Everyday, every night,
when the sun or the moon is out
I think about you, mom and dad

Whether the weather surprises us
with a cool and refreshing breeze,
with hail or tornados
With hurricanes or God knows what
I think about you, mom and dad

Whether I’m healthy or sick
whether I’m awake or asleep
I think about you
I think about you all the time

Wander wander lost
without a place to go
always searching,
never finding
what you are looking for

I felt the breeze greet me, tenderly,
like arms that hug, sturdily,
tightly puling closer towards a chest,
with heart, beating,
pump,
pump,
like a wind that leaves one refresh.

Forgive me love,
I've been floating in your currents
Like a castaway who built a boat,
I've been swimming in your currents,
in search for the Earth that I belong,
Where you and I, could build a home,

So forgive me love,
I tried to drown in your love,
But I cannot. I need to breathe.
I need to live. I need to continue give it strokes,
Until I reach the place where we belong.

written in the sky
is my name a star
blinking from afar

The ache the ache is back again
to help me write
to help me rest
Some say I’m cursed
Some say I’m blessed

I think I’m both
I think of course

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

the number of infected people keep on rising
like waves trying to drown us
with anxiety

no one truly knows where these waves are coming from

One moment people bump into each other,
splash! the wave comes. People tumble down
with fever, coughing, grasping for air
trying to come to the surface of those
who are still surfing these oceans with health

suddenly the waves from all over the world come together
a tsunami is formed

many are dead

tomorrow a flower grows
in fields of sorrow, like an anchor that goes
where the wind blows

if I were a boat
sailing alone in the ocean blue
I might sink
right under the bright moon
but if I were that boat
sailing a castaway into safe landing
I would float
regardless of how broken
I may be

I tried writing like I used to write
To find myself along the lines
But I find me a long time ago
And then when I did I stopped

As if I reached some stop sign
Or a red traffic light
And I stayed there
Until again, I started to write

But this time I got lost
I could not fun where I needed to go
Then I tried asking for directions
But it was just me
Lost in my own writes

So once again I ended up at the stoppe sign
But this time, I found you
And by finding you, I found me
I have no motive to get lost

Oh come forth, speak to me my Lord,
I need to hear your words,
For them to guide me to you world.
I need to hear your voice,
For me to follow you, my lord.

I'm just a woman dressed in shame.
Undress me, lord.
See my nakedness with innocence,
And cloth me, lord.
Enwrap me in your mantle of love.

And it is true, that if tomorrow
the oceans go dry
and the seas vaporize
like water in a pan,
I won't know how to react.

I might scream,
I might hear my aunt scream
I might see my grandma rush
to the stove.
I might see my mother
rush to my grandma.
I might see them spill water
from the faucet
onto the pan on fire
While I stand still

still watching how the world reacts
as the oceans go dry
as the seas vaporize
and there isn't a stove
nor water
to set the fire on Earth off.

It's a just a mess, a mess, my mom complains.
why can't you have it organize, cleaned?
I tried. I tried. I cleaned it. I organized it.
But it's always the same.
All I have it's clean clothes. No ***** clothes.
I left them in a chair. I tried to put them away.
I tried. I tried.
But It's so hard to find time to organized my mess.
I just accumulate them. I piled them up.
one by one, one after the other,
I'm sorry, I cannot find time to organized myself.

I'm such a mess.

Freedom is like writing sonnets
without having restrains
Just writing as if it were free verse

That's just what it is

managing to be your own self
despite following the every rule
that are imposed on yourself

If I was the shoe in your foot,
Who was the sock
that impeded us to touch skin with skin?
Who was that sock,
that received the stinks from your lips and absorbed all of the sweat
from your heated days?
Who was that sock,
That I have to thank?

Then do whatever boils your beans,
Do not ask me for a ***,
Nor for a stove,
Don't ask me for a flame,
I have all but clearly you want none

Go figure how to boil your beans
on your own

a kitten
cracking tears
on a chair

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

Water and the rocks,
Splish and splash, the river goes.
And there,
at the top of the mountain,
The moon hangs above the trees

like a boomerang
It comes and goes
As the night falls

Shh, Hear the waterfalls.
And there,
at the riverbank, a wolf howls.

Sometimes you wonder,
is this really what I am meant to do?
And no matter how much you ponder,
the answers don't seem to come to you.

It feels as if you are lost in time,
sitting in a chair in front of a computer,
just wondering and pondering about life,
As if by just thinking, you became a writer.

But a writer mustn't just think,
a writer mustn't just wonder and ponder,
a writer must also type what the writer thinks,
but also what the writer feels as it wonders and ponders.

Yes, it's a tricky thing to do,
To connect the wonders to the feelings
to wonder what to feel
and to feel what one wonders

And  yes, it's a tricky thing to do,
to ponder about wonders
to wonder how to ponder
and to ponder how to feel about what one wonders

It's really a tricky thing do,
to be able to express what one thinks
and what one feels,
without really wondering and pondering,
because ultimately, what one writes
shouldn't exactly be thought out.

it's meant to be filtered out of us.

be creative, they say
make sure your words are beautiful, they say,
poetry, it's about beauty, they say
it has to make you feel something, they say,

but hey!

poetry is thoughts.

that's it.

You are like the light that passes through my eyes
You are like the lenses that corrects my vision
And I would like to wear you every day,
And I would like to never remove you from my head
But everyone needs a space,
And from time to time, I just remove you as if you were my glasses,
And I place you in a safe place,
Where no one could harm you, nor hurt you, nor shatter you,
I just remove you...
I remove you from my head,
And I place you in my heart
to keep you safe

And I like that...

Oh mother gracious!
What is this?

----

I once had bliss!
But now?

----
Ah, spit. Spit!

----
You were like a dish set up on a table.
One that was meant to not be taste by me!

But oh dear goodness gracious!

---

Please. Spit. Spit!

----
for years,
I hungered for a little bite of you.
I indulged, and now,
Just look at me!

I am round like a circle
Circling the table
Biting
more
And
more
Of
You


I want to finish you till the last bite
but I also want for you to last forever more!

I want to be filled by you everyday,
But I don't want to ever feel completely full!


It's just that you are like this!
Some dish!


And now, all I want to do is

Spit. Spit!

Oh Nay!

I just want to eat.