From the moment we met on that eventful night,
I've felt something for her unlike I've felt for any other soul.
Her hair was curled, her makeup was neat.
She was beautiful.
She smiled at me a special smile,
And it was that smile I would become accustom to.
She was surrounded by a crowd of exceptional people.
They were a kind of wild and raunchy people I hadn't been exposed to.
Amongst them, she shined like a diamond,
As if she was God and they were all descendants of Lucifer.

I soon became aware that her and I could relate.
Sometimes outcasted by others, we bonded in our strife.
We led similar lives and connected strongly with each other in a friendly, nonromantic way.
Whilst her fellow souls were overflowing with disorder,
We held each other and comforted each other from the unsafe conditions of teenage darkness.
She was misunderstood and so was I.
We were meant to live much simpler lives,
But in our struggle to prosper in what we thought was divine,
We made our lives much more complicated.

She watched me as I drove those familiar roads,
And listened as I talked of my blues.
She empathized with me.
We always got along the best.
Faced with a plethora of teenage hardships,
We always found our way back to sanity.
We always found our way back to each other.
She was everything to me,
And to this day, she still shines like a diamond.
Now, her smile is more than just a smile.
It's a pathway to serenity.

Were you alive when the
bricks began to crumble
beneath our hand-held, kiss
puppets?

Our mumbled whispers
that tapered ladders on gargantuan folds and slung-held
boy-grips.

Cohorts torn into flip stands
layered toward standing sores --
tell me how to cross rapid waters of social trends.

We were strung up the flag pole, almost posted as decapitated heads for the public.

Under teeming hammer-strikes :
glasses shred to paper-splinters
before a car crying white chalk bricks
onto saran-wrapped concrete.

There were antennas perched like speckled,
mangy feathers,
poised, reflecting defiance toward
the wool-ashed sky.

With dirt-trekked journey marks,
there were trees growing silver hair outside the grocery store --
and frown-marked women -- that skin-folded
war paint -- yelled at their daughters to pay attention.

Cascades were dripping outside of this moving vehicle
White noise, patternless and arrhythmic
like magnified sounds of nails on a concrete wall,
made by souls desperate to cleave their way to dryness

This public utility vehicle holds spirits successful in finding this temporary heaven
Weathered, soaked and almost drowned
like panting dogs that managed to swim ashore from a shipwreck
caused by the iceberg that is the eye of the storm

This safe haven holds champions in a world of misshapen men

A woman clutches tightly on a bag of lime and her ever waning youth
Tired, but not eager to face Death
still closing her windows to his cat burglars
that come faster than the downpour of Typhon's tears

A homeless child comfortably sleeps on the far end of this ride
His innocence tested by fate
Too experienced for someone his age
instead of just playing in the streets he calls home

The jeepney driver has eyes on the road painted by Van Gogh
Unabashed, industrious and assiduous
determined to serve,
provide for a family whose stomachs hunger not but they hunger for his return

This other dimension nurtures alien thoughts and parallel thinking among beat down men

I do not know them but I can hear the cries of their emotions,
their longing to be felt and empathized with
Their voiceless cries are guns with a silenced nozzle
shooting at anyone ignorant who curiously stare at this minefield of a passenger jeep

today my friend's best friend died
and i really empathized with her

Her best friend was
Charming
       brave
Affectionate
       smart
Lively
       gigantic
Versatile
       playful
Innocent
       silly
Noisy

And he was one of the best, someone whom she could lean on, someone who would cheer her up with a cuddle.

It hurts to lose a dog. A big, furry cream colored friend, with a big loving heart.

It's true that a dog loves you much more than himself. And you could see it in their eyes when you give them food or stroke their bellies.

This fuzzy feeling of friendship will never be forgotten.

The troubadour planted his last name between
a she-vegan's legs in San Marcos;
rambled north to that country of love, Oklahoma City,
where he took hits of windowsill acid every three hours
for a week straight.

To escape, to begin.

He spent his nights in the St. Cloud Hotel, trying to
sleep on a carpeted floor. He saw a color between
lavender and orange, nameless and impossible to
recreate. He knew all, including he'd forget all.
He shared a room with two high fashion,
burgundy-lipped lesbians, Viv and Jean, and
one night, the last night the troubadour, our troubadour,
was allowed to stay, Jean went out for some fresh air,
code for a cigarette.

"She never smokes just one," Viv said, little Oprahs reflected in her eyes from the plasma screen. She lay on her stomach on the bed,
atop a jungle green comforter. For your discretion and for the discretion of those before you.

Viv brought him between her legs.

"Gentle. Gentle," she said.

The troubadour thought of those Pepsi Challenge commercials as he tongued her ****. A lesbian has an edge when it comes to oral pleasure. Across the nation more people prefer Pepsi. She's got the same parts, sure, but as the troubadour wordlessly recited the alphabet with his tongue to her, he felt confident Jean hadn't put in this kind of effort, not lately anyways. And so what if he's Coke? The troubadour preferred Coke. Viv snagged a handful of his hair, "Don't stop," she said. "Don't stop."

And it all ended, as drug-addled, hetero-on-**** escapades always do: abruptly and with an "I think you should leave before she comes back," a "But sweetheart, this, us, I think this means something," an "I like girls," a "But," an "I just needed an edge," and later that night as he marveled at the  brilliance of the common streetlight, tripping his *** off on his last hit of LSD, he empathized.

A man jumped today.
A man jumped today off the railroad bridge.
A man jumped today off the railroad bridge,
& we pulled him out.
I am a firefighter, its my job to make situations okay.
I wonder what happens when I'm not okay?
A man jumped today off the railroad bridge
& I hoped it was you at first.
Your father shot himself in the chest.
He kept the birthday card I gave him,
In the drawer of his bedside table.
It broke the family and a piece of me.
My grandfather shot himself and it was terrible,
& I still hoped it was you.
I wonder how much hate you hold.
What does it take to call me worthless?
Last week a dad accidentally ran over his child.
I empathized with how the kid felt
& I wish you loved me sometimes.
*What have you done.

A broken lock equals an open mind. An open mind equals a temporary peace of heart. I constantly write in riddles and lines that will never rhyme, that most will probably never read. In my subconscious I relentlessly attempt a Resurrection of civil engagements with an uncivil mind. My internal demeanor never abandons a detail, a key worth remembering and a lock that will always sway to and fro in a shanty boat that is inconsistently worthless and valuable. It will never dock, it will never be entirely worth the stress or the time it would take to tie and secure a ship of that size and quality, or lack thereof. There exists ulterior motives that Miss blonde esteem is seemingly not even aware of, or like her prior, accepts ignorance as a temporary escape until the uncivil mind returns civil. The fact is this. The uncivil mind was never civil, and may as well never be. Locks can be repaired, even when the thief begs for no replacement. What makes the thief the uncivil enemy? Has it ever occurred to any soul, that a thief is only stealing away precious moments that are rightfully his, that circumstances and uncivilized minds have locked away in a pitch black that they cannot call their own night? There surely has been an uncanny instance when the locksmith swiftly turned about to find his prior gazing at him in the golden grooves of the trap. The thieving of one’s own mind, to break a lock enchanted  by the uncivil mind, should be easily empathized and understood. But alas, curly blonde esteem will forever submit under the spell of the uncivil mind, who will only cast a shadow upon itself and its priors. It will be remembered in the scent of cigarettes, where it will also be displaced. It will be avoided in the unrighteousness of a friend’s bed in another family’s house, where a respirator and the oxygen tubes intertwining the threshold no longer exist; neither do the white sheets. There will never again be an absence of music behind the actions committed between the uncivil mind and the civil heart.

Listen to your heart
Don't hide from the art
Play to win
Be smart
Escape from fear
Be willing to steer
Speak your truth  
Be clear as the skies
Don't expect to be empathized
Be resilient
Reject being chastised
Don't accept their lies
Make an exception
To be free
Even if you aren't
Like a tree
Be brilliant
Be available
Listen to the wind
Become reliable within
Respect your mind
Love yourself
Don't rest until
You know it's true

This poem is for you

It's quite simple really.

Months have passed since the day
I've fallen for you.
Such a shame that you couldn't tell.
Sorrow and hate fills me.

Yielding to the emotions of hostility.
Only the broken could've empathized with me.
Understand that I'm imperfect and forgive me.

Silence is the stake in my heart.
Over the months, it stabs deeper into me.

Maybe I've made the wrong decision.
Until I've seen what it reaps,
Carrying the burden of doubt is my trial.
Haunted by memories of you is my masochistic pleasure.

All this must have been quite a surprise.
Do realize that I'm just a man...perhaps lesser.
Imaginations are what feeds my needs now.
Told you I'm evil.
I love you, darling.

You’ve read the words a million times
Seen it from novel to novel
You read about the daughters
And those they love
The ones who got sick
They hope
And hope and hope
then things go bad
And the only one who can still hope are the daughters
I’ve read their words from all across the decades
Sympathized with their pain
With their grief
With their internal struggles
But I never empathized with them
And in the past
I had this thought
In my head like a sticky note adhered to the fridge
Stuck there right next to the grocery list and the kindergarten artwork
It read
I would never be a daughter

Then the words leapt off the pages
Of the hundreds of novels
Inserted themselves into my narrative
Gluing themselves to my skin,
I tried to rip them off myself
But they peeled off my skin with their literary fingers
Taking some of my skin with them as they launched and
Ripped the sticky note off my cerebral refrigerator
I became a daughter

Sometimes I still can’t believe that word is a part of my life now
Cancer
And I understand what these daughters have felt
That it feels wrong that I should be the one feeling hurt
It is those I love that are sick and I am healthy with no physical ailment on me
No tumors or scars under my skin
But I feel as if they are in my heart
There is a tumor there and it won’t be removed
Because how could one ever remove a metaphorical tumor
Why does it hurt?
Is it because of the chemo
Cherishing the Hope that Everyone is Mostly Optimistic
Devoting myself to keeping everyone else in balance
Holding the weight of the world even though I could easily just let it go and crush
Every horrible thing in this life
But it became a part of me when that word entered my life
I can’t make it separate, make it leave, can’t stop being who I was born to be
Someone to hold the weight
Except one
One weight that ain’t no metaphorical tumor

The person I love is sick
The novels have inserted their words into my narrative
I just hope I can revise their endings
And move cancer into the index
The credits
anything
instead of having  the last page read
the end

But, then I see the one I love stand strong
As everyone says this is the end
She won’t pretend that this it
Because it isn’t
She takes the pen into her own hand and erased what the world had written
And writes the end of part one
The end to this chapter in a long happy saga called
life
And she writes to the daughter
I'll see again
when you finish part one
In your wonderful fairy tale book

I frequently attempt to capture home on a canvas
But despite all the good this does my soul
oils and turpentine do little for the city of Atlanta
If you were to ask me why I loved Atlanta.
You would know me as you would a brother
My first kiss
my best friends who no longer live there
that time when me and Jacob were so ******* over it that we spent 4 hours throwing rocks at the Chattahoochee hoping it would change something

And know nothing of I-285, Jimmy Carter, or Hartsfield-Jackson

And as I explain love.
With little interest in its subject
I feel that Orpheus would have empathized

one time in the land of poverty and starvation
where hunger loomed like the spirit of God,
Even Itself starved itself often on the thin vials
of the black stomachs,colonies and esophagus,
of these poverty crashed men and women
denizens of this land ever wondered  why ,
hunger and challenges where their stuff?
they had nothing at all to stake the selves,
mothers were beggars as fathers did,
pangs of hunger even made them dark
in their skins  with excess melanin,
These conditions made their foster mother
to yap her white beak cacophonously ,
in the ecstatic syndrome of colonial glory
she was happy as they suffered, day in and day out,
she even made the  possibility food
for these foster children of hers  an illusion,
she forced them to speak her tongue
as a magical secret to have enough food
they tried the tongue but they could not make it
because prime motive was colonial tricks,
not salvage of any standard nor measure,
the foster mother came again with a new ploy,
that she could give them food or Ebola drugs
if only their men had to marry fellow men
and their women must marry fellow women,
they tried and they shrank in numbers
a new opportunity for the foster mother
to become metaphysically a colonial mother,
Only to loot the minerals , wood,land and slaves
slaves taken on vicious green card lottery boat,
then their chanced a yellow man , but not as foolish
as the one Dalai Lama, the poet of prolixity
He empathized with the black poverty ,
he felt for the Nation of this beggars,
he cried Woooooo! these people are suffering!
This poverty is pathetic and sorriest !
he took all the Ebola patients and hunger victims
to the herbal medical clinic  nearby
He also gave the beggars of  that nation
iron horses on which they ride as they beg
hence the saying that;Behold the last wonder,
kings are walking of food and slaves riding
kingly horses.

I watched the flames as they spilled over the landscape,
The danced higher than the skyscrapers as they took their shape,
The night sky burned brighter than even the sun,
And there was no way to know where the relentless fire had begun.
I walked away from the flames feeling the heat press firmly against my back,
Trying to get away before this city could collapse.
I was racking my brain trying to figure out how I got here,
The only clue I had was a note that read "This will be your final stop, my dear".
I didn't recognize the handwriting,
And it seemed like a part of me was fighting,
Fighting to spring awake from what it believed to be a dream,
But it was a reality that just tore at the seam.
I reached to put the note in my back pocket,
But instead I found a small heart shaped locket.
Another clue?
Or perhaps something to throw me askew.
I opened it without another moment to spare,
And inside was a small tuft of red hair.
Hair so red it seemed to burn,
A color so deep not even the flames could earn.
Everything was happening entirely too fast,
What had happened on this seemingly awful night that had passed?
I turned to face the flames once more,
But this time to let them engulf me in their allure.
The allure of a mystery gone unsolved,
And how around me it so seemed to revolve.
As I walked towards the burning city I looked above,
The smoke formed a cloud that almost looked like a dove.
I found myself back where I began,
And noticed a pair of black leather gloves on the ground spread like a fan,
I picked them up thinking they could be of good use,
When all of a sudden a building fell loose.
Collapsing underneath its own weight,
Burning from the inside like a person filled with hate.
I wouldn't let it set me back,
I had to make it before the whole city went black,
Before it was covered in its own filth and destruction.
Although it wouldn't be too different from the filth and corruption,
That had plagued the streets,
While the rest of the city lay asleep in their sheets.
I had been wandering through the burning city looking for anything that I recognized,
And I began to think that maybe I empathized,
With these people who watched everything they knew burn,
When I came across a building around the corner of a sharp turn.
It seemed almost familiar from a distance,
But it was hard to tell during this fiery instance,
There was so much smoke it caused my vision to be blurred,
I could only imagine the chaos of the cries unheard.
As I finally approached the door,
I put on the gloves as I could feel the heat more.
As I slipped them on out fell a small folded paper,
Surely another clue to this mysterious caper.
It was some sort of list,
I walked along and as I read a beam from the building fell and just nearly missed.
I put away the paper for now,
But only for as long as I could allow,
My curiosity to stay at bay,
Before in a grave my body lay.
Searching through the building I started to see,
This is a prison falling down around me.
I ran for the door just as more beams began to crash,
I wouldn't be left lying in the ash.
As I made it out the way I came,
I noticed something that didn't seem the same.
There was a giant fence that I didn't see before,
And empty cans of gas lying by the door.
I figured it was as good a time as any,
I removed the list and began to read, as the steps were many.
It was a plan to destroy the city,
step by step, the list almost made me giddy.
I was excited to be one step closer to figuring this out,
The handwriting matched that of the note in the locket, without a doubt.
I put the note away and continued on,
I noticed the sun starting to rise as it was almost dawn.
And As I walked away from the building I felt something beneath my foot,
I looked underneath and there was nothing there but a lighter.
Suddenly all of my memories rushed back to me,
I couldn't get a grip on this, everything as far as I could see
Was on fire, and it was burning hotter than the fury of hell.
I walked back into the prison only to let the flames engulf my being,
It was the only escape that I was seeing.

4/12/17

She said she moved across the countrey to
Get away from her sister
They got a divorce and it was
Against her beleifs.
Against God.
I told her firmly
That i empathized
How it must be hard to move across
The world, to pack up everything
Just for your morals
She said she and her husbamd moved in with the ex husband her sister
And that the whole family besides herself
Supported her sister.
I said that must be hard.
Then when she loved me
Knew i understood.
I promptly told her i was polyamorous.
That my lover moved to ireland
To live with her husband
Packed up everything
And how hard that must be
and She did not flinch
I held her as she cried on my shoulder
She in the fifteen moments I saw her
Realized there is a whole world of differences
She can find comfort in when she is alone
She never once knew what I thought of her
Morals
How In my family we have divorce celevrations.
How ending is always a new beginning
How you can love amd still realize that a forever is going to make you miserable
Or never having a baby will **** you
Or being ***** every night is going to torture you
Even if the abuser is your own husband
I worry for her safety.
A woman who doesn't beleive in the word stop.
Doesn't consider leaving
Or letting go
I could never trust someome like that.
I would never be able to see them without feeling regret.
There is no words for the sorrow I place in that body of theirs.
And it is not my place to change it.
But I can tell them how happy i've been
Letting go someone I love, forever.
Not because We are unhappy.
Just because it was time for them to go.
Tell her how I still love them.
How i miss them every day, but it does not depress me.
It enlightens me.
Tell them of all my happy memories
libraty labrynth where she made me look her up with the dewey decimal system
Ice skating and backwards buttwiggles
Every time we stayed up late and I whispered that she existed.
Because even I wasn't convinced.
Now that she's left.
I'm still not.

But I will never forget either of them.

In the group that I come from, where philosophers comprise. Virtue, ethics and values they wrestle or oblige. One thing is missing and thats the truth in definition. From where philia itself is all about friendship.
Friends in wisdom, hey..it might just be empathy. Compassion hey, its truly a victory.

Whether Sophia or Nikea, it shouldn't really matter. Put them together and the robes will never tatter. Lest apart, were back to the start where this cute mythology loses its heart.

Yo, The Gods and Goddesses are just virtues. Principles of importance marked as divine. Personified and glorified to keep the spirit alive, thats just how they emphasized. Thats just how they empathized.

You want to live in your own world,
want to hide your problems from your girl,
and living in fear that the truth will unfurl,
causing your anxiety to swell and swirl.

Well, let me tell you of your mistake,
thinking she can't tell when you fake
hoping she won't figure out what's at stake,
and all because you want her to have a break.

However sweet the gesture, she knows;
It's evident the moment your smile goes,
she feels your negative energy as it flows,
and she notices when you no longer glow.

Despite your efforts, you see her sad,
and at yourself, you become mad,
because you hoped that you had
kept from her, all things that are bad.

What you fail to realize
is that when you look into her eyes,
her feelings are yours; empathized,
and you shouldn't be so surprised.

What good does it do to try to hide?
Clearly she knows what you keep inside,
but now you got her wondering why
in her, you cannot confide.

What a blow to the heart that would be,
even though you only want her to be happy...

it feels awful knowing my baby
doesn't want to communicate with me...

I didn't wake up one morning
     make a conscious choice
             to be a *****....
First -
I gave my heart
      It was used to clean excrement from your rear....
I ventured so far as to trust
     Your knives are still in my back....
I was kind
     you interpreted weakness....
I cared
      totally unappreciated
I empathized
      your need became insatiable....
After 20 years I finally said
    **** it....
Naturally,
       I'm the *****....
No my dear
        I simply act like you!

I had my breakfast.
I gave up the button that started a liberal conversation,
I mourned the lack of freedom of speech,
I stopped talking.

I walk across campus, silent people everywhere
The look of despair on their faces, the feeling of helplessness in the air,
I empathized with them,
I had nothing to say.

One particular person helped me more than I could imagine,
They convinced me that I am still valid, that my thoughts are still important,
They cared for me, even if just for twenty minutes,
I spilled my secrets to a stranger tonight.

“If  I could only paint,” the despondent poet said,
“If  I could only paint, I would surely knock’em dead.
Like Rembrandt or Picasso, like Whistler or Van Gogh.
I’d open up a gallery, and everyone  would see
The pictures that I’d painted and they would envy me!”

“If I could write a novel,” the painter empathized.
“If I could write a novel, then I’d have realized,
My dream to be like Hemingway, Faulkner or Thoreau.
I’d be in all the book stores, my books would be top shelf,
And I would finally know that I’d made something of myself.”

“If I could hit a baseball,” the author next agreed,
“If I could hit a baseball, I’d be in the major league.
I’d hit home runs like Willie Mays, and run like Shoeless Joe.
The fans would come to all the parks to see me lead the team,
The kids would want my autograph, and all the crowd would scream.”

“If I was smart,” the ballplayer said, “And studied law in school,”
“Then I could be the President, and I’d make all the rules.
I’d be as great as Washington, FDR, and Honest Abe.
I would meet with foreign diplomats, and help the world find peace,
All America would know my name; Play ‘Hail to the Chief’”

“If I could write a poem,” the President bowed his head,
“If I could write a poem, my ego would be fed.
I’d describe the beauty of a flower, and the winds that softly blow;
I’d keep my poems in a journal, let no one ever see,
And be content in knowing that I had done it just for me.”
pwl 3/7/03

The dead have been spoken for
But who will remember?
The living must speak for themselves
Will it be violent or tender?

The unborn risk their lives by our choice
In silence they wait
While our minds, a legacy of failure
Play God with their fate

What would make me finally act my age
When youth smiles not upon the wise
Is it to speak to young women without remorse
Or become the stranger who empathized

The shallow lightening flash of narcissism
Strikes close to our children
Which images will they choose for their life
Pleasure or to fight explosions inside the gates of heaven?

When I hear Meredith Godreau preach.
From my 4” speakers
I like to imagine she sings only for me.
Her words exist in emotions that I only dare dream of
As I scribble something insignificant
And know that she will never read a word I’ve written
but why should she?
it’s not about me

As I find myself in this position of unrequited melodic infatuation
I feel that Eurydice would have empathized

It feels like,
Everyone and everything is just a figment of my imagination.
A fake reality!
Because however I expect,
In the simplest of situations if they would worry, wonder and rejoice in my tone;
If people around me empathized as much as me,
I mean, even just my family,
Faack!!!
How beautiful the world be!
But then, I wonder,
If I’m just another cockroach refusing to empathize,
Of another’s reality as well!!

Tall, lanky, muscle-less mess
Couldn't dribble a ball across the court if his life depended on it
Curly haired pubescent Nephilim
Always the last to be picked by either team
Neither knew
What I'd do
For a dollar
Or my tricks with Oujia boards and magnets
Begging money from mom and dad
To buy Famous Monsters magazine
Stills ancient even then of frankenstein's creation
Count Dracula, werewolf and wolf man
Terrifying beings from beneath the ground
Or coming down out of the sky
Grotesqueries so appalling
You had to keep looking, you couldn't stop
For all their mystery at least we recognized most of them
We loved some of them
Or maybe even empathized
They didn't seem as dangerous as my tormentors
Though they would surely frighten the living day lights out of them
Like a sordid copy of True Crime, it's pulp pages stained with ink that portrayed REAL death
I felt I was in unfamiliar territory
Dangerous and ever present
Hopping straight from the pages
To the real world
The walk home is always too long
To toss the monster magazine into the box that contained the other 16 issues I'd managed to collect
To put a record on the stereo
Lie back in bed
Stare at the ceiling fan
Listen to "Tubular Bells"
And try not to think of "The Exorcist"
Or the morons at gym practice the next day.

It takes a great deal to be happy
Yet only one disappointment to be sad
I can only imagine a life
Where we didn't hyper focus on the bad

Is it the anger, pain and loss in our lives
That we so greatly turn our heads to
Trapped in a sinicle mind
Fear and sadness we succumb to

But a great life that we are given
to live and fail to recognize
The torturous thoughts we share
should be empathized

With time at a stand still
but as fast as the speed of light
Why do I wait for happiness
as if it comes overnight

And yet I sit in regret and discomfort
I hold on to my greatest nightmares
If all see is shadows and doors
This life will be purely unfair

A ray of sunlight fills my days
And I fail to see it in skies of grey
Is it that I've become submissive
Or do I let darkness swallow my day

In a world where I can assimilate
All the satisfaction that surrounds me
I would have to disregard
All the suppressed pain I have seen

When I walk into a place
Amidst busy people in haste
Heads turn to me I wonder why
As if they have seen a thing in awe
So I am oblige to smile and say hello

I think:
Maybe it is because I look neat and fresh
With a gentlemen haircut and shaven face
Or because of my manly aura and sharp look
Wearing rugged garb with a macho image I took

When I speak most people if not all listen
Though they are doing something in between
I raise my hand or move further they follow
I rant a phrase they also echo with pleasure
They love me each time I give them a lecture

I say:
These people must have seen something interesting
In my being that myself do not discover or forgetting
Maybe because I am cool and pleasant when spoken with
I inspire their imaginations taking the time with weight

When both men and women great me with esteem
I reciprocate to their acts with kindness as a friend
Many are receptive to the ideas I share without flattery
They ask for my opinion and request to meddle on something
To resolve their problems by giving them practical mentoring

This prove:
That I am a person of wisdom which has importance
I possess charisma that can convince with substance
My presence reassures those individuals who lost hope
My bold appeal excites the broken souls to stand and cope

When I just relax and calm in recollection
I think of the humankind and God's relation
I do not instill paradox clues about any religion
As I'm a sinner like everyone else who are mortal
I shouldn't be praised by those who think I'm moral

I confess:
I am only human and not a son or perfect father
I may have provided my family enough being a provider
Of simple things which I work hard to become upgraded
As what others have seen in me is what I am best rated

When women begin to act quite intimate with me
It is because I'm amiable and complaint as can be
I show no sign of abuse of their frailties but respect
I'm open to their innate expressions about love and men
To prove that I am not bias or against all sorts of women

In my heart:
Like all men I have a mother, sisters, wife and daughter
Females to whom I have to give respect, love, care with laughter
Also for whom I work hard to provide their all basic mundane needs
Thus, I want them to feel secure and happy by giving them good deeds

When some families gather together inviting me as guest
I heartily join them in their merriment with myself at its' best
With poems I give to them as complimentary act of my gratitude
Sharing them some sentiments about on what family should be like
Or innate expressions of love for others as legacy I want them to excite

In retrospect:
I have had some detailed episodes about a family life
I experienced it as a son and father both good and strife
In having to cope with the burden i raising a big household
That being a son and father I have innate duties to act bold

When at work with different kind of associates to deal
I am focus on my duties and react to colleagues quite real
They come to confer or ask to assist them finish their work
With all humility I conform to their requests with compliance
I believe harmony should prevail in a workplace to keep balance

I uphold:
I can generate cooperation by initiating support
I can be of significance by showing a good effort
I shouldn't complain if I don't like to be detested
I should mind my own business if I am not requested

When troublemakers come to confront me face to face
I hold my sanity and act accordingly without malice
I stand to reason with them on basis of truthfulness
To stop, look and listen then argue to reach a verdict
Hitches can't be solve if none settles the conflict

I insist:
Any battle can be won if willing to set an open argument
Existence with harmony is the essence of our earthly event
Why set fire if one can talk it out expressing sentiments
Pray and ask God's mercy and forgiveness than just laments


When acquaintances visit me with encouraging words on my bed
In moments when I am sick or sort of disheartened they do heed
They all wish me fast recovery and good well to come on my way
Maybe they have recalled I too have empathized for them somehow
In times of trouble that they have experienced in the past I vow

I understand:
Because these people may have thought I deserve attention
To reciprocate what I have done when they too need affection
As human I also understand the sentiments of the ordinary people
I undergone some burdens in my life but surmount those I hurdle


When my parents and children solicit adoration
I can't refuse to do my best to give consideration
Just like any good son and father I should do my part
They are my inspiration and reason why I desire to live
Longer than my lifespan that my love for them I can give

To my mind:
I owe my life to my parents for their sacrifices and affection
I want this legacy to pass on to my offspring as an inspiration
That when I am done they shall inherit the willingness to do well
In all aspects of mentoring their own families with innate goodwill

When friends and enemies gather for my own sake
To extend heartfelt condolences for my family on my wake
I can't count how many have sincere conscience being there
To console my family feeling lost of my presence with them
I can only wish that none shall be glad that I reach my end

I am thankful:
To have bold six children who are quite independent
A wife having a strong character for me is a complement
Surely I have shown them how to tackle all the life's tasks
To equip them with character to survive as courageous casts

Perhaps I read too much, and not do enough.
perhaps, I allow the twinkling stars to intoxicate me.
I am selfish enough to dream of the stars belonging to me,
they are my true love.
Am I to naive to know of what I need? asking myself why so hard do I think?
Do I read first then apply.?
Does knowing and not doing make me ignorant or wise?
Do I just act? Then look back?
At what I should of already looked at?
Does that make me weak or strong?  
Backtracking all that I've done wrong.
Do I stand still or carry on?
Perhaps I am confused.
I retain these things but don't know what to do.
Am I just a fool to myself?
Or a poor woman who's knowledge is her  wealth?
shall I believe what I read? if it feels true to me?
Or do I believe is all a lie?
Second guess all  that passes my eye?
And let the only thing that is real be the tears that they  cry?
Am I to **** up My hurt feelings, pray for healing...?
Be humble and forgive them, all those who did it.
And yet not allowed the mercy to forget it..
Left in the the same position,  second guessing my first question
is what I see , reality? Or am I filled with anxiety.
I dont know if this is all a truth or is a lie to me.
When I try to find solidity ,
I ask the these questions that hide in me ,
so they see, whats inside of me..
It soon floods with tears, exposed are my fears..
Trying not to care but , but im scared.
I share my plight, hoping to be empathized,
but I share with those who have caused the lies and put these dieses in my mind,
but  they are the only ones that care that im scared,
trying to hide that im confused, emotionally bruised,
in my heart
where it all starts..
then travles in my brain..
and I dwell in the pain,
And the only thing thatmakes me sain
Is the intoxcation of the stars
As they twinkle a million miles away

Chapter 1 – The new kid

It was 8 in the morning; Vaani was already late for school meanwhile mom couldn’t resist making her gallop that whole glass of milk. She couldn’t help it, “ Why do we need this now when I should be chatting with my buddies in class!?” She let out an exasperated argument while holding the hot steel glass. Swallowing it in half a millisecond, she politely ordered dad to drive her to school. The weather wasn’t any different from the day before, however there was this strange shade of dark blue which let itself spread all over the town. The sky was unusually favorable and was worth staring at. Approaching the school building, dad gave a quick reality check and she instantly shifted from her unusually-aesthetic-blue-ceiling dimension. “Thank you, Lord Shiva!”, she expressed her gratefulness to one of the Hindu holy trinity for helping her reach on time. The ultrasonic giggles and chatters in the corridors were the evidences that prayer hasn’t begun till now. After the prayer, quite in resemblance with the daily chores at home, all of them arranged their tables and non-expectantly waited for Ms Prerna. Ms Prerna is the head of the English department in school, the fact that English is a subject taken least seriously by the students is something that she’s not completely oblivious of. They have no Brutus-Caesar business with her, but on the contrary, they do detest beginning their mornings with an hour learning a language they never learnt in class. Ms Prerna stormed into the classroom with an energetic vibe, a clear indication of a 10-minute extension of the lesson. Comme d’habitude, everyone sang out their good mornings in a rhythmic symphony. However, it wasn’t just them alone contributing to the morning paradigm. A throaty and electrifying voice like the arrival of tsunami yet humble and calm like the low waves at the evening beach could be heard with utmost clarity. Ms Prerna furrowed, consequently her wrinkles drowned into the corner of her lips to curve a smile. “I see we’ve got a new kid in class today!”, she rejoiced the arrival of the mysterious voice, and as a part of the necessary tradition, she asked him to come out and introduce himself . Vaani was curious at top of her senses to witness the physicality of the hoarse sound waves meanwhile, the husky lad came out of his chair, the long and heavy strides he took were attributing to his tall stature, as he came in close proximity, one could experience the delicious odor of the seven seas. It almost felt as if all the water bodies reincarnated as a male progeny. He turned. Towering young lad, whiten-hued with a light swarthy shade. Covered in the translucent sheets of skin, his veins ran up and down and finally converged at his wrist. Physique so lithe and muscular, one could substantiate that he wouldn’t have even heard about unhealthy junk. Clean shaven with a downward slanting jaw, lips fixed like a warrior’s bow, stable and subtle. Short hair but every bit uprising. Then, he raised his gaze, stark blue eyes violent enough to execute someone but at the same time, comforting and intoxicant enough to rejuvenate every being. Invoking an obedient smile, he set forth his introduction, “Good Morning Ms Prerna! I’m Neel Samudravanshi and I’m quite excited to be a part of this class.” Neel Samudravanshi, (literally – Blue Descendant of the Ocean). Every bit of his name was associated perfectly with his personality! “A very good morning to you too Neel! I hope you find the environment of the class comfortable and welcoming. I see you’re planning on taking seats with Akaash, he's one of the most diligent boys and I’m sure you won’t face any difficulties adjusting here as long as he can guide you. I’m pleased to welcome you! Please take your seat child.”, the very traditional paradigm of bragging the hospitality was yet again fulfilled by Ms Prerna, but this time she seemed to be reflecting unnecessary geniality. It appeared as if she was saying those diabetic utterances out of some sort of devotion. There was something peculiar about him, something very obscure. Obviously, he was no Derek Hale from Teen Wolf, nevertheless there lied an inexplicable enigma in his eyes. The clock kept ticking with increasing intensity, or maybe it was the sound of Vaani’s impatient disposition desperately waiting for the clock hand to stand ***** at 9:10. At 9:05, she was quite edgy, however, just out of insignificant curiosity, she glanced over at Neel, “How the hell can he be so much involved in this sadistic lecture?”, she murmured to herself constantly scrutinizing the mindfulness of the new lad. The bell rang, one could hear a great reverberation of amalgamated relieving sighs, after all, they weren’t the biggest fans of the subject. The consecutive periods were in this order, maths, maths, chemistry and sports. The school administration was thoughtful enough to award them with a 10-min break after the highly endearing first period and as usual, all the boys and girls gathered around their preferable tables along with their preferable humans, commonly known as “friends”, this is exactly where the purpose of uniforms and identity cards fails. A short span of pause is sufficient enough to cleave the pretentious union into numerous tribes of four or five. Vaani was one of the most desired and voguish girls of the school and yet the humblest darling anyone could ever run into, however today, she incorporated a great amount of inquisitiveness in her actions. Partly rejoicing the short break with her school-oriented social circle and partly switching sight over to the common point of interest, she felt distracted. Meanwhile all this short gala, Neel seemed comfortably addicted to his assigned place in the classroom, motionless, eyes subtly penetrating the mid-point of the rectangular board, face spewing a burning backscattering confident look. Amidst all this, Akaash patted him gently on his back and made a generous effort in transmitting the complicated art of socializing, “ Hey Buddy! I know it’s your first day and it truly ***** to be around a group of total strangers for this long, but you’ve got to get up and interact with them. Judging your taste, the he’s aren’t worth it but the she’s are so totally worth running into!”, Akaash exclaimed with a formal and lame laugh, he definitely was one of the studious and academically extraordinary kids however, that didn’t turn him into a total nerd who spends 2 minutes stammering out of 3 while having a conversation with a person of the opposite gender. To reciprocate some generosity and acknowledgement, Neel finally called it a day on making love to his desk and his eyes weren’t tormenting that mid-point anymore, “ Whom are we starting off with, the he’s or the she’s?”, he asked, by putting on a charming smirk to get along with his helping hand. Akaash led him towards the girl-specific dense region of the mediocre-sized classroom and switched on his mingling device, “So ladies! This is Neel, the brand-new animal in the kingdom and I expect you all to get along with him, behave well with him, help him get through the absurd culture of this wrecking institution hahaha!”, the girls didn’t have the slightest idea of anything about Neel, but his personality was dynamic enough to make any of them fall for him. Tanya reached over to establish an amical relationship by shaking hands with him, but all she desired for was to swirl her long fair fingertips over his vascular forearm, “ Hey I’m Tanya! Tanya Kapoor, I’m sorry the kids here are too much occupied within themselves and it’s kinda hard to look after everyone you know.”, Tanya was a perfect gene of the conceitful teenagers who have a sense of superiority regarding their family, financial stature and physical appearance, moreover they are well-versed with the skills of pretentious-empathy which is why they’re able to dodge the entitlement of mean girls. Totally inconsiderate of the conspicuous semi-seductive motives of Tanya, Neel summarized his reaction in a bland handshake and the blandest smile one could possibly make. The domino effect of befriending was now functional or what one could assume to be a far-fetched attempt in successfully hitting it off with the out-of-league material for which the modus operandi was flattery and well that’s it. However, the last block of the domino was far apart from every preceding one, the one who wouldn’t follow the conventional trend and stand apart. Premonishing Vaani’s persona, Neel himself went ahead and stretched out his hand, “Hey!”, he addressed her. “Hey, I’m Vaani, I hope you won’t have to go through all this tedious intro-procedure over and over again.”, Vaani empathized with him as she knew how dull it gets after a while, getting summoned like a culpable to lay foundations of uncertain acquaintances, whom you might want to annihilate in near future. “I’m sure I won’t have to, Vaani. Thank you.”, he responded with some essence of eccentricity in his words, something that could leave one astray and disoriented in comprehending the verity. Although it shouldn’t come as a surprise, after all one could always get lost in the depths of the ocean.

All my secrets, that I share with other people and the ones that are all my own.
Some times they resolve themselves, every once in a while they send me roses,
and now and then they run away, because they never intended or empathized.
My letters get lost in the mail and i am left to answer my own questions.
All these things happen to everyone I know, to couples and singles alike.
By I can imagine that you can imagine that something only I know. To you it is unclear and to me it's crystal but I spoke the unspoken alone.

Rowdy girls laughing over dinner,
A thousand miles from home,
Joking about their families,
Their mothers and their dads,
Unwinding after the hard work
Of righting some of Harvey's mess.
Time to celebrate through laughter....

I noticed her brown study stare,
Gazing toward the open court,
And she was tired,
Far from home,
The stress of travel and ***** work behind,
Stress levels coming down,
And she was letting down.
I knew there was more,
And I waved a hand,
And she came back from where she'd been,
Sad smile in her eyes.

I knew she' been contemplating life,
Thoughts of her father, gone two years,
Who'd traveled the aisle silently,
Taken before he saw the woman she'd become,
The nurse she'd be, things most parents live to see.

I saw all these things in her far-away gaze,
I empathized and prayed.

May Jesus comfort her;
May He give her life chock-full of joy.
May His Spirit bring her those who see her heart,
And cherish her for who she is.
May the Father reassure her of His love...,
Some day reunite her with the father she still loves.

I know that she was tired; her gaze was fleeting.
I hope she pardons me an open book for reading.

The Journey - Poem by Marvin Brato Sr

When I walk into a place
Amidst busy people in haste
Heads turn to me I wonder why
As if they have seen a thing in awe
So I am oblige to smile and say hello


I think:
Maybe it is because I look neat and fresh
With a gentlemen haircut and shaven face
O because of my manly aura and sharp look
Wearing rugged garb with a macho image I took

When I speak most people if not all listen
Though they are doing something in between
I raise my hand or move further they follow
I rant a phrase they also echo with pleasure
They love me each time I give them a lecture

I say:
These people must have seen something interesting
In my being that myself do not discover or forgetting
Maybe because I am cool and pleasant when spoken with
I inspire their imaginations taking the time with weight

When both men and women great with with esteem
I reciprocate to their acts with kindness as a friend
Many are receptive to the ideas share without flattery
They ask for my opinion and request to meddle on something
To resolve their problem by giving them practical mentoring

This prove:
That I am a person of wisdom which has importance
I possess charisma that can convince with substance
My presence reassures those individuals who lost hope
My bold appeal excite the broken souls to stand and cope

When I just relax and calm in recollection
I think of the humankind and God's relation
I don't instill paradox clues about religion
As I'm a sinner like everyone else who are mortal
I shouldn't be praise by those who think I'm moral

I confess:
I am only human and not a son or perfect father
I may have provided my family enough being a provider
Of simple things which I work hard to become upgraded
As what others have seen in me is what I am best rated

When women begin to act quite intimate with me
It's because I'm amiable and complaint as can be
I show no sign of abuse of their frailties but respect
I'm open to their innate expressions about love and men
To prove that I'm not bias or against all sorts of women

In my heart:
Like all men I have a mother, sisters, wife and daughter
Females to whom I have to give respect, love, care with laughter
Also for whom I work hard to provide their all basic mundane needs
Thus, I want them to feel secure and happy by giving them good deeds

When some families gather together inviting me as guest
I heartily join in their merriment with myself at it's best
With poems I give as gifts as complimentary act f my gratitude
Sharing them some sentiments about on what family should be like
Or innate expressions of love for others as legacy I want to excite

In retrospect:
I have had some detailed episodes about a family life
I experienced it as a son and father both good and strife
In having to cope with the burden i raising a big household
That being a son and father I have innate duties to act bold


When at work with different kind of associates to deal
I am focus on my duties and react to colleagues quite real
They come to confer or ask to assist them finish their work
With all humility I conform to their requests with a compliance
I believe harmony should prevail in a workplace to keep balance


I uphold:
I can generate cooperation by initiating support
I can be of significance by showing a good effort
I shouldn't complain if I don't like to be detested
I should mind my own business if I am not requested

When troublemakers come to confront me face to face
I hold my sanity and act accordingly without malice
I stand to reason with them on basis of truthfulness
To stop, look and listen then argue to reach a verdict
Hitches can't be solve if none settles the conflict


I insist:
Any battle can be won if willing to set an open argument
Existence with harmony is the essence of our earthly event
Why set fire if one can talk it out expressing sentiments
Pray and ask God's mercy and forgiveness than just laments

When acquaintances visit me with encouraging words on my bed
In moments when I am sick or sort of disheartened they do heed
They all wish me fast recovery and good well to come on my way
Maybe they have recalled I too have empathized for them somehow
In times of trouble that they have experienced in the past I vow

I understand:
Because these people may have thought I deserve attention
To reciprocate what I have done when they too need affection
As human I also understand the sentiments of the ordinary people
I undergone some burdens in my life but surmount those I hurdle


When my parents and children solicit adoration
I can't refuse to do my best to give consideration
Just like any good son and father I should do my part
They are my inspiration and reason why I desire to live
Longer than my lifespan that my love for them I can give

To my mind:
I owe my life to my parents for their sacrifices and affection
I want this legacy to pass on to my offspring as an inspiration
That when I am done they shall inherit the willingness to do well
In all aspects of mentoring their own families with innate goodwill


When friends and enemies gather for my own sake
To extend heartfelt condolences for my family on my wake
I can't count how many have sincere conscience being there
To console my family feeling lost of my presence with them
I can only wish that none shall be glad that I reach my end

I am thankful:
To have bold six children who are quite independent
A wife having a strong character for me is a complement
Surely I have shown them how to tackle all the life's tasks
To equip them with character to survive as courageous casts

I don't know
If you cared enough to find this

But every night now

I think of La La Land
That night I knew I would lose my job
When you convinced me to stay

And why I cried so much
Why I over-empathized

It was me and you.

Im still trying to figure out
If I miss you
Or just the idea of it

But every time I see you now
I still smile
And you do too

I wonder if I'm the only one
With ache in their chest

I wonder if I'm the only one

Who wishes love took deeper roots

I wonder if I'm the only one

Who still thinks of the beach

And the way we just lay together

When I laid in the sand
And another voice is with me

She asked me tonight,

"who was your first love?"

All I could see

Between closed eyes
Was your face

How hard it is to reach out

Between the wrought iron gates

And take a hand

That seeks to save?

But as He severs the ties

And destines us for different paths

I hear the devil himself

Understand his distance from God

You were so close to complement

Yet far too tangential

We now suffer from acute

Dispensation of angle




I do not know how long I will wait

Until I can wake

And not miss you.

Not dream of the same foggy Venice

Or the same question,

"Why, Why, Why"

Or stay up fighting mind to erase you

And the image of your smile

Or the sound of your laugh

Or how much you loved the way I ran my fingers along your neck


There's not a poem long enough in the world

To justify this

And the surrender to God that must replace

The emptiness you left.