Would you rather
Have to shout all the things you want to whisper,
Or have to whisper all of the things you want to shout?

You're like that really old brick building,
From the sixteen hundreds.
The one covered in vines and flowers.
It's so old, and beautiful.
But I feel that,
If I look too hard at either one of you,
You'll crumble to the ground.
And all of the history will be lost.

I haven't driven out to see either of you in a while.
I hope you're both still okay.
I think I just want to remember you
The way you were.
I want to shout this,
But I can barely manage a whisper.

He was ready when they came to take him
stepped out to the day as in a dream
and with a face unmourningly serene
entered the waiting palanquin!

How quickly passed his seventy years
he felt having spent not a year even
now on a ride on the bearers’ shoulders
his lips moved in prayer to heaven!

His heart was not weighed with grief
but a resignation deep and tranquil
there comes a day one has to leave
preordained by kind God’s will!

That way he had wanted it to be
when death came to knock on the door
would hear him say I am ready
won’t keep you waiting a moment more.

Through the hush when rang last bell
and to the wind his breath was free
echoed through the mourners’ wail
the untamed refrain *I am ready.

hate the minds not like you
hate the ones not of your faith
hate them that question you
hate that the world is diverse
and not converging to your views
hate when there's nothing left to hate

**yourself.

If, for every time I long to hold you in my arms, for every instance I wanted to kiss you, for every time my heart started to beat faster for you, for every night I've stayed up wanting you in my bed, for every time you've brought a smile to my face,

If each of these thoughts were flowers, this garden I walk through would be never ending.

I plant these "I love you"s in this earth I walk upon and they take root in the soil of my heart as well and grow with the permanence of a bough that has no intentions of letting anything uproot it's presence on this earth.

These flowers need the sun and I need you.

I don’t get feminism.
The term, that is.
When they ask, "Are you a feminist?"
I reply, “Sure.”
They nod in bobble-head approval.
“I’m also a childist and animalist”
A confounded grimace glazes over
“Huh?”
“Of course. Aren’t YOU a childist?
Aren’t YOU an animalist?”

“Uh. What do you mean?”

“Well, don’t you believe that children
and animals should be treated with love?”

“Well, naturally.”

“Well. There you go. You’re a childist
And animalist.”

"Besides,  you would extend this love
To all sentient beings, I’m assuming?”

“Ummm. Yes...”

“Well, then, you’re a masculinist too,
Just like me!”

This is about the time their cell buzzes
Or their double soy frap is ready

They whisk away

“Oh, I’m also a worldist!” I belt out

Before they exit

As I resume reading
Remaining clever, and

Alone.