a rubix cube upon my desk
with half the colors matching
near a wayward garden gnome
what plots might he be hatching

contemplations fill my head
of life and all its meanings
a conservative at heart
despite my leftist leanings

someday I’ll find the leprechaun
hiding at the rainbow’s end
I’ll take that *******’s lucky charms
before he runs again

memories haunt my waking mind
not sure if they're even real
vertigo and déjà vu are all that I can feel

I think I’ll take another hit
that should finally stop the spinning
as my pet rock races Charlie Brown
the rubix cube is winning

I am the only Asian in this bar right now.
Be my friend!
I will check the box of your social diversity quota.
Granted, I only speak a mispronounced fraction of
my immigrant parents' native tongue.
Ala Jackie Chan, I do not understand the words coming out the mouths of anyone on that massive continent (Russia included) that I appear to be more or less from.
But, I do eat spaghetti with chopsticks.
I am mystical as
fox, or Kitsune, in Japanese folklore.
I can hit you with wisdom worthy of a fortune cookie as fast as Google can tell you that the Philippines is nearly 2000 miles away from China. I want to say I'm from an exotic island where they play basketball in sandals and drink soda from plastic bags- like, A-level material you could make a movie out of in Slumdog Millionaire fashion and get awarded for your romantic portrayal of poverty you think is three worlds away from home. But nah, I'm just a kid from South Florida. Paved driveways and cul de sacs. But I do pump both fists in the air watching Manny Pacquio PPV fights on a bootleg stream. Beyond that, I'm probably the worst Asian there is. Not the crazy rich kind with a PHd. I dropped out of engineering after one semester and cannot solve a rubix cube. I never learned kung fu. Though I'm learning to face the adversity of becoming a single parent after my daughter's home broke in two. I write marketing proposals to pay the rent and poetry to fight without fighting in the spirit of Sun Tzu. My eyes do not slant in the direction of your narrative. I once ran in a pick up game where I caught the nickname of Yao Ming. Yao, I am 5 foot 8. Though I fall short of expectation, I can still check your diversity box on the way down and do a cool pen spin after to punctuate my intellectual prowess. I also happen to own an assortment of Japanese swords made in China, which I intend to use as heirlooms. This is what cultural colonization looks like: me, in a bar, the last samurai standing confused in an age of melting pots, Korean tacos and Asian slaw made by corporate imposters with names like PF Chang. What in the slaw is Asian? I wish I knew!  I wish I knew the true value of my heritage to be worthy of carrying it forward. Like how my grandfather planted a Malonggay tree in our backyard whose leaves my mother would pick and boil to make tinolang manok -the Filipino version of chicken soup- as a weeknight staple on our dinner table. I can barely soft boil an egg for instant ramen. Or how my motherland's socioeconomic gap tooth smile is so wide that it drove over 10 million of its native sons and daughters off its shores to find work overseas as servants on cruise ships and hospitals to feed the families they barely get to see. To follow their trail blazing footsteps, let me be the second generation tipping point where some form of cyclical tradition breaks. That way, I can raise my daughter free of predetermined scripts. So as the worst Asian in this or any bar, cheers:
to being the first of a new kind.

Lone star walking roads,
crowbar in hand
cowgirl I'll die for,
I died and I died again,

fluent in 6 country's,
passports; pardons
no cargo,
but luggage is a stainless steel flask,

half full,
half way,
to the moon
if you asked me?

Cadillacs in space,
expensive taste
that's masked with
— the cheap stuff,

inspired souls,
they walk,
and this forsaken path,
they'll never make hell a ***** deed or two from heaven,

counterparts
we're equals,
we're lost
they're my colleagues,

a scandal from remembrance,
remember we followed rules?
no response
****!

there's a shift
in the rubix cube, 
a memo from the warden,
no weapons in the visit room,

coordinating sin,
a taste of gin
before the see you soons,
world was much warm before stone replaced the sand dunes,

scoff at the elixir,
cordially
she casts stones,
******* of a demon crossing ponds is all the child knows,

tales of the fishermen,
who heard it through the corridors,
all and all departed,
with a fear of the other gods,

strictly prohibited,
a swig of the forbidden fruit,
who are you to judge me,
When Your Son Is Not Of Holy Proof!

wedded to a mortal said your honor,
absent i do's,
abstinence is bliss
and your crime ascends civilian law,

guilty -- you're filthy,
your son will never know your soul,
I know my role and play it well,
Your god never admits he's wrong,

so why would I?
— a baby cried,
I'm present for my son's birth,
and leave before an open eye the practice of a perfect curse.

I have never had the patience to solve a Rubix Cube
So
instead I cheat
I peel each different colored sticker off
and place them in a way that
makes it appear solved
complete
I guess I do the same with myself
I peel off each of my colors
aspects of my personality
and rearrange them so I appear solved
complete
But under the seemingly ordered colors
I am scrambled

1.) tizzop introduced gangsta poetry february 2021
     no man ever before created a poetry genre alike
     gangsta poetry, robust melting *** of languages
     and ethnicities, as it reflects the united states

2.) the idols of gangsta poetry are rooted in the
      underworld, blacks, hispanics, italo- and irish-
      americans, asians, arabs, germans, kurds,
      yugos, albanians, afghans, northern-africans...

3.) multilingual are the core, heart and soul of
     a gangsta poem: glockz, rubix cubies, 31er
     salam, jebeš igru, habibis, brüder, fo' sho':
     rapid months, frozen silverfruit, whole ones

4.) every letter of gangsta poetry becomes the
     side effects of our brand's real-life greed and fury
      mourning the end of beloved baby mommas
      deaths caused by strayed bullets that vamoose

5.) gangsta poetry aims to be published among
      all ethnic communities of the 50 united states
      deadline 08/16/21 stresses american willpower
      gangsta poetry scandalously hits us's curriculas

6.) each of the 194 remaining countries is urged
     to promote and govern gangsta poetry for
     the neglected, weighted with glacial contempt
     these males and females discover their kind in us

7.) tizzop established a saying: "treat every being  
     with an open mind, but fight back, baby, if anyone
     disrespects you, the gps, or our hangarounds"
     at war, we remember our families before we blast

8.) bar none, each gangsta poet is free to connect
      affiliate and distribute with and for the gp's
      brothas and sistas -- gps create examples of
      social diversity and historical dimensions

9.) female gangsta poets are a quarter of us
      some keep it gal, united sisterhood, astute flow
      in memory of leery leyla, chalondra, kateyy,
      mountainbird, ivanka cociç, ashima abraham

10.) genderfree, gangsta poets are chosen
        undertakings composed by thugs & artists
        the spirit of a few meets strife of hood speech
        gp evolved from a movement to an own identity

11.) restrictions do not apply for written creation
        strategic outgrowth and unshaken cash flow
        gp embraces brainy ones, and our soldiers
        narrators in conspiracy, art nouveau trips

12.) gangsta poetry admires the following people:
        jeezy, killa cam, toni der assi, iron sal, dmx
        anton chigurh, sigmund freud, rashid stoogie
        larry hoover, elliot york hp, kevin of allpoetry

13.) taktloss, luis fonsi, blockmonsta, all bolivian
        and peruvian farmers, te amamos, our brothers
        187 strassenbande, senion mogilevich, nirvana
        john murphy, dem dudes alpha hotel frankfurt

14.) much love to all global units, poets, thieves
        traffic architects, hackers, true skippos
        german bakeries, all-black betting shops
        jews from brighton beach, hispanic halos

15.) benny da bandit, tony tarantula, gambino, brate
        hamza al-mighty, fat **** frank, jens, das brain
        fred merciless, familia escorpio, ruben and levi
        ali firefists, kimbo slice, scarface, oleksiy, dejan

16.) daim, loomit, dns 1up, **** my **** crew
        berlin kreuzberg 36ers, playboys hannover
        yard bird 1955, taki 183 n.y.c., basquiat, level
        dbl ffm-skychildren, bomber, city mission
    
17.) gangsta poetry overwhelmingly shaped by
       our ancestors who boosted the poetry of ages
       train bombers, rappers, trappers, taggers, cutters
       we descent from them, honor their names

18.) gangsta poets die for poems that struck
        gps, fans and critics in a possessive way
        limits of real talk and boasting are in flux
        trance batters the face of reason, at dusk


                                          *


Once upon a time at March 22nd, 2021
Kreuzberg SO 36, Berlin, Germany...
Dedicated to all Gangsta Poets Worldwide

Heaven and hell yeah, disciples outpace seconds
Greetings from Wondaland, a.k.a. The Magic City

i.
sometimes i think a lot about what i do not understand

ii.
you’re at the top of the list.

iii.
maybe i like that, the idea of trying to figure you out. i used to solve rubix cubes over and over. i wasn’t fast, i took my time, trying to understand where all the pieces would go to make it whole again.
you’re like a broken rubix cubes- impossible to solve, but people try nonetheless.

iv.
i’m not going to pretend i didn’t hope that i could finally figure you out, simplify  your complexity as easily as arthur slid the sword from the stone.

v.
maybe it’s not “i do not understand.” maybe what i should say is “i don’t know.” does anyone know, really? can anyone solve the puzzle that is you?

vi.
maybe i don’t want them too.

vi.
i guess all there’s left to say now is sorry.

How to conquer the world when you are manic and preserve it when you are depressed.

I had a close friend send me a text a few weeks ago
Reminding me how to breathe and that I had to get out of bed,
I thought if she could have read my mood from the west coast
As I rotted in cotton comforters in the east, I must have been pretty obvious
Maybe it’s because we have been friends for ten years or because
I plaster every up and down online to vague audiences, I cast out my emotions
Like frayed fishing line, trying to catch even a glimpse of someone who relates.
But when this friend texted me she said something that might help balance out
The high-highs with the unbearable lows is writing how I feel when I am both.
I did my best to put the feeling of flying at 100mph upside down with wings made of silken sheets into words but the minute I did they turned into wings of concrete and I lost my focus again. And so I went to answer my friend and I said ‘here is how to conquer the world when you are manic”

I am caffeine therapy,
engulfed in energy
I am yellow, I am green
I am everything at once,
I feel everything all at once.
Did I mention?
Hey, I'm really excited to tell you
I’m gonna save the world,
All of it.
Today.
try and stop me.
I woke up at 4 this morning
Watched the sun swallow shadows
Like it was yearning for something dark
To balance itself out.
Too much light is dangerous too.
I always like to watch the sunrise before I go out to save the world, Waking up early always gives me so much more time And today I will do a lot,  I want to save the world. I hope you know I'm going to.

I am yellow, I am green. I am everything at once.
I am traffic jams spread out across freeways,
I am six trips in a row to the same store because I kept forgetting what I needed,
Music playing so loud you can’t hear anything else
I wash down amphetamines with coffee
I am now Narrow energy. I'm traveling a perfectly paved road Home to a room where I cannot see the floor, but that’s okay because I’m
Going to save the world today.
It doesn't matter how fast I'm going as long as you see me get there.
I am validation starvation in calorie counting notebooks,
I am looks from strangers whose eyes wonder loudly how I got marks on my arms or how I'm bouncing my foot like energy is spewing out my body but still have bags under mine that insinuate exhaustion I never learned how to overcome.
I am a math equation stuck inside the text book
From that semester I dropped out;
I am heat energy dancing inside shattered beakers, I am weathered worn out sneakers still being used because it’s hard to let go,
I'm kissing catalytic conversations with those I love because I need a reaction to feel like they're listening,
I am potential energy ready to become kinetic,
I am energetic and today, I have the heart to save the world.
I am off track, my bad. Its like an “ADHD starter pack” but there's no warranty or handbook.
Anyway, I started by re-enrolling in classes because I have always been good at school,
Except for when I stopped going but I have always been good at school and I can understand why everyone around me might expect me to succeed, I emit determination from my mouth when my heart feels empty, but I did sign back up because
This time I'm ready, and this  time I won’t ever feel low again, I think i beat it finally
I feel it in my bones as I cross busy streets without looking either way
I'm invincible and incredible
I am yellow I am green
I am hydro energy feeding off the
Big deep blue sea,
I am gratitude as an action
Not a trinket I can break
and today I will save the world
and tomorrow I will not be low,
And today I will conquer my fears, all 647
And tomorrow I will tell my friends I love them
And today I will remind myself that skin cells
Replace themselves every 28 days
So I only have to wear long sleeves for that many more
And tomorrow I will wake up and do my homework
And today I will surely save the world,
I will never feel so low as I have ever again
How could I when there is so much to smile for?
I’m laughing so loud my neighbors are asking,
And my friends think I’m doing better and I tell them I am. I am.
I am yellow, I am serene,
I feel it in my skin that I am better
recovery feels like Holding hands at sixteen and iced tea, And this is easy!
I am yellow, I am green.
I am yellow, I am green.
I feel everything all at once.
floating between causes, altruism is a virus, slithering through my veins, celebrating how much I will do today. Did I mention how much I will do today?
I'm going to save the world.
After signing back up for classes I spread out my day like magazine clippings I'll never put onto a “dream board” because I will most likely forget about them, my dreams make better notes in my iphone where I can see them
As I check my contacts to see who I can talk to today. Or who will listen. I wonder who will listen. Or what kind of game I will play to make someone listen.
I am yellow, I am green. It’s noon and I am flying.
Here is how else I will save the world:
I will make sure I save myself first,
I'll clean my room and go to the gym
work off three weeks of sweets with three hours on the treadmill, I forgot how good it feels to run and I know that this is the last time I will ever, ever give up.
I’m better now. I run on a track that loops back in on itself because I find comfort in knowing it will always return no matter how many times I lose sight of where I'm going, I would get lost were I to run outside because when you are everything all at once you seldom stay in place, God there is just so much to look at. I will never look back at who I was even as late as yesterday.
I get lost inside rubix cube mentalities and short lived craft store hobbies, but I'm better.
I am yellow, I am green. And today I am going to be a wildlife photographer, And an artist, and when people ask me what I want to be I tell them
I will work for the United Nations and that I am going to save the world, they believe me and ask me how I'll do it and I realize that I have yet to start saving the world.
I woke up at 4, so sure today was the day,
I felt it in my heart like the time I took two of my adderalls by mistake because I forgot that I took one that day, I felt it and it was real. Throbbing like a bump from falling but real. I lost track of that feeling for a second and now it is fleeting.
What is happening?

I am yellow, I am green.
I am yellow, i am yellow I am yellow,
Are you still listening?
I'm potential energy locked inside a pendulum
Hanging from a chemical tree that dies fast and grows slowly, Im staggered progress dressed up like empathy, I'm baggage too heavy
I am yellow, I am green.
I am fleeting energy
The kind that sparks a few times
On telephone lines turned pink infront of sunsets in july, gone before your friends can see it too.
They never really see it, too.
I am yellow, I am green

I forgot to shower every day this week but
I'm too tired to get out of bed,
What is happening? Can you remind me what I was doing?
I was supposed to save the world today
I’m sorry.
I was really going to save the world today
I'm taking in as much caffeine as I can without
Making my heart feel like it will push its way
Through my ribs out of my chest
Though being able to feel in my chest again
Might not be so bad. I’m stuffing smoke inside my cavities to fill them up, doing my best to keep feeling inside the skin I wear when I can feel it
Going numb, even it hurts at least I can feel it, I wish I could inject caffeine right into my veins,
I wish you could jump infront of moving trains without Hurting everyone on board,
I wish I felt less like this but I wish I felt more,
I reread texts from last night where transitioning
Felt like fist fighting recovery, her having one up on me,

I am crimson, I am grey, I am fleeting energy.
I’m so sorry.


I thought I said that before
And I might have but I forgot, I feel cloudy
I stumbled through steel wool tall grass to make it
Out of bed today and the weight of every single mistake I have ever made feels like it will surely break my spine Right in half, I don’t know if I will make it through today.
I wish someone would save me today.
I am crimson, I am grey.
I need someone to save my world today.

life is a rubix's  cube,
some times its just
                a mess of colour...

And every so often
      they all match and
                     your content...

Picture  a Rubix Cube.
Boxes fixed on an axel
Colored stickers plastered on each one.
If you are missing a piece,
The whole cube will fall apart.

The Cube will collapse.
Did you know?

In your mind, I bet the cube
Was shaped in a perfect box.
Symmetrical sides, 90 degree angels.
Maybe the colors in order, maybe not.
Either way, all parts in tact.

Picture a Rubix Cube.
Each box apart of me,
All Connected, with near infinite combinations.
Every side says something.
What can I show you next...

Is all in clarifying the question.
Why don't you just ask?

I am a Rubix Cube
And you will never solve me.

If you want to try
All you need to do is ask.

Just ask for the answer key!