"coexistence" poems
To the niqab girl whom I met in Cagaya De Oro City
You were in front of me as we waited in line for hours
We smiled first politely and then we began to talk,
We Shared different insights in almost everything:
Your face veiling practice in Islam fascinated me
My headcovering as Christian piqued your curiosity
Conversations turned to fashion, extremism, and Filipinos,
You saw my face and I saw your beautiful eyes
Yet we never asked each other's names or Facebook accounts,
We were different yet somehow we mirrored each other;
Different religions yet linked by passion to serve God
Different ethnicity and language yet tied by nationality.
It's been weeks since the Marawi siege and I think of you
Hoping that every niqab girl I see in Iligan is you
We were strangers that rainy afternoon of June 2016
Yet I grieve for your loss - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Words are not enough to comfort you sister of the stars but
May your Allah guide and protect you in these times
May my Jesus cover you with His precious Holy blood,
To the niqab girl whom I met in Cagayan De Oro City
Perhaps we'll never see each other again in the future but
Thank you for letting me see the beauty of cultural diversity
And that coexistence is possible if we have open minds
And living in harmony is attainable if we open our hearts.
Jun 6, 2017
Jun 6, 2017 at 6:04 AM UTC
LOVE? Connotative of so many different things, one conjures up vastly intricate definitions of the word. To what extent their truth reaches is indicative of their author’s own relationships, childhood, future and past. To be asked what love truly is, is to allow another to peer inside of your soul, to reach the depth and breadth of your entity and to relinquish your fears and dreams to them, simultaneously. Asked today for my opinion, I deferred my response, realizing I myself hadn’t considered a solid definition. Seemingly such a simple concept; really a foundational core, underpinning our self worth, self adoration and self identity.
Love is unique, to everyone. It can be explained through the use of analogies. Stereotypes. In some ways, our ‘idealistic love’ is a window for our selfish, impeded selves to climb out of. We expect our lover to propel us into some sort of surreal, unchallenged fairy-tale romance, irregardless of the modern day reality we’re living out. We expect worlds to stop, planets to align and stars to shower upon us in some picturesque dream come true. However, referring to love in stereotypes can be impersonal and superficial. I find love can be best defined by a persons own experiences, dreams, fears and desires.
A lover can help realize and form these definitions.
To me, love is resting my head between the curve of his shoulder and my sheets. Love is watching a summer storm roll in together, dry and safe. Love is observation; of passion, of fear and of delight. Love is acceptance. There’s nothing more beautiful than knowing and being known. Nothing more beautiful than opening yourself up to someone, being with them in complete serenity, complete coexistence and honesty.
Rolling over and looking into their eyes, and silently whispering, “I love you.”
That to me is love.
- c.m
Aug 13, 2013
Aug 13, 2013 at 12:52 PM UTC
What bad could happen to a boy of sixteen, walking through the woods trying to find a nice spot to smoke and read Slaughterhouse-Five?
But now that I'm thinking about it, Stephen King may or may not have written a book about this exact question, more or less.
And as everyone who has read The Gunslinger Volume Six: Song of Sussanah, knows, everything Stephen King writes happens. Stephen King is God, in this sense.
Nevertheless, I found a nice spot, next to a dried out creek bed, complete with a gallon bucket and the scent of lavender.
And so I sat, and rolled a couple cigarettes, and dove into the mind and time traveling of Billy Pilgrim.
Sitting there, on that bucket, old Kurt spoke to me.
The previous owner of this copy of Slaughterhouse-Five also spoke to me.
With highlights and underlines he allowed me into his mind and thought processes while reading this book.
He underlined every passage that had to do with the Tralfamadorians views on time and the coexistence of every moment.
Soon, it became dark and I could no longer read, having only one cigarette left, I headed home.
Fifteen minutes later I was home, and if Stephen King had written about this event he wrote it as it happened. With no harm and no foul.
And maybe I dislike him for that
and maybe I don't understand why he did that,
why he would wrote a boring tale of a boring boy going on a boring walk in some boring Northern California forest.
And this writing does not feel complete but the Pabst is starting to kick in so I think I'll leave this one alone for now.
And Stephen King **** it, I can't even think of a title for this piece of ****
Nevermind, I got it.
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 11:13 PM UTC
Most of my life, I’ve been a highly independent person and proudly so. I have grown myself up, travelled alone, personal decisions. I am even praised for being so independent. I can’t say I did not enjoy the glory. I have rejected my support system fiercely and craved the glory of independence.
Growing up and be independent! That’s all that has been a goal. I had made personal independence as my virtue. Independence from parents, from education, and when you have your heartbroken, independence from being in love. I hated the word “compromise” and the only way to achieve. Doing something all by yourself takes no compromising. I don’t have to think about someone else’s feelings, I don’t have to worry about their needs, I don’t have to take care of anyone but me. Now, this sounds more and more like selfish than independence.
I realise the bigger struggle is to collaborate and come to a solution where everyone has their needs met, to give as well as take. Now that felt like growing up, the test of real courage. Are we glorifying independence because we don’t want to take care of other people? Because everywhere I went, someone was telling me I needed to find my freedom. Everywhere I looked, I searched in vain for that independence I once had, finally having to accept I would never be an unemotional, unattached person again.
Maybe we need not be independent. Self-made Is so overrated. Nobody is. We need not be. Even world war was won by the alliance. We need 2 for a clap or make a life. You need light and day to survive, you need bones and muscles. The world is not singular, the world is not independent. Even earth is going round and round the sun with a crazy crush that it can’t collide into and it can’t move away from. Earth is so on its own, so much in its own, but its existence is a collaborative one.
I know now that I can’t go at it alone or maybe even if I can I don’t want to do this alone. I want to live a life with friends and family supporting each other through the good, the rough, and everything in between. And I want a romantic partner to experience life with me. I want to have support emotionally, physically, and financially a coexistence.
My feminazi is in admitting that we need more feminine collaboration than the masculine ideal of success and independence. I want to find that freedom of shared submission and being part of something bigger than self-sufficiency.
Dec 16, 2019
Dec 16, 2019 at 6:17 AM UTC
In high school
we learn of logarithms, iambic meter
how to balance an equation between zinc oxide
and excess hydrogen gas--
only to find there was no reaction to begin with.
We're told colleges get to know you
through three letter acronyms-- ACT, SAT, GPA
And the students they want know everything
that they'll forget once they turn thirty.
Little do we realize
that if our Geometry teacher were to write an analysis
on the coexistence of good and evil in To **** a Mockingbird,
he would likley receive a "D" under the scrutinizing eye of
the honor's English teacher
Nor do we see that the art instructor would freeze in her tracks
faced with an assignment filled with the insufferable fate of
chemical stoiciometry
Socrates once said that the youth today
will be the demise of civilzation.
We contradict our parents, are smug in the face of authority
and tyrannize our teachers.
Funny he said this roughly 2,000 years ago--
I think my dad said something like that last year.
But, until the day we grow up to pay taxes
and marry someone we despise,
we're just stupid teenagers.
Jul 7, 2011
Jul 7, 2011 at 8:36 AM UTC
There is exemplary synergy in Nature
Coexistence of the birthed life
It’s a wonder for the wanderers
We try to create an imbalance
By our negligence and ambivalence
Bound and cloaked in this invisible bond
We are at risk of alienating ourselves
Severing ties with the lifeline
We cannot decipher the rich synergy
Mortals we all are, but some, lesser mortals
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 2:04 AM UTC
Your touch gentle as a petal in the wind
Kisses soft as the morning sun rise
Slowly rising from the dust undisciplined
Bringing a comforting warmth to my thighs
Your smell familiar as a dream once dreamt
A sweet taste on lips kissing
Hands on my body gracefully you tempt
Long lasting moments of caressing
A love so kind, as a flowers tender touch
Leaves tumble outside tap tap tap as one
Tightly to you I clutch
Skin now hot like the risen sun
Burning the day in sweet harmony
Hips playing a perfect symphony
A scenic view of warmth and motion
A breeze swaying wild and free
Like a curling wave in the ocean
Holding on as an unripe fruit to a tree
A sunset slowly falling down
Releasing the day with a wink of light
Night settles on the ground
Your beauty is all I have in sight
Together we breathe in coexistence
Your touch more tender than anyone
Resting now with peace and silence
Calm night, for the day is done
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 7:00 PM UTC
You were totally something else. Like a calm respite overcoming an instance of excitement. Magic and other prime words that can dictate the inarticulate adjectives that was this afternoon. Happiness and pleasure. A coexistence. To coexist. Soy.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 12:36 PM UTC
Ah, the earth and her brilliant beauty
radiating life, such a beautiful perfect circle
everlasting, eternal
how I love you, adore you
but then I see this, humanity
corrupted, angry, power hungry and so full of hate
and my heart bleeds
why is it we cannot live equally
share all the world and the love it has to offer
money? religion? human nature?
God, why can we not all look beyond it
children dying, innocents left bleeding on the streets
innocents who wanted no part in your war
and you took the one life they had and ripped it away
when all they wanted was love, security, peace
a child of all things
wanting to wake and play in the streets
knowing naught of why there is so much hatred
or even for that matter, what hate is
so how do innocents become so hate filled
indoctrination, it is taught
I do not believe we are born so filled with this horror
so what is so hard about going beyond this
people full of love these days so rare to find
ones that dream of coexistence
why is this?
do they ignore the idea?
are they blind?
or do they just not care?
content to live in a world
a world where people are shot down
I know they see it
I know they know of it
how does their heart not bleed like mine
they see pictures, hear it on the news
whether they knew them or not their story is real
their suffering, their pain
it is heartbreaking
it is unfair
I know I do not have it so hard
but I see their lives riddled with suffering
and I feel I know them
I want to reach for them
save them all and I cannot
tearing at every fabric of my being
I feel so far from being real
when I speak of this and people say don't think about it
how the hell can I not?
I exist within this world
this world so fueled by hate and anger
how can I ignore others pain
why am I finding myself weeping daily
for someone I never knew
I knew their pain
I knew how unfair their life was
so why do I feel so alone in this feeling
humanity you are tearing my soul to pieces
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 9:16 PM UTC
everything about you screamed infinite
the type of person I could spend forever trying to figure out
sunsets and sunrises pass by like fast trains, and my minds still reeling
a photographic memory is a blessing and a curse but right now its a gift
i can remember every word spoken, every laugh and smile
and i play it back like a movie
the kind of spirit that makes you forget the hurt
the universe cries but you remind me that it laughs too
coexistence of bodies and minds, sweet and surreal
worlds colliding at a rapid pace, they collide
they become one
everything about you screamed infinite
everything about me screamed indefinite
indecisiveness and paranoia floods my veins
love and knowing floods yours
a scale sits between the palms of our hands
and is level, for we are balanced
I lift my pen and let my hand guide my mind
my fingers already know you and they haven’t felt you
yet my page screams your name wholeheartedly
vast space was left empty in the corners of my brain
but they’re filled now, even in the dustiest of places
everything about you screamed infinite
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 9:38 PM UTC
I am the moon
you are the Sun
without you, I am merely darkness
my glow is only an illusion
to the eyes of those
who do not see right through me
the true source of light is you
selfless, you give parts of yourself to me
and never once asked for anything in return
I shine so brightly because of you
you let the world see and admire my beauty
when in reality, you illuminate me
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 1:03 PM UTC
OH, TOLERANCE!
Imagine a world filled with various attributes of tolerance
The somewhat cheaply expensive substance
Exuding from the spirit of acceptance
Giving the assurance of living and interaction
Oh, tolerance!
Imagine the impending disaster or menace
Evidence of living in this world without tolerance
If we could reminisce the possible chaos of its absence
Then acknowledge the need to seek for its protection
Oh, tolerance!
Imagine a city filled with the fragrance of tolerance
The acquiescence of human coexistence
The aura of the essence of our existence
In a city of unity and strength
Oh, tolerance!
Remedy for our shortcomings and ignorance
Enhancing strength and resilience
Giving us evidence and endurance
To forge ahead and be hopeful that we can make progress
Oh, tolerance!
Antidote to our offences and weaknesses
Exuberance and mistakes
The consciousness that you are with us
Gives us reason to accommodate all and sundry
Oh, tolerance!
You romance our ego
Showing us reasons that we are not perfect
The remembrance of your tenets
Increases our stimulus for acceptance and coexistence
Oh, tolerance!
Jul 25, 2019
Jul 25, 2019 at 6:16 PM UTC
Historical-ly,
Black Colleges
Have been chronically
underfunded,
unacknowledged,
Hell -
Unappreciated.
Black culture curates
Common culture.
Black coins buy
Booming business -
Black universities
Breed
Brilliance, Undeniably.
Understand
Black children
Contain unrelenting
Capacity,
Cause upheaval -
Controlled, creative
Chaos;
Coerce
Change.
History
Continues.
Heads held high -
Commemorating heroes.
Celebrating
Hope-
Bravery-
Coexistence-
Unity-
Hope-
Bravery-
Coexistence-
Unity-
Healing-Balanced-Charismatic-Unequivocal-ly
Colorful
Blackness.
Dec 23, 2022
Dec 23, 2022 at 9:01 AM UTC
Skyscrapers scarfed in dawn's mist,
their torsos shrouded by nature's wisps
a reminder that man made this,
that wind and the water could show it
its end.
Metropolis unharmed,
lit windows like the glints of a thousand eyes.
Unknowing and blissful.
The fog unfolds like an opened hand,
palms upwards, swaying in the boulevard.
Happ'ly I stand, upon the mountain's edge
and admire the regal coexistence
of man and its maker.
Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 10:42 AM UTC
Forgotton memories stomped in like strangers at a funeral, uninvited and unwanted, smiling like they belonged, but no one recognised their songs. As they talked, as they drank and sang, as they told their stories they became more strangely familiar. We found their smiles infectious despite our resistance and started to recognise some of their tunes at their insistence. Faint but familiar laughter echoed from fathoms below and slowly our mourning began to losen its wet hold. Our sadness became tinged with a happiness long forgotton and scenes from years long gone rose from the bottom of our dark well of emotion, lifting our faces to the surface, giving us a glimpse of a greater hope and clearer purpose, to tell our stories, with laughs and tears finding an uncomfortable coexistence as we danced and shared this messy remembrance.
Jan 15, 2019
Jan 15, 2019 at 3:10 AM UTC
This I pledge:
To my peers,
To my enemies,
To my unborn children,
To those who have left blood in the streets
(And their better years unrealized),
To my Mother,
To strangers,
To myself.
Yes, this I pledge:
I will be a warrior.
I will charge at full speed,
Without reservation,
Having removed my brakes,
Having cut holes in my safety net,
Having burnt all bridges leading back to safety,
I will rage and rally
against injustice
against oppression
against empty stomachs
against tear soaked pillows
against razors stained by blood
against those who hold open arms while exhaling poison
against silence
against apathy
against the chains holding humanity down.
This I swear,
This I promise,
This I guarantee,
This is my bond,
This I pledge:
That injustice and I
shall be in constant battle.
He will remain busy throughout the night
and I will wake in a sweat
and sprint from my bed
only to return once I have been properly bloodied
and removed a chunk of skin from the beast of oppression.
Wake, repeat.
I will not be win.
Defeat will not be defeated.
But, this I pledge:
So long as I breathe
there will be no peaceful coexistence
between pointless suffering and my soul.
This I pledge:
To give my life in this struggle,
For you and you and you.
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 9:03 AM UTC
Half of the morning sky holds the night,
as the moon in the semi-darkness still gives its light.
But on the other side of the heavens,
dawn is awakening.
With a glorious pink and orange sunrise.
What a delight to my eyes!
Night and day in the same sky.
Coexisting.
For all to see.
Darkness and light are sharing the canopy.
Just as trials of life can be bittersweet.
The darkness of grief.
And the light of joy and peace incomprehensible.
Existing at the same time.
Colliding each day within the same heart.
The night of loss,
and the day of freedom.
Coexisting.
The darkness of loneliness and regret,
and the light of God's love
and never-ending Presence.
Bittersweet.
The bittersweetness of trials and suffering.
In this temporal life.
Indeed no one escapes them.
Bittersweet.
There is beauty.
Beauty in this.
Like the winter moon in the dark,
and the sunrise awakening the dawn.
Coexisting.
In the same sky.
At the same time.
Creating a beautiful coexistence.
(edited)
Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 2:31 PM UTC
Millions of years of existence
Earth carries layers of history
Abundant and bountiful
They thrived during their peak
Happiness and coexistence
Turned to rambunctious ambitions
Valiant hearts turned violent
Severing the ties of humanity
Colored the layers of history in red
Tyrants and traitors marred the existence
Of the beautiful fabric of mankind
Stained fate, never to recover
Sometimes nature turned foe
Obliterating life from this Earth
History is the silent custodian
Testimony to the many facets of humanity
We bring our downfall
Mired in controversies and revenge
Saga of shameful acts and own dereliction
Sifting through the layers of history
It’s not for the faint-hearted to endure
The rough tales of disasters and annihilation
Millions of years and many more thereafter
At the crossroads of humanity
History is waiting to add many more layers
To the annals of its testimony
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 8:17 AM UTC
It’s simply amazing what phrases pop into one’s head and stick - and as they stay there they develop, and as they develop the inner life takes over and what started out a superficial bit of twaddle turns into poetry of some substance, proving anything can become anything with a little bit of reflection.
I Am A Housewife
I am a housewife.
Organize and deputize,
Buy and cook,
See that everything’s delicious,
Making dishes at my best,
Matching wish of man and guest.
Preserving and conserving, I economize,
Hunting down the clever buys
So there’s savings at year’s end.
Mix and blend creatively,
And when I shop
I stop and hesitate; contemplate
And seldom buy on impulse.
That said, I occasionally fall and do.
But mostly, shopping for our food’s
A yoga. So’s the
Washing, cooking, dusting…more;
The most and best health giving chore:
Hands cleaner in the water,
Waistline smaller, reaching up and for…
No breadwinner,
But a winner baking bread.
Cakes and cookies all included.
For, of course, the friends and husband
Whom I feed,
Try to supply each need
Not because it is ‘the done thing’
But because it is the fun thing.
Then there’s me. Filled with creativity.
Actually, a private soul
With my own needs to feel whole.
I do not underplay the housewife role
As many in society
Who downplay tractability and duty.
For to me it stands for beauty,
Not for slavery.
I am a being who serves house,
Deserves the house, My house! Our house!
No mouse by any means
But combination heroine
And superstar,
Dishing out the wonder
Of existence
With insistence and persistence
For a comfy coexistence
Dishing out the dishes
And a family’s wishes.
I Am A Housewife 12.23.2018 Circling Around Woman II; Arlene over Woman II; Arlene Nover Corwin
Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 6:18 PM UTC
Quick metallic stings swayed your path.
Unkept morals led to misplaced wrath.
Intruded life saving soul, savagely subdued.
Nuetralic coexistence henceforth removed.
Notable soul's transition painstakingly ensued.
Relinquish the angered regret your soul may churn.
Instead focus on those who's hearts passionately burn.
Place your soul with those who now lovingly wait their turn.
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 2:48 PM UTC
this oriental rose
textured with occidental precision
desperately seeks perfection
in all things worldly
nature’s true signature
wreaks havoc instead:
in the rocks of the grand canyon
in a mole on a cheek
in the dried but fallen leaves of autumn
even in the scribbling of our children
embrace wabi-sabi
where wafting moments of melancholy
transform to sheer joy
in the subtle realization
that coexistence with incompleteness
the proven path to release one
from the chaining bonds of perfection
© 2021
Jul 19, 2021
Jul 19, 2021 at 10:45 AM UTC
*One flower slept soundly
in the ground
perhaps not wanting
to be found*
*I picked it up
for it looked quite*
lonely
*But then how funny
because*
I was, too
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 10:17 AM UTC