Time is moving so swiftly. It is so quickly gone, never to be had again. I spend my time wishing for the past, lusting for the future, and forgetting to appreciate the now. I found myself walking out to my dad’s car this morning, mumbling about how I can’t wait to get my license and never have to ride in that silly van again. Someday I will wish I could ride in that van again, talking college basketball with my young and healthy father. I often find myself wishing that I was a child again, that I still had my innocence and carefree spirit. But that is no longer me, and I have to learn to accept and live with the person I have become. There are so many “what ifs” and “I wishes” constantly running through my head. I cannot rush the future, nor can I relive the past. I have to be content with what I have now, because someday I will no longer have a future. I will only have death looming over me. I will only be able to look back on this life. I want to be able to look back on adventures, successes, achievements, and many memories made with the people I love. I do not want to look back on life only to see myself rushing through the motions or spending too much time reminiscing on the past. I want to live in the now. After all, the now may be all we have left.

In The Night Garden

Tonight a slight breath of summer wind
sways gently the hanging branches
of the willow tree she loved.
On such nights as this
my heart aches for you.
Loss is so permanent so lonely.
A wisp of a breeze passes by my face.
It touches the flowers
blooming in our garden
first azalea honeysuckle
fragrant jasmine
and yes gardenia
your favorite.
In the magic of nature’s alchemy
it melts them together,
I breathe your perfume once more
it is filling all of my senses.
Mixed in the breeze
yet remembered in my soul.
I know you are here
with me in the night garden.
a shaft of moonlight
falls onto the blue
forget-me-not’s at my feet.
a speckle of rain
Kisses my cheek softly.
I whisper quietly to you.
“welcome home my love”

White noise,
the world around blurs past
its cacophony like white noise.
Sometimes so piercing,
even the deaf may cringe,
sometimes so mellifluous,
even the able would weep.

Do you know this girl? I wonder if you do.
I know her now, but not as this mysterious, silent, sad figure.
What is she looking for? Did she find it? The girl in the photo.
Because she will grow into something harder and better;
Vibrant, mischievous, powerful, and ever smirking
in life. But the smile she wears now is brittle;
it glitters, but does not glow. The girl in the photo,
has a star in her eyes, and
Glows, softly, like candlelight. There is no smile, not yet,
but it shines in the eyes, and tugs the corners of her lips.
Maybe the star was her undoing.
Did she stray too close to that star, I wonder?
Perhaps she learned as Icarus did,
to trade her *****, burned wings for armor and barbed wire.
The girl I know today, her hair tips dipped in gold,
now wears a crown, unseen. She strides,
as if nothing can hurt her.
Not words, not feelings; for the beating of her heart
sounds the drums of war.
Maybe she is better now, than she ever was. A soon to be Queen.
Perhaps that star in her eyes was always burning on the inside,
forging steel out of the softness. Maybe the girl I know today was always growing,
Growing,
in the shadow of the one in the photo.
She is sharpness and all edges now. Ready to cut,
anything, anyone
that blemishes her path.
But, I will always wonder about the girl in the photo.
I will always want to ask the questions,
“Do you know this girl?”
and
“Where did she go?”
And I am scared.
Scared, that the answer will be this:
“She never left.”

i ignored sheets
that blank and tidy sheets
cos' baku never sleeps..

I'm the orange and blue.
The green leaves and
the chlorophyl too.

I'm the prettiest shade
of green found in the
garden of Eve.

My petals breathe with
lust and desire. Waiting
silently for your hands
to touch and caress.

My petals blush when
you gaze at them from
a distance.

You're beauty leaves
them amazed. Making
them twist and twirl like
a ballerina on an opera's
stage.

Trying to catch your
attention trying to make
you fall in love. Trying to
make you come closer
and pick me up from
the dirt and rocks.

Desperately wanting
you to take me home
and place me in a
vase.

So that i'll be the only
thing you'll get to see
when you wipe the
sleepy off your
beautiful eyes* ~

Facts are Poison-
There is nothing as poisonous as ash dead, cold-hearted
facts. When the first Pedantic was brought into the world,
he took with him his axe and his facts, and axed
anything that conspired against him, for he idolized
the rigors of science and wished to emulate scientific method
, so that he may properly pollute the minds of artists by reassuring them
they are constantly misguided- literature is meant to be abstract
and remote. Therefore, it is necessary for the Pedantic to interpret literature. He set artists to be bound in chains and set them to
mine mountains of literature. His purpose is to cannibalize art to shreds, **** the aspirations of artists, so that they may never reach the heights of their own magnificence.