And it’s ugly .
All things are ugly in the end ,
Do some harbour the capacity of only seeing the good ?
The ugly is all I see in the end .

The  links that tie us are so beautiful yet so raw ,
Drowned in a color that is ours but also everyones
The links that tie us are of a deep red ,
running in our veins in a way that’s so coarse
I wonder if we’re the only ones .

The beauty we basked in before the storm removed its light ,
Still lingers in that beautiful soul of ours .
But it has  been sullied , beaten and rendered useless
By love itself , by the adoration , trust itself .

Love : what a destructive thing ,
No matter the nature , it’s way of functioning seems to be a never wavering scheme
One that is the most fulfilling sight you’ll ever lay your eyes upon ,
Before every crevice of the thing you once adored turns into to ash and bone

Its so fascinating , is it not ?
The way we tumble and fall , but still lift ourselves up
The way we get a little bit uglier , a little more lost  
At every twist and turn , we lose something that we were made of



And I’ve lost , lost so much in you .
May I reach for your heart , rip it from your chest to allow myself to feel full again ?
Or maybe -and only if you let me- would you let me retrieve my books from your shelves ,
I know you read them , understood them and bare with me , annotated them but they are mine ,
May I have them back ?

It’s in no way that I wish to taint you furthermore with my obligations and needs ,
But the things I used to give -and willingly so- are now missing me
Or I miss them , that besides the point ,
With them in your hands I fail to feel whole ,

So let me dissect your brain , to figure which part of every memory  belonged to me
To attempt to seek and find the things that now make you 'you' , that actually stem from me .
I’m sorry , or probably not all , I don’t seem to a give a single thought about you being empty
I just need the love you stole from me

This is a another classic instance of **** or be killed ,
In a way this for my survival , and thus I must ****
You , it all seems to begin with you .
All the things that hurt me , simply make you stronger
Cause I didn’t steal from you

And my heart weighs heavier than you on the balance of honesty

Wind glided through the forest ringing like bicycle bells as it blesses the leaves with its presence,
Making a magical sound.
The canopy moves in a synchronised dance
Waving goodbye to the breeze.
There's a harmony and a melody that can never be overlooked.
The woods come together in this special movement creating wonder for those on earth.
The pine trees have practised their rehearsal a lot of times
And the cold wind is their music.
Some pieces of wood that are now painting the forest floor, strewn all over were once giant creatures greeting the sky.
Now they mould into the soil below..
But the circle of life goes on as it often does.
These tree barks are now home to ants and caterpillars and insects and tiny creatures with no home.
Even after a tree's death, it can provide life to many beings.
Little vines creep up over the brown on the forest floor, making sure that the dead tree barks don't feel lonely.
Everything humans do is for themselves.
We give love because we expect love and loneliness is our imperfection.
But nature teaches us that the entire forest is one,
Breathing together, living together, dying together
And even after death, growing together.

What is the meaning of meaning you ask
As if understanding could even unmask
The word described by the word is just cagey
And the search for it, well, that’s pretty new agey

Perhaps it’s the happiness, before we focus on dread
Our beauty that’s fleeting before we are dead
It hums in the silence, it leaps through the air,
It thrives in knowing — and not knowing — it’s there.

Yesterday whispered, “You’re nothing at all,”
Today stretches forward, a tentative call.
Tomorrow might gift me a torchlight, a spark,
Or leave me still wandering blind in the dark.

It’s both the climb and the ache in our knees.
It’s both the summers warmth and the winter’s freeze
It shouts in our triumph, but it hides when we lose,
An whisper of a mumble that will only confuse.

The search for the question, or the answer’s pursuit,
An enigma of itself that will never compute
A cosmic conundrum, a riddle, a game—
the meaning of meaning is one and the same.

a dog pees on a tree,
so what, that’s average.

a baby has spaghetti
around its mouth,
pfft, that’s basic.

a woman living below you
beats on the ceiling with
a broomstick and tells
you to “keep it down!”
big deal, that’s common.

pulling your member
out of your pants and
stroking it violently
with excitement,

hey, that’s just everyday living.

but, seeing you sitting there
on that park bench,
one leg crossed over the other,
with your dog
and your book
and your sunglasses
while tears of joy stream
down your face
after something you
just read

well now…

you
don’t
see
that
everyday.

Imperfection is exquisite beauty
It can love whatever it adores
And on rare and diamond occasions
It can even love itself
Sultry as candle sighs
Cool as evening breeze
It soothes the honey coves

It is a Spring sunrise
And the dew upon the morning glories
Goldenly blush
The moonlit caress is the caress of love
To make it through the day

The reveries make it more sublime
Solitude is the rose friend
When all has drifted like clouds

Tresses in the fur of breeze
Upon the verandas of loves gaze
There shall be rainbow bouquets
And things like stars sweetly ablaze

The rain sings
Its notes of jazz and comfort
Some like her sweet
And some like her sultry
The misty eyed fountains
feel her allure
Like a sunflower cure

Waves shimmering
And shimmering
Whether if its a fiesta or siesta

The rain has honey accents

Reynaldo Casison

they say home is where the heart is
then my heart must be a nomad

my heart is with my mom's ****** jokes
with my dad's infectious laughter
with my mom's kindness
with my dad's dumb humor
with my cats and their spunky attitude
with the sunsets setting the sky ablaze
with every word I write
pouring out of my soul

they say home is where the heart is
then my heart must be a nomad
because I find something to love in everything

For some reason,
I often hear girls speak this treason:
"I'm so fat"

no.
No.
nO.
NO.
NO!

You're skinny. You're in shape!
Next to me, you look like a stick.
I'M fat. I'm a big round rock.
But who cares? Why care?
Some of us are fat. Some of us are thinner.
why's must we worry and
detest our selves because of how we look?
we are more than just our bodies.
we are hearts. we are souls. we are human.
we are broken, scarred and beautiful

You do not attract what you want, you attract what you are / so if you want your epic love, you must be an epic lover / if you want abundance, you must be abundant / in other words, Universe does not respond to your want / it responds to your I am it responds to your energy / and the times I’d thought I found love, what I’d really found was whatever feeling I was operating from / and anger, desperation, fear, lack——none make very satisfying bedmates let me tell you / and none equal love

So be love / be love, and let the world love you back / do not think your empty prayers your daily affirmations will fool God / God’s language is not words