good?
And which one is bad?
How exactly are we to know?

I can think the bad one is good
And similarly,
I can think the good one is bad,
But is it that We have no way of telling one from which?

I know there must be a way,
But the way, I do not know,

I know that having proofs doesn't always
tell if someone is good
Or someone is bad
Because proofs can be made up

But how exactly should I know which one is which?
Though my instinct, or my intuition,
Or my intellect, or through them all?
I'm unsure...

An ignorant man knows how ignorant he is
only when he knows he knows nothing
otherwise he is ignorant of how ignorant he is.
Yet an ignorant man who knows how ignorant he is,
In itself, cannot be, just an ignorant man.

a human
skins lions
into coats

I'm doing what I was doing
When I stopped doing what I was doing
So doing what I was doing
Will help me do what I stopped doing

And subsequently,
I will be doing what I should have not stop doing

That is, write poetry.

a mountain
echoes gun shots
eagles soar

on a branch;
a bird pecks with fear,
crack!

a dog barks
woo woo woof!
to women

To be your blanket and your bed of dreams,
To be your pillow, the one you could embrace,
it's not what I wish to be
But to be the lover in your life:
The one you could embrace,
The one that could embrace you as well,
That's what I wish to be
Yet to be a lover in your life:
I first need to approach you in the streets,
Or wherever the place that you may be at

a dark cloud
storms rivers
with raindrops

You were fire? No, you were water.
And in you, I dove.
And in you, I swam.
And from you, I drank...
till I drown?

But you weren't just water. Were you?
You were fire.
And in you, I walked.
And in you, I ran.
And from you, I burned...
till I died?

But you weren't just that...were you?

You were the fire and the water.
You were both, simultaneously.
You quenched my thirst for love.
You extinguished the flames of fear that devoured me each day
with your water of love.
And when the water rose, and too much love was drowning me,
you evaporated the waters, with your fire of trust till I could have my own space to breathe...

But you weren't just that... Were you?

You were also the air.
The one I breathed in.
The one I breathed out
every day?

You were also the earth.
The one that I walked on.
The one who supported my weight?

You were the four elements in one.
And in turn, you became
an important element in my life.

flowers in a crown
people gathered round a plaza
a lady stands out