Hi there,
I see your brown eyes that dare
I see their happiness,
and unpredictable mischievousness,
Warm with crinkles on the edges and all
Promising me an irresistible fall

you there
They said, your brown eyes that dare
Telling me to be brave
and pursue these things I dare crave
Swearing to be there by my side and be
The best of friends with me

hi there
I say to your brown eyes that dare
I see your happiness,
and blatant lightheartedness,
But I see behind those madness and all
That your heart and soul are ready to fall

I'll be here
I wish your brown eyes could hear
I'm now telling you, be brave
Just let go of the darkness you crave
I swear to be by your side and be
Ready for you to lean on me

Freedom and independence are not synonymous
We have many freedoms
But zero independence
Independence is freedom
Freedom is not independence
What we celebrate is a false holiday
It's a cheap *** excuse to drink
And set **** aflame
What we celebrate is a false holiday
Once meant to portray
Our braking away
What we celebrate is a false holiday
That makes life seem like a joke
Because we've conformed too much
I have the freedom to say whatever
I **** well feel like
But I am not independent from fear
Or tyranny
This is America
Land of the stupid
Home of hatred
Everywhere I turn I see
Persecution
Oppression
For religion, ***, and race
For orientations and confusions
For thought and for ideas
This is America
Not some fluffy dreamland
Like so many of us make it out to be
Yes I will be ready to admit
We are certainly freer than most
And yes, I will be ready to defend
My country with my words
But I can't sit on the sidelines
And just watch as my land falls to ****
"Happy Independence Day"
It breaks my heart that we have to declare a day
To recognize independence
It's a false independence we celebrate
I love the fireworks and the lightheartedness of it all
But it's *******
We shouldn't have to label a day
On a calendar
For historical emphasis
Woohoo Declaration of Independence
And all that jazz
But it no longer seems that way
Equality has never existed
This America, not an Aboriginal society
Pursuit of happiness is impossible
Because one person's happiness destroys another's
Liberty and justice for all?
Yeah right
Happy Independence Day to all who believe
But as for me
Independence my ***

I see things in the clouds,
pretty things,
scary things,
sometimes just shapes and fluff.
I feel things becasue of the clouds,
weightlessness,
lightheartedness,
sometimes just nothing.
I think about things because of the clouds,
flying far away,
how lovely that would be,
sometimes just mesmerized into sleep.

Be my guide, direct my path, as I blindly *****.
Make pure my actions and encompass the whole.
Simplify what the false rights have turned twisted.
Decipher what was given from what I have stole.

Turn me to embrace an unknown angle,
I make this plea from your higher power.
For many a year has passed away, wasted,
And my minutes hastily become their hour.

Bequeath to me a faith with no evidence,
To nurse my heart and my head in kind.
Remove the falacy of presumed knowledge,
Feed my eternal soul, not my feeble mind.

And, if your will, unveil to my neglected eye,
Your drawn line between pleasure and pain.
A clearer sense of reason, but yet also of heart,
Revealing certain, a great loss; a great gain.

Expose to me, please, your most preferred slant,
And beam the light that once formerly shown.
Temper my decision, Lord, and return me to where,
The choice was not mine, and not mine alone.

For wit, time exposed, as a false friend.
Who has failed me, time and then time again.
And led me here, to where I am now lost,
Blind and resentful of what should have been.

Overabundance turns the wise into fools,
Though the complex may shrug off the grief.
As time passes on, lightheartedness void,
Sole wisdom's been proven a thief.

Lift off the burden, the weight, and the fear,
Of holding my destiny within my hands.
I have found it a burden too heavy to bear,
And I ask to be moved - not to understand.

Every relationship is different.

Spring.
Our relationship was not
Based in lightheartedness.
It was not a freeing love,
But rather a subdued intoxicated thing,
That hid in the shadows between our souls.
It was deep and serious
Because your life was not a lighthearted place.
I had dwelled in your mind and seen your fears,
I came to understand your bitterness,
Which you passed off as a care-free spirit
And a tough exterior.
But I loved you so.
I loved you when you left too.

Winter.
Somehow under a snowy gray sky
I came alive again,
With a relationship new and bright.
Not like the place of shadows and depth,
But rather like fire,
that came alive from a single spark
and breathed warmth back into my heart.
We share a light
It spills out of your eyes and into mine.
We thrive in a place where laughter floats on the wind
and the past is all but forgotten.
Where two people can learn about love
And not be burdened by fear.
where time itself ceases to exist
as we get lost in the moment.

It seems as though relationships
Are not simply various emotions,
But rather entirely different worlds
Just waiting to be discovered.

Sweet princess of swanlike imperfection,
how darkness embarked upon you,
slowly unbuttoned your dress until you lay bare,
barely there
frozen in denial.
I am overwhelmed with the grief of having had you,
the same grief that has always been screaming
you can run but you can't hide
the same grief I have been trying to bury all my life.
I weep now, my tears
add to the puddle that once was you
and though I tried I simply could not
distract you long enough
from melting.

You
who once gave me the shirt off your back
You
who reminded me I do have a purpose in this chilling life
You
who gave me the infectious gift of endless laughter
You
who softened my heart despite my insisting it be forever hardened
You
who continues to light the candle of inspiration
You
who showered me with ceaseless honesty even when your fears of
hurting me were high and the temptation to lie was loud
You
who I will always remember as being the girl
I gave my heart to that one nineteenth september for
hearts cannot be stolen
The girl
Who showed me why love can never be lost,
Even when we lose ourselves in the afflictions of the other
We are not our afflictions.

Though I am no longer with you
for reasons as obvious as the blue of my eyes you always deemed to be true,
pieces of my heart forever remain
invisibly tattooed on your skin
the places you let me touch even when
your will to live was growing
thin.

Hardened beauty queen of exquisite genius,
do not believe what your mind tells you
the mirror will only show you
an undeserved distorted truth
that is not you, it never will be
and it never was.

I weep here now at the puddle where you lie,
I hope one day your heart will soften with
the same lightheartedness your name implies.

What do you see in my eyes?

Clouds thunder on by
Leaving my mind
Thick- congested, muffled
         In thought.

I wait for the sky to lift
The heaviness off my mind
Yet my endless drifting of thoughts
And dreams are not lifting.

I have yet to hear
when someone looks into my eyes
humor, lightheartedness, playfulness
Instead it's intensity, mixture of deep thought, determination
And sometime concern.

I never share truly what's there.

For me, when I look into my eyes-
I describe it with color-
Green, blue, grays and red
Maybe someday I'll share.

So sits it in the darker settlements;
In the glade,
In the long grass,
My whimsy hides, or is hidden.

With the turning trees still visible,
And the near waters just audible,
I remain graspy-greedy,
And long for lightheartedness
Of sunlight,
Of those connection warms.

And so, with steps imperceptible,
Leaving muddled footprints,
I walk on...

For let us once
uncloak ourselves,
take this seriousness off.
As if the world would end
on such a missing note.
Just one less frantic tune
to complete the symphony.
Surely one might miss the piccolo
or an oboe, but in the greater scheme,
the concert will go on,
without or without
one missing serious-instrument.

So, strum on
in a vibrant key,
let yourself go
from all your troubles.
Play an uninhibited harmony,
blow a sweeter tune,
one of gaiety,
one of lightheartedness,
one of gentle tenderness!

For fellow word-musicians,
this composition
is much too short,
to play out of tune
most of the time,
as well.

the day is too short to not have play time
and lightheartedness can love deeply.

Whether it’s 5 p.m or 5 a.m, I laugh as loud as I want.
Laughter is a stream of gold cascading through the air.
It is the end all, the ultimate painkiller.
The path to redemption.
Laughter.
Well, it is 5 a.m, but I’m not laughing.
I’ve been reading stories
Of sadness and sordidity,
romance and restlessness,
love and loneliness–all for hours on end.
So much for lightheartedness, there’s none of that here.
I’ve been reading amateur-made stories
That still tug at the deepest recesses of my depression.
One in particular inspired me to write a certain story of my own.
It was sad, it was juvenile,
It was beautiful, it was nostalgic.
The prose in that story should only ever be thought of
In the most proper manner:
shrouded in a hazy mist of wistfulness and bittersweet longing.
Different hues of glowing colors,
Images of fog.
For so long I thought I was through with this part of my life.
The part where I felt so lonely that I could drop dead of touch deprivation.
But it has returned.
Nothing will do to stop this acquired disease.
Mine is a loneliness, such as a thirst
That cannot be quenched with mere drops of water.
It becomes a way of life.
O’ joy, where do you reside?
Oh, forget it. You’re lost on me.

Sometimes
life seems like a series of repairs
A broken binding
a fractured wrist
a cracked heart.
My repair kit is always open.
From spare screws needed on touring days
where the sun beats down
a headache my eyes can't hide from
To ratchet straps teasing my hands into frustration
by their inablity to work right.
To the blind faith I hand away my love with
that usually leaves my lips smarting and my heart fractured
just a little bit more.
Repairs **** sometimes.
They **** even more then when things completely shatter.
When things break
there is peace in knowing you cannot do anything to fix it.
Broken bits fall to memory
new things, ideas, materials are assembled
and you are given a fresh start.
In contrast a recurring problem, a repair
is draining on the mind and soul, a constant ache on ones psyche.
A blackhole for my lightheartedness
A wormhole my happiness falls into.
Repairs **** sometimes.
And as I sit here
a ***** driver in one hand, a needle in the other and a airbag of frustration
expanding in my chest
I ponder the worth my projects of "improvement" hold.
How many times do I attempt to fix something that has already failed
countless times before?
When the straps slip no matter how many times I tighten them?
When my board bites my calfs no matter the stiched support I give it?
When my pulse trips despite the words spoken to end it..
Repairs **** sometimes.
And if I ever come across something I cannot fix
I will break it.
Just so I will never have to look at the problem again.

Competitively dysfunctional

In lightheartedness and aloof

Teeter tottering

Puddings in the proof

I'm stuffed
Belly all a swell

Nothings best
Nothings left
But to bid you well

I am ambitious.
Although many have doubted me in the past, I have always came up to prove them wrong.
Stereotypes do not define my capacity nor my drive.
Everyday I choose to strive for a greater life in order to become exceptional.
I choose to be concealed.
Not everyone deserves to know who I am and what I've been through.
My silence hides many traumas and horrors that words cannot simply explain.
For I have lived and learned much more than most of the people my age.
I learn about myself every day.
At night, I tend to stay up and discover a new attribute or pet peeve.
Every time I look at myself in the mirror the person that looks back at me is someone different and my perspective continues to change as I evolve.
As I learn about the world around us I grow as an individual and form my own thoughts and opinions.
     I am lifeless.
I have succumbed to what I've become.
With drive and aspirations comes failures and downfalls that have taken a toll on my lonely life.
They say successful people are always the loneliest so I guess this is a good sign.
Considering I walk through this Earth with an apathetic and pessimistic outlook on “life”.
     I find comfort in pain and sorrow.
Some might consider me a ******* or even a sadist of some form but I find comfort in the pain from within.
I have discovered that whenever I am at my lowest I think the brightest and learn the most because I am susceptible to it all.
Unlike most, I don't mind the agony because it opens my horizons to the dark spectrum that lies behind the human lie.
     I try to convince myself that there is some type of freedom in loneliness.
No matter how much I strive to fit in with a certain group of people I shall always be considered an outsider.
As a free spirit I roam this world with an open mind and a broken heart because no matter how much I try, I will never fill the void and lonesomeness in my heart.
However, my loneliness will lead me to something greater than myself.
     I am whimsical and delusional.
I laugh and giggle with the world because if I didn’t what else would I have to live for?
My friends tend to describe me as comical because of my random jokes and lightheartedness when it comes to casual occurrences.
At times I find myself laughing at my tragedies and endeavors because that is the only way that I can let go and laugh hysterically as I ignore the darkness for only a couple of relieving seconds.
I am writing this with a heavy heart on my fifth Mother’s Day without a mother.
Her spirit lives within me, but it does not stop the depression and nostalgia from taking over my mind.
I truly loved her to death and so she will forever be my muse for I have grown up to fill her shoes in a different time period with a different story.
She was no artist but she unknowingly set up a blank canvas for my life that she has outlined for me to stay on the right path and inside the lines.
I am deceiving.
My father believes I live my life without a care, but little does he know.
I have mastered the art of deception, seeing as we live in a cold, cold world, one must use this art to bring joy to those that still have a reason to smile and rejoice.
Not all of us were meant to see the world with true eyes, the world with all it's ambiguous holes and obscure corners.
But the few of us that are the selected must learn to live with the curse of realism and must learn to conceal our pain in order to bring others happiness because in the end, some of us have to bring bliss to this never ending cycle of torment.
I will not be changed.
Society binds our souls to a certain mold we must fill but I refuse to be restrained.
Individuality is the most crucial aspect of humanity and must remain inconsistant and always changing in order to evolve.
My own persona is dark and mysterious and that is acceptable because there is a spirit out there that perceives nothing but positivity for the both of us.
I am an agnostic.
Not full on atheist of course, my catholic background prevents me from completely denying the existence of a greater being.
However, my love for science raises a sense of uncertainty because due to my own beliefs, it is nearly impossible for the human mind to find sufficient evidence to justify irrational occurrences.
I find myself a praying to a God that I hope is real, pleading for help and telling myself that there is a life after this to comfort my pain when deep inside of me I know that there’s probably only an abyss of nothingness.
Where was God when my mother was dying in front of me at the age of twelve? As spiritual as going to church may be to a few, I find comfort in personal experiences.
I am an human rights activist.
Is it so radical to believe in basic human rights?
I refuse to see color, religion or defects because there is not a certain way to live your life.
I will ALWAYS fight for what is right and I refuse to be a bystander in any type of discrimination or heinous act against those who simply cannot defend themselves or are too scared to do so.
I will be their voice.
I chose to not be oppressed.
As a minority life is not quite as jolly as one might imagine because although it isn’t superficial, there is underlying prejudice that can be portrayed with simply a look.
Although it pains me to be around such bigotry and ignorance is I REFUSE to let it affect me and who I am.
I am Mexican, a foreigner in this country of immigrants, but my nationality does not hinder my drive, instead it pushes me to strive for substance and improvement for both me and my people.
I am petrified.
In a couple of months I will find myself in another city, another city, foreign to my own. So similar yet so different.
I am completely terrified of what the world has in store for me because it might not be what I envision, and that has the capacity to break me once more.
Nonetheless, I chose to strut through my existence with a golden blindfold that doesn’t restrict me but instead surprises me with the unexpected and comforts me with the unknown.  
I am a writer.
And no, not only a writer on occasions when I have a school assignment.
I am a writer early in the morning, late at night and spontaneously in the afternoon.
Many of my pieces are obscure and somber, but as a fanatic of the great Pablo Neruda, my collection also includes pieces that speak of tenderness and infatuation.
I am the change in the world.
I convey a darkness so opaque that the general public is incapable of seeing the bright light I carry with me as well.
My persona has a wide variety of understanding for all types of perspectives because to me, perspective is the difference between true knowledge and a fabricated scheme.
I will make a difference in this world, whether it affects a single person or a multitude because my endless knowledge and kindness will allow me to leave my footprint and impact others even if it takes the rest of my eternity.

I don't wish to have you back
Only to feel that same lightheartedness, without the weight of the world on my shoulders
because someone special
was
just
here

every word that slips from my mouth
every sentence uttered under my breath
they're all for you,
I take refuge in those who see us.
if only you could see me
in my new lucky overalls, we would be
together at last, a drunken night and a fast

don't take my seriousness to heart
for I'm in a solemn place
and although I complain, although I whine to you
it's your lightheartedness that's pulling me through
so never quit, never give up on me
propose like it's the first time, every time
making room for new ways. . .
delay your tired eyes
so I can savor a moment so rare.

and whatever you do, never say "I love you,"
because I'm young, and you're a typical dreamboat

and not until we are 48 and wiser than now,
we can turn our strong feelings into love somehow.