--
There are so many words to describe me,
none of them is B.A.M.E.
I've got a foreign name, exotic.
Try to read it before you modify it.

How long have I lived in the UK because
my English is so good, where did I learn it?
My accent is American, it's confusing.
or my accent is too Filipino, quite embarrassing.
How can we come from so far
and be so fluent-- so bizzarre.

My rice cooker is an enigma,
more so the amount of rice I eat, huh?
My spoon and fork don't make any sense to you
But your table knife achieves nothing for me, too.

Why do we dye our perfect black hair?
why do we want our skin to be fair--
why don't we just embrace our God-given tan?
Your president seems like a smart man
Fighting your country's drug war like no one else can
Lastly, "are you a Manny Pacquiao fan?"

It's quite difficult to be a P.O.C.
in a world that doesn't understand our P.O.V.
Why we've immigrated and not always assimilated
Why we've flown thousand of miles away from home
Only to stick with our own
but sometimes there is just some comfort
in not having to explain the way we are
or who we are
and why we are
the persons we are
without having to feel subpar.

You give me those feeling of love
Whenever I go through You
You give me those feeling of miss
Whenever I thought of You
You give me those feeling of happiness
Whenever I spoke about You.

Just a clean white love
Just the plain blank paper
Just an empty black space
And when the day comes
Let us fill it with light and beautiful sight.

I've never been good at opening up
In fact only one has ever really gotten me to
But she's no longer here, she has gone away
Leaving me behind to feel so afraid.

I'm a thinker in mind and a writer at heart
A lover and a fighter which can tear me apart
I'll fight for the one I love, I'll never let her go
If I could just find her so she could just know.

I don't like opening up, in fact it's very hard
I start to get defensive, I want to run far,
I feel a little barbaric like a rampant ape,
Who only wants to have the chance of a great escape.

If I do open up I'm afraid of what you'll find.
It's a mysterious place, this thing we call my mind,
Filled with a wild and crazy imagination,
Bizzarre concoctions of my own creation.

I do love creating a world of my own,
Where I can make everyone happy and never be alone.
But this can never happen, at least not in this life,
Just look around at all the people suffering in strife.

I want to help them, the mute crying out,
"I can hear you" I want to say but then I find doubt,
What if they don't want me, what if I'm no good,
I feel the want to help, now if only I would.

But that would require something from me I don't possess,
A great self-confidence especially when under stress.
I have found that under pressure I can work well,
Though not until it's over can I ever really tell.

The problem I have with letting others look inside,
Is that I've gotten so good at wanting to hide
I've fooled myself into thinking I'm strange
And fearing every attempt I make at change.

Oh and change is deffinitely by far the worst
It is the thing which I was afraid of first.
But of course I know the strengths that come from it
Then again, if it was that simple I'd have already done it.

I guess the problem with opening up, 
with saying who I am,
Is what if they don't like me?
What if they don't want to understand?

I can be so confusing, I barely know myself,
I sometimes have to ask someone else for help,
Of course that's not my choice but only when they ask 
And only ever then do I dare take off my mask.

Maybe that's the missing link I've been looking for,
Maybe that's the key to opening my door.
 A key that I can never turn by myself,
Maybe the door will only open if opened by someone else.

8/22/14

Some say the sonnets a dead form ¦ on yellowed pages and booklets torn,
Pentarchy shed and slain, replaced ¦ by memes I'm bicc, dat boi, he based

In synaptic pools, and neural spools, ¦ with cool *** claws, and digital jewels;
we set as one, booked up our sole ¦ while tindr/grindr take their toll

On sultry pages cast to withered dust ¦ while leaves left golden crust,
the muttered lines unbound escape ¦ to Tengri's starry 'voided gape

I think I am, I am I think, ¦ with wink and shirk and nod and drink
and cough, we splutter NoStros verse ¦ as fiery Gaia suffers curse

But then again, who are but we? ¦ a single sound, a drop in sea,
a dangling solace sharp in key, ¦ a lonesome sold for wired fee

When finally, undone we are ¦ our freedom sold, our chains bizzarre;
I'm caught between two planes that part ¦ a Second Life, and First (too dark)

So when again we sit and talk ¦ and fill the space with idle balk;
I'll notice parts of you I've missed ¦ and seek a comfort long dismissed

So when again we meet and stray ¦ to thoughts of hidden brevity;
I'm happy knowing it's just me ¦ Unhappiness my major key.

So finally, I'll try again ¦ to feel the pain, the roots and then
Pretty Pimpin? Scrimpin' life amock¦ Sat at home with screen and sock.