Birds have their homes.
This bird made this world,
Its own home.

When other birds struggled
To make friends beyond their homes,
This bird made followers and comrades,
Transformed them
The perseverent leaders of a challenging mission

It put its foot on Argentina and
Set its victorious fight in Cuba.
Availed losses in Congo
Voiced and breathed every millisecond
Struggled recklessly for a mission,
Freedom, peace & prosperity of all its fellow birds
Beyond borders.

The most superior of the superior birds
With an infinite and complex strings of cunningness
Put an end to this bird in Bolivia.

At the end, the bird failed
Fell a prey for other selfish birds.
As a root that fell and
Buried itself in the soil with an infinite power.
To give hope and shelter,
To all those who come under it,
For the near future and coming generations

The bird died!
But its mission ignited the phoenix flames
In its bird comrades.
Got them to fight for
Every drop of Injustice, Imperialism and hatred
That came racing towards them
As an inescapable bullet

Their hearts raised in spirit
When every drop of its thought
Hit them more fierce than
The world’s most powerful atomic bomb.

The bird died.
But its ideals for the mission
Rekindled the fires in their heart.

Being born an ordinary bird,
Fighting for the most demanded & toughest mission,
Its thought and principles
Set new leaders to fight the unattainable mission
Now, looking the most possible
Within an attaining distance

The bird lived its life,
An ordinary and the most challenging one.
But transformed a phoenix,
When it left the world.
And created more of
Daring Phoenix warriors;
Attain a world filled with peace and happiness.

I've never been homesick.
I've been “home-sick”--
carrying that hunk of lead in the pit of your stomach
as your time away comes to an end.
Back to routine,
back to routine.
Not to be mean
but I want to take my roots
and plant them elsewhere
time, after time, after time.
Because you have to come back to your roots.
But this plant is rotting from the bottom up,
reaching for the sun with a weak foundation
and I don't want to fall.

I've never been homesick.
But I've been so sick of the droll,
the toll,
the tax I didn't know I had to pay
for the sake of community.
But where's the common unity
if the clockwork pieces
move farther apart
with every passing hour?
Our time is coming,
but I don't know what will transpire.

I've never been homesick.
I've been sick-
sick of wanting to be sick
so I can stick to faulty sympathy--
faulty because I need to grow.
Faulty because I need to know
I can go it alone
without these training wheels
I can't detach
because guess who can't afford
half the tools she needs
since she spent it all on comfort?
It's how I was raised:
substitute praise
with a trifle,
a trinket,
a treat.
We only eat
to fill the holes we dig for each other
while father, sister, mother
spiral down-- farther, farther,
until we forget what we’re burying.

I've never been homesick.
I don't have a home to miss
(not yet) because I've never been
I've never seen
where I'm meant to reside
for the rest of my life.
My home is farther than I can reach
so I strive for heavenly speech
to mimic the local dialect.
Maybe someone will detect
that I'm lost
I can't get there just yet
but I'm homeward bound.

One work a night
Trying to become the light
In another’s Life.
We can only try
To change the tide
In another’s Life.

it's so hard for me
to open up,
but once i do,
i can't stop,
and people don't mind
stepping all over me,
so i build yet another wall
around me,
and opening up becomes
a mission not even Tom Cruise can make possible.

I remember driving down the sun-baked
city street, on a mission to find
something, somewhere, which
now I cannot remember.
But I do remember this: you pulled
the truck aside and said, “Go grab some of
those pods off those trees.”
When I protested you simply gestured
for me to get going.
To this day, I still have mimosa and catalpa beans
stashed away in an old cigar box, silk trees
waiting to be planted in the
rich, dark earth.

Why would I listen?
To gain their recognition, follow their tradition?
I cant let them decide my mission, I am my own edition
Won't let them send me to prison
I see the risen of my ambition
I should use my cannon
And shoot a **** load of "Stay away" ammunition.
Won't let them take away my personality
Because that is my specialty