Will I go out like the sun
Yellow, orange, red, and pink
Burning until the end?
Or will I be like the moon
And quietly let the coming light
erase me from the sky?

It’s a real thing

A world so bold so  raw
No love nor care
Nothing
A world of fear
Surroundings ***** dry
so cold
Eyes hauntingly empty
Asking why
Damaged souls
With irreversible holes
Nothing left to remember
Except this  fear

Silence and explosion
the only things to hear
No one, nobody not a child
has been spared
All there is
Are burning tears
And the smell of this fear

Those are the people
from   the war
Totally forgotten
by this world
Left behind
With nothing more
then  this killing fear

Shell ✨🐚

"You are a breath of fresh air."  He said
     in a way that was unlike the way
                                   the others had put it.
"You are new air and new earth and
                                   you are the words that have not yet been
written.”
                            “ You are the beginning and the ending of
                                              a story that could never again be told.
You are as fresh as the rising sun and the winds that
                                         welcome it sweetly across the horizon.”
And somehow I do not feel reborn when
                                                               I am around you. It is like you are
                                                                           the
                                                           reincarnation
                                                   of some great ancient being, and
                   I am trapped behind the illusion that I am unique.
                                                My memories trapped inside a forgotten rebirth.
My words trapped behind
                                                pale yellow teeth, as if they are gravestones
                     challenging me that if I did speak,
                                                                    it would be the death of me.

a simple memory, so fragile & could be forgotten
it seems so long ago that we were there,
riding bikes in the dusty air of summertime,
along the empty streets, & once in a while
the dogs would bark as we passed,
angry to be awoken from their summertime slumber.

lying on top of so much history, so many stories,
buried forever in the tall grass & sunflowers
that waved in the breeze as we passed.
you're still there, aren't you?
waiting, watching for me to return, &
for me to remember who I am.

sunset, lighting up the whole world
those sunflowers glowing crimson & gold,
and in the last moments before the sun disappeared,
they hold on to a moment of time,
a reminder of those summer days.


in the middle of a town where people rush around day & night,
in the middle of all those modern buildings, modern people, modern world
you still wait for me to remember; in all the golden splendor,
in the simple fragility of your untouched world,
you wait for us to remember those summer days
that are now only memories, faded and almost forgotten.

Wait for me. I'll come back.

I listen to the endless cries of cats at night
Lonely and helpless,
Abandoned and forgotten
Living in a narrow, deserted alleyway.
I’ve left cans of food for them,
But that’s not what they want
They want love
To feel protected and sheltered
By the sheer warmth of compassion
Some may want to be reunited with their mothers
Or from their owners’.
No matter how many times these poor animals were left out in the cold
Or met with the scorching rays of the sun
We’ve neglected them to the point where
Anything better than what they have right now will suffice.
The next time I hear their cries
I can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of guilt
Part of me wants to take every one of them out of their miserable lives
But some of these cats had lives
Some of us overlooked that
Walked right pass a cat that belonged to someone who didn’t want them anymore
Threw them out like the piles of trash
In the alleyway.

I forgot what I was looking for,
was it money, love or some valuable ore?
I don’t even know what I want more,
to go home or to explore
the town, the forest, and the shore,
or maybe I could try the store?
Inside me is a raging war,
between the voices, everyone told me to ignore,
but I don’t know if I can do it any more.
They just get right into my core.
Did I lose my mind or-?
Was it my sense I wanted to restore?
In front of me a locked white door,
and I am lying on the cold white floor.
Sometimes I am visited by a lady, who I adore,
when she was here the last time she wore
a white cloak someone tore.
She says that my mind is sore.
But what matters to me is same as before –
will I ever find what I am looking for?