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I see you through a broken mirror,  with edges razor sharp
The mirror staring back at you, you're bleeding in the dark.
As if the night were long my dear, asleep I  laid to rest
In everybody else's eyes, it's probably for the best.

You focus all attention on lies and cheating souls
Remember who your father was, wash away your goals.
Helpless wounded flesh, upon this heartless sin
I'll close the door forever, let anybody in.

The dead they'll jump to say hello, collection to their bed
Now all that's here, or left of you is broken up and shred.
You did this to yourself, was people out to love
But broken up reflections, the one who fits the glove.
 May 2013 Robert Ueda
T
I'm hopeless
-ly
hopeful
that this
will
last
longer
than
my
last
forever

because
infinity
has never seemed
so enjoyable
and
I
have
never known
the unknown
to be
a
desirable
destination

I'm hopeless
-ly
hopeful
that someone
will
hold
my
hand
because
I
can't see
with all these
stars
in
my
eyes

And blind has never been better
 May 2013 Robert Ueda
RayJAB
I’m standing here, a stranger to myself.
Wanting, craving the acceptance of my peers.

But as I look into everyone’s faces,
I can’t help but notice this strange sensation.
Nor good, nor bad.
Just sadness, emptiness and guilt
That I have no idea on how to please, love or have compassion.

I stare into their eyes,
Emotionless but vile.

The demon we all aspire to ****.
The very thing we try and distill,
Left unshackled and untamed
Can grow like a ****
Reckless and unmatched
 May 2013 Robert Ueda
Ugo
Poison spoon fed the nodding King and ended ancestors.

Holy cows bought government *****
and ate suicides grown by ***** Kubla Khan gospels.

Shantih, Leviticus, and other proper thoughts
kissed arms of air and made islands from memories of breakfast.

Eternity perished in the illusion of swallowed tongues
in the belly of an infant—
and yesterday,

Only one bullet of hallelujah stood swimming.
"It’s a war going on outside we ain’t safe from
I feel the pain in my city wherever I go
314 soldiers died in Iraq, 509 died in Chicago"--Kanye West "****** to Excellence"
 May 2013 Robert Ueda
Ugo
Night is for the hours
Cowards,
Let a man of God speak or night
Will continue to burn flowers

It's been said napkins are the greatest currency
For it holds the food spittle of man
Like how ambulances sit waiting
To clean up after misfortunes
And make fortunes for the fortun-
Who Ate paragraphs of spider webs
And patted weaves like black men seating at the back of the limited luxurious Q46 bus nodding heads to the noise of Toyota cameras they couldn't afford in the land where they spend $300 million to part the seas for summer entertainment
While they only spent $40 on California cuteness and walked on water with 13 Jesus' and ate at the bottom of the sea with only three tokes from the plastic bag

Let a man of God speak or night
Will continue to burn flowers
For we graduated from 30 hot nights of mathematics
Only to find that the future will always be white and in the *******
Gravity:
What goes up,
must come down.
That's what Science tells us.

And though I've never felt
the need to understand things,
only people,
I find myself circling around the
concept of gravity,
and how well it plays with
eastern ideology, with death.

After the spirit ascends,
It must come, crashing, back down
to Earth.
Sparking against the surface
as a new soul, a new way of being.

I've always been told
to read between the lines,
and maybe I've been treating my textbook
like a work of fiction,
but what if gravity is just
a metaphor for obsessive affection,
and reincarnation it's very
toxic enabler?

What if we're just stuck
in limbo, until the Earth
learns how to let us go?
POETRY IS NOT PUBLISHED IN A BOOK
OR SCRIBBLED IN A JOURNAL.

IT IS NOT COMPOSED OF STRICT METER AND RHYME,
STANZA AND STRUCTURE,
ASSONANCE AND ALLITERATION.

POETRY IS NATURE.

POETRY IS NON-SEQUITUR.

POETRY IS THE WAY OUR HIPS AND LIPS
INTERTWINE LIKE GRASPING VINES
WITH DETERMINATION AND GRACE
THAT IS SIMPLY DIVINE.

POETRY IS THE WAY YOU WAKE UP ON A LAZY SUMMER SUNDAY MORNING
AND LISTEN TO THE HEARTBEAT OF YOUR LOVER
LYING NOT TOO FAR AWAY.

POETRY IS THE COMPASSION AND SELFLESS DESIRE
THAT CAUSES US TO BUY MEALS FOR STRANGERS
AND TIP EXTRA JUST FOR THE HELL OF IT.

POETRY IS THE FACT THAT EACH AND EVERY ONE OF US IS ANOTHER INFINITELY RANDOM MANIFESTATION OF THE UNIVERSE ATTEMPTING TO UNDERSTAND ITSELF THROUGH CONVOLUTED COSMIC INTROSPECTION.

POETRY IS THE WAY THAT THE STARDUST FLOWS THROUGH OUR VEINS AND THE LIMITLESS POTENTIAL OF HUMAN CREATIVITY HIDES JUST OUT OF SIGHT BEHIND OUR EYES.

POETRY IS THE WAY THE WISE WINDS BLOW SOFTLY THROUGH THE TREES, WHISPERING SECRETS TO ANYONE WHO WISHES TO HEAR.

POETRY IS THE WAY THE RIVER LOVINGLY EMBRACES EACH AND EVERY PEBBLE IN THE RIVERBED LIKE A MOTHER HOLDING HER NEWBORN SONS.

POETRY IS ORGANIC.
MALLEABLE.
THESE WORDS ARE NOT POETRY -
LIFE IS POETRY.
DEATH IS POETRY.
LOVE -
LOSS -
STRIFE -
SUCCESS -
POETRY.
WE ARE POETRY.
I thought that I could walk on water and as the son of man
I should have swam with big fish
wish?
I should have wished the World away
stepped into another day of Saints and sinners
losers
winners
who brought hope and misery to
us
the peasantry.

Presently
pleasantly surprised
I find myself under clear blue skies
on a desert dune
whereon I rise and call out to the stars
the sun
the moon
who if they hear at all will tell me all too soon
just to whom it is I should pay homage.

I reflect as the heat reflects up off the sand.
Is this land fit only for those castles that would blow down in a storm?
what form does man take when the breaking of the bread
is taking bread from starving men?
When?
And then these thoughts that take me hostage are the homage I must pay
To live and write and fight
a ray of sunlight
and in it wrapped tight
another ray
the simple way of it
to sit and wander through these thoughts
and I thought
I could walk on water
can't even stand on my own two feet.
 May 2013 Robert Ueda
Julia
Did you ever stop
to wonder where everyone
was going?
whoosh, whoosh, whoosh
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