A Christmas gift spurned

In a busy Christmas street, I saw her; I was sure it was her,
the way she walked, I could sense her perfume too.
Ran after her, touched her shoulder said halloo, she turned
I had been wrong and said sorry.
She smiled and said, no it is only me what you see.
I read an invitation in her dark brown eyes, but I was hopelessly
in love with a blond, the mythical one.
Said sorry again, flapped my wings and flew high into the night sky
so seek her among the stars.
In the cool outer space, I realized the fabled woman was an angel
And I was an earthling I dived back to earth like a Stuka bomber, skidded on slush,
looked in vain for the woman with brown eyes

Some of these days
children will stop eating your dreams
and the eternal void of thinking silently,
the eternal darkness of your internal voice
will forever be
just noise
and
that pain,
that tedious light
at the end of the trail
won't drag you
away
no more.

There's no one here
in the cool dark air.
Everything's clean and tidy,
for visitors presumably,
but no one drops by.
The bar is stocked,
the light is ambient,
tea's a brewin',
jazz is playing,
and I look cute.
But I am tired.
Tired of seeking
the company of those
who ruin this mood,
this solitude.

she never had a favorite color
always finding beauty in every shade
and when asked her favorite color
she simply spoke in a daze

"the greens of summer grass
bright and welcoming bare feet

the golden yellow of evening sun rays
how they dance across the sea

the deep red of fresh cut roses
brought to lovers doorsteps

the pale pink of early morning skies
the orange and scarlet that melts with it"

she had so many favorites
until she met him

for the second
she caught a glimpse
of his light eyes
that made even a clear ocean
seem mundane
she undoubtedly knew

her favorite color was blue

s.s

I hate that I'm up thinking about you when I know I hardly cross your mind. Thinking about my lost innocence. Thinking about how everyone's told me that I'm older now and need to move on. And I have, but I can't forget the feeling.
As a child you're supposed to feel loved, wanted, adored, yet I always felt like I was a burden. You may be asking yourself, why? Well, maybe it was because I tried to hold my father's closed fists.

If you can speak your mind

Without a tone of thought towards the things you say,

If you can beat people with words

And blame them for the wrongs you display,

If you can understand what the hurt see

And turn a blind eye,

If you can imagine the wars that have been fought because of you

No would be left to illustrate the catastrophe,



If you can make people love you

Then cast out the people who state their opinion,

If you can openly criticize people

Then threaten the people, who try to fix the wrong done towards you,

If you can proclaim your life’s path as the way to follow

And then judge for any form of rebellion,

If you can finally wave the white flag

Will you finally accept the war reparations that are overdue,

The people’s heart is yours and that’s in it

Because you’ll be the face for the abusers,

And here I lay.
          My fingers were concealed beneath the sand, intertwined with an imaginary hand I had fashioned in my mind, along with seashells and starfish alike that had secluded themselves from the airy surface. Subdued tidal waves loomed nearer as they brushed my arm, aroused goosebumps on my bare skin, and receded in silence. This was the handiwork of Serenity: she visited my mind when it no longer desired exertion and instead yearned for a peaceful slumber. Her placid disposition induced tranquility... the calm before the storm, the beauty in simplicity. Her presence invigorated me and instilled in me a sense of renewal, even in the infinitesimal amount of time we idled away together.

        When she left, so did her pleasant ambiance. Not long after, her counterpart Worry arrived, along with his ominous clouds that spilled gloominess. Granted, he did not wish to occupy the forefront of my thoughts; rather, he lurked in the background, jarring my nerves and vexing me when given the opportunity. He reeked of doubt and insecurity; yet while I resented his existence, he imposed on me a sense of reality and purpose, constantly reminding me of my tasks and ambitions. With him I would sprint onward on an obscure path, and he would constantly challenge me with obstacles, which gave me the incentive to surpass him, placing us in perpetual competition.

         Rarely did he bring his companion, Fury, with him - yet when he did, the impending storm burst and the ground erupted in blazing flames, inducing a fiery inferno. Fury obliterated everything in her path in a brash manner, acting without reason and seething with fury. She roared with the tenacity of a thousand volcanoes and spewed fountains of scorching lava. Her outbursts generally occurred after her prolonged confinement, yet when they ended she was chained again, and grudgingly retreated back into hibernation.

          After Serenity arrived once more and mended the damage inflicted by Fury, my most treasured visitor appeared: Bliss. Her vivacity and exuberance were unparalleled, and she radiated a glow that blossomed over everything in its path. From the scorched ground bloomed a meadow of mellow wildflowers, an efflorescence of her joy. Overhead, clouds parted and the azure sky reunited with the shimmering water until the horizon was a mysterious blur, calling me to the unknown.

I will ask you a question

“Do you remember the child you once were?

Who colored the crayons beyond the lines, shaping everything in that child’s imagination.

That painted the rivers green and the trees blue, full of wonder, putting nothing in order.

Now, I ask you this… What happened to that child?”

Why is that child now organizing the shapes, his head now a machine on rotate

He solves the puzzles but not his dreams
He gives the leaves a touch green, and rivers with blue...

What happened to the child who once ruled the world?

Now the World ruled the child."