If you look over your shoulder,
you can catch the deep sunset's orange
and violet rays in the crisp, autumn leaves
as they prepare to gracefully fall from heaven's trees
and on to people's humble feet.

If you trace your hands over the
lovely spines
of worn, bent paperback books
you might hear the faint murmurs of
tiny excited character kinsmen,
the heroes and heroines of lost worlds, conquered
universes, and empty bleak, realities.

If you steal a quiet glance at the
person sitting at the table across from yours,
leaning on an arm, hair ruffled
in a dodgers hat, a sweater radiating warmth
and loneliness,
cradling a steaming mug of black coffee,
you'd realize that they are forever willingly
waiting for someone precious to appear
in their lives.

If you somehow find a clean, unpolished mirror
in a case carrying abundant duplicates
of filtered cameras, if you can find the courage
to bring the light up to your face, and if you trace
the lines, freckles, and pinches of red you discover
scattered throughout,
you would know that you are utterly beautiful.

If you hesitate before taking a single step
in your daily routine, if you stop and open
your mind before the flow of words can
overwhelm the space before you, if you can sing
to yourself rather than console a lost soul's cries,
if you can paint specks of color on your fingertips
and draw a smiling, gray sky,

you would find yourself
cradling the midnight blue, obnoxious,
but so sweetening and simple world,
as if it were a lost child who formed fists
to hide its crystal tears...

as if it built a well defined, unyielding
shield, to suffer the deep marks
left behind by the blows
of an insurmountable sadness.

From this moment,
I begin to hope things will change for the better.
That, perhaps, I will make it through this week
without wishing for each day to end as quickly as possible,
without feeling as my life is on repeat
and I am stuck living in the motions,
while valuable moments full of potential and people
being guided by a different life,
slip on by far from my grasp.
Maybe I will actually complete every piece of work
in a timely manner, and prepare well for what the future holds,
instead of dwelling in wasted times of the past
and the sorrow of the present.
I will intensely stare at these words on pages
until my eyes bleed out of my sockets
from burning holes in the paper,
and my brain begins to unravel.
I will concentrate so hard, that even the air around me
will pulse with determination.
I will flow efficiently from one place to the next,
without observing other people and re-enforcing
the sensations of insecurity and self conscious as I do each day.
I will not scorn others for what they have, nor envy them,
but I will be grateful for each moment I live,
the words I exchange between the people I care about,
and the hidden beauty of everything that is in store for my future.

Milky, twinkling stars swiveling
in a diamond night sky are beautiful,
and the brightest one will lead you home,
but for now, I want to bring you
out into the light where at the fissure
of pale gold and orange in the blue
sky's dawn, you may suddenly draw
inspiration once again.
I would bring you to the peak of a mountain
to inhale a reservoir of fresh, crisp air
in an altitude of where you feel
you can belong, gazing out towards
the green valley and down the winding path,
leading back down to a narrow world,
but for now, (and eternity)
you can be above them all.  
I see your footsteps left behind on the
snowy cap, crunching beneath your feet
a reminder to both of us how you exist,
a humble memoir in the realness of a hurting,
beautiful being.
And in my dream when you came back
to life, we were spread out wildly on
blossoming, white clouds blown about in
warm winds, and the golden sunlight
brought out the clear, blue- gray in your eyes
and traced the freckles dabbling your cheeks
and you were just laughing,
because you were so free.
But in dark clashes of thunder, when
rain was not somebody's nourishing love
but instead painful, dark tears, there were
people's crude remarks and stark dispiritedness,
I held you tight in my arms, like a tree
sheltering a lone girl from prowling wolves
gathered your tears and turned them
into crystals, knowing one day
you'll teach yourself to throw them at
the narrow world full of paper people
and their paper ideas.
So for now, rest in the cradle
of my warm, loving palms,
and grow into the strong and beautiful
person you most want to become.

The newborn shock and delight of a handlit firework stick
can dissipate in less than 3 seconds.

The patience in an hour standing in line for a 30 second thrilling roller coaster ride, is what everyone thinks living in the moment is.

But sometimes I don't mind the longing and emptiness that remains long after

because I want to be a splash of exurbance in people's lives, disappearing in a flash when love is finally settled.

I'd want people to miss me for eternity, but at the same time I'd escape eternities full of flaws and misunderstandings with them.

So if goodbye is what it takes to be remembered or longed for so achingly,

Capture the person's smile and all your favorite things before
letting go.

There's a yearning in my heart
and it's so persistent
I see stars shining
their brightness dripping into the sky
laying down a blanket of
soft twinkling souls
carrying them away to a place
where everything lasts
but I look up
and it's raining
the clouds are gray
there's no moon to light up
my corner of the sky
and I see an airplane going on by
and I ask
can we pretend
that the airplanes in the night sky
are shooting stars,
cause I could really use
a thousand wishes right now.

Lately I've been feeling
very tired,
condemned to the coarse shouts
curses, and vile bitterness
of the people around me

I feel
so utterly wronged,
and misunderstood,
having to question the sky
over and over again,

how did a simple thing,
come to such terms
in a complicated world

Every move,
every word, every
expression of life
is judged and
grudges,
are as common as
love should be.

I find myself
trapped in endless seconds,
hours, days, years
performing the same acts
over and over again,
living the same regrets

while managing to grasp onto
the despair over
a time glass whose sands
are rushing against my will,
leading to a sad,
forgotten, fate

I can not find anything
to express joy and gratitude
of the person I am,
for it is because of who I am
the world is so intent
on bringing me down,

All I can do
when I run out of breath
to fight,
is to ask
for forgiveness,

in losing to
somebody else's will.

Dear human- as- possible Human,

I wonder what goes on
in your head besides the times of
when you strive to help people?
Sometimes, do you just sit there
and gaze out the window, staring at a cloud going by,
and seeing a face in the cloud,
or seeing something in an object that would
remind you of something?
Do you sometimes pour water into a glass,
just so that you could put it
in the sunlight and look through
the beautiful crystals at eye level,
and just marvel and dream?
Do you sometimes just have
a blank sheet of paper in front of you,
a pen in one hand, and a lamp on,
and do you just sit there,
unsure of which of your ideas
would be meaningful enough to place on paper,
and for the whole world to see?
If these things happen often
during your life, then you and I
are both much more alike than we thought.
And that might be a good thing.
Because sometimes, the coincidences,
the overlapping actions,
and the identical ideals of two people
finally meeting and emerging together,
is like the collision of the sun and
the moon, forming a beautiful, rare,
magnificent eclipse.
And the best part is, let there be
as many eclipses as the stars
in this universe, and no two eclipses
would ever be the same.
I hope that you will come to realize
that you are not alone in this world,
and may we meet very soon.
For as each footstep on the
lightly treaded clouds, stars,
and cement roads,
are never there for long.
They will always be fading away, like ripples in the water.
When we find ourselves
facing one another on the same path,
let’s slowly stretch our hands
out towards each other,
and intertwine your fingers
with my fingers.
That is reuniting all the lost souls in the universe.
Let me gaze into your eyes,
and fall deep into them, like a feather
somehow going against all the rules
of gravity and sense, graciously sinking
to the bottom of the sea.
That is the loneliness and aching pains sinking away
to the core of the earth.

I wish to hear once again
the wind's gentleness, rustling
the leaves of the trees,

laughter as the sound
of somebody's delight,

a kiss carried across
the endless deserts, oceans,
valleys, skies,

I wish to see again
a stream of warm sunlight,
dancing from my windowsill

the bright and humble beauty
of a blooming, soft petaled flower,

the person's eyes
of whom I can't recall
but I know was the beautiful sun
in the darkness of my life,

I wish to feel again
someone's small, then strong, then earnest,
then old and faded hand, in my hand,

the tears of gratitude
and acknowledgement,
strolling down our cheeks

the love of strangers
who smiled at me,
and somehow knew
who I was inside,

the simple weight
of a single, slim pen
in my hand,

and all I could see
in the end,
was a young person
who could live freely again,
dancing,
in a shimmering light.

I ran my hands through your hair,
beautiful, tangled, and golden
your eyes are warm honey
in the winter,
and in autumn, the color
of fallen leaves,
I like the scattering of freckles
like a starry sky among your
soft, peachy cheeks,
and your smooth, worn hands
full of loving warmth, and care
In moments, I look up to see your
silhouette in the magnificent sunset
drowning the sky behind you,
a spread of pale red and violet
outlining your beautiful body,
and in the pale moonlight,
I love to watch you
dancing, your skin shimmering,
your feet as free as air,
your soul twinkling
among the stars.

Although we take steps
forward day by day
there are those who
will always find themselves
staying among the past
bindings of lost time
and sorrow and gratitude
of those who have yet
to catch up with the
real wonders of life
still in that region of
where a golden life is
all that matters
still need to work their
way to the threshold
that darkens the golden
rays of life so to open
the eyes of those who
are so blind and are still
there lost in old times.

Dear love,

Enlighten me with your dreams and beliefs,
I, someone who seems to be lost
and in a daze along with the rest of life
need someone to pick me up
and just hold me, very very close
so that I may hear a heartbeat, as reassurance
that people do have hearts.

And just listen to my troubles,
my sorrows, and my faded will
to patch up my broken spirit, spilling tears
like a bottle leaking boiled, age-old water,
help me accept myself
before accepting the way the world is.

Just remind me to do my very best,
that anything worth having
never comes easy, that's it's this way for
every living creature, no matter what they
may be given as soon as they emerge
into the world.

And tell me over and over again
that things aren't always the way they seem
and whenever I feel stuck like a vampire
suffocating in the eternal sands of time,
I have to force myself back up on my feet
and face the world even if it's a tearful face
or a ****** one.

Tell me to look outside, and see life all around;
observe things like an artist, the swirls,
and shades of clouds and rain,
the vivid sweetness of blossoming flowers,
the frosty pureness of feisty snow and ice.

Appreciate like a giver;
the simplicity of an apple among
the artificial sweets that melt in my mind,
and the smile of a fellow human being,
like a ray of hidden sunlight peaking out on a
cloudy day.

As the world gives up,
leaving us to face the beginning of the end,
please hold my hand tenderly
and whisper in my ear, that you'll never lose faith,
in all our genuine and kind moments
that anchored our souls together,
and allowed us to believe that love,
is never-ending.

Lemons (and a lemon squeezer)
sticky notes
a family that I can talk to
a life I'd like to live
a world I'd actually like to live in
to love, so I don't have any time left to hate
to stop enduring for things I shouldn't have to
to be different, but also myself
to stop crying, get up off my ***, and actually do something about it.

Anger is the little red devil
with hornet's wings and
sharp young horns
perched upon one's shoulder
whispering foul resentful hatred
into a eager manipulated ear

as the intensity rises
the mouth becomes
twisted grim and set
with clenched teeth brimming
of lucid seething words
eyes exploding fiery from sockets
glaring the look of accusing
nostrils flaring and
rushing out steam with
great intakes of restricted trapped air
tongue sharp and flicking
throat vibrating with
low rumble of canine growl
clenched fists slash out
dripping ink from wallpapers
hurling objects across room
smashing destroying throwing away
bits and pieces of lifeless innocent objects

afterwards the soul is
completely drained and empty
back is bent and slouching
lungs contradicting small breaths
mouth shut eyes watery
inner workings of heart
lining of stomach
still and faded
drabness and realization

even though I have never
witnessed my anger
face to face
I can only imagine
there must not be
a sight more grotesque and pitiful
in the world.

We are wise beyond
our years, strands of
time woven in our eyes,
capable of seeing the
dim, far out casting light,
we can see beyond the
usual smiles full of bleak
empty cheer, we can celebrate
the meaning of life with
an open mind, not by
civilization's rules and mankind,
streaming silver moonlight
among shining twinkling stars,
the trail of light footsteps among
the moonlit sea of night,
through the dark sea
we will get so far,
so easy to dwell in the
confusion and the dullness
of every second and everyday,
but bit by bit we are fighting
our ways, towards
an infinite world.

hello,
first thing,
I wanted to say I am sorry I couldn't
read between the lines
to save both of us
from my cowardly, drawn out,
self care of my so called
ambitious future
that taunted us so
and made you pick up
your love,
and walk away
and me, like the coward I was,
just sitting there
listening to your resounding footsteps
then turning back to
work on my
pathetic, lonely script of life

hello,
I'm sorry
I didn't smile at you
the last time that day
when it rained
and the sky
was the color of a
gray heartache
spilling out silver, translucent
tears for both of us
to soak up,
and the concrete was slick with
shattered memories
of warm hugs
and shared mugs of coffee
and the air was
heavy with unspoken words
and your withdrawn sighs

hello,
How have you been?
I know I don't have
the right to say this
but my god, you still look
like life when it's in a
great mood,
still sound like a voice
singing in the shower
I remember waking up to
with a smile
you still feel like
that moment when you wrestled
the long settled rose colored glasses
off my face
and made me see everything,
made me see you,
yeah, you could say
I took your moments for granted,
every laugh,
every smile,
every honest, caring word
I haven't worn the glasses
since then

hello,
I know it's not fair
for me to call you
after all this time, but I am
falling apart
and the only thing
I can recall in color
is the memory of you
sitting with me on the bleachers
watching the sunrise
warm up the cold, windy day
and paint golden our
intertwined hands

hello,
my name is sorrow and regret
and I like coffee
and everything else that reminds me of you
I've lost track of how old
the days are, but I know
there's an infinite number
of seconds and sky
between you and me
but, anyways after all this time
it's quite ironic to say,
but, I still have a dream
except this time, it's changed
it's now a dream where I
wake up to a world
where you are in my life (arms)
again

hello,
I swear I wouldn't take
anything (you) for granted again.
I'd answer every time,
any day,
any second,
any moment
you call.....
just maybe one day
you'll answer mine.
just maybe one day,
I won't have to listen
to a dial
and pretend that I can hear
you
say all the same things
back to me.

I kind of miss how it was back then. I regret alot of things, but I wish I could go back in time and relive it all, even all the things I regret. Although I may be a bit slow and stupid at times, at least I was a sincere and good willed person. I may not have known how to express myself, but I always did feel genuine happiness being around others. However, now I'm not sure whether I can continue being a genuine person anymore. Although I'm so much more insightful now, along with that insight came more bitterness and resentment to weigh me down. I'm not sure if I have the strength to let the good side of me win in the end. Life really is a struggle. All the more so when you are the only one who can acknowledge your internal struggles. All the more so when you can acknowledge the choices you can make... but you may not have the strength that it takes to not give in to the bitterness and resentment that builds as you grow older. It's so easy to let yourself go, to let your conscience drown and sink into a bottomless, deep, dark pit where there's nothing but just anger, emptiness, remorse, self pity, an empty will to live. It's so easy....
Sometimes all my words are just another hidden form of calling out for help. It makes me feel so pathetic and weak willed, but there is not much else I can do without harming myself or the people around me.
I suppose somewhere within this tangled mess of a life, I just feel lost and dazed, and alone. I don't mean anyone else harm though; I never have and never will.
I kind of miss how it was back then.
Even though I may have been a bit slow and stupid at times, even if that had been apparent, couldn't you all have just accepted, maybe even loved, me for who I was, for the innocence, sincerity, kindness, and unconditional love I expressed?

Sunlight streamed in to where I sat alone
in the shed

breathing, or sighing--
clothed in nothing but ashen, bare skin
and regrets,

a soft hat pulled low
to cover leaking fluttering eyes,
opening and closing
shifting to let the world slip in and out,

watching golden dust flurrying
in shadows of every corner,

soft flecks of lost things
existing without a single sound,

a warm wind brushing on green leaves feels like a
sunny tear dried face,
blowing away

with lost or man- made dreams
so many "cares," that never really cared
at all,

wood splinters digging into
palms and fingernails,
quietly asking,

are you here

to reflect before or after
a sad, ******* high

or are you just hiding from the world,
trading a flurry of painful life

for every second

of silent solitude

As I sit alone on the shore
of a desolate, gray ocean of tears
with an aching in my heart
for the time I have lost,
I find myself wishing before I go,
that you would think of me

because all those years, I was there
a sunflower among the weeds,
they surrounded me, whining in my ear
trying to change me, to take away the truth
but even still in the end,
I rose, and continued
to turn towards the sun

and life is like an ocean
and I am like the tide,
everyone chooses to swim past
or let themselves sink to the bottom,
but all along I had been content with just floating on,
embracing everything and everyone
heading towards me,
but in the end, I was still never enough

and I was never one to ask for much,
standing by in the hurricane of desire
with half closed eyes and soft wits
in the lovely, cool, shimmering rain,
I did what they asked
wiped my tears away and swallowed my pride,
and no matter how it hurt
I still got up each day, and smiled

and now, our time is almost up,
and this is when we reach the threshold
of never realizing what we had
until it's all gone,
and although I'm not one to hold grudges,
I can't help but wish

that the day
all the sunflowers on the tide
drown,
they; the oppressors will all perish,
and pure light
will be able to flood
the ocean of tears again.

The problem is that you always end up wanting more, right?
You can never be fulfilled with what you have.
Time either eats away at your regards
for certain things, or instead packs on layers of
desire, need, and growing relentlessness
in obtaining whatever it is you so desire.
It's quite sad, really,
how I might look at you from a distance
and feel shock, alarm, sadness, and pity
for being so engulfed in things that
will fade away, things that won't
work out, things that aren't worthy of
relinquishing in the light of your attention,
things that are consuming
bit by bit, the good, unique aspects
of you as a person.
You are waist deep, clawing into the abyss,
your eyes shining with desire, for something,
whatever it is, to become "more,"
to expand and transform into something that would
fulfill the extent of your feelings,
so you say.
How did you get so caught up
in it? How could you do that to yourself?
In a better place and time,
you exist for everyone and everything good,
not just for yourself.
You are kind, warm-hearted, open to those
who are laughing and crying,
to those falling and rising, to those coming
onto the shore, or washing away with the tides
into a beautiful, tragic sunset.
You exist to look directly into my soul
and talk to me
like you could talk to no other.
Because I'm not someone who needs help
with not giving into
worldly desires that will drain me of my
essence and life.
I try hard not to lose who I am,
and you won't ever see me harming
anybody or anything.
At the end of the day, we would
walk side by side on the shore
of a foamy, dark blue ocean carrying on its waves
lost dreams and souls out into the horizon,
and we would both agree that it has
been a good time, and that we have
established some sort of peace within ourselves,
that we no longer need to turn to
worldly desires and moments riding on
the seconds of a clock, in being able to
feel something calm and transparent.
We would both be liberated
from this world when we die.
That's all that I ever wanted when
I look at you.
You see... that's all that I ever wanted.

Expectation is the root of all heartache



(it certainly is the root of my heartache)

When most things cease to matter one day
and everyone is on the brink
of breaking down,
I'll just rely on the sun
to keep my vision clear
and my hands warm,
be calmed by the rustling of the leaves
swaying in the wind
with the scent of pretty flowers
in the air,
I'll just walk barefoot
on the rich soil of the earth
and each day
reap what I sow,
not bothering to pick up
the fragments of a blistering, burdening
life I left behind
because once a star has exploded,
you can't gather its dust
and try to put it back together again
I'll just drink
from the cool, clear- blue sweet spring
near the field where
the water pump used to be, now all
cracked, rusted, and faded
it's funny how I can't seem to
feel any lingering remorse or sadness
over the familiar things
we've all lost,
maybe they just never were
familiar to me
I'll just hike up a grassy, flowery field
nothing but the wind
whispering into my ear and brushing
against my cheeks
that are tear-free and tinted pink
and oh, will you look at that,
no contacts or glasses to clear my vision
because the sunset in the horizon
between the valley of
the blue, white crested mountains
and the endless expense of twinkling starry night skies
are for everyone to see
and for some reason, I don't care anymore
about being alone,
there is so much more spirit to just
appreciating everything
you have,
with nothing to represent except life
and no purpose to fulfill except for living with open eyes
and a clear mind,
I'm too overwhelmed
to ever feel alone ever again,
to ever question my place in this universe.

I had been treading water
just fine
the way I usually do--
kick out, then bend
keeping a steady rhythm and pace--
then all of a sudden,
I am once again overwhelmed
by waves of anxiety
and anger,
a current of isolation
so strong
it knocks my head underwater,
a tide of insecurity
floods itself in my lungs,
and an ocean of being left behind
beckons for me to come down;
to sink to the bottom,
as a side effect of being conditioned
for so many years,
that I am a person
who can't swim properly
to even save a life
despite all these years growing up
treading water.

dear Edgar Allen Poe
remember that beating heart  
hidden inside the wall all ******
still beating with hysteria and remorse
the thump thump thump
vibrating the entire house
inhabitants frozen with twisted fear
the mad man in tears of hysteria
shaking with large bloodshot eyes
shifting rapidly from place to place
anywhere but that beating wall

How can I rest in peace
when the sound of my heart beating
is ever so urgently beckoning
from the wall to the very ground
of which my body is rotting in
moreover, was it wrongfully taken
as an attempt to keep me alive
in the very walls of Hell's house...

There are a few things in life
so beautiful they hurt:
swimming in the ocean while it rains,
reading alone in empty libraries,
the sea of stars that appear when you're
miles away from the neon lights of the city,
walking in the wilderness,
all the phases of the moon,
the things we do not know about the universe,
and you.

The rains have their oceans
and the sun has it's moon....
everything
  needs a
reason for
  falling

*and I
have you.

Illusion drips down from the sky
smeared with the canvas of brightly painted colors
splashed across skyscrapers and the atmosphere,

you can live under pretense
because for some, it's what life is all about
but swing the camera sideways towards your form on the bed
and that is when you can't show your face.

They're surrounding you
placing sparkling shards of sharp diamonds at your feet
you look in all directions
but there's no escape; a wall of society, a wall of people chained together
a wall of your own cowardice trailing from your mind
everywhere you look, you are trapped

you're consuming
delicious airs and mouth watering aspects
of how they think life should be,
and you can feel yourself become heavier each time,
your eyes
are begging for the crystal contacts now in fashion
you're turning the radio up; it's your favorite song

NO stop it--- this isn't you; this is not your kind of happy---

The truth is hard to find
when you're living in a world of where everyone has accepted the lies
they say that you're free
but then you look down and see the chains,

you're as free as you let yourself be
as they, society, (god....) let yourself be
which means
you are not free at all,

and for a while, there was someone special...

---NO---
god, why the hell do you always
need someone to hold you
GROW UP, because there's no one

it's not even exhausting anymore (having to the pretend all the time),
it's integrated into being a part of you
so now you don't know how to let it go anymore
how to find the truth,
yes, the truth will set you free

you can live under pretense
because for some, it's what life is all about
but swing the camera sideways towards your form on the bed
and that is when you can't show your face.

In a world of where
people rush to live and die,
sunshine turns to radiation
and wind turns to monsoons,
flowers wither and fade
trees are struck by lightning,
people who walk dream
of sitting down and people
who are immobilized dream
of walking forever,
beings that shine and sparkle
in the depths of darkness and decay,
beings that illuminate a false light
in the dawn of a new day,
I wish I could turn back time
and start everything anew,
because I miss what I had once
when I couldn't see the awful truth,
I wish I could smile freely again
not have to shelter myself from danger,
I wish I could be bright bold and happy
not anxious and tired in despair,
but most of all I wish
of that time where I dreamed,
sunflower kingdoms and golden sidewalks
cluttered cozy homes and warmth of fire
a suitcase, long coat, gloves, scarves, hat,
and a radiant full teethed smile
as I waved and held fast to
the world of dreams exploring and travel,

Now, I can barely
make it out of my bedroom.

Crystalline tears
rivers of ink
flow from one's eyes
catch the tear drops
keep'em in your pocket
gather the ink and
write for the world  
be your own witness
as you pick yourself up
keep on going
and move on
crowded hallways
jammed streets
blares shouts sneers
shoves being tread on
shadows passing by
pushed off to the side
hounded and lashed out at
but at the end of the day
be your own witness as
you pick yourself up
and keep on going
and move on
rejection and outcast
numb in the dark
dull eyes staring through
voices droning on
sliding right through you
stuck in the same old
boundaries rules and appearances
nothing acknowledging your
existence
but be your own witness
as you hold your head up
square your shoulders
take a step forward, 1, 2, 3,
keep on going
and move on.

And in the midst
of all my insecurities,

today

I experienced a moment of bliss

I saw pure specks of warm, cool life,
hovering in the air

and I felt the warm wind brush against my hair,
with every step I took resounding within me

and they blocked the despising glares
tuned out the sorrowfulness in my heart,

laid down
a worn, sturdy, gentle path to guide me as I walk

and whenever I get lost trying to find others,

I can follow the clusters of twinkling stars in the night sky above
back to path of where I found myself,

because I had never been lost.

We never thought to think this

but, looking for someone who you can never be
is not being lost,

it's letting yourself lose
who you really are.

And life is too much of a gift
to drown yourself in others' sorrow and call it your own,

now it feels so free
to just be who you really are.

Excuse me,
hello-- is there anyone there?

I think that person-- the one with the blue goggles
swimming there in the furthest lane,
I think that person needs help,

It seems like that person is crying
every time the face resurfaces
to gasp for air, like a fish on land
I get a glimpse,
contorted and puffy,

Is it normal to kick that much
for a freestyle stroke?
or any stroke in general?
and the arms are clenching the water,
and thrashing?

The goggles remain sealed and on,
even during short breaks.
the teeth seems to be clenched,

I don't wanna sound strange or anything,
but I know all too well
how someone looks like,
how someone feels like,
when they're crying

and I'm sure,
that person is crying,
that person needs help,

and the tears
are mingling with the water
in the swimming pool,
the water that people swallow
and cough out,

Well?
is anyone going to help?

Everything is so hard,

to know what's right
but to do what's wrong

is the nature of creatures,
low and high

no need
for racial, gender
slurs or stereotypes

you've got your desires
and I've got mine;
amidst our starry eyes,

there are demons inside

no need to shove me,
no need to
make me cry,

your presence
is enough,
to wither me away inside

but sometimes
I feel like
wanting to fight back,

because we all deserve a new
day to live,
and who are
you to take that day,

when you only take,
but

don’t know how to give,

it may not be your fault
that you turned out this way,

but I’ll tell you
it certainly
wasn’t my fault either,

so who are you to say
that
I’ve got problems, flaws,

and you’ll break me
to the bone,
when you too

have always
been alone, dry and empty,

always left on your own,

but somehow it makes
you feel better

to hurl
insults carved in stones,

instead of
reaching out

and finding others
to be with
so you wouldn’t ever

have to be alone.

All I feel
is remorse
for those who
know nothing better
to do then to
face darkness with
cries screams rants
pounding fists
slashing at hearts
of those around
for the circle of misery
goes round and round
and well beings turned
upside down
those who can no longer
distinguish right or
wrong

A pair of ravens fly
intertwining their paths
in the sky
dipping smoothly into the vast space
twirling and diving headfirst
rapidly falling towards tree tops
before gracefully gliding upwards
once more,
and I, watching from a distance
with my feet on solid ground
and my hands warmed by
a cup of coffee,
wish for myself a sense of
solitude and clarity
despite all the things
weighing me down
and the cruel clips that
hold my own wings captive
maybe one day
I will pick myself up off
the ground
and find the strength to
remove the chains
and set myself free,
free to fly,
free to soar among the clouds
and surrender to the beautiful
overwhelming vastness
of the world.

As I developed, they shaped me,
as if I had been a block of clay
sitting there on the jagged concrete of
unpaved streets and endless roads.

My future form dependent on
the timing of passing strangers'
beginnings and endings,
their risings in the mornings
like the blue and orange horizon
spreading in preparation for the sun's presence,

And their settling back in the evenings,
like cool salty clouds of white sea foam
collapsing back into the ocean's
gray waves.

In each moment passing by
like a kid riding a bicycle, speeding down
the cracked pavement and
turning the corner out of site,

I was shaped by
the flurry of life that surrounded
every person's presence.

Picked up, tossed into the air,
and kicked by small children with bright eyes
and tongues that stuck out when
adults were unfair,

Colored, spray painted and scribbled on
by teenagers with messy dark curls,
wild laughing eyes,
and rapidly budding senses,

Observed, analyzed, discussed, and compared
by businessmen in jet black suits
and smooth red ties,
who pondered cutting me evenly
into perfect pieces for sale on the market,

Rolled, polished, scrubbed clean,
and spiced by rapid tongued mothers
wearing aprons and holding long
wooden cooking spoons,

Eroded, left to absorb a vast amount of salt
from teary eyes and bleeding wounds,

Caught on blazing, fiery fumes
of a man's raging anger,

Soaring high in the sky, resting on clouds
of someone's love and faith,

Trapped low in the ground,
sleeping in a bed of dried dirt filled with
people's sorrows and dreariness,

Drowning in purple satin
of one's longing
and unsatiated desires,

Chained to a planet
spiraling out of control in a universe
that couldn't bear to let go.

I'll be gone for a while; just a little bit,
no one will even miss me.
Although you watch me still sitting there comfortably
with stockinged feet and a hot cup of coffee,

in the seconds ticking by, I'm already flying away---
with the click of a button.

If this is what it takes to
get away from reality for a while,
I shall gladly place my problems on the rickety, old, scale
in return for just a bit of happiness, no matter if it's real or not,

but I find a bit of warmth,
in this nice, black and white
poetry website,
one of the few things to last and stay with me for a long time.

Sometimes, I like to watch princesses and their happy endings,
gaze at their beautiful orange sunsets and rising tides,
but I'd prefer any day
just broken people picking themselves up and going on,
after being kicked to the curbs by others.

I listen to people's voices
dripping with inspiration, aspiration,
bittersweet remorse, gravelly kind and scarred
I watch everyone fall apart and then come back together
under a different, liberating light (or darkness),

I've got lots to do,
but for now, I just wanna surf and dream---
with the nice, light click of a button.

I think of a soul
consisting of many fragments,
all bursting to be released
and letting millions of thoughts
shine vibrantly.
They don't all have to make sense,
they don't all have to be original,
they just have to be true to me,
the me I chose to be,
the better one, the best one
out of all of them.
I have grown in many ways
and found amusement
in things I once shunned or thought against,
for instance, lying to myself
that everything is okay
but it's alright to do that because
if you make yourself believe
hard enough, then everything is,
and sometimes,
that's all that you really need,
having faith in a dreary, bustling,
forgetful world,
full of people who leave you behind
and people who pick you up
and take you to their
warm homes.
Bit by bit,
I've learned that change
isn't always a bad thing,
that some things are meant to happen
no matter how hard
you will them not to,
because it's your way of growing,
a forceful action wrenching open
clenched hands and
eyes squeezed shut, head afloat
ears trapping out all sounds,
then I realize
it was me all along
dragging myself down to lay on
a blanket of self-pity and isolation,
and change was
the only factor
with the ability to wrench open
closed doors.
Now I hear sounds that in turn
make me see, and seeing,
makes all the difference,
not just in black and white,
but also in vintage, sepia,
color.

And all I had ever wanted
was for the world to look up one day
and see my constellation of stars
scattered throughout the Milky way,
and the vast, starry night sky.

Could you
put the world behind bars
  if i asked you to,
   because it was
    mean to me
   it pushed me off the swings
  shoved me down the slide
balled up dirt and threw it on my face
told me to go back
  to wherever i belonged which was nowhere
   told me to stop dreaming 'cause my dreams weren't real
    fed me toxic waste and pretty lies
   surrounded me with paper people who all thought that i was paper too and not a  real being
  could you be a witness
and testify for me, for my truth
for the simple fact that i never did anything wrong
  for how i never asked for anything
   and i wanted just to be happy
  and surrounded with real people that i could love
could you help me
stress to them
that all i had ever been
was a sondering star among the universe?

In the clear, calm stillness
of a chilly winter night,
where the stars twinkle
like icy diamonds in a
dark sapphire blue sky,
I feel the crisp, cold breeze
ruffling my hair and brushing
my cheeks,
hear the soft crunches of
freshly fallen snow beneath my shoes,
I look up to see twirling snowflakes
falling softly down upon the earth,
each one's intricate design
shimmering in the pale moonlight,
I catch them and peer at their
delicately crafted beauty,
but then suddenly they vanish,
leaving me alone, and wishing
that I too could vanish
along with them
and leave my presence to be mourned.

Sometimes I get this sensation
as I take my bare feet
and place them
into tight enclosed shoes
to walk a cold grey
concrete path
still rigid to the shards of
   broken dreams
and promises
scattered along the middle,
the sounds of other people's footsteps
drown out my insecurities
and the
insignificance of
a person who feels small
as I try to grasp at merging
into the person full of
light and meaning
who has a spark in her eye,
     destined to do and make great changes
instead of falling into her own world
of isolation and despair
glancing around myself, wondering whether or not
I actually belong
I don't see my name on the board
with my peers
standing in the crowd,
waiting for the crosslight
to let me walk
walk with them to the other side, but
somewhere along the way
do I get lost
or am I just destined to walk
the wrong path
just so I could be with my peers
who are, of course,
the future
who will change the world
who will introduce a revelation that will change
the biased courses of humanity

but as for me

the deafening screams and words of
other people's
lives, moments, recollections
and livelihoods
cover up my hushed pathetic cries
and calls for help
as I question all that is taking place
in every which way I look
somewhere out there
a mom and her growing daughter
become closer
as my own mom falls apart on me
unknowingly ripping apart my right to establish
an identity of my own
somewhere out there
a dad can tell his children
about his life experiences
of the virtues and humility within that led to
their blessed ways of life now
as my own dad
who deserves, at least
everything the world has to give
works harder and harder every day
and every second
to continue our "blessed" ways of life now

but despite all of that

I am told No-- just focus on yourself
make sure you don't miss the crosswalk
make sure you make us proud--
but they don't see
they are what matters
when it comes to
a kid hoping to grow into a better person

there are colors;

some old and chipped
and falling apart,
on the frames of people's
subconscious
while fresh new colors shimmer
in the evening
starlight atop blue waters
just waiting to be discovered, like a
blind person experiencing sight for the first time

but how can I see the night stars
and fall in love with
the moon's beauty
when I'm too busy staring
at the sun
trying to make my way
up to the very top
running, taking jagged steps,
bent over all broken and
crawling

just hoping to be remembered

as a great sign of the times.

Once I was a child who loved to dream
I wanted that happy ending for the little mermaid
and so I rid the damsel who stood in the way
and then I waited for the prince
to remember the mermaid and love her again,
but he never did,
and they both died sad and heartbroken.
Meanwhile, from my dungeon sprung the damsel
now transformed into a fully fledged witch
who howled with rage whenever love approached
always appearing as the ugly stepsisters
the evil stepmother, the evil queen
taunting me in my dreams every night
thanking me for spawning her into life.

darling,
(I wrote this just for you)
you don't have to please anybody; trust me, if it had been my way
the only pain you would feel would be beautiful,

when we were all born, we were our own stars
beautiful, vibrant, sparking and alive,
our own visions and lifetimes shining down different pathways of life,

and somehow, we were all innocent
like how when you cradle two different babies' hands together
they don't pull away, they don't prickle with hate or feel any pride,

although we are our own, sometimes the constellations we have with others hold us back,
like how you could love igniting fire but then find yourself
being forced to tread water your whole life,

honey, when you wipe your tears on the backs of your hands
and tell me with a strangled voice how you're so alone,
I will be there to hold you whenever you need me the most,

but I'll catch your tear drops, and stash them away in my warm pocket
I'll tell you that sometimes it's okay to be alone,
for the flashing core of each shining star
has a unique sense of being and life
that only it can understand,

so sometimes I will not be enough for you,
and that's when I'll hand over your crystal tears
so you can turn within, and be there for yourself,

and stars burn out in the end as all things do,
we're not perfect, but that was the wonderful point
and one day we'll have to let go of each other
travelling through eons of space and time before meeting again,

but in the end darling,
you are a star whose image and shine will never fade from my mind,
everything about you is meant to be beautiful;  
your pain,
your solitude,
your tears,

just know darling,
you don't have to please anybody... for you're a real piece,
of the endless starry universe.