People that have it all think that
two halves make a whole
but I beg to differ.
I believe that
two haves make a hole.
Those that have it all
don't realize what they lack therefore
they have a hole.

No guy and girl would EVER
want to watch a movie that had
no soundtrack
or go to a concert just to see
the people play their instruments.
Yes, you may claim to have music
as your hobby but many others are
extremely passionate about it too.
Without music, what would have
happened to Bach, Beethoven, Haydn,
Scarlatti, Clementi, Vivaldi, and others?
Saying "it's just music" is like saying
"it's just life."
Life is beautiful, passionate, tragic, comedic, playful, intense and even stressful sometimes.
Think about it.
Life and music go hand in hand.
Instead of saying "it's just music"
I urge you to say
**"let there be music!"

Never* quell the flames of my desires.
I am moral.
I am good.
My intention is never to harm, hurt, maim or ****.
I support the hero,
*the good guy.

Maybe it's the way we danced the tango,
our arms gripped tight around each others'
torsos twirling and strutting down the
street.
Maybe it's the way the fragrant rose in your mouth intoxicated and clouded my vision and thoughts.
Maybe it's the way you grinned when my legs dabbled beneath yours or maybe
it's the way you smooched me after that first performance.
"Querida mía," he crooned.
I still remember when he stroked my hair and implored,
*"Please be my partner forever."

I'm very sorry, Mr. Vampire.
Please don't kiss my neck.

How can I sleep when
sounds are digging my grave
and pounding, pounding, pounding
me beneath the Earth's surface?

Distractions, annoyances,
humming, drumming,
rat-a-tat-tat and this and that
are driving me to insanity.

You sounds are like New York City.
**YOU NEVER SLEEP!

I clench the satin tablecloth in my hand.
A slow drone of smooth jazz echoes in the distance.
The fluttering wisps of cigarette smoke waft to the ceiling as my husband steps into the parlour in his tar black overcoat.
"What took you so long?" I ask concernedly.
He just nodded, gave me a lazy grin
and ordered us two gins.

Check under the bed,
in the closet, on the floor,
in the garbage, through the window
and even out the door.

*I need to find myself.

Sticks penetrate my skin
pushing past my taut muscles
and searing into my bones,
twisting and wharping my veins
along the way.

My friends have the audacity
to throw stones at me,
bruising the ****** holes
where the sticks reached into my soul.

What is left of me?
I'm asking you because I am
blinded.

What do you see?

A heap.

A pile of bones that look like
a bundle of sticks tied together
with muscles strained and stretched
from the torturous stones.

Remind me again why
I'm doing this homework?

Soy el oso
que está durmiendo.
Sólo gruño en mis sueños.

I am the bear
that is sleeping.
I only growl in my dreams.

When will you finally agree that
people are more important than profit?
If there are no people to feed,
then how can you expect to keep your
multi-national billion dollar corporation
running?

**You Can't!

Under pressure,
I snap like twigs,
crack like thunder
and split trees like lightning,

*I cave in.

The tap has run dry.
Now it leaves just you and I.
Where visions in the mind appear,
we don't say them for fear
of hurting the other.

Life being just another
person in the web of love.
When you look up at the stars above
think of me
as I do think of thee.

You don't think I'm ready
to see the world?

You don't think that I'll
accept people?

You don't think that
I want to live?

One day you will see
when your only glimpse of me
will be in a **picture frame.

I like guys with tousled, unkempt hair
who can wear baggy sweatpants around me and still look as dashing as ever.

Someone who can deeply talk about anything from flying pigs to french toast, inspires, and touches my heart the way nobody else can.

Someone whose eyes speak volumes and
whose gaze warms me like a fire in the dead of winter.

Someone who loves me and truly cares about what I do and who I am as a person.

Imagina un mar de estrellas
estirado por todas direcciones.
Te conoceré allá
abajo el cielo de agua.

Imagine a sea of stars
stretched in all directions.
I will meet you there
underneath the sky of water.

Tell my heart
to let go.

What do we do when chemical companies like Monsanto try to poison our food?
We fight 'em!
What do we do when our government supports the exportation of millions of jobs to foreign countries?     We fight 'em!
What do we do when the FDA approves unfit and under-tested medicine for our use?
We fight 'em!
What do we do when we find out that the NSA has been spying on us for many years?
We fight until they are stopped!

Right now is the perfect time for revolution. The bourgeoisie will create the spark and will lead the poor out of the cave of ignorance.
But we can't do this alone.
If you want a better life for you and your posterity
**FIGHT 'EM!

I look across the table
at my beautiful husband,
his olive face gazing back at me
intently.

Suddenly,
his face starts dripping like wax and he screams
"¡Querida mía, ayúdame!"
I rushed over to his side of the table
and tried to stop the spillage with a napkin but he slipped away.
All I could hear now were his muffled attempts to call out for help.

I buried him that day over by the tree where we met.
I just wish that he didn't see the horror on my face as he melted away from me,
like a **candle.

The night is calm, yet something dark lingers. 
My mom is at home cooking vegetables when I hear the rat-a-tat of gunfire.
This is the new normal for us.
 
It never used to be this way.
We used to play in the streets without a care in the world.
Thunder cracked like bombs and now everyone I used to know is dead.

Now who can I run to?

My poor family was caught in the crossfire and flames and now I'm stuck
with the guilt.
I am wracked by sobs,
waves of sadness crashing over me like the Great Flood.
I get up and look for a new place to sleep.
I turn to look one last time blurry-eyed at the crumbled concrete walls that used to be my home.
My haven. 

Now where do I run to?

The heart composes music
that nobody can hear
except yourself.

You may not be a knight on a horse
but your poetry speaks volumes.
I may not know you very well,
but I will use this poem as a formal invitation
to dive into my profound and bafflingly complex soul.

I will find other worlds
outside of this bubble
that I live in. This
"security bubble,"
this "incubator"
until my parents finally decide
to let me experience something
on my own without being a tourist.

To travel to India, South America and wherever I want.
Mom and Dad, I guarantee you that
I won't come back skinny and gaunt.