Blessed is he who has a guiding friend:
To walk with him till life’s rough journey ends;
To share his sorrows and to share his joys;
‘Midst this strange world’s noise – this familiar voice
Cheers his faint heart when he is feeling low;
Stands by him tho’ the world counts him a foe;
Laughs with him when his youthful spirit soars;
Loves him for what he is with all his flaws;
Blessed are these two –who walk hand in hand;
The road is less rough – to the promised land.

you can smell it
the war
it crawls up your spine
and your heart
it beats
or bursts
as the fire surrounds you
and as you clutch her hand
look into her eyes
you can see it
the war
and you hold on
as she nods
will you die with me?
on the spot

Even if the stars won’t align,
And we can’t get it right,
I’ll still stand by your side,
Till the day I die.

Even if our what if’s come true,
I’ll stand by you,

Till the day I die,
I’ll stand by your side,
Until we can get it right,
Even if the stars don’t align,

my heart
only beat for you,
and i loved
only you.
loyal to the end,
and i thought
you were too.
but you didn't stay,
and somehow,
i didn't expect you to.

To the two boys who think I owe them something.
My heart doesn't belong to either of you,
and your spindly fingers clenching it
don't look enough like ribbon
to fool me into thinking that
my love is a gift to you.
To the two of you,
so willing to give me
your monthly allowances of text messages
yet not your loyalty.
For thinking that an "honest" apology
fixes me having to question why
just me was never good enough
for either of you.
You were both greedy,
you always wanted more.
Now run free and fill your stomach with all the flavours that will burn your taste buds and scorch your tongue.
To both of you for being willing enough to open my box with a key that I never gave you,
rifle through my thoughts and feelings,
and not even open your ears to them,
leaving the lid off
and the contents strewn across your floor.
For offering to help me pick them back up again,
but only because my "small, little arms" are not strong enough to carry my own weight that I've carried for
fifteen years on my own.
Here's to both of you for putting me down about being small.
That is NOT my fault.
I have a mighty big cathedral for a heart and a generous brain
and that's all within 5"2.
It doesn't make you any bigger than me
(metaphorically).
Your few feet advantage doesn't give you
the power above me,
even if you can see the roots of my hair in more detail
than you would ever care to observe
the fault lines of my cracked smile.
Boys are being taught that
to love me
is to fix me,
that I am some kind of messy enigma,
a project, a goal.
I'm just a girl with a family, a girl with a head, with a spiders web of veins and a lifetime of lessons that I'm opening my arms and my heart to.
You mistake yourself for a lesson,
when I'm fully qualified to teach myself.

You diagnose yourselves
as "depressed".
Mental illness is not an accessory,
nor a quirk to make you seem more vulnerable to me.
Don't brandish it in the air,
it is not a weapon against me.
It doesn't make you adorable,
or some kind of cuddly bear boy.
Everything that's
"killing you"
is just as toxic to me.
You set my skin into blue flames
because I won't give myself to you.
No,
no,
no.
I'm tangled in my rejection,
and it thickens.
I can't be with you out of pity.
My guilt, raging deep within my bowels,
marching violently through my organs,
exploding into a supernova of
thinking that love and guilt are almost the same thing.
"I'll do anything",
I don't want anything from you.
"I'll write you a poem because I know how much you love that."
I also love being respected but neither of you ever gave me that.
My craft is not a tool of trickery,
and your words not a trance.
"I'm not like him".
But you still act like my skin is a carpet to your home,
and you walk across it with muddy boots.

You think you're a blanket to keep me warm,
but you ended up suffocating me.
To the boys who think I owe you them something,
go home.

The Caged Man (2018) By Jared Ross


Heart racing, the caged man stands excited for his master
To free him of his burden,
Confound to solitude and desperation
The caged man stands idle in corner
Body to be left waiting until warmer.

Without voice and without cry the caged
Man tries and tries
His master’s absence causes worry in eyes
For he is a caged man,
He can not speak nor signal
He awaits his master for his mind is so simple.

The caged man is loyal and his duty is plain,
The master will be here he will wait everyday,
Until his bones break down, and his expression to frown,
Until his beating heart ceases,
Until the maggots eat him to pieces,
He’ll wait for his master,
For he is a loyal caged man.

The caged man wags his tail,
Anticipation to see a master who never showed up,
The cage is far from locked,
But the caged man remains inside,
Waiting for an absent master,
What a ******* of a master.

In a time where I feel pain
Time slows still
I'm breaking

Minds grown numb and ache again
Time slows still
I'm breaking

Unrequited love, what a shame
Time slows still
I'm breaking

You fell for that guy who I disdain
Times ran out
I'm broken

Men don't look at me with passion and love.
They look at me with lust and doubtful eyes,
because of my round hips, and small shoulders,
that I inherited from my mother,
and her mother before that.
Fourteen years old, i'm no longer just a skinny girl.
And growing up all I've ever heard,
is I'm blessed to have this body, to have this face.
As if that's the only thing I've got to chase.
As if that's the only thing I've got going for me;
so I was taught that beauty is the only thing I've got.  
27 years old, my family wonders why
I've got no boyfriend,
no husband, no family of my own,
when all my sisters, when all my cousins are all married
and i'm still alone. 27 years old, i'm crying in my room.
Men always seek a pretty face but never a soul,
that's what I tell them, after being repeatedly
asked why i'm always alone.
And I refuse to give up my body,
to give up my touch, to anybody that's more attracted
to my face than my
whats inside my head.
I'm more than just an over sexualized body, I'm more
than just a pair of big eyes and a pretty face.
I'm a hard working woman, who's gained consciousness
through her soul. I'm a late night on a roof top looking at
the stars and writing about the moon.
I'm a long conversation about the universe,
sipping wine underneath a black sky.  I'm all my broken
hearts and all my wishful dreams.
I'm a woman with a heart and soul like no other. I'm
everything and I'm nothing at all, but please never just
lust and fire.


*Sandoval