Sometimes,
I feel like an old soul trying to find rest
Just rocking my chair
To and fro
To and fro
To the rhythm of the day
To the breeze that greets my hair
To the lightbulbs in the porch
To the moon above the roof
To the squirrels in the trees
Just to and fro
Just to and fro

L.L.

Nov4

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.

I think I fried my brain.
my god, I can't think. I am in pain.
I studied a book per day,
Okay, perhaps a page a day...
but I think I thought too much
my head hurts with a touch
And if I stretch my thoughts a bit,
they break with a crunchy noise

I dreamt I was a bench
where people sat to see:
the sun afar the road
the trees that grew so tall
the sprinkles turning on
the grasses going green
and overall,
dear nature moving them
as I remained unmoved
just standing there
with all their weight
rested only on me.

I,


would love to smell
like roses sweet

And I,

would love to be
like roses sweet


but I....

--------------------- can't be.

for I,

am some bird
that jumps on roses sweet
and lands
on thorns that sting


till I,

---------------------bleed.


Yet I,

stopped to pray for roses sweet,
and soared the skies
to see the ground from which I stood

till I,

.............................found me.

but I,

saw the lands to be barren;
petals fallen,
no more roses sweet

---------------------just me.

lo que yo tengo
son muchas ganas de escribir
y estas ganas que yo tengo
aun que escriba no me dejan vivir
Quizas, ese es mi destino,
el destino que yo misma escoji.

Sally-Sam 'silently' sings in her mind 'aloud'
her mama screams: "Sally-Sam!"
But Sally-Sam startled, wide-opens her eyes.

She asks: "Mama, can you read my mind?"

Sally-Sam is six, skinny, and sweet.
She swirls with her flowery skirt, legs crossing in twirls,
with shoulders sassily scintillating a shrug.

her mama says, "come here, silly girl!"

But Sally-Sam still in shock stays in her spot.
Unsound, still silently singing her song,
she asks again, "mama, can you read my mind?"

Her mama says, "Sally-Sam!"

And Sally-Sam giggling and with a big smile says,

"Mama! How do you know my song?"

Somedays,
I want to scream my soul out
And just be a ghost
Wandering through time

But I'm flesh and bones
(I thank God for that)
who screams and nothing comes out
Not a single sound

For fear to scream too loud
And scare the people in my life
For fear that I might scream too loud
what I'm unsure is right.

Do you know why you love her poems so much?
Because just like you, she is a beginner,
There isn't much quality in her poems for you to chew,
She feeds her readers purée,
Yum, no doubt,
But I as a reader prefer to chew
And put these teeth of mine
to some used

Is it possible God...
That we are like flour being sifted?

Has this flour of ours
been sitting upon the sifter of time
just sifting the clumps
that accumulated from keeping
the flour of ours
unmoving for a long time?

Must, we, be in a constant movement?

Could it be...
That each of us is a particle of that flour,
separating evenly, removing the lumps,
So that we all, together, could be baked
into a perfect loaf of bread?

Or could it be...
that each of us is like a package of flour
that must be sifted?

February 26, 2015

Sing me to sleep, my darling dear.
Wrap me in your arms
Let me hear the beating of your heart
Kiss my forehead
And in you, let me rest.

Sleep has always been a part of me
I sleep even in my dreams,
Though sometimes sleep is hard to do
when responsibilities affect sleep
Regardless I dream to sleep and close my eyes
I simply want to just sleep day and night.

my poems
like the moon;
reflect light

little frogs
water plants;
with a jump

a spider
webs a plant;
on the wall

Tears were blooming like roses,
Born from the roots of pain, stemming from eyes,
And those eyes, had irises of thorns,
brown and sharp,
And those tears, were falling on cheeks,
Like petals,

With a fragrance that everyone could understand.

There was a time
when life
Just like a rhyme
was force
But just like a rhyme
there came a time
When life
was no longer dull

a tv
wires a man
to a sit

I was like a wheel rolling,
Just rolling
Moving
Your feelings
My feelings
Till we got upset stomachs
No more butterflies
fluttering in our hearts,
just sick
from all this rolling
Just sick
from all the moving

So i stop rolling
So I stop moving you

And that was it

On the waterway,
a white heron watches clouds;
And while passing by,
a couple see the water;
reflect over the heron.





L.L.

Has the Wind stop blowing?
said the frog with fearful croaks

Can you hear not its whispers to the tree?
Can you feel not how it moves it to the roots? Asked the ant.

To which the frog with a jumped replied,
Croak! I hear the winds,
But I also feel how the trees
shake in fear.

In a moment, a bird came flying by and while fluttering its wings said:

I hear not
I see not

But I feel the Wind, its gentle touch.
I feel the wind, it's refreshing love.
I simply feel that there's nothing to be afraid of.

To which the ant replied,

That's because if your tree were to fall,
If your ground were to be Shaken up,
with your wings, a blessing of The Lord,
you can fly anywhere else
and find yourself a home.


....

To be continued

I'm once again, falling in this depression.

I was told don't walk too close from that crater,
Many have been excavating the truths from this Earth,
Men have searched for the mysteries of the heavens
And look, how deep their excavations have become

Now Fear, the height. Fear, the depth.
For if by walking too close from that crater,
(That deep crater that you see there!
With no end...)
Your foot may trip and with your foot
your whole body may tumble down
Into that hole of vastness

You'll find yourself falling in desperation
Just falling without fully comprehending
the depths found within the walls of that crater.

And while falling, you'll pray to reach the end!
But there is no end, no bottom, no nothing,
You'll fall and fall, helplessly, and in lamentation

You'll try to hold from anything, from any rock,
your hand will try to grasp from anything, from any rock,
But there's nothing, just a hole of vastness

A vastness
That your mind won't be able to comprehend
And you'll be falling, and falling,
in this depression.

But if you are walking too close from this crater,
And it's not just curiously that accompanies you,
Then be prepare to excavate and explore,
Not just the walls but
the depths and the vastness of this crater.

If not, you'll fall and fall,
But all you'll find is nothing.

There's this thing called the ego,
It likes sitting on the passanger sit,
Until it takes the wheel,
Then it stirs us into a steep road,
Away from everyone in our lives,
It just drives us towards a steep hill,
Where everyone looks like ants,
And it continues driving,
Until it drive us crazily mad,
And we just feel like getting away from those ants
Or we just feel like stepping on those ants,
Because it feels like the ants,
are coming towards us,
As if the ants are walking on our skins,
And we itch and itch to just scratch
But this ego continues driving us away,
more and more towards that steep road,
Where everyone keeps looking like ants,
Unless we take the wheel back.

March 3, 2015

Who am I but some matter
that matters not in the entire universe
but who ultimately matters
to those that matter to this matter anyway

First, I was a can of soda,
bubbly and sweet,
but later, I was a can of soda,
that became squashed by your feet.
Empty and with nothing else to give,
someone found me,
and recycled me
to become a keychain in their hand.

on my bed-
stars reflect
a mirror

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

Whether I'll write or not,
it's not the question
for I wish to write today
tomorrow,
and the day that follows

The question is
whether I'll have time
today, or tomorrow,
or if I'll be here to write
the day that follows

No one knows.

the songs we sing
are nothing but notes;
just knots in our chests,
melodies in our throats,
that ache to be heard
that yearn to unknot themselves
from our vocal chords
from the symphonies
of our thoughts.


Nov 30, 2015 8:34 pm

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

The old though wrinkled
are far more flexible in thought
than the young,
they may not stretch physically,
But mentally,
They stretch, slash,
exercise their mind, as the days go on.

This doesn't apply to everyone,
But just a few or some,
And to those, that this apply to,
Maybe old yet wiser than the young.

I may have forgotten why I wrote
But it was something related to
Spiritual growth

The more I typed my thoughts
the more I learnt about life
And the more I realized
that thoughts are not necessarily
what define us

It is the actions we take
Independent of our thoughts
That define who we are

Thoughts can be simulations
of reality
That allow us to see into the future

but they can also be
memories that help us Relive
the pass

.......

In a room, a girl read the bible
eagerly, so eagerly to learn the truth

curtains opened up
the sun shone through
the night fell

the girl continued reading, reading
non stop
non stop

until the truth was found not in the verses
not in the prose

but in her soul.

There's a time for everything...
Like the distinct watches that exists,
We created them.

You how the clock ticks?
well, it ticks.

I was at the store storing soda bottles,
tuna cans, and tomato sauce
all in plastic bags

The cash register beeped.

-Cash in. Cash in-

From tight jeans, I pulled wallet up.
I grabbed credit card.
I paid the total price amount.

Then the clock started to tick

beep beep beep

Just like the cash registered

-cash in. cash in-

I thought you were the benches at church
where people knelt for support.
I thought you were the incense in the air,
that filled the entire church.
I seriously thought that was your smell.
and that if I closed my eyes,

you will be there,

I thought, I thought

I only thought...

but how silly, ah, I don't need to close

my eyes

to know you are there.

a human
skins lions
into coats

roses, roses I would like
to place some on the table
to have some by my side
so I can feel you near
Oh near to my heart!

like roses, roses white
oh so lovely, so lovely as they are
to remind me of your fragrance
to remind me of your smile

Too thin to break
Too thin to be
Like a piece of paper
I wanted to be

With lines on me
With lines on me

So I could speak without having to think
So I could speak as if someone wrote phrases in me

But I'm too thin, too thin to break
That when i speak without having to think
Like a piece of paper, I'm blown away
And soon, I find me blank
With nothing written on my mind.
And I start to think, I start to think
Until I am too thin, too thin to break

And I break, oh I break

into little pieces... And that's my end.

I cried yesterday night
in hopes
that a tear
would be you

right there
under the moonlight
caressing my cheek
making me feel
as if you
were there

with me

embracing me in your arms

Our hearts beating
to the sound of crickets
And our minds
lost in each other eyes

And I just cried...

I cried a tear and only one

Before you arrived

Your lips have been stitched up,
your words have been mummified,
Here you await,
in this tomb, putrifying no more,
But getting old and lost.
Almost turning to dust.

To meet in Halloween night
what a witchy spell that was

to dance and feel the music
resonate in our hearts,
It's too feel the rhymth of friendship
tap our senses,
pulling us closer apart.

I want to sip and sip from the wine of knowledge
And be drunk without worries
But I rather just want to sip and sip from the water of wisdom
And remain sober,
Until I become purify
Until I satiate my thirst to understand life
Until I feel hydrated with joy
Until I feel alive

Quizas mi lengua se acostumbro
a el silencio,
que ha dejado de formular palabras,
tal vez,
mis labios se acostumbraron a los tuyos,
Pero en cuanto el silence se quedo callado
Fue cuando mas hablamos

Sweet nothing, there's nobody,
Just a hollow vague and vast void
An eternal wound opening up
Bleeding out pain,
And not leaving a time to form a scar
Right here, in this chest

Sweet nothing, that's how my eyes look,
Like staring into oblivion,
lost, gazing into a wall, a concrete block,
That blocks the streets where people pass by,
Brick by brick, building up dreams,
Blocking out reality,
Forming a facade of fantasies,
where light is visible only by climbing these dreams,
And I lost the strenght,
I feel tired, gazing into a wall,
like staring into oblivion, forgetting how it feels to see,
beyind this wall

And what do you know,
Look at here.
You see that book.
Grab it.
Read it.

It's covers are old. Dusty. Almost broken.
It's pages are yellow, almost ashen,
But it's letters are readable.

Just grab it.
Read it.

These type of books are the substance
For your mind.
If you feel hungry for knowledge,
Search for one,
Just like this one, here, have it.

Read it as if you were eating
Your favorite food.
Slowly, chewing and chewing,
Bit by bit, as if not wanting
Your food to ever finish.

Remember,

These sort of books with substance,
are what your mind needs.

Grab it.
Read it.