The sound of home isn’t an
ordinary sound.

It’s the sound you hear
when your laughing with
your family.
It’s the sound you hear
when a guitar plays
from the corner of your
ear.

The way his guitar strums
and makes me feel warm
Inside, like warm tea going
down your throat.

The feeling of home isn’t an
ordinary feeling.

It’s the goosebumps you get
as a leaf blows by you.
The colour orange as a
constant reminder of your
Childhood, like the rain that
drips from the grey skies.

I can not define home with
just words, but i can with
silence.

The pitter-patter of rain
immune to me to become
the silence.

No birds or grasshoppers
chirping, not even any sound
from the wild thieves with
striped tails wondering in
the night.

Only the sound of memories
repeating in my head.
And the images repeating to
bring a smile to my face.
To make me think to myself,
that’s my home and i’ll never
forget it.

reminisce the days
when two of them are by the swing
back and forth ways
lovingly perfect as they fling

now, think of this poor old swing
lonely, alone with me
without you and nothing
without your love, I see it not rocking

I think it’s far past the time,
that I go and change my full name.
It’s not that I’ve committed a crime,
It’s just I’m done playing this game.
It’s a waste of my time and energy,
and I’ve become aware there’s a closet in my skeleton,
it’s moved from where it’s meant to be,
I guess it’s not just my will power that’s made of gelatin.

I took a power drill to my right temple,
to create a hole and install a switch.
To erase my thoughts I ignored the detrimental,
but every memory slips it’s way through the stitch.
Sometimes it’s not the change you want,
but maybe it’s the change that you need.
Don’t hide your wounds, they’re battle scars you should flaunt,
and praise that you still have the ability to bleed.

But I’m a hypocrite of the worst kind,
as I encourage others to embrace the pain.
My worst enemy is my own mind,
and I’m plotting havoc against my brain.
I’d do anything for a clean slate,
I’d give it all up to once hit “reset”
The best I can do right now is just wait,
and hope one day I can be blessed to forget.

I tried to go back home but the doors are all locked,
and someone’s in my parking space.
There’s a sea of debris on the roads that I once walked,
my existence in my own home has been fully erased.
It’s almost so tragic that it’s comedic,
that the only two things I want slipped through my grasp.
A concept is invisible, so how do you beat it?
If you never held it how do you reclasp?

But I’m a hypocrite of the worst kind,
as I encourage others to embrace the pain.
I’m tired of being ******* within this bind,
like a cartoon character on the tracks awaiting an oncoming train.
I’d do anything for a clean slate,
I’d give it all up to once hit “reset”
Am I starving even though I cleared my plate?
Am I swimming in riches while drowning in debt?

Eternal sunshine of a spotless mind,
speaks more to my state, praying to become blind.
Atleast I wouldn’t long and yearn,
for the spot where I once stood,
‘cause how can you ever return
when you know how it used to be good?

And I raised her up on a pedestal so high,
that her fingers could brush the heavens.
She replaced the sun and became the sky,
and I wished for her at all eleven-eleven’s.

Dear Mama,
You would pause throughout the days amidst the drama,
And talk to me about why we should persist and what’s gonna,
Come of all of this and then climb out of the abyss to forget papa,
And reminisce in incidents of our time in home and in the old Honda.

Dear Papa,
It’s been a very, very long time without you,
A month after you were married, who knew,
You would be buried after a pew, pew, pew,
Shot twice in the upper back and once in the head,
We saw he was black as he ran off, up ahead,
Of your falling attacked body, we yelled as you bled,
Landed on the silver cracked and red stained cement.

Dear Sis,
I know we both long for and miss,
The man who’s gone for the abyss,
So, I wrote a song in honor of his bliss,
Haven’t kissed him since the coffin,
Church surrounded in a foggy mist,
Skin cracked and wrinkled, yet softened,
He will never be forgotten.

I wonder if you'll read my poetry one day, and reminisce upon all the good times we could have had. I know...it's pointless to hold a grudge. Life would be simpler if I just moved on without anger. However, I do confess, I want to know one last thing--did you ever understand what I meant?