A hermit crab
In love with his bongo.
Scuffles on with his bongo beat.
Each thump filling the empty space
Around him.
He walks the hot concrete.
In search of something like home.
His shell dragging behind
Weighing him down.
The thump no longer loud enough
To move its tiny body.
The rhythm barely rattling around its
shell.
After a while everything can turn into a drag.
But still, he scuffles on.
He smiles, stopping to take a break
On the grass.
The concrete burning his feet.
His tiny claws scraping across the bongo.
He looks over to his left.
To find an old boot.
Nodding her head, tapping the ground
Following along to the beat.
Although weathered, she too smiled.
Echoing back his loud thuds.
Her sole cracked but full of life.
Life happens in the strangest way sometimes.
Two outcasts alone.
Drumming up stories without a word.
Scuffling on a bongo heart.
Life doesn't have to be a drag all the time.

i step out of the warzone.
leaving the worries and anticipation behind,
melancholia washed off by the waves of excitement.
to the forest i go, to the shadows of bulbous trees i hide.
away from reality, away from society,
away from the rockets and away from the bullets.

the lead in my heart dissipates.
in the branches of evergreen spruce –
my horrors and sins, caught, tangled, and trapped in wooden reach.
as i venture into the deepest secrets of these lowly woods,
carrying with me a camera, so heavy and so light –
capturing the whispers and movements of life.

this has been my tradition in years past.
when i am hanging by the thread and hope seems lost,
i go to my haven where life flows freely.
there i find the importance, the mysteries,
the magnitudes of this world – all things i have been ignorant of.
looking above to the heavens,

sheltered by the canopies of multitudes of green.
the damp, filthy earth lingers.
i am wrapped, masked, and bandaged in maternal care.
the mourns of yesterday silenced.
the wounds of yesterday deteriorates,
decays with the fallen foliage,

that gives life to something new –
these years have been a collection of videos, photos, and poems.
a trek to the woods away from the war of the extremes –
full of short-lived happiness followed by long days of sadness,
like a short summer thrill, interrupted quickly by winter’s chill –
so abrupt and so rude.

the song of the birds and the ancient branches stir joy in my heart.
the mosquitos cherishing every bit of fresh blood –
reminding me that i am alive – and very well appreciated –
a living sacrifice to aid in long winter days ahead.
now, that i am reminded of the impending cold – all this colour and life
will soon fade away and under the roof of war i take shelter yet again.

So tired
The baby next to me
Is loud
I'm worried
The thoughts
Run a marathon
And it goes
On
And
On
And
On
And
On
My heartbeat racing
My mind is tracing
Every fear,
That could come near,
It's more than insecurities,
It's rather severe.

I'm anxious on the train.

The results are in
The bar set high
A race with peers
Beneath the sky
Their faces,
Their grades,
Loom over me
Weighing me down
Until I break
Their expectations
Too much to take
I'll find my way
I'll try my best
To outdo the rest
But it's never enough
As I always have
A new exam to face...

Homework, homework,
Pouring out onto me.
There, they all work,
while I hyper-fixate on poetry.

O, peer pressure,
I'm not good enough.
Nothing will give them pleasure,
They think my hard work's only bluff.

Sleep deprivation,
I only rest for four hours.
Not enough motivation,
And no more brain power.

And just like a candle,
I get burnt out.
This is all I could handle,
Do not be in doubt.

Today was the first day of class.
You should have seen all the people.

Everyone couldn’t have had class, some of them must
have been gawkers, the types that slow to watch
flat tire changings and car wrecks.

Some were carrying maps - freshmen.
Like student drivers they clogged the paths,
drawing a few looks.

They gaggle together like geese,
Jeeezus - shut UP and get ON with it, freshies! I thought.
Not ungenerously - I remember being lost - back in the day.

I have class, myself - in both the intrinsic sense - of style -
and in the “research for credit” ‘check in on the first day,’ kind.

Still, we’re parading, and I’ve always loved parades.
My one regret is that there are no mimes or elephants.

ok.. poetry..
Stress is somewhere in my propinquity.
See, it’s known to stalk this vicinity.

I’m not a freshman, so it hasn’t struck yet,
but when it does, and it will, you can bet,
that initially, it will shake my tranquility
and end our start-of-year festivities.

It will creepily creep, destroying my sleep,
until I prove my scholastic resiliency.
.
.
Songs for this:
Violently Happy by Björk
Schoolin' Life by Beyoncé

Reference Dept
The recruitment dept
Gave him a job
Ok great he was hired
He passed training
Went thru nesting
Into production
But was still texted
By recruitment who wanted
Five more references
Along with the twenty six
He’d already given them!
Now that was annoying
He had worked there
Seven weeks and still
They pestered him for references
Make them answer their phones
That’s not my problem
Why do you need more?
I gave you dozens of references
And you hired me weeks ago
Go and annoy someone else!

i'm restles§ & laZy
& wirəd & tired
& not ⁿ°ⁿuncraZy
& antiadmired

a little bit manic
& chillaxed as a maniac
i picnic with Panic
& retardədly brainiac

& God as my wittiness
i'm ●ver herə tryin'
to c○pe with the shittiness
of livin' while dyin'

We close the curtains on a world less sure,
than yesterday, and all the days that went before
evening comes, and with it falls the night
unyeilding darkness drinks the light
and in its presence fades the sight
of garden gate and fence and lawn
in an anxious world which waits for dawn