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ANH Feb 2019
I remember when you were
Still alive
And asked to see
My eyes.

I was a ways from ten,
You were near one hundred.
You were sitting
On that plush armchair
With your
Silver waves of hair
Knotted nose
Wire glasses
The waves of ****** and the Aegean still residing
In your voice.

Your eyes…
I forget
Although they mirror mine.

You just wanted to see me
After being gone
So long.

And I refused to comply
And denied you to look into my eyes
And ran into another room.

I apologize, Pro-Yia-yia,
It wasn't in anger or defiance
But fear.

I'm sorry I didn't look into
Your eyes
And showed you mine.

I didn't want to look at what would
Become my reality.
Your image-- a reflection of mine
In due time.

That your image would become a reflection of
And what comes after.

I let the fears of the end of
My life
Turn my memory of you
Into one of regret.

Years have passed
And you have gone but,
It still runs through my mind.

How could I refuse to look into your
Weathered brown eyes
Because I fear my
Inevitable demise.
ANH Feb 2019
I can’t recall the amount of times I’ve wanted to hold you;
There are too many.
You, my friend, bewitch all who go near and
I realize that one’s beauty doesn’t determine their worth
But, you are radiant both inside and out.
It’s alluring
I found myself trying to close the distance between us
Each time you spoke with all your passion for life
I fought the urge to cup your light to my chest
Because you aren’t mine to hold
You never were
You burn so bright
Soar high above the sky and stretch your wings across every horizon
I could not reach your height though others have
And they gave you life
I’d see how your eyes would burn so bright
And you’d sing your love for them across a sea of words and breathtaking flight.
To be honest, it hurt
Knowing I’d never hold you.
And that only they could make you burn so bright
When I was the one listening to your dying cries --
Trying to comfort you with all I had--
I broke every time.
I wanted to hold you close and let your embers and ashes scar and burn my skin
Tell you, my love,
That I’d stand by your side
That I’d protect you from all the misery if I could
But I could not reach to where you were.
I couldn’t even see.
I could only hear you fall apart
Yet, you always rise again
Stronger than before
You are a phoenix rising above the ashes trying to suffocate your flight
ANH Feb 2019
Let those words spill from our
As light drops, scattered across
what used to be
now a prison
to those of us suffering.
Having to equivocally smile
against all the odds
just to survive.

Being expected to show no sign of
Only vacuous faces
willing to take
and take
and take
whatever abuses come our way.
Having to hide the
Fear for our lives,
Anger for what they’ve done,
Sadness for the lost,
and Pride for when there is a moment of triumph
against that
overhanging cloud
where sunlight hardly
ever leaks.

Maybe not here.
Maybe somewhere-- maybe
even the moon--a happy life for us
Not here.
Never here.
Where we’re being hunted
just for attempting
to love
while they tell everyone
else that
we don’t exist.
How could we exist in
a place that is no
ANH Sep 2018
The words I speak don't matter
to those who don't listen.

Screaming air to those who
don't care.

They think my lips spill poison
and would rather sew them shut.
And would rather mute my voice
to their locked ears.

I breathe fire
baked from years and years
of pressure from all around.

All the little sparks and scars
added up for so long
until I can no longer hold it in
my mind and heart.

You may believe me to be overreacting
to childish play
or teasing words

but what do you know?
Do you care?
Do you know what it's like in my shoes?

Can you take all those pinpricks of pain from over the years
and still stay sane?

They'd rather have me stay quiet.
Don't start a ruckus or

Out of the way and never
bothering the
structure of our world
with my pain.

And why?
is maintaining a lie more important
than my voice?
ANH Sep 2018
I fear that lead incision shattering my skull.
That same poison tradition carried out for centuries before
leaving the disenfranchised with broken homes
and broken graves
to match these broken days.

Executions flash across my screen
day by day
like a sleeping spell
trying to numb my mind to the violence
of trying to live a life.

There is no reason.
There is only bloodshed.
How many are you willing to ****
to protect your pride?

Children's screams land into deaf ears
willing to mock their ghosts with lies.
You still believe the fallacy of the
Freedom of Life
when you're not the one
standing in front of the machine's eyes.

You care more for the machine
than human lives.
One that brings an apocalypse to our kind.

Yet, you never hold the blame.
You blame your victims
for what's happened in their lives
or the state or their minds.

Never that the gunman holds cruel intentions.
Your minds are too fragile to believe
what is truth.

Still bodies lie
With what used to be filled with so much light that
stare in your direction.

And never forget
what role you played
or else they could be
Still alive.
ANH Sep 2018
Plummeting shots
cross the Earth
all who stand naked
in its rein
as the sky continues to ricochet
and seep poison into their bones.
They writhe in scarring agony on
the cracked ground
being beaten down
You‒ just stand
and‒ stare
‒ willingly numb yourself and
throw their fervent cries across that suffocating sky.
Shut out all the systematic pain that
isn’t yours and
walk swiftly on.
as if nothing
is wrong.
Incredulously, you mockingly criticize
any imaginable effort of retaliation.
To think, you have what it takes
to vacillate
the lives you’ve never
fought for.
Act as if you’re
standing high above
on some false sanguine cliff
overlooking that
warring, raging,
monster-mouthed sea
and expect it to cease
without a finger lifted.
The blazing storm
will only
continue on
while you strut your
privileged ignorance
on a flashing parade.
Life and death is
On the line
and now,
you’ve voluntarily gone
Only hope
they can
before you decide that
it’s a crime.
Yet you still ask
when you don’t
live in their skins,
walk their miles
or bear their scars
‒you don’t even attempt
to try.
Try to see the reasons they continue to
Fight for what precious life
they can call theirs.
Fight for morality,
Fight for the hope
a shining day will come that
all the years of
torture and shame
Will melt away to
a better reality.
...and you still
choose to ignore their

— The End —