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The brain is a pretty rad little doodad. Sitting atop your neck, buzzing with blood and budding thoughts like an apple tree in spring.
I think it's fascinating that we're still quire clueless as to how it really works.
There's one particular part that still fascinates me, namely, memory.

Memories are the cranial equivalent of keeping a diary or writing in a journal. a collection of feelings and happenings of days gone by and words once said.
There are a few journal entries, if you will, that stand out to me. Ones I made with a girl... let's call her B.

If B were here right now, I'd look her in her big brown eyes and ask her:

Do you remember?

Do you remember the divine way the curves of your body fit into mine was we lay in an amorous embrace amongst the blankets and downy pillows?

Do you remember the way I told you a million times that I loved your hair. Your angelic, graceful hair, even though you thought it was too long and too messy?

How we walked through the forest for hours, talking about nothing and nonsense, and how we sat on a log for what seemed like eternity until I manufactured enough courage to finally kiss you?

They say that elephants never forget, and every time you cross my mind I feel my nose getting a little longer and my skin turning a little greyer.

Do you remember? Because I sure as hell do.

Do you remember how adorable you looked in those pajama pants of mine that were about a foot too long for you because you forgot to bring your own?

Do you remember how we sat on a bench and watched the birds flit from feeder to feeder as the sun waved us a crimson farewell?

Do you remember the feeling of your lips upon my lips, and the simple fact that it is impossible to properly describe that in any banal combination of 26 tired characters?

Do you remember the bittersweet intermingling of the smells of my eighty dollar cologne and your forty dollar shampoo?

Do you remember the way we looked into each other’s eyes? The vast universes of possibilities leaping from neuron to neuron behind those irises?

Wonderful memories. Pleasant memories. You couldn’t ask for anything better than these kind of memories. But there’s more. And there’s a reason why they’re just memories.

I remember the way the blood drained from my face like your used bath water circled the drain in my bathtub, and how my heart went on strike and stopped beating when you told me we couldn’t be together.

I remember how similar the crunch of the leaves and twigs under our booted feet sounded to the cracking and shattering of my sanity as you drove away on that sombre day.

I remember all of the dreams my brain pumped out of its pitiful pineal gland in a futile attempt to travel back in time.

I remember the empty spot in my bed and the gaping and gushing hole in my heart that still exists

But for all of these melancholy memories, these rotten ruminations, the beast of anger has yet to rear its matted mane.

In fact,

I thank you.

I thank you for this sadness, this regret, this longing, and this acute absence of rage,

For it is proof that I am alive.

I thank you for this sorrow, for this awful ammunition, for inspiration to machine masterpieces from the melancholy.

For what is light without darkness?

What is life without death, and love without loss?

So thank you.

I look back on our shared seconds not with eyes full of misplaced malice and fury,

But with gratitude.

Because even through tragedy

The heart survives.
i walk

brain dragging

behind me

(a suitcase)

this is what i have

this is what i know

this is what i am

did i leave my oven on?

will my apartment

(along with my neighbors)

be spent cinders

when i return?

a line of yellow tape

a shyly raised hand

this is all i have

this is all i know

this is all i am



(out of room)

(out of time)

(out of spite)

(out of rhyme)



rummaging through my suitcase

on the sidewalk

for my key

(if it’s yours

you have to prove it)

this really is all my




pushing past my


looking beneath my


i find the only thing

i ever really had

in a place where it can never be turned to ashes

i am all i have

i am all i know

i am all i am

seeing it safe

slightly scuffed but still intact

(contrary to cruel conveyancing)

i wrap my heart in a dying thought

building a fortress of drying observation

around a charred husk

of burnt-out hope

applying it firmly

between clenched teeth

(edging out gravity with pressure)

behind zipped lips

still, i walk

brain dragging

behind me

(a suitcase)

It was Christmas eve and last minute
Shoppers were running frantically
As I walked out my front door
What to my  astonishment and surprise
A little boy sitting with a puppy in his lap
Looking up to the sky.

I asked : are you o.k. ? he replied : no ! not really !
Every year I find a spot to sit Down and look around
Of how free will can be put to the ground.

Why does man thrive on pain , suffering and war
When they have another door !
A door of peace, happiness and love
Sent to them from my father above.

I know since my birth it has gotten better
And people are finding their faiths once again
And love is filling many hearts and souls
But true happiness and peace should be their goal.

I see so many children abandoned and left in
the streets with out food or drink.
In the middle east and Asia- little girls lives
Are being taken and destroyed
Over the birth of a little boy.

Without the females this world would cease to exist
I would not be here if not for my mother
And like her there is no other.

Why would man want to take a life at birth
This is the most precious thing on this earth.
The children are so happy when they celebrate my birth
And receive gifts as I had done before
When the three kings opened up that gift giving door.
Yet ! I sit here reflecting on centuries gone by
With tears  in my eyes.
But also with joy and fulfillment in my heart
Knowing this is the season for a brand new start.

Look into the eyes of every child that passes by
And you will see that gleam in their eyes
And love in their hearts, if they are led in the right direction
Mankind will be closer to perfection.

I could not believe what I was hearing and asked:
Who are you ?  He turned and smiled and said:
I am your father my son, and I’ve come
To help everyone.
Everyone who seeks my father
I will respond in his name.

“Then he faded from my sight”
And I prayed for peace and love that same night.

             WHO WAS HE ?

© L . RAMS
She'll admit,
she's not particularly
proud of some
of the things
she has done,
but everyone makes
she feels like
complete ****.
More worthless
than dirt on the
bottom of her shoes.
She has many regrets.
She has many memories,
that she'd like to erase,
but in the end, it all
makes her human....
Am I obsessed? What's wrong with me?
Why am I so jealous of you?
Why do I care so much about your opinion?
I want to be your friend....badly, but I don't know why.
You hate almost everyone, including me, but I wish we were friends.
Your hair is long and straight, wherever it falls, it looks perfect.
Your eyes are big, brown, and beautiful; eyelashes long and dark.
Your voice is so nice and your laugh is the adorable type that every girl wishes they had.
You speak your mind and don't care what people say.
You have the perfect body and the nicest clothes.
Your face is so pretty, with no acne in sight. You aren't even vain...
While you look gorgeous over there, I'm over here with all of my insecurities laid out in front of me for everyone to see.
So I have to ask: Is this an obsession?
What's wrong with me?
I don't know these answers, but I do know one thing.
....Envy Will Ruin Me....
Never let them see you cry...

Never show them how much you die inside.

All it ever leads is to heartache,
broken dreams, and wishful thinking....
Sense is in no thing; No sense in nothing; and, Nonsense in noting it
where are my socks?
lost in neither sun nor sin
which door did I use to get in?
keep on telling myself
last this day
stay one more day
home is burnt, home is gone
hope is lost, hope is wrong
feels like Ive been a stranger all my life,
light down - when the night falls?
people smile,
people cry,
but they say, they're doing just fine...

I miss home, the only real image I hold
monsters are waiting by my bed side
waiting for me to push the covers aside
hearts like empty rooms
flames after smokes
this comes and go's
what did you pack my bag with mommy?
a box of candles for a city under the sea?
through it all
wherever the road will take me
I know now nothing like
could break me.

it's time to go
but the voice echoes
Alireza, where are your socks?
You’re like the sun when there is a storm,

black clouds filter your aura so warm.

One day, you'll have the time to shine

from up in the sky on your throne so divine.

Don’t let the clouds dampen your mood,

the sounds that they make are at best crude.

The rain falls down, not up, so don’t fear.  

*The storm will pass and the sky will be clear.
I wrote this poem for a close friend of mine. She shared with me how, a few years ago, someone told her that she should **** herself and that the world would be a better place without her. Luckily, she paid no attention to those horrible remarks, and became an inspiring, beautiful girl. She showed me that there are some truly genuine people left in this world. Sometimes you just have to let the critics pass so you can truly shine.
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