We may ink, or pen,
          or be vocal on the
        
                                   words,

that turn to emotions.

                Invoking our
                                fear,
                         love,
                    sight..

Beyond the view that
            we never realised
that even if our legacy is
                               momentary.

If we can move one,
                move a moment,


then we know that we have
               meant something.

       That's helped someone connect
to our emotional state when we,
                                     I wrote this
                                                         piece..

Driving by the beautiful woods,
I see them every night.
Standing tall and peaceful words at last,
its truly a poignant sight.

I think to myself,
all through the night.
what would mine say?
perhaps a few words of righteous might?

When the time comes,
need I let the world know?
or as the time flies,
do I let the world know me?

Flying like a butterfly,
Spreading your wings willfully,
Shining through your smile truthfully,
Speaking a few niceties naturally, and
Building paragraphs of legacy.
Surely, Epitaph will be no new fancy,
and written for you in permanency.
Not in a stone but in the hearts,
you touched in regular frequency.

I think to myself,
all through the night.
Why then,
should it say anything?
I suppose, its neither wrong nor right.

“I miss her! I miss her!”

I fall to the ground..as well does heavy tears

“The Hummingbird IS Gone!”

“I miss it’s visit and song”

where does one fill these empty halls

where this girl made her voice boom for so long?!

Even though it was not yesterday that the evil ones took her from the world

I became the Joker… My anarchy and laughs

Were forces ,now, to unfurl .

He reminds himself to spread her legacy through your own artistic hand

True love filled a once empty heart.

As well as music’s wedding band.

I must do my best to spread my words, her messages, from her songs

In my pages of Photos,Sketches, and Poetic Verse

As her spirit smiles, next to me, arms around my neck…

She hears my soul and heart perform in every moment

of my artistic strength that my pen or music starts to rehearse.




Dedicated to two fallen angels. Selena Quintanilla-Perez and My Sweet Christina Grimmie

When I was a kid I would carry a can of spray paint in my backpack
I always wanted to leave behind something that someone would see
Something that would make them stop and be enthralled
Something interesting... inspiring even
Something more than just the value of its creator

Maybe I haven’t changed that much

one day i’ll be gone
my throat in death as hollow as my chest was in life
all thats left of me is the glaring absence of me
i am nothing if not consistent
i am nothing
except dreams of becoming something
i do not know how i will die
i do not care when i will die
i don’t want your tears
and although i fear being forgotten i don’t want to be remembered
all i ask for is forgiveness
if i have done no wrong by you
then i ask the world forgiveness
i ask human kind to find it in her heart to forgive if only out of pity
i ask myself for forgiveness
i’m sorry for opportunities missed
i’m sorry for days lost laying in bed
i’m sorry for canceling plans so often because my chest lights on fire at the idea of crowds
i’m sorry we never reached our full potential
i’m sorry for fleeting thoughts i never wrote down
i’m sorry you didnt get to change the world
then again,
how lovely it would be to be forgotten
for nothing would hurt more than being stabbed after death
when i cannot shield myself
my rotting corpse unknowing the horros the living are committing
a legacy no longer concerns me
i long to be forgotten

Legacy is such an odd word.
Something to keep you alive
When your life becomes blurred,
And you need the drive.
But no matter with what fortune you pay,
It’s still with the dead you lay.

My thoughts are with the dead,
For among them I will one day walk,
And yet I hope that once I’ve bled
The living will not be wrought with midday talk
And the tears will surely fall
And more than just the babies will bawl.

With the living I find delight in space,
Watching the star soaked sky,
And dancing around in lace.
But I know it is all a lie,
Because it is with the dead I will survive
It is with the dead where I will one day arrive.

My days among the dead are here,
With them I now belong.
Now that I am more than fear
I hope my life was strong.
I hope my legacy is enough
For my life to survive the tough.