i think the world is starting to wake
up
it's 5:37,
the cars are riding pass me
more and more as the minutes
tick by
i'm halfway through my last pack
and i'm ******* broke
my mind is a mess and i really
haven't slept in days
my parents think everything is
alright
but they don't really know what
happens when it's ******* late at
night

Her life begins from ashes
From the ashes she rise
The same ashes she becomes
When she dies
More powerful
Stronger and wise
To sail for forever
In every skies
A mythical beast
Born out of fire
To keep burning always
She aspire
She flies high
She looks like a bird
The mighty beast
That some think is absurd
Flaming always
In yellow and red shades
Her blaze is eternal
It never fades
Only those ones can see her
Who believe
Magic she have
Even in tears she grieve
Bodies and souls
And every wound they heal
Her flame so hot
It melts even steel
She looks for someone
To enlighten and warm
But not to burn
In her firestorm
She is a bit dark
And a lot mysterious
She is powerful
And so delirious
She is exquisite
And so observant
Give us hope
Her heat so fervent
Her freedom and her flight
No cage can restrain
She is the Phoenix
And she would always rise again

You've asked me how can I see a future when love, in all
Its numinous beauty, is waning?
I reply, the immortal stars still shine above the veil of clouds.
You say, why are the salmon swimming to their pools of origin
Only to die as they spawn?  Only to die?
I tell you their love is unconditional, like mine.
You ask me did the giant sequoia know it was shelter for the burning grasses
When they walked from the seas?  I reply yes they knew.
You question me about the lofty snow cranes that fly over the Himalayas
And I reply by describing
How the priestly flocks, chanting on their mission, honk—
Announcing the mantle steps to the heavens.
You inquire about the elephantine manatees gracing the shallow banks
And wonder if the sea mermaids remember their lives beyond the latitudes
Of capricorn and cancer?
Or you’ve discovered in the wind a new reasoning as to why
The talons of the paired eagles lock in midair as they court?
You want to understand the nimbus garden, ocean slate, of lake Titicaca
Where resides the Andean sea horse gliding above the clouds?
The whales that circle dance in unison collecting krill?
The noetic display of the birds of paradise, the songs of nameless creatures
Playing in the wilderness like a forgotten melody only lovers lips remember?

I want to tell you that true love knows this, that life in its
Prismatic shimmer is all the myriad colours of infinite existence wrapped
In time to the sublime structure of white and bones.  I must tell you
That the flower is mighty in its opening, the humming bird is a sorcerer
Who needles ambrosia with vortex wings weaving his way to the Gods.

But I am nothing beside your disbelief which has arrived, before
I can even imagine the sweet awakening, like doom, my shell is the iridescent
Hollow of the one eyed Abalone, discarded in the deep fathoms
Of the ocean pressures.

I swim the tides as you do, investigating
The endless tendril seas,
And in my chest, during the night, I woke up empty,
The only thing treasured, a golden face
Trapped inside my dreams.

                                                        ­­­          
                                                             ­­                      *— after Neruda

Dear No one,

Your eyes were shinning bright today and I was at a loss of words to say. It's finally starting to feel like fall again. The leaves are falling and my heart is constantly wandering  back to sleep. Dreaming of worlds so beautiful and true. All of the colours swirled together and made something new. In the sky they drew out the face of you. I am not sure if you're going to understand my late night banter but try to remember to look up at the stars every once in a while.

Sincerely,
No one

It saddens me when
people use poetry
to talk badly about someone else
Poetry is suppose to be fun
not a competive sport.
Why can't we
just all support one another
and be suggestive.
We all feel the same things.
We all be through alot;
that's what usually
makes a great poet.
So stop hating on people,
it is uncalled for.
This isn't middle school.
If you have a problem
with someone then
talk to them about
or block them...
Yes, hello poetry has a
block button**
feel free to use anytime
you have a problem someone
and get on with life.

I’ve been thinking about what to say for a couple of weeks, long before my birthday, and yet I still cannot articulate the words that I really really want to say. I know that we aren’t friends anymore and that we don’t talk anymore, but still I would’ve thought that after so many years of friendship and after everything that we have been through, you would’ve text or called or something for my birthday. In my mind, I thought that what we had, the bond that we had shared was stronger than that. Despite everything that had transpired. Even though we were not talking, I still wished you a happy 18th birthday. I knew that that was a milestone for you, I knew that it was a major occasion. I swallowed my pride, even though I was still extremely hurt and mad at you. I did that and against better judgement will still continue to do that, because believe it or not you are still the first person I think to tell things to. You are still the first person that I reach to call whenever things in my head are going to ****.
Last week, I was at A&T; with one of my friends Britni and for some reason, I started going down memory lane. Friday, it started with looking through my Instagram and then onto yours and then to my very old account. I then moved to Facebook, looking through all of our stupid videos and pictures. Then I ventured to your mother’s account. And as I swam deeper and deeper into the memory pool that mainly consisted of us, I got sadder and sadder and sadder. First it started off one eye tear stream and then I got up and walked to the bathroom and my vision became blurred with our smiling faces and mascara burning its way down my cheeks.
Even now, I am sitting in a stairway contemplating sending this to you or just saying, “**** it, she doesn’t care about you anyway”, and proceed with my original plan of getting drunk tonight with you on my brain. But I don’t know, maybe I need to send this, get all of this off my chest like my therapist says. Maybe sending this to you will help me sleep more, maybe it will help to let go of the past. I really don’t want to cry anymore. I really don’t want to keep waking up in the middle of the night thinking of you. Pathetic I know, because you don’t feel the same.
You don’t have to respond, it’s okay.
-Nai
(21/11/2015)