Before,
This was a home.
Now,
It is poison.

I want to breathe but
The air is toxic and
Your words- they are harsh-
Cut deep
and they hurt.

I want to sleep but
The monsters keep me awake.
They haunt
Only me.

I want to rest my
Weary, aching feet but
The chair, the sofa, the bed-
This house
is made
of Fire.

Before,
This was a home.
Now,
It is only poison.

A broken haze drifts down
form a gray and weary sky.

Who has cast this blanket?
It is dampening our light.

Lift this dull affair.
Bring the sun back to our lives

End this tiresome evening
of speckled windows and soft sighs

sometimes,
my brain finds solace
on a sweet picnic table -
set up for a short tea,
on tatami mats,
in a garden with half a blanket
of pink-white blossoms
sleeping on the earth.
on such days,
my words settle into
seventeen sweet spots -
no fuss, no muss -
like schoolchildren after a field trip,
too tired and hopefully
too content
to rebel.

sometimes,
my words come to rest
as if my heart and my hands
are all weary travellers,
and i sent them to retrieve riches
that are way beyond
belonging to seventeen neat corners.
and so i apologize,
i call it laziness,
offer some food for thought,
and a warm place to rest
between the
three
simple
lines
of a haiku.

When purpose, hope, dreams and future are gone and you know with certainty that all there is, is a past..... do you still see beauty in a sunrise?
When loathing a new dawn becomes your reality and despair lays as far as you can see, can you forgive those who lead you here?
Can you value your worth or forgive yourself for the mistakes you made along the way?
When all you have touched are gone or have either abandoned or been abandoned.... where does "stupidity" start to become reality? Do you see the sunrise and believe that you have reached the point of ultimate "stupidity"? The sun will always rise... must you avoid "stupidity" forever?
When you reach out a hand and there is none willing to take it how can sunrise hold any joy?
I am burdened by the expectations of those who would have me view endless sunrises.... they hold me back from reality to keep their dreams and hopes at the values they instill them with.
They fear "stupidity".
If you live here then we are neighbors you and I.... we share the same sunrise.

To Our Weary Souls,

If you build a wall between us
How long till you break it down?
Will it corrode over time
Will it continue to make us blind

If you grow acres of fields
And call it yours
Will you **** the unwelcome
Or will you let them explore

Will you tell them to leave
As the night tells the day
Because when you close your eyes
You want to keep the threats at bay

So I ask you now
Who do you turn to?
When your fields flood
And your cattle is diseased

Will you turn to your neighbor
And what if you have none?
Will you turn to the sky
That’s been ebon like your eyes

Is your heart broken from the loss
Do you long for a change
From this god forbidden place
Are there parasites in your skin
Do you feel them deep within

Well so do they
But you refused to hear
Instead you built a wall
A wall too near

Just so your hand could push for miles
As all of our cries, echoed to the heavens.