pulverized by desolate winds;
brutalized by ungodly kings;
capsized by the violent waves;
neutralized by the scorpion’s sting.

terrorized by the thoughts of morrow;
legitimized by a trademark of sorrow;
authorized to live in vain;
generalized - like the streets,
and the boroughs.

synthesized by the alchemy of remorses;
romanticized… like the dark horses;
mesmerized by the notion of vengeance -
hypnotized by even darker curses.

digitized by the ways of future;
mystified by metrics, and conjectures;
specialized in the pursuit of reality -
'civilized' by the grand architecture.

I'm disappointed,

nevertheless, as always --


I count my blessings.

You bellow my appellation,
unworthy soul
you vociferate
proclaiming
my worthlessness.

Your cries echo
with ignorance,
lamenting my alleged
idleness
and ineptitude,
prophesying
my perpetual failure.

Yet, I shall Pivot,
standing resolute,
a smile
gracing my visage
as I regard you
and declare,

'One day,
I shall bask in Prominence

One day,
Prosperity
shall be mine.
Joy
shall accompany me,

I Will be Industrious and
Honor Will Adorn Me

I will Ascend
Far beyond your reach,
and you will remain oblivious
ensnared
in the depths
of your own despair,
until you glimpse my face
from an exalted realm,

a perspective
forever unattainable
to you.

A hermit crab
In love with his bongo.
Scuffles on with his bongo beat.
Each thump filling the empty space
Around him.
He walks the hot concrete.
In search of something like home.
His shell dragging behind
Weighing him down.
The thump no longer loud enough
To move its tiny body.
The rhythm barely rattling around its
shell.
After a while everything can turn into a drag.
But still, he scuffles on.
He smiles, stopping to take a break
On the grass.
The concrete burning his feet.
His tiny claws scraping across the bongo.
He looks over to his left.
To find an old boot.
Nodding her head, tapping the ground
Following along to the beat.
Although weathered, she too smiled.
Echoing back his loud thuds.
Her sole cracked but full of life.
Life happens in the strangest way sometimes.
Two outcasts alone.
Drumming up stories without a word.
Scuffling on a bongo heart.
Life doesn't have to be a drag all the time.

You stirred the ***.
Taking parts of you.
Parts of me.
The good, the bad.
Even the things that aren’t
So pretty to look at.
And poured them into
The pan.
It’s easy to forget about
The hurt until you come
Face to face with it.
Sour peaches aren’t the end
Of the world.
No matter how we layer it.
These are the things we’ve
Come to love about each other.
Even the hurt becomes mixed
In a sugar glaze with enough time.
No matter how bitter.
The brown of my skin
Mixed with yours.
A recipe that’s been done
And passed down before our time.
No matter how much of a mess
We think that things are,
No matter how bruised a peach
We accidentally pick up.
Nothing can replace the warmth
Of a cobbler.
Straight from the oven.
Soon we’ll both be fast asleep.
Your head rising and falling on my chest
With each breath I take.

Rage received is like heavy sea
Crashing against the rocks upon which stands a lighthouse,
The waves build up as they reach the shallows,
Steepening and rearing,
Building ire and power until
Smashing over and over
Against the rock and the edifice,
Obliterating any view of the tower
And the rock,

But this lighthouse is indeed built on rock,
With pilings driven deep and secure in
Faith in what lies behind the waves,
Knowlege that the storm will pass,
The sun will shine once more
And even as the salt water and vitriol
Do their worst,
Above it that light still shines out,
A message of love and security,

And these seas which crash into the rock
Were built up by the wind of actions
And words poorly founded,
In the true ocean there will always be
Another storm and another calm,
But rage can find peace now
Because the cause is calm,
The cause is kind,
The cause is gentle

And it holds you gently in my arms

I think there's something about youth that a lot of 'adults' forget:
those years between 20-25, might as well be 15,
they are long and arduous
and will test your will more times than  you think possible.

But it is here where your character is forged.
Where your soul picks a path,
an identity in relation to this world.

Because what is the self if not in relation to another?

And from there, the current of this identity takes you along to 30, 35, 40, 50, 60 and onwards.

Some people buckle under this pressure,
it is intense and cutting.
And takes both rigidity in one's persistence
and
softness in one's heart.

Because a hardened heart cannot be imprinted on.

And that might just be the point of existence.
To be imprinted by love and to spread the same.

Kindness is a choice.

We choose in the pressure chambers of our 20s if we are nice,
or kind,
or neither.

I hope when you look in the mirror, you are as proud of your choice as I am.

It is this kindness within you
that you have nourished and grown,
with intent, and through a labour of love,
that will always carry you forward.

Kindness is a choice, but we were also lucky to be gifted this by Mom and Dad,
and from them ever since.

Their commitment to kindness
to keeping this softness in their hearts,
reminds me to do the same.

They have this inherently within them because of the communities they grew up in.
We are removed from these parts of our roots,
and that particular cultural piece
is not the same for us.

As such,
it will be our life's work to keep this knowing at the forefront of our minds.
And hearts.

However, this is still not a weight we must bear alone.
We do this in communities just the same.

It will not be easy
and will take both hard work and dedication,
but it does get easier.

The current picks up with time.

I feel fortunate to have you
on my team for this task ahead.

We have our work cut out for us,
and at this particular moment, we must go at it alone.

But that does not mean we are ever alone.

That community.
That safety net.
Those hearts imprinted with  yours,
of past, present and future,
always remain.

This is my hope for you
as you go into this next chapter: that even when you are alone, you are never lonely
with this knowing.

My heart always remains soft and open to yours,
M

Take your grief and sink it into a pool of velvet red
Watch as green leaves flourish
And the petals dyed by your bottled up pain
Extend their arms to greet you
A melancholic flower,
a symbol of the strength you endure
To keep holding on to the sky