'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
did gyre and gimble in the wabe.
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
the frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the maxome foe he sought-
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood a while in thought.
As in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came.
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack.
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"Has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Calloh! Callay!
He chortled in his joy.
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

Tiny
Fingernails
There is
Not even a
heart beat
to destroy yet
No brain developed
to hook on nicotine
No eyes to shed hot tears
No hair to turn gray
Not big enough to really call a
human being
Small
Pitiful
Little
Tiny
Ball of
cells

flatten your tongue
slip it between your teeth

n.

your little lips
forming an elipsis

o.

put them together
and may you declare
a word you’d so carefully deny—
no.

you spell it out
on table tops
shout it
from the rooftops

and when cursed hands
seek to defile your shrine
may you exclaim
"i am mine"

Happy World Poetry Day!
Although I don't have much to say.

My words have run dry,
No matter how hard I try,
I can't find them.

But I'd like to give this simple greeting,
to those who can still express their feelings.

Let poetry and prose speak your mind,
and then maybe what you're seeking for
is what you'll find.

(read forward, then backward, line by line)

I ran.
Not knowing what else to do
There was so much blood on my hands
It was mine
The kitchen knife
Caught in my chest
Guilt
Consumed by
Fear
I was heightened by
Adrenaline
But running on
Wasn’t enough
While trying to stay calm,
Losing control
It was me that would end up
Dead. Because
He was
In front of me
The whole time
It was too late
Trapped
I found myself
Locked in chains
My fate was
Death.

Why is it so hard to say the truth?

We say thousand of words a day
But the ones that mean the most tend to be left unsaid
For the fear of hurting others' feelings
I know I am guilty, I am that one

I would hold it in, for years
Before saying what I truly felt
Or meant to say, as to not
Hurt the ones I care about

I want to say it to you
Somehow let what I feel
Just slip out, be acknowledged
Because I don't know how much longer it can be unsaid

The truth is not overrated
Especially when it burdens you
And weighs you down
All because you care too much

But why? Why do I care so much
Probably because I do not wish to disappoint
I simply want to evoke smiles, not frowns
But is a frown worth the truth?

For the truth will set you free