We set out from our homes
With aspirations bright
A bag pack of skills
And a sceptre of perfection
A potion of blessings
To keep company
We are complete.

Through the low nights
And during the blazing noons,
Through the hard needles of showers,
Until we reach the land of flowers,
We unravel
Secrets of the deep and the dark
We gain and yet sometimes loose
We fathom
Through the layers wise
And make our axioms

On a quiet night however,
When we plunge in retrospection
A star shines bright
Connecting and completing the picture
We are but one glowing dot from the many
And the canvass completes
With the treasure of family lineage
All encompassing and strengthening
A synecdoche of life.

BANG!
quick breath no sudden movements
BANG!
screams heard throughout the hall
BANG!
blood splatters the window
BANG!
innocent lives gone
BANG!
hide in the closet
BANG! BANG!
no more teacher
BANG!
fifteen kids dead in one round
BANG!
three more dead on sight
BANG!
you take your life
BANG!
childhoods stolen.

All I want to do is fall asleep
          But these blurred images of steps I wish I could trace
                         Keep submerging me in a hostile reality.
                                    
I've been staring at my ceiling, wondering why
I can't just dizzy my way into an oblivion of dreams
That I'll never remember.

                                   Laying completely still.
                        Maybe if I don't move a morsel
            My body will learn to become comatose
And I can serenely evade this Winter.

Encased in a box
is the magic of Christmas
none could manage out.

There is a cold chill
throughout this house without lights
and the smell of pine.

I was raised well and right--
kind, loving, and bright--
but I do not glow
nor drink in light,
for this world I know
teems with walking plight--
preying on silent sighs
cracking loony smiles,
leaking crimson through
pearl bones baring
unfathomable truths

One lesson I've learned
from this congested city
is to remain optimistic
Bathe in the cold
that is the shoulder turned
Keep your eyes wide
so they dry faster when burned
and your cheeks glisten like
the dance of water's reflection

Seethe with laughter
under our calm,
cratered companion
Bleed placid volumes
of heightened reality
and inject the poison
of furrowed brows and
whimpering pleas into
every failed attempt
at hiding your shadows cast
by the foreboding full moon
Be what's been shining
towards a better you

gun unslung
hanging by his side
swaying with his step

his step thorough
leaving sand behind
floating like particles of dust

dust now forgotten
as his step imprints
upon broken glass

glass shatters more
crumbling
like the cities of Israel
beneath the feet
of falsely declared gods

gods that now drive the mind
with intrepid pace
towards the unsuspecting

the unsuspecting victim
of such malice
that can only be embodied
by death

death
only defied by those
who can truly consider themselves
wholesome and true

and yet the truth struggles
to stop this relentless growth
of pride and self righteousness

and thus the marksman
raises the gun to his target

his breath steady
his heartbeat in his ears

a resonance that he despises
his imperfections are his enemy
And if not to be perfect then what else?

he pulls the trigger

Were indifference and suffering to go,
Where'd our sad tradition be?
Drugged to sleep in an asylum, or
Muttering mad at a last bit of breakfast.
It was simply illogical to ignore
As a child, the things it seemed grown-ups should know:
Evil-doing is easy
And sorrow's solution isn't vast.

Thinking of our sad tradition is
Like watching a janitor far past
Retiring age struggle to take out
An employer's trash. His
Chest rasps and his bent spine heaves; the boss begins to shout
"You need to hurry, ******! I wanna get drunk before
Too long, and I need to stop by the store."

Coriander sprinklings and subtle tastes
as we lean together and giggle as children
exchanging nibbles and pecks of love
at the gentle lullings of our sleeping boats

And the sun would shine on our dark heads
burning our hairs and lighting the fires
echoing our laughter while we filled the earth
with eternal love that would span the sky

And all the distances would pull us apart
taking our lives this way and that
winding through the darkest routes
enshrining our happiness to the past

But we would - as always - remember well
clinging to the smells of the world
keeping our hearts closed to disruptions
but letting our confidence sway––––

And yet the world would bring us back
to hear our giggles and childish banters
taking delight at the slightest triggers
and painting lives in watercolour

So moments pass and times repeat
clear in the eye of our observers

But crimson shades and all spring scents
watch our bonded rains and shines

And for every moment I reflect
you shine brighter than luminance.