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KKM May 2015
In dark purple it says train wreck on your lips
Don’t you dare tell me that you spoke like rivers once
I only see the sea as metallic orange
Like you only see me as the hands of a clock
Time isn’t what kept chipped seashells whole
Empty school parking lots remind me of cold winters
Some days you read the veins in your wrists as maps
Maybe that’s why you left boxes of strawberries in the fridge
When our tradition had been pomegranates
Did we not look up the synonyms for ‘danger’ one night?
I forgot to tell you I love you when you planted daisies in my bones
With purple ink you showed me the way to Mars’ moons anyway
KKM Oct 2014
Rain has never trickled
In my veins like you have,
With your motorbike and
Wheels that go rounder than
Your eyes when you're
Gazing at the twinkling stars
In the pitch black skies
That smell like purple metal
During midnight
When you're laughing with
Your head thrown back
Black locks sway across your forehead
And no moon can begin to
Compare to your glow
You’re my
Ecstasy of a drug
My hidden escape
All I want is
Empty parking lots at 2am
And cold coffee
Even on a winter day
So make it snow
You’ve caused enough flurries
In the back of my mind
The holes in my stomach
Avalanches on avalanches
In the galaxies of my fingertips
Your strength is enough to keep
All the glaciers from melting
Tell me about the time you felt most free
I think I’m tied down to the warmth
That radiates out your smile
Even when you spit the coldest stories
From the days of burnt cigarettes
And vacant, abandoned shopping carts
KKM Mar 2017
you couldn't touch the sky with your fears but roses turned white in your cold hands, did you untuck your shirt because you were tired of formality
or because the rebel in your eyes started fires in your best friends veins so often that he took the bars from the town's jail and handed them to you to re-build into your own castles, do you think you'll be barred forever that way? the tattoo on the back of your right shoulder reads, 'patience; im going to change my heart again' but the rings in your iris tell me that there is no such thing as waiting [for you] & that you've always been chasing the sun
your wrists shake with the hype that flows through your fiery blood but all you do is smile and keep driving down the desserts of arizona so the moon cant keep up
KKM Nov 2014
Quarters spill from my pockets
Contrary to the ways my lies never do
The thickness in lemonade cuts my tongue
& The edges from freshly broken pieces
Try to dissect the 36 syllables in
Your words strung together
By bare teeth and neon truths only the
Moon’s craters ever get to hear,
I'm here but I'm not the gold of the
Moon, I'm a spinning solar system
& You are all the orange waves in the
Oceans breathing life into cold stillness
Still I can't swim because I refuse the
Possibility to drown
But I don’t need water to feel like
I'm sinking & these coins make me heavy
Like your name make me light
How can I be planets when your
Eyes are silver galaxies
KKM Jan 2015
Door’s open, walk into a hallway to cinnamon scents
And broken candies scattered on the table
I felt all your rays beneath the beats that brought me home
Back to gas fire places and engraved wooden floors
In these panels you kept secrets that telephone calls cannot decode
And we’re thunderstorms again
Through letters and postage stamps you learned that
Bones and old maps of veins don’t like being set on fire
In waters made of dust particles and stale sunshine
You could be planting exit signs on the stones you trip over
And the words you burn under your tongue
Silver coated and kissed with burning coal
You missed a step but this is your firewood
Just remember to take your lighter with you the next time you leave
KKM Sep 2014
Could you tell?
That the air one night didn’t smell like purple daises
But rather orange melons
Or how the dust on your bones was starting to melt
Even the way the glint of the moon was once stark white and showed me the ways of the staircase up to old castles studded with green vines and rotting stories
And now only threw me the keys to the doors underneath the grass in the backyard to show me the way down
Hoarding wooden panels and abandoned notes
So I could stop climbing and start wondering
Could you tell at all?
How the rhythm of the beat of the night
Turned from black to metallic
And you didn’t even blink an eye
So when time broke all barriers
And oceans evaporated
You were still blind
You don’t want to grow up.
KKM Sep 2014
Hair string across your bathroom floor
I never hated the yellow light
Like your other friends
But the tiles were always catching my criticism
From the time I spilled oatmeal granola
In your kitchen while you held the milk in your
Hands, laughing as I stumbled after the mess
(Now I know that Sunday mornings aren’t supposed
To be neither clean neither spotless)
To the Wednesday afternoon we spent holding
Galaxies in our palms by your door while it rained
(Now I know music is not just
For sounds or dry escapes)
But most of all, to the Friday I walked onto your
Tiles and felt vacancy in all but one spot
Where you left behind a map as if to
Say, clean up your mess this time
(Now I know that these lettered days
Are just pathways, not destinations)
KKM Jul 2015
sinking in tides that like the blue nights you spent smoking out dream after nightmare until they turned to ashes of shattered glass bottles that once held your dusty peace together only distracted you from the haze left behind from your speed boat of orange memories and endless applauses of accomplishments, you are not a failure just because the ink in your pen ran out of rhymes, you are a full solar system with planets to call your own, the ropes at each moon are yours to call home and no amount of broken silhouettes will track anyone to your tents of stocked up dried out flowers, even when your heart is being licked with cold flames of metals you still cant fail to pronounce with the back of your scorching tongue
KKM May 2015
Smiles that drip with gold sadness and
Run from estranged places go hand in hand with
Blue perspectives and unheard words,
But I’d escape to anywhere with you
By my side if it meant
Danger and orange sunsets
Stale coated eyes and huge skies
Because you taught me that happiness
Is not viable if its not laconic
And the fewest of beating clocks were
Enough to last both a night and 7
Dollars in mere coins
KKM Sep 2014
You walked through every tornado
So you could say that you made it alive
Through wind and rain, snow and ice
Did you bother acknowledging the
Warmth of the sun in your two melted brown eyes
And that you don’t always need to be
Struggling or fighting or competing
With something bigger
Than yourself to win
It might look like glory
Because it tastes like fresh clouds
And small lights hung in the middle of the night
But you’re tougher than tree bark
Put together stronger than bricks
Your cement must be the opposite of an escape
Only, you’ve trapped yourself hunting for a release
KKM Sep 2014
Pens running out ink
But my words are just running
Out of spaces to put themselves in
Trees are grown in allocated spots
So we have room to pick apples
Never sad in their growth
Unless something is wrong
Even bumpy roads are still solid
So if you trip
You’ll end up on the ground
Not beyond the earth
Regardless of the hollow
Veins on the inside of your
Elbow my make you feel
The yellow sprinkled on green
Sprouted on brown
Can bring back home in
City lights and iced coffee
Maybe you’re none of the above
And maybe you’re all of the above
At least know that the wind
Blowing in your face
Could be forever
If you wanted to stay
And allocate your own design
So your branches can also expand
The way your eyes hold
More and more galaxies
Every time you blink
KKM Apr 2014
If you open your eyes,
Hopefully you'll see more
Than the way the moon leans
To light your face in the mirror,
And notice why it does
And all the reasoning
For the dust in your eyes
Will be replaced with
Calligraphic writing
As beautiful as the glinting ways
Of the sun on ice.
Who needs to wear skates now, right?
KKM Oct 2013
because i lost touch with reality,
ventured in my brain a little.
got rid of all the dust, mentally,
and it was the opposite of brittle.
infact theres a whole other world in there,
just for me to vision.
and to be honestly completely fair,
it was always made of indecision.
coming back to the world is like a resurface
but not exactly to breathe air.
my source of survival stays to my own mind, versus,
daily affairs who need my care.
so there,
you see a flare?
of a feeling irreplacable?
untraceable, not erasable.
creative minds dont survive near me,
as my heart has her own philosophy.
even though i do produce cobwebs from time to time,
i have sights to see, places to go and heights to climb.
still, i was never one to fully mime.
im all mine to find, envision and be,
faceless, frenzied, fallible but... free.
KKM Apr 2017
light of a fire, staring in the bright eyes of a tiger as you wear your golden heart on your sleeve & try to fight off watery disaster but it'll come in the form of orange rose petals and bright blue lights and ink from your dangerous veins will seep through the pale of your jeans even on the days that the sun never seems to set as you sit atop a dusty mountain that shares your middle name so you climb back down with a look on your face that could only be one of either light determination or distant satisfaction, like the difference between citrus lime and citrus lemon in a coffee cup enough for 2 morning breakfasts and a sky full of shiny stars that you gracefully painted over with red chalk because you were on an adventure
KKM Mar 2015
the moon doesn't glow so how am i supposed to find my way in the dark even though you left behind maps, a trail of white chocolate chips and all the reasons to wash away the lemon cosmos in my palms like the answers to endless cigarette butts and empty parking lots, its like riding a carousel but my head's on fire and its snowing but the flakes are burning, this winter is shaking with anger and flashbacks from the past that don't dissolve into fresh starts, i drink three glasses of milk every day and walk a lot instead of running but i wish time would fly faster, i've been on this plane for days the sun's about to rise but its imperfect and the clouds are melting
KKM May 2015
you talked like you inked the water green, maybe its sparkles came from the ones in your eyes, that explains the darkness that replaced your pupils in a deep rich purple, when did the fences become so tall that we stopped bothering to climb them, did it bother you that the iron was coated in hard red glass, when we passed by the breakfast diner at 3:42am eight nights ago it shook you up how much freedom you've yet to use up and that's the same reason you left later that morning without packing up anything but a bag of m&ms; and your favourite navy blue travelling blanket, the one with the corner snagged on all the glistening dreams dripping with untreated finality we've yet to accomplish and horror stories by campfires lit to radiate up the dimmest nights, the fact that your silver coated camera is still sitting on your bed says a lot about where you're headed but the fact that the neon frozen yogurt sign is illuminating bright against the ink of the night says a lot about how i'm coping even when my tires are screeching and my legs are bleeding metals you didn't tell me about because our time wasn't spent timed right, the water's turning blue and it shines, not sparkles anymore, i'm climbing fences again so often my hands and knees are bruised yellow and brown, i don't eat breakfast anymore and i'm everything but free but the photos on your camera roll are of apologies, caramel constellations and citrus fruits all in the forms of lies and truths and promises
KKM Mar 2017
-iced coffees and knife tattoos couldn't justify the broken glass glinting off your back, so water down the orange sadness in your grey eyes and start pulling apart the summer nights' convenient secrets
- the gas station 6 minutes from home can teach you a thing or two about energy and mileage but no matter how far you go, the moon will always being its stars along to remind you of brand new ideas and bright eyes; don't blink or you'll miss a gunning thought
- with the loose thread on your hat's embroidery, stitch together 24 dandelions and swallow the ink that runs from the moments that you put you on a golden high; speeding down the highway on the road to a fresh, green burst of adrenaline on the coast is one that turned into silver
- your walk to the white laundromat down the street required a soft cold slurpee that would quench more than just your summer vibe but you picked up a medium iced hazelnut coffee instead and called it 'starting over' so your best friend would be proud of the way you handle new beginnings and stale cookies
KKM Mar 2014
Whatever she saw, she looked at with light,
Struggling to understand she never left without a fight;
"I must know", she argued, an obsession she possessed.
But little did she know, sometimes mystery is for the best.
KKM Sep 2014
Sputtering feathers
Like a gleaming ocean
That has diamonds glued on
The tamest parts of it
Remind me of all the words
You said outlined in gold
Soaked in red petals
They tasted so good
But died fast
You need to put life in the
Glitter that rolls off your tongue
Because all that shines
Does not appeal
Think heartbeats on
Wooden carvings embellished
In the croaking of frogs
On a cool summer evening
Or laughter smoked on the
Leaves of yesterday;
It affects your lungs forever.
Then maybe, autumn won’t
Seem as
Permanent as your
Laconic-less ways of gleaming
May suggest
And find ways of growing
Stems in my liver
KKM Feb 2015
Potted flowers have a base
Something you didn’t have, couldn’t have
I remembered your smell yesterday while
Cleaning out the laundry room – the one with the
Cactus plant you loved and the huge windows with painted
Dragonflies in the corners
Some days I skip 6pm meals
My hair is starting to look like brown rose stems
The thorns landed in my hands and every time
I go to touch you I bleed first
I've started studying maps
The more I try to draw out my way
The more tangled my veins get, stuck to the beat
Of a song glued to the sun of our Monday morning
Pancakes and forehead kisses
I can't get enough of mint chocolate or turtles
The green ones seem too intrepid not to appreciate
The ones in my dreams don’t swim
KKM Apr 2015
tea leaves and a bowl of mints, you're craving a time that left you years ago, now you're seeing yellow every time you blink, but life's not a filter on dreams and if you keep eating pomegranates without salt it could be a problem, your fingertips are already purple from holding too much ice so what will happen to your insides? sparks eventually die out, fires do too, but sometimes they don't, they just take longer to forget and you can't cut flames and smoke with chainsaws like you try to do with your feelings so remember to hold your smile in place and climb every fence it takes for you to slowly learn your red painted constellated lessons
KKM Mar 2017
staple a gun to your heart and call on the sun to melt the silver pieces into one, what i'm trying to say is put yourself back together and let the warmth radiate from your body like it used to, once i saw flowers pouring out your ribcages, now i see icicles freezing over your eyes but don't lose colour in your paints because at least when your brush hits the surface it carries something more than a gunning fresh start and less than a silver burden
KKM Jun 2015
Twilight mornings remind me of coffee tables and study notes
Sometimes I smell spray paint through open windows,
Even on the nights I ditch my cans for insanity
Breakfast-less mornings are recipes for undone laundry
And unturned plant leaves and un-salted tears
One morning, the porch’s railings crumbled in my hands
And fell over on the splattered rug sitting outside the green door
That I stumbled over and waited for fresh milk deliveries on
I find unlit cigarettes on the windowsill that taught me patience
And tornados in a mind that is too beautiful for damaged thoughts
I press petals over open cuts that never get the chance to bleed
And ice the bruises that refuse to turn green
But beside laptop keys that spell out what they know
I hit dlt over and over again; that’s what I know
The only other thing besides surety strung on tree branches
Are orange leaves sharp suns coated in silver
The shark tooth hanging from a string around my neck
Was only a metaphor that caused trouble
KKM Mar 2017
the shore washed up and fell right into your rose filled bones and all that your said was that you're changing your heart again, i dont understand why your favourite flowers are daisies but your hair smells like lemons and i guess yellow burns in your eyes, every time the sun sets to golden tones you pack your bags to run again but nighttime will come faster than that 9:07 train and you'll remember your date with the moon's craters and spray paint cans that hurt your back with the weight, except that graffiti doesn't have much weight to you anymore, paint over the scars, under the bruises, and lick your lips in the light of a streetlamp; there's a ripped up parking ticket in your back pocket & 19 ways out of that burning silver feeling that you can solve in this city by noon tomorrow
KKM Oct 2014
I mistook the candles burning in your veins
For popsicles on a day like July 16th
On the plains of a desert in Dubai
You always cooled the smoke around me
Always kept me from ferrying the wrong way
Even on the hardest to fly occasions
But I didn’t see
(I guess you were burning so bright
That I always took it for your natural light
Like the moon at 12:47 am)
That you were aching so hard you left burnt marks on me
I’m sorry I ran to the ice-cream truck
When what you really needed was an ambulance
KKM Sep 2015
you never left the warm feelings that floated into the veins under my skin, the ink that stained permanent marks a lot like your name did my mind, I remember how your eyes looked in the sun, on Sunday mornings you preferred pancakes for breakfast - ones with white chocolate chips - and you left on a windy winter afternoon for an acting gig you 'couldn't pass up', I guess you weren't that good if i could almost smell the seconds that you'd close the door shut; your scent once owned the whole place. I always knew mountains came with valleys but I didn't know that we were at the edge of the country where the city begins and another time in my life unfolds.
KKM Feb 2015
Pacific seas hold diamonds in their palms but one time I had a race with a tiger and saw melting rubies hidden in these forests littered with letters of lies engraved into tree trunks, thank God we wrote ours on leaf veins and never thought twice about forever even when remembering 10:34 am and raspberry yogurt breakfasts, do your headphones still drill you the same stories drowned in beats? I named eclipses after you and the stars started shining brighter, the sound of your name makes me lighter and I see sparks, forget nostalgia even when it is 12:07 am and I forget what it’s like to have a heartbeat float in silver petals falling from the colours in your ever changing eyes. You brought the feeling of gold so pardon me when I can't swim in pacific waters.
KKM Mar 2017
how many more glasses of milk did you down to clean out the stars in your eyes that never looked directly at the moon who knew your soul corner to corner, at 11:52pm your palms were trying to hold on to something that didn't want to stay, i heard the door open but only silver light came in and nothing but old vibes went out, you never lock your heart like that, the cottage windows remind me of the days we had pink & blue skies with an accent of 32 clouds for breakfast, this yurt smells like the most acidic lemons and ck2 perfume, on the 2 hour and 19 minute drive here you got lost thrice and found your way by through corner-store cookies, a plaid shirt and pens with running ink
KKM Nov 2016
I am what you’re alive for, and I’ll let you start over,
And over again, before the last chance you have is done.
My name is life; though it’s not always fun.
I live in your veins and breathe in your heart,
My name is passion, and I am very smart.
You were born to use me,
To live by me,
And to inhale and exhale me.
My name is love.
You can’t run away from passion, life, or love
But this might inspire you to bring out what’s underneath to above,
To let your inner Van Gogh out or maybe, just your soul.
Pleasing anything and everything but you,
They made it your ultimate life goal.
You may still think that’s exactly what you want.
Engineers, lawyers, doctors with crazy fonts.
But you come to think that maybe that’s not for everyone…
And for that, they all make fun.
But maybe, you’re good for something that doesn’t need you
To memorize formulas, letters, numbers, symbols alike, it’s true!
Maybe you, need to be memorizing shapes, lines, colours, and words that rhyme.
Despite the way no one else has your kind of flow, it isn’t a crime.
Don’t worry about judges or surgeons, with their fancy titles and big pay,
They have their own light, their own great ways.
If you’re better with a paintbrush, then stroke away, or splash, or stipple.
Anything to show them that art is not that simple.
Its takes courage to speak out what the world craves to be said,
If one doesn’t write books or poems, there’s nothing that will be left to be read,
And children rely on stories, it’s what keeps them innocent.
It also keeps the rest of us wide awake and vigilant.
So the world bursts at the seams,
With people aching to fulfill their vibrant dreams,
Of being the ones who can finally fly; oh so very high.
The world is bursting at the seams,
With people craving to feel the colours in ungrouped teams,
That pop and crackle and spark when touched.
Turn into stardust and glitter but in the hands, are tightly clutched.
But there might be a need of people,
Who love dandelions more than roses,
Who stand strong, even as every door closes.
Who play with ice rather than fire,
Who from their risk takings, would never retire.
And who rather they feel the softness of the sand
When the wind blows it around on the beach in their hands,
Than the blankets that they sleep on.
Who look to clean the chessboard of their enemy’s pawns.
But what we see is mainly what we hope to find,
And if we look at life with love we can find it to be amiable and kind,
One can achieve their goals if they let go of the headaches for a second.
Impossibilities should never be counted, thought of, or reckoned.
So breathe; you don’t have much left of your fast travelling time line.
Recite; you don’t have much air left but your voice is just so fine.
Write and your fingertips will never stop screaming,
Just like if you run, you will never stop beaming,
Never hitting the pavement with the steps of wraith.
And if you can feel... then you will always keep close faith.
You have not badly slipped, or played the wrong note.
Because even in the midst of beautiful gardens,
Weeds were never remote.
And then you walk through the streets of love.
Hand in hand with a culture fitting you like a glove,
As the smoke draws you in a feeling not unfit;
Feelings your heart clenches; at least you can hold it.
Some have lost this rare, valued treasure,
In the waters of functions and formulas, always measured.
So never swim with them if you are one to tight line,
At the end of your life you can say, “This life is mine.”
Always one to dream, never one to follow
Never let them tell you the mind is hollow
Always experiment, don’t be the child of a shadow.
And they put art at the lowest hierarchies,
Displacing the solution to locks on creativity.
Saying art is nothing but they don’t know where we’d be
Had shapes not evolved and paintbrushes never
Met paint and gave birth to an image you can see.
That you mixed and threw together, you’re clever,
No canvas should ever be empty,
Odd reasons say still… there are plenty.
And only an artist can solve that problem.
Breathing life into objects, one can make into an emblem.
So now what you do without math, science, or neither?
Yeh… I wouldn’t give up either.
KKM Mar 2015
caged in the kind of eyes that make you think twice about the colour of swollen leaf veins, you're swimming in dangerous waters that could tear apart the metals in your blood. whoever told you that big breakfasts were good for you was not lying, but they did not mean bowls of fear and slices of anger with rebellion spreads, you're swallowing emotions i could easily caress for you but the touch of anything other than ink on your skin is harmful to your blue sensitivity. understand that no one is out to hurt you but the thoughts you've help come out of their raw jails, and understand that there are laws for criminals like these. who doesn't know that you've never been one to follow the system but there are flames under your skin burning colours of the sky so why cant you escape, why cant you escape, why cant you run.
KKM Jun 2015
The night you zipped the moon open
All you felt was the silver wind sharp on
Your face and a hand around your left
Ankle to hold you in place from running again
Two weeks and a couple of swallowed rocks
Later you're telling lies soaked in dim
Constellations that bleed the sun and
You know I can tell.
The ways you begged your hands to let up the
Grip of danger is still not replaced by caution but
The road is not as purple and gold and this lets
The waves breathe a little easier at night
Colour your skin in stories that sound like
Orange nights and metallic spray paint
So that the clouds in your stomach will be
Able to guide the rough waters close to
Home but nothing about you is home
And nothing about me belongs to one
KKM Apr 2014
She walked in with a cut up eye, stardust in her broken bones and a smile
And before he and I could ask, "what have you done now" she held out her hands
In her palms she collected galaxies that sprouted not from this universe but strength.
And when you looked in her eyes instead of brown,
You'd see songs from seabirds that I never heard because,
Seabirds don't sing,
But in this scope they also tight line across the ways her eyes lit up the moon in the sky.
And then she says, "little sister, never let anyone make you manageable. Always remain untamed."
The swirls in her dress when she spun out of the room
Burst out flared frayed and flamed.
She was an atomic cloud of energy, but her rain didn't fall; it splattered.
Then that night wrapped in white sheets that failed to hold me still
Watching her from the bed across from mine,
I whispered: "welcome home, I’ve missed you."
But instead of peaceful prayers and stories of springing surprises,
I hear the sounds of hurt dripping into soft pillows and wet tears.
My sister never cries.
Sitting up in bed with the streetlight glowing on her face
The only thing she tells me using sea salt and lemons,
Dangerous dreams from swimming with the devil
And daggers made from hopeful rising levels
Is, "please don't fade away.”
The cobwebs on my lips where spiders have spun intricate art
On my teeth told her I don't speak very often.
This individuality has been stripped off my tongue
Now I only taste fire made of wooden chips, not adventure.
The sand grains from the park on school premises
And not the beach where at least they'd be water kissed.
Please don’t fade away.
I could be the replica of everyone else; my shadow kind of looks like yours doesn't it?
I sunk back in the sheets afraid of her tears but before I could disappear into blankness
She gathers feathers in her words and asks,
"Who wouldn't drown the stars for you?
You painted yourself with the colour of the ocean
But only you understood the ocean is not just blue
During sunset it’s the colour of fire running through your veins
As you sink your teeth in the bar of yogurt, ambitions, dreams and raspberries.
In the middle of the night it is the colour of the moon
And the ruffles of waves that shake you awake.
During the birth of dawn it is the fight in your heart bleeding electricity in your eyes,
The light of illumination never lacking loyalty in those dreams of the sea you swallow."
What’s more familiar to us, time? Or memories?
Instead of playing life on the record player
We play it by the clock and repeat the same day over again
Our air smells the same, and we all play the same games.
The message is urgent and it lies in all of us.
Please don’t fade away as I lose all of my trust.
Dying in secrecy that no one wants to touch
It’s a boundless barrier, scary bordering scarier.
Please don’t fade away.
Everything inside of us that craves to be heard,
Is bottled up in the same fashion trends clothing our bodies
The same career choices that teach no new hobbies
The same sentences cling to the walls in hallways and lobbies.
The ignorance in not trying new things
Flies into everyone
Maybe it was a plane crash
Made of rumors and old traditions
That killed people’s appetites for new choices
That suffocated the volume in people’s voices
That left me swimming between everything but rejoices.
When I cant think right I walk left
But we are not old photographs that deteriorate our personalities
We are bodies of water but no one needs a shore
No one needs to send you approval when you’re so sure
Like I was told using sea salt and lemons
I’ll build on that with cucumbers and daisies,
Break out. And please, don’t fade away.
How can someone made of flowers be degraded to dust?
How can you sit there in chains that turn you to rust?
How can **** gnomes manage to catch stardust?
How can monsters keep murdering like they must?  
I don’t know which way the wind will blow
But when it does it will blow strong
And I will not blow with it.
I heard you say society tells you to be yourself
You are yourself, and then society says no you’re doing it wrong.
Here, watch me, it’s like this.
KKM Mar 2017
roses peek through the cracks in your soul, your heart is overflowing with peace but your eyes remain dark brown in the sunset, is it because your flight to italy was cancelled in the middle of your worst year or because the constellations that you kept shining in your right palm; the hand with the zigzag scar from your last rollerblading accident, were given to someone who didn't even know that thorns came with soft petals too
KKM Jan 23
something about checkered ties & purple hearts clenches a part of my hand that keeps me from writing to you and i cant even blame the snow for falling on a saturday bc God knows something needs to come down on us and it cant be our blue realizations or late movie night plans 76 days post April fools where once again the scar on your right hand will remind me of vicious wolves who only know fear and full moons, something we never talk about bc Halloween comes in a different month than Christmas & apparently that's an issue about advent calendars, not mood swings so constant you'll burn your pinky on a tray of bruschetta toast 4 times & react differently each time the heat wants to darken your skin unkindly
KKM Aug 2014
Begin anywhere.
Like on the sands with names of missing people engraved on them with blood.
Like on the drones with deceit and disaster dripping down them like a flood.
Like on the ashes of burned down homes, lost dreams and no childhood.
Your days go by too fast for you to give one simple care,
Are all the happenings around you fair?
For the kid on the road, is there a dollar you can spare?
Tell me that the old sand on the path outside your house
Didn’t whisper to you the stories of those days
When bombs would be bells,
The moon’s light wished you well,
You’d get up every time you fell
And this wouldn’t be a life with so much hell.
The smell of phosphorous and fire were not supposed to greet my sister today,
The sight of dead flesh, empty eyes and red burns were told
To remain on the TV screen only,
So what are they doing kneeling in front of my people’s eyes?
I never saw the ocean as just blue,
But today the rush of water only brings me brown and black
As I remember that hundreds of people die from contaminated waters every hour.
As I remember that some people have to walk miles just to get water,
As I remember that I am much more than someone chained to the lies of the media.
The government is wicked, so wicked is dominant.
But they forgot iron bars wouldn’t even stop me from my prominent
There are seeds that were planted in me long ago chanting about
Freedom and justice, happiness, love and bliss.
That and this.
Because every time I looked to the ground I saw clouds dripping with mercury and **** flowers
Smelled metallic rust reeking air as cities burned
As fire glinted off my mother’s skin and smoked thanks because
At least she was alive.
I could
Break it, stretch it, bend it, crush it, crack it, and fold it,
All these facts yet we just keep stacking it.
Dollar bills and coins affect people like poetry,
But words are not items you can buy.
And why do we have to
Muster courage,
Just to say hi.
KKM Mar 2015
-smiles that leave the sun looking like a light bulb in comparison, and eyes that leave the stars drowning
- sunny bus rides just to see a loved one accompanied with red lights for seconds of peace on the charcoal coloured, bumpy roads but safe travels nonetheless
- spring jackets that feel like home and colours that make the heart swell
- strangers that have the potential to be friends
- the best memories channelled in the back of a mind
- free flowing pens that write like walking on clouds
- sights along the way of flowers blooming
- possibilities of learning new things and new faces and new places
- suitcases that carry homes inside them
- books that carry knowledge, experience and let you feel the burn of new curiosity
- filled cafe spaces, menus, safety
- friendly chatter, scholarly chatter, best friend chatter
KKM Mar 2014
If I could, I would.
And if I would, I should.
Always wondering why others don’t make change
Before looking at myself and seeing I’m in the changing range
I’m more then capable.
To set chained people free, to disable
All the evil and the hurt,
All the bleeding and the dirt,
I’d pick up every single child,
Bring them back outside the wild
The one painted as far away,
Out of our sights, out of our way.
The people we have labeled as numbers and statistics
As if they don’t have lives and homes, seeming unrealistic.
The little girl I watched with pain on the television.
She watched her family members die, crying, just envision.
Walking on the rubble, as I watch her stumble,
She will be a woman before she hits the age of eleven.
The traumatizing scenes before her; the opposite of heaven.
Is she another number, too, without a life of love?
All this peace we say we want is like a murdered dove.
If I could feed her faith again, and teach her life is good,
Fill her stomach’s starving screams with love she understood, I would.
Add the mother on the street, holding her baby tight.
To protect him from the bombs flying, braving off the fright.
They all have futures bright as the morning sun at noon.
But before dawn is what they see, darkness a filled balloon.
My mother never had to face having her kids in danger
So why would I keep quiet when it’s a stranger?
I look at them and see the same face in the mirror.
If I could tell her he’ll be safe and so will she the same,
Nothing’s going to hurt them, not even their names.
Hand her keys of relief,
Slaughter beef in the streets,
Fill her stomach’s starving screams with love she understood, I would.
And to my brother in Peru, working as a slave
Fields built just for drugs, he’s ordered to behave
Before they cut his hands off, for misconduct, it’s that grave.
Working for pennies, the money is funny.
Revolution’s underway, so lock and load in any range leaving the world unsteady.
If I could tell him he’ll be free, to just wait and see,
The government won’t be mechanical, racist psychologically.
He’ll leave the land of too much distortion, and give him the peace that’s his portion, I would.
How can the light so bright make a man so evil like the times of medieval?
Cold war’s over but we just keeps getting colder
Like we’re filing invisible morals into empty folders
Can you even feel the truth until it comes your way?
Like players pray for hope,
It’s severe what the hopeless will do for play.
Keep shooting rockets at generic topics,
Until the lyrics hold weight unlike 2-D objects.
My people are hungry, tired and sweaty.
Dreaming of revolution looking at the machete.
Innocent children drowning in screams
And we can’t hear them; we’re not a part of the same team.
Acting like the army didn’t bring hell here.
For most people, pile on the blood and the fear.
When driving on a road, construction means we steer
But I’ll get back on track; life isn’t just for me before I die in remorse.
Fight for my lands with words like bullets, loaded with force.
Whatever we take in risk is our matter of course.
Pay attention to change, I know that I will.
Too many dollars down here, I have more than my fill.
So change I will, because my will is to change.
Quit dreaming, its illusions they’re scheming.
But I said I’d bring peace, so ***** the policing.
I said, if I could I would.
And if I would, I should.
Well, I can, so I will.
Make me a martyr, this is not a fire drill.
Make me a martyr. I’d do it still.
Make me a martyr, I’ll prove to you the charter.
Just make me a martyr.
KKM Dec 2013
winter slippers
and heavy sweaters
there's a cupcake with
white frosting in front of me
a calculator stands by
my textbook's open, generous.
I've attempted cursive
again, glad i can
still work it because
even though its been years
since i did it last
its good to know that some things don't change
in a time where  everyone seems to.
when nights come faster
than i  can blink
i crave to call his number
just to fill this loneliness while
we tackle and **** your boredom
i crave his words
written or spoken.
he has a killer smile.
KKM Sep 2014
1.You run fire though your hands as if
a. Water never scared you
b. You could free anyone
c. Chains were meant to be shattered
2. Baby glue your heart back together first
3. You once caressed every star in the palm of your hand
4. Now you won’t even look at the sky
5. I see leftover debris on your shoulders
6. Small moons swim in your eyes
7. You think sunlight will never ring the doorbell
8. Or glint on your doorstep
9. But I planed enough trees on your lawn
10. That the sun will have to show up at some point soon
11. Wear your shirts a little looser
12. The rustic patterns are starting to fall off slowly
13. Let them; they’re only stitched up stories from the past
14. Ones you refused to sling over your shoulder and trash
15. Baby start taking out the trash
KKM Feb 13
coffee shops & cafe chatter, grey blue skies & Pinkberry yogurt in cups shared over a good read & a hot coffee, there's soft music playing in the background that makes me almost feel bad about dragging out a simple commission too long, there are two groups of female friends talking about academics, my best friend is beautiful + makes me feel so soft for life, so patient & so sure that good things happen to good people, for good people, & sometimes it takes a brain + a heart to realize that outside of Odyssey pages & 23% battery left on a cellphone that never stops buzzing, I remembered citrus vibes again, which brought back the sun for a second cup, tied to a mural on the wall w our names on it & iced vanilla cold brew coffee, one small & one medium please
feb 11th 5:05pm
KKM May 2014
We are born free people, yet there are always restrictions.
We choose if we want to break them, whether with facts or through fiction.
Whether on walls using diction,
Or any crawl through confliction.
And no amount of chains and barriers
Will restrain us, no contradiction.
We understand we’re not on ice,
That there’s always going to be friction.
As expressers, fighters, artists, world changers
It comes from an Italian word, meaning scratch.
Look at it again and a whole new world
Has hatched.
The term graffiti, referred to the inscriptions, figure drawings, and such, found on the walls of ancient graves or ruins, as in the Catacombs of Rome or at Pompeii. Use of the word has evolved to include any graphics applied to surfaces in a manner that constitutes vandalism.
75% of people think its vandalism.
Toronto spends one million a year on graffiti removal.
When artists get back in the game, they haven’t given their approval.
Why don’t you use that money to feed the thousands of poor in society?
Instead of worrying about the art that the citizens need to see.

I never got A’s in elementary school art.
Getting marked on art still sounds like you need to be smart.
But graffiti doesn’t have to mean anything,
Not every letter is a symbol.
There are complications too but it can also be simple.
Almost every kind that I saw on the streets
Took a soft place in my heart, eventually turned concrete.
Let me reel back to grade 10 when I actually took art courses
In the media arts classroom I was taught people as my sources
Banksy, JR, Sofles, Katsu, Kidult, Shepard Fairey.
After my first graffiti assignment I understood clearly
What would happen if you brought a spray paint can near me.
The reason for graffiti is a simple one,
Not always about rebelling, or having fun.
Every artist craves to paint in his or her own way.
And all of us have messages that need to be portrayed.
Like, I was here, I’m alive, let me leave my mark.
This city is mine too, and I want to give it my spark
I belong, I have a voice, and I crave to make a change
These walls are too voiceless when it comes to the speaking range
My love for social justice brings in political ties
Through graffiti one can tell what country thrives with lies
It gives any surface a story, makes it come alive.
Change the system if you strive, until justice is revived.
To try to help the oppressed,
The shapes and lines were mine,
But they’re the ones on the line,
And to sit and do nothing would be an even bigger crime.
I even changed my initials to KKB
The B is for Banksy, its everywhere you see me.
My email has a Banksy, my Twitter did too.
Graffiti is my life, though you already knew.
Humanity is lost within the walls that we made
Graffiti brought it back to me,
And like the ocean did I wade.
Inside the political aspect that structures our brains
And the society that gives us money to drain
All the false information and the things we don’t need
Gives me hope to find these messages written on the streets
Sometimes freedom of speech isn’t so free at all.
But if Facebook deletes posts, documentaries have biased calls,
There’s another way of speaking, even if we fall,
I love how it’s not typical; no tag is the same.
Its breathing life on the walls, not stuck in a frame.
It stands out.
Stands outside of a museum where you always have to pay.
To see something that may or may not catch your attention right away.
That makes your head sway,
Give you some kind of reaction, moves you to action.
Not something you have to think hard about,
There’s little analysis needed, a splash merrily seeded.
Its urgent, its in the moment, for realization.
Once the message has been received, it’s an artist’s confirmation.
I integrated graffiti as a part of my every day life, including school
Drew it in math projects, French presentations, writer’s craft essays, it was my arts night welcome sign tool.
I will carry this with me through university
And it’ll take me further in the arts industry.
When you walk by graffiti in the street, do you ever take the time to notice it? Like, really notice it? Do you ever think about the person behind the spray paint can? Writers are not only being underappreciated for their talents, but they’re being harassed, looked down on, all for no reason. Do you know any of their stories? Do you know what thoughts and feelings sprayed out of the can when the paint hit the wall? Do you ever think about the history behind the art? To breakdown the styles of graffiti, here’s a simple introduction. There are tags, the simplest forms of graffiti. A signature. There are stencils. There are stickers, also known as slaps. Wildstyles are also used, and they’re more intricate, more colourful, and harder to read. It’s a particular style of writing developed in New York City. A piece is one that takes time an effort, and requires more than three colours. A blockbuster is used to cover the most space in the least amount of time. And a heaven is a piece that’s put in a hard to reach area, like the tops of tall buildings or on freeway signs. There’s the style bubble, old school, brush, abstract, bombings, whole car, ignorant, landscape, realistic, billboard, cartoon and sharp as well.
A sense of tranquility seeps into my veins every time my marker hits the paper, full of energy, full of hope. Starting graffiti was a way to combine my passion for speaking out against oppression and my love for the arts. Even though my work is not displayed on the streets, it has the same style, and it may not have the same effect but it counts as an escape for me. It doesn’t make me a graffiti artist, and some would even argue that doing canvas work kills the purpose of graffiti but I always want my work to make an impact on people no matter which way I do it. It’s something I love to do, and anyone can take that any way they desire. There are stereotypes that I’ve had to battle, but in the end, I know my true intentions. I don’t need to make a name for myself. I don’t need to create a reputation for myself either. True, this is not real graffiti, but that’s as far as I choose to take my fascination. I do it because of the escape it provides for me, the sense of freedom, and the sense of power in my markers.
These are the little movements of writers, all of us trying to get at revolution. Art is not supposed to be limited in frames. That’s why to me, the streets are some of the biggest forms of freedom – do as much as you like, however you like, all free. The poor and rich all have to see it. No one can avoid the message. It is not only artistic expression; it’s a protest. A scream of anger and emotion aimed towards public spaces. Graffiti artists did not start the war, they just respond to defend our vision of what graffiti and society should be: free. A battle against commercialism and a way of saying ‘no’ to materialism and society’s over consumption.  To the government, you are not the only ones who own these cities. What about the rest of us that do not exist until we leave a mark of our own? This is a game of action and reaction, if you will.
Taking care of our society is our obligation. That means changing anything harmful to us with every mean possible. Graffiti seems to offend a majority of society but if we took the time to appreciate and understand, a lot of good can be done if we turned the negatives into positives. So if we aimed for change and acted on it, especially with art, we’d be much less stressed. More often, we’d just remember, to stay blessed.
an assignment for a writers class. i made a video, but this is the word version (:
KKM Feb 2015
Name all the reasons you stayed at the dark hotel without
Wearing those silver rings that never seem to come off your fingers otherwise
What made you want to move south to cold air and a lack of clothing lines?
The lonely roads on the map of out town spell out your name
But I can barely say it and each traffic light blinks out into the city
The way you eyes do when you’re feeling uninspired
I know you haunt bus stops
What did block parties and fairy lights do to make you pack up?
Summer popsicles melted over your legs and left marks that resemble fireflies
We used to catch those in Emery Forest when 2:16 am called but now
I pick up the phone and only grasshoppers chirp
They tell me that you took my light with you and no
Sort of sun will tell you where you need to be but your own.
KKM Nov 2013
How do you feel when the waves from the ocean come out to grab you in the water with them, and you cannot go? How do you feel when your old memories pull your soul to a place you miss, but do not remember? How do you feel when the words that live inside your mind eat away at your heart, yet you're even stronger? I want to see the way the moon light hits your face and still makes you look beautiful from every angle. I want to be the one to dust off the dirt that people throw at you, that you don't cry away, that makes you look beautiful anyway. How do you write your 'a' 's? I want to breathe in your scent every night before the dreams start. I want to keep a piece of your writing stapled to my wrist so I have a chance at being as eloquent as you always are. You never say 'sink or swim'; to you, sinking was never an option. How do you feel about your house number? What goes through your mind when you hear the word 'back'? What makes ''to delay is to lose.'' Your favourite quote? Why are blue jeans your favourite? Why do you always look up to the light but never down on the darkness? If I could be a star in the sky, the unlimited space beyond planets and moons still would be unable to answer
a tsunami
the depths
of this
KKM Sep 2014
Ruby red converse
Rust coloured jacket
With the collars pulled down to
Expose your collarbones
The freshly painted ink engraving
Is stark against your skin
Once again you’ve proved that
You can commit to art
Yet not to another soul
Looking for the reasoning behind
The ways your eyes turn to amber
Liquid every time you’re scared
You kept those secrets in a box
Labeled in green sharpie with
Every time I see you,
On occasion at our bus stop
The one where we traded coffees
And shared donuts
I reach up to adjust the
Scarf around my neck
You kissed the spot above
My neck bone with too much
Stardust on your lips
Now in scattered letters
It spells out your name and
I can’t have people knowing
That you were once my rain
On a dessert land
Dry for days
The wet came with rescue
Ladders in the late afternoons
I aligned myself with
Treetops caressing leaves
And far too many thorns
Live with me again
Show me what its like not
To be sunless on the
Floweriest 11 a.m. mornings
My friends started asking
Why there is only one pair
Of shoes by the door
Instead of two
I tell them the speed
One walks at is ever changing
And not to marathon wearing
Stars on your feet
KKM Nov 2013
flowers don't bloom in me
they died a long time ago.
but look at the dirt on the floor,
where other dead things
prickly desert cactus,
**** brown grass
constant lonely practice
staring in the looking glass
where'd the colours go
that resided in my eyes
did they fly with  the wind flow
whatever they thought wise?
do they not hear my cries
as they soar in the skies
i need motivation down here
but instead I'm filled with
how do i get to success?
...and when you ask what that means to me
i'll tell you lesser stress,
a cleaner mess,
and this all sounds so blessed
when theres facts, nothing to guess.
my mind plays games
no one else has to play
if they knew the rules they'd never stay
I've been at it long enough as it eats at my brain
but id like to grow back;
roll the bowling ball in the other lane.
grow my flowers, get back on track,
because thats what really should be in me
even if i have to whack and thwack,
i'll win these games.
i want to be free;
so i will be.
KKM Feb 2017
blue roses and unzipped jackets, looks like the cold doesn't want to enter your skin again so its painting guesses on the corner of silver st. and goat lane, you thought that saying its all good baby baby would make your crown look bigger but the diamonds fell off instead
KKM Feb 2017
the sun and the moon and all of the dust between the height of your wings, they used to be full of flight but now I can touch the ice of orange rays and the red of dented craters beneath the pads of my ever fumbling fingers and it gives off a smoke in my stomach that even bullet exit wounds don't leave behind. i'm craving fizzy drinks again to numb out the stars in my eyes that won't stop constellating the white hope in your burning palms, have you been climbing blue fences again? the night doesn't tire often but the last comet that flew by last January the 7th looked exhausted and it had something to do with the way you blinked away fire from the moments you forgot to count
KKM Mar 2017
-you rip up your coffee cups after you're done with the drink just as an excuse to stay and talk longer yet the thought of spending time unchaining your fears fights the red in you to conquer them in groups of 2
-did you forget that you were once an artist who could move mountains into valleys just to brush the snow off them?
-whoever set fire to the blooming flowers you holistically grew in your heart was only doing you a careful favour because you never liked orange roses and now you're watering glowing daises that suit your vibe anyway
-brick walls aren't as blocked off as they seem but the cement keeps them together like the sky is willing to do for you
-stop picking apart the petals on peonies and maybe the stars will stop picking pieces of peace off of you
KKM Jan 23
i tie and retie my hair w the same scrunchie that you gave me 5.6 years ago hoping your cinnamon eyes will return my gaze but the purple clouds at sunrise can't and won't blow out the fire in my bones fast enough to look away, the railing on our front porch is falling apart for the first time since we bought this haunted place but I don't have the guts to get out my silver hammer and whack the nails back into place the way you carry around a loaded heart & never hit my love out of bounds, but still past the field where we used to play baseball as kids, the same bases that I fell for something about you in black & white nights red lipstick stains & dainty gifts, we didn't need to watch fireworks every 1st of July because we had sparks inside of us but we did anyway, I'm not sure why, & it was till 2:13 every night that you still had me on your mind till the next phone call in off white and spearmints green
KKM Jan 2015
I can find the morning in your light,
Yesterday the shore disappeared from the palm of my hands
You told me flowers only grow on soil and dirt
But there are gardens growing on the
Insides of your rib cages under the sun that only
Rises but refuses to set, your eyes encompass the
Elegance that never leaves the stars and guides
Constellations back to their origins, you carry
Warmth in the lowest of hazy nights on the
Tips of your fingers where galaxies have been
White before they turn to dust
I swam through a green ocean and
Landed on your shore
Your scent still lingers through smoke
Even water could not drown me the way
Your words do
Melting far more marshmallows than
I can carelessly burn
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