First day of classes it's over, my love.
At last!
I know that every day it'll get harder and harder,
but the good thing is that
every day you'll get wiser and wiser,
and guess what else?
every single day, while you learn more and more
I'll be here, loving you, loving you.
And I'll never stop

My ink flows
as tears roll down my cheek
When I write of that chick
dressed in as snow
the heartbreaker

I write of her tales
the  worst of whom she is
a pretender worst than a murderer
to me an angel she was in my point of view
hoping to have found my perfect match
Only to judge a book by its cover

In my nolstagic memory ,I recall
her beauty and hardwork she was
As time went by ,beauty and hardwork fades away.
Only to learn she's a fox amongst sheep

All that glitters is not gold

What did you say, sugar?
I had only been in Oubari a week or so
Sent to the store for sugar
I was a bit nervous, not scared…
I had been to the local market in this village
High in the mountains of Hokkaido before,
Always with someone who knew some Japanese,
This time, I was alone…
I loved going into this market, it had everything you would ever need to
Live high in the mountains, in a closed down coal mining village
The smells of food, oil, machinery, everything was wonderful…
So I bought the sugar after a real search,
And some help, from a kind elderly man,
I took my sugar home, feeling real good about my venture
But, it was salt,
Do you understand everything, I sure don’t….

The light gives way to the dark blanket of shadows thrown over actuality, smothering the last flicker of infallibility. The blanket weighs heavy on what is and what could be, distorted by depriving it of oxygen, suffocating the mind of realism. For what is, is now what could be and what could be, is reality. What could be is suffocating amidst normalicy and routine fallen to fear. But what could be, will never remain what is.

And this is my first
Of all the people, but you
The gravity of your body
Calls me to fall from the heaven
The crashing of the sun and moon
The collision of two souls
Like attracted magnets
Of positive and negative
Bombarding each other
With nothing but pressure
Your lip did the deed
From my neck to where I
Try to gasp for some air
And I am feverish
And burning with where
Your hands walked endlessly
Time stood still
The angels are watching
I never tasted something
Sweeter than what is now
But forgive my selfishness
I need to breathe some air

*And I'll leave it all here

I started tearing a tissue.
An old tissue in which the cotton is easy tearing apart.
I tore it into stripes,
Twitch it in the small pieces of cloth.
It was a summer afternoon,
I sat slumped on the kitchen floor.
In the distance you could hear the radio.
Last night I cried.
And this morning.
In a dream.
Under my withered eyelids
You appeared
Bringing the blossomed memories.
In immoral attempts
You want me sunken.
Red dust of tissue
And that tingling all over me
In this icy solitude
They take you by your waist
And it's like you're here with me,
With your head laid on the ****** tiles.
Suffering floats through the air
Darkened with the walls of smoke.
I'm touching your death,
Calmed for a long time,
I'm saving your pain
In the interior of your ribs.
I can not tell whether this is really you,
Grubby and rotten.
Crushed.
With my lips I'm touching the red clusters of your brain
Which is slowly turning into roses
Or maybe cyclamen.
You are still present here,
Your beauty has not changed
Although your eyes are empty and cheeks sunken.
I wipe your face remains with a tissue
And I cry.
I killed you,
And put your soul in a jar
Painted in the colors of my heart.
And now we are here
Together reclining in clotted blood
Covered with cotton threads
Of a tissue.

What will you do when the trains went by?  

It was a cold winter during the War
It was Germany and the trains kept going by
How did they know the box cars were full of people, stacked like bags of flour?
Going to their death? Screaming for help...
What can I say?

What would we do when the trains came by?
And heard what we thought were cries for help
Or the wheels rubbing against the cold metal tracks
One Church, by the tracks, in this small village, even planned the hymns during the times the trains went by near this sacred place; no one could hear the cries for help...

What about the trains that goes by for us these days
The person of color, the Muslim, the Hmong family down the block
The gay or lesbian teen that lives in fear of his or her classmates & parents and church, mosque or place of spiritual practice...

What are we doing when the trains go by?