"successes" poems
I would have taken the easy path
But that would leave no room for glory
I would have picked out a comfortable life
But that isn't God’s kind of story
I would have followed a prettier road
But missed the most beautiful way
I would have clung to familiar things
But lived out my days in the grey
I would have chosen what’s stable
But grown cold, apathetic and bored
I would have sought out earth’s riches
But lost all that in heaven is stored
I would have liked more successes
But not learned so quickly of grace
I would have seen myself praised more
But given up knowing God’s face
I would have tied all my loose ends
But not known it’s He Who brings peace
I would have wanted for happier times
But traded a joy that can’t cease
I would have opted for normal
But not tasted rare delicacies
I would have preferred a man’s love
But been robbed of Divine intimacy
He’s chosen for me the high road
More jagged, more narrow and steep
So now I must travel this difficult way
Ever knowing it leads to the deep
Now I must choose to cherish His path
And trust Him to walk with me there
Now I must hasten to take up my cross
The fellowship of His sufferings to share
For one day this life will be over
And all my afflictions will end
It is then I will see what all this is for
In my Bridegroom, my Savior, my Friend
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 11:12 AM UTC
Its a scam, its a scam, see the Crimson Gang deftly scamming them
They by sleight have befuddled gullible masses Moral Compass
Made them see wrong as right twisting their brains from the stem
With deceitful guile they shepherded them all to the fools' campus
Slander and fake News galore fed to vacant hungry masses scrum
Knowledge is power the reprobates declares, do not let it pass
We're the majority the bullies screams, knowing they're just scums
Worthless charlatans who rob successes and **** without cutlass
They take a foregone conclusion and coat it with fool's gold crumb
A victim with no intention of going after an uninterested lass
Dumb masses fed fake news fooled into harassing actions dumb
A non-event becomes a show of the controlling might of our class
Crimson gangs interpret a non-events from his deluded sad drum
Creates a warped sick drama round a hapless victim for laughs
Gives street theater actions to masses, these will oppose and numb
Whilst poor victim subjected to 'voiding' madness wonders past
The Crimson leaders laugh so much like pirates drinking ***
Look how we manipulate the masses, they are so simple and crass
With our devious twisting propaganda they eat out of our ***
We simply use them to nail and crucify our victim to the cross
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 4:50 PM UTC
i beg for other people’s *** stories,
because i am broken and unloved...
and when boys snarl,
i feel alone, although
i know that they are just laughing...
and
i’ve found that womanhood is
half shame before everything else,
so i can only notice how
other girls wave their successes above my head,
as though being ****** is a prize and being loved is an end game,
that screams GAME OVER in bright red.
i will take my silence over your lifestyle any day,
despite the fact that i still cry when you leave.
Nov 21, 2018
Nov 21, 2018 at 3:10 PM UTC
The strength
You have when you open that door
Knowing you will be smacked right in the face
But you continue to embrace
The strength
When you speak to your inner demons
That clog your mind with continous
Negative statements
Stabbing the every window to happinesse
You release
You grab them by the neck
And remove their lifeless heads
The strength
When you enter a dark room
Lost and feeling unusual
You stop and
Become familiar with being lost
You are delusional
You are a creation that beats them all
Remind yourself to be humble
Charactersitics , and flaws get you in trouble
But you release the worries
And double your risks
Dont be in no hurry
You are full of strength
You're boundless to many successes
You are unlimited
I love you
Because you are different
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 1:14 AM UTC
How shall I discover, uncover, and re+cover you?
the goal?
to make you mine, a follower. a fan, an intimate, a lover of'
each others (words?)
My options?
offered thee three to me!
A~Z,
or
your successes by
Popularity!
then of course,
read each crafted in order
of appearance,
but even that,
can be forward and back,
latest to last~est,
oldest to the knowing~est?
value your insightsfuls,
oh! on how to get best
into your insides but through
your
insights...
do I detect a tiny tremble,
in your finger writing tips?
random < in no particular order order> helter skelter?
you mean, be keen, like falling in loving,
discovering, the nuances,
old and new, prior and au courant,
just jump in, and let the au current
take me//
mmm
do admit, like a bit,
being big fandom of random,
which feels a tad like falling in love...
when the little surprises,
come best unexpectedly
tonight,
I will stuff myself with carbohydrates of additional sugar,
me love me sweets,
love me my bittersweet chocolate of triste,
which in english, has multiple levels of
most interesting con-
notations....
so down the hole,
who knows what will be
discovered
unveiled,
recovered,
hidden weaknesses,
historic strengths,
you asked...
and I shall be
the uncoverer
of the little tidbits,
that satisfy so much more
than just poetic simplistic curiosity
it is no wonder to me
that prolific and profile,
are rooted from the same
rivered source...
until later, then
sad eyed lady of the lowland (see note)
Sep 10, 2025
Sep 10, 2025 at 5:08 PM UTC
I wish I could spare you words like beautiful, babe, figure and thin.
I wish I could guarantee you a complete disregard for the size of your *******
Or the length of your legs.
I pray never to find you hunched over the toilet
Or hiding a sandwich under books in your bag.
What will the equivalent of cyberbullying be, in ten years time?
I will try, so very hard, to keep you safe.
Please, always talk to each other, and to me.
Share your heart’s bleedings
And I will help you staunch the flow.
I will find the courage to share my failings
And the confidence to pass on my successes,
Both were instrumental in my becoming the woman I am,
A woman I hope you will be proud of, and applaud.
It is hard to be a woman, in this world,
Urged, relentlessly to perfection,
Bombarded with it, drowned in it,
But perfection is a myth, and becomes imperfect with attainment,
It is the imperfections that will mesmerise,
Embrace them, love them, let them shine.
How long did it take me to learn these lessons?
Have I learned them, even now?
Sometimes I think I have, then I become overwhelmed
By anxiety and self-doubt.
This will happen to you too,
I cannot hope to save you from it
But I can provide some armour.
Think for yourselves,
Reject the babble and the screens, the illusion of celebrity
Twenty-first century addictions.
Do not become a slave to technology.
I can see how hard that will be,
But it must be done, if you are to remain people,
Retain your humanity.
I will help you; I will hold your hands.
You are tiny now, but I can see the strength within you both,
And I will nurture it, protect it,
Then it will protect you, out there.
I promise I will always be your tigress,
But you will not always be my little cubs
I will have to find a way to sheath my claws,
And let you stalk your own prey,
And evade the predators, just as I have done.
I watch you, playing happily together in the sun,
And wish you peace, and love, and joy.
Such simple things, yet so elusive.
I will not show you this poem.
But I will read it, frequently,
And try to keep my promises.
My heart thuds in my chest, each a double-beat
A constant repetition of your names,
Tattooed onto my soul.
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 3:54 AM UTC
there are but 2 reasons to be an educator;
one is to teach them about your successes,
to tell them how much you have conquered through perseverance and hardwork
about how you climbed the tallest of mountains and explored the deepest of waters
the other is to teach them about your failures,
about how you were beat down and how you lost everything
about how you were pushed into the dirt
that sometimes gritting your teeth and putting your all amounts to nothing
but you stand tall, in a room full of unlimited potential
helping along thirty unique personalities in the span of a year
how they can learn from your victories and the times you were forced to concede
so that one day, they may strive to be greater men
Jan 1, 2019
Jan 1, 2019 at 9:24 AM UTC
Words cannot express
How happy I am;
Seeing my dreams
Turning into reality;
With each little steps I take,
I am achieving my goals;
Every effort and time spent -
None of them ever wasted;
Everything that happened
Lead me to where I want to be,
To where I am right now.
And I know,
I still a have long journey ahead of me,
Opportunities laid before me,
Successes awaiting to be attained,
Triumphs waiting to be celebrated,
Victories awaiting to be won.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 8:56 PM UTC
Tuesday night, just like every other night, a perfect night to vape.
Realizing, going against the grain is how society progresses.
All these changes leading way to these successes.
Making the past complain, questioning the new.
This **** is providing a new view, brain is set on brew, one you cant subdue.
These gingerbread cookies are ******* fantastic.
Did I just rap?
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 11:08 PM UTC
I can't pretend I know what happened,
I think it's what others call fate.
But everyone around me changed when you left,
And any liking they had for you turned into hate.
You became the outcast,
No longer part of our clann.
You were no longer welcome in our homestead,
When we met you on the street, you were just another man.
I'm sorry it turned out like it has,
I wanted to have you there till the end.
Because, although there was a major age gap,
I still seen you as our friend.
People begrudge change because it reshapes our lives,
But maybe they're just jealous they settled too quick.
Just know that I wish you all of life's successes,
And remember they are only words, they are not sticks.
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 8:43 AM UTC
"Dreams" he said, "I want you to write about your dreams"
I watched his expression full face, talk with his usual infectious vibrancy...
candle flickering, between belly laughs, raw unscripted stories, uncensored truth and the feeling of complete freedom to be human, his pouring over the brim life experiences..dripped from his fingertips as he spoke with his hands.
I'm Lucky. I thought. As I sat there, sinking into his words and gentle loving soul.
Just to simply know him, to hear of his adventures, heartbreaks, falls and climb to the top of life's list of goals and successes.
So I meditated on this writing assignment...for weeks.
I've written of Love, Loss, Heartache and Regrets.
But Dreams...I've yet to fall into ink drenching grains of paper and be completely free of the ever ticking time...to do just that... Dream.
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 4:30 PM UTC
Some days i am angry, actually most of the time im angry.
I sprout out rude snarky remarks, so people can have a reason to hate me.
I roll my eyes and cross my arms, hoping that someone can give me a reason to be filled with annoyance.
I hand out ***** looks as if they're candy.
I lash out on friends and family.
I tell people’s secrets so they have a reason to leave me.
I break people, and I break things.
The violent anger in me never ends. Anger is sadness, and sadness is anger, misery is despise,and despise becomes misery,
But the anger is all just a charade.
The anger cloaks the victim in me by pushing people away.
The victim in me cries lakes of tears
The victim in me stays in bed all day, and stares at the ceiling
The victim in me craves the feeling of being held
The victim in me fantasizes of blades, knives and needles
The victim in me cannot be happy for other people's successes,
The victim in me craves the sweet comfort of feeling loved by another person that it almost hurts.
The victim in me yearns for the love that other people receive.
Sometimes the victim and the anger like to play a game. The game consists of the seeing who can botch my brain up the most.
The battles in my mind goes on and on, as i lose friends, one by one.
The anger tells me to push people away while the victim is telling me to accept the love a random girl gives me because that might be the only love you can get
The battle in my mind has now become a war that I cannot win.
The anger in me cage's my heart slowing down my breathing, making it impossible to honestly love someone.
The victim in me has told me to be sad, so people will care, for the victim urges me to over share my thoughts to anyone that is willing to listen.
The anger, tells people off, the anger hurts people, the anger ruins lives.
But shrouded by anger, is the victim, the victim who just wants to feel the love that other people are given.
The victim in me looks at the word love as if it's a magical word that could possibly fix anyone.
The victim in me believes in fairy tales. True love, a princess and happiness.
But the victim in me doesn’t know how to love, nor does the anger. Neither know how to love properly, but maybe just maybe they don’t have to love, maybe I can be the one who learns to love.
Jan 16, 2019
Jan 16, 2019 at 2:53 PM UTC
……Now
With springing force
I was shot out into the future
And with needle to the suture
Sewed together what I could
Lo, the spring sprung back into
The autumn
Found my porthole at the bottom
Into all I understood
Yet,
An equal opposite reaction
Fueled combustibly by action
From believing things that I was told to read
Found
Me far beyond what I
had seen
Cross dystopian ravine
Though in spite of any betterment, still brought to you by greed
Now from safely at the station
In the cold and condensation
I can see with clearest vision
The successes of my mission
Here, within, the multitudinous expanse of tears and laughs
Will be difficult to honor with a proper epitaph
Jan 22, 2011
Jan 22, 2011 at 7:53 PM UTC
I have not been well lately
But I have a secret to tell you
It’s a success story: my most secret success
You see, I’m very skilled in crafting holes
And I’ve punched a massive hole
Right through the middle of my life
Please, don’t mistake this accomplishment for the result of talent
This is a skill and it takes practice to master
I went to college and learned to turn theories and ideals from basin to sieve
I learned to critique everything hopeful
And punched a hole right through the heart of hope
I honed my ability to close out creativity
I built a track down which to guide concrete linear thoughts
And I learned to use said thoughts as a battering ram with which to
Knock a hole in the barricaded door to dissatisfaction
And, though this skill is often practical
As you know, one cannot walk around wearing an open hole
So, a corresponding skill has successfully emerged
In parallel with nurturing voids
I have learned to conceal each and every hole
Sometimes with a thick canvass and
Sometimes with a paper-thin veneer
I may have learned to wrap a package
And to tie a bow
With the express purpose of packaging
The broken gift of life
Full of ugly holes
And, now, all that is left to complete the perfect ending to this success story
Is to grow old in a neatly kept apartment
Filled with the unseen haunts of relationships neatly hole-punched and
Filed in a hidden mental cabinet
Next to a night stand where I keep my phone and glasses
And across from the bed
There will be a glass trophy case
Full of trophies denoting various acceptable successes
But, just between you and I
The largest trophy denoting the largest success
Will be a lifetime achievement award
Bestowed for hollowing out what could have been
A beautiful life.
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 4:07 PM UTC
Everything feels like nothing, and nothing starts to feel like everything.
Everyday. Everyday as I wake up,
Nothing ever beats the feeling of inadequacy.
Inadequacy to do good
Inadequacy as a daughter
Inadequacy as a student
Inadequacy as a person
Inadequacy in feeling good within my own body
Inadequacy from feeling good about myself.
Everyday feels like an endless loop, you best believe my misery hunts me.
But what is inadequacy?
Is it scarcity? Deficiency? Insufficiency? A lack thereof?
Is it this mindless blob, formless and dark or a mangled form of flesh, eating away at you and your insecurities?
Like a virus, it pins you, goes deep inside you and there is never enough antibiotic for you...
This inadequacy keeps me up at ungodly hours where the sun howls and moon chirps, the clouds look at us, feigning interest, idly looking but never interacting.
This inadequacy lulls me in irregular fever dreams where comfort lies in solitude and loneliness,
where the people that surround you, cover their ears, bites their cheek, looks forwards, smiles faintly, but never tries to understanding.
My heart wails for the smallest of things. Nothing, nothing becomes everything.
My successes make me feel less, still. Everything, everything becomes nothing.
I am this inadequate thing, floating around, never seeming to be enough.
Inadequate. Because i could not protect myself from those who touch my skin like its free real estate, those clammy hands holding me in a state
A state of frenzy that never seems to end
Inadequate. That no matter what I do, my past will forever haunt me and define the being I am now that no matter how much I change, and try and try and try to do good, it will never be
enough.
And those same voices, those same people, they say they scream they tell me,
“You should have told me.”
“You should have fought back.”
“You are a waste of time.”
“You are dumb.”
“You are nothing.”
“You waste your talents for something as this,”
And those same people, let go of words
That back then would have meant nothing
But now it seems to be everything
It becomes my identity
It becomes my oxygen
It becomes the blood that circulates in my body
It becomes the endorphins in my brain
Nothing becomes everything. And everything that I’ve tried to change, worked hard to achieve, tried to mend, was sorry for, starts to become nothing.
But I am tired of feeling like nothing. That everything I do is always inadequate. That it is some form of scarcity, deficiency, insufficiency, a lack thereof.
These mindless blobs, or mangled forms of flesh,
Like a virus, it pins me, goes deep inside me and there is never enough antibiotic for me...
Because instead of listening, to understand, to empathize, they listen so they can jeopardize...
Whatever love is left that I could give to myself,
Without a shred of doubt,
In a warm, bright embrace for myself, in a corner slouched.
So, I ask these voices, who are only here to remind how inadequate I am:
How do I fight back?
How do I be good enough?
How do I become less dumb?
How do I make nothing stay as nothing? And appreciate everything as everything?
Because day by day, this inadequacy I feel, gets really tiring.
Sep 18, 2020
Sep 18, 2020 at 1:26 PM UTC
Call me arrogant
and before you pull out
the bible verse on humility
let me save you the trouble
I've read it
so call me a Pharisee
but I've paid my dues
and the damage is done
but arrogance
I'd love to call it my friend
but it's a lie if it's anything
other than my mistress
There's no name for the trials
the errors and successes
no name for how I feel
when they surround me
consume me
and my whole life
becomes the comparing
and contrasting
of two human hues
of win and lose
because when I win
I see it in bold colors
shining brighter than the losses
if only to dim their light
if only to wipe the record
because arrogance only works
if there's no one to notice the flaws
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 8:36 AM UTC
to my (future) husband,
as i sit and write this, i don't know if i've met you yet.
but i honestly hope i have.
if you're reading this,
thank you for honoring my ridiculous request
to do the final dance number that baby and johnny did from ***** dancing
at our wedding
(if we didn't do the lift, it's okay)
thank you for always being there.
through the breakdowns,
the rants,
all the bad.
thank you for always being there.
through the endless summers,
the sunny days that turned into fire lit nights,
the endless godfather marathons,
all the good.
i will always be there for you -
through all the bad
and all the good.
through your successes
and failures
i will be there.
and i will love you until the day i die.
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 10:58 PM UTC
It’s the damndest thing when attentions focused
on one thing beget the focus of another
Like the rooster crowing the sunlight
in the cold, ungrateful weather,
My eyes scan the ups and downs
of those digital stand-ins for those I’ve known
Seeing mistakes, my own and in others,
Seeing perfection, in other’s imperfect successes,
wantonly rubbed in my eyes
As I springboard from the travails of those
with whom I may never vocalize my adoration
I drop out of the air of a life far from mine,
I see mention of a passed on spirit
Who I truly adored,
no digital fakery of half-true fables necessary
to express my love for the ideals implanted in me
by such a tongue so supplicant to the truths in that vast ether
where I used to swim in the light,
never thinking of the dark climes below.
What choice do I have on an accidental evening like tonight?
I no longer can mask disinterest for other’s soaring narratives
when my true care has been discovered,
been pried away from that dark corner of the airborne pool so ethereal.
My care, my pride have been torn asunder,
by a mere errant glance on a mere sideways mention
Of a massive, earthly idol, who, if only for a stanza of years
held my full gaze with hopeful smiles and ecstatic promise
for bright futures now gone into grey pastures.
I lay here an imposter in authentic skin
if only for the sight of words on screens,
with scant meaning in between.
Aug 23, 2012
Aug 23, 2012 at 4:54 PM UTC
You're not going to let it win
You are not going to let it destroy you
You are going to find control
You're going to accomplish what you plan
It's going to be left as a ship wreck
And be compared to your successes
You are going to do this
You are going to get through this
I'm not going to let it win
I am not going to let it destroy me
I am going to find control
I'm going to accomplish what I plan
It's going to be left as a ship wreck
And be compared to my successes
I am going to do this
I am going to get through this
I'm not going to let MDD win
I am not going to let MDD destroy me
I am going to take its control
I'm not going to let MDD stop me from accomplishing what I have planned
My MDD is going to be left as a ship wreck
And be compared to my achieved successes
I am going to do this and beat MDD
I am going to get through MDD's disturbances
And I will not let it prevent me from living
I suffer from Maladaptive Daydreaming Disorder
It pushes me around
Kills my hopes and dreams
And contributes to my wish of never being born
But maybe I can try
If I put my head into a good perspective
To gain the control
Back into my life
Why should we have to suffer?
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 12:13 PM UTC
Have you ever felt like the world is against you?
And no matter how determined you are and
How much you persevere, you find it to be true.
They say twice as much isn't twice as good
And quantity is always going to be inferior to quality
But you people aren't even beginning to see.
You aren't seeing how twisted this world is becoming.
You couldn't care any less than you do right now.
Just humming, doing what you do, walking around.
And the sound of bitter lies seep through the mouths of these beings.
They supposedly call themselves righteous and full of wisdom.
But the world is yet to see your true colors.
The pattern is continuous and so repetitive.
It's a cycle, a sequence, a pattern.
They all know what's right yet they wander down the path of darkness
Following the dark one to his tavern
Who am I? I'm not that different except in one way.
Realization can take its toll on someone.
It's the point when you decide if you want to leave or you'd rather stay.
Have you ever felt like you can defy gravity?
Have you ever felt so invincible that no one could possibly ever touch you?
I have and that's the feeling that causes you to fall back really hard,
For it lasts for only a moment, a moment of power. And that's nothing new to you.
Look around and you shall see all the failures and successes of them.
Look at yourself and see how much more unique you are.
Refuse to let them utter complete nonsense in your ears.
Someone will come along and prove them wrong and make you their star.
The star of the universe, of his universe. And you shall see…
That's the only place you'd rather be.
But until then, do not close doors just because you are afraid
Open them and embrace the world as if it were your last day living.
Do it for yourself because all the while you could have left, but instead, you stayed.
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 8:36 PM UTC
Yes, I see you.
You like to make your presence known.
It’s in the flashy, the gaudy and the uncomfortably fake humbleness that you project.
The wealth and championed successes you stuff into your smile and plaster across your face.
Yes, I see you,
You exude materialism with each closing swagger .
Insatiable appetite for your own procurement.--Your “driven”
You’ve everything one might acquire.
Yes, I see you,
I’ve known you in many.
As you walk by you politely nod and look away.
And inside my stomach swells until a small smile cracks across my face.
The irony.
You measure your wealth in commodities
and assume I’m envious of your riches!!
Yes, I see you and am moved…
You know nothing of wealth.
Dec 19, 2009
Dec 19, 2009 at 9:30 AM UTC
The moon's virginal silvern lustre
drapes over the navy blue curtains
There is a sacred power that the moon has,
for it is the Left Eye of the goddess, Bast
An Eye of Ra, Great Lady of the East,
She Who Earned a Crown of
the Orisha
Her silverfire grants the felines power
to turn the simple black cat into a
panther at night
As black, swift and silent as a raven's wing
With eyes as green as a meadow in Spring
Stalking the jungle with the darkness
as her cloak
But with darkness dawns a new and bright light
For she is a Orisha with the sun in her heart
For she passes the flame into the herb
shaped like a heart, swept and burning
with violet glow
That burns through every vein of yours
and then you rise,
born again new
Consume that flame, eat Her heart and
she will meet you in the Ancestral
Planes but take great care,
as she grants you her
presence and power
on if you are worthy
Under the glimmering borealis
Flickers of violet and pink and white
becoming moving flames with kisses of blue
that stroke the various crests of clouds
Lights that dance, ride and raise with
winds of hope and change though
the infinite skies
Hearing murmurs and voices
the wind will blow around you,
a changed spirit
It is then you will know
It is then you will see
That Bast is smiling directly at you
Come and meet the Panthers who molded
the past in order to make sense
and build the future
Come and meet the Panthers who united
the tribes,
turning war to peace
And now here comes the new King
Who knows there is strength in unity
For tribes divided can never stand
And through learning that he possessed
a naively closed mind, scrutinised
the words spoken, not the ones
who were speaking
He was not his father but now with the
Mantle passed, he must learn from
his father's mistakes
Prince T'challa of Wakanda
Son of King T'chaka
Rise from cub to the
Panther on the
protective prowl
Seen worthy of Bast's blessings
carries her Eye that is never blind
He will remember all that his eyes have
scene from his successes and struggles
but also his heart
The Heart of a King
with the fire in his spirit
Sprint o'er the sea towards the horizon
The Black Panther who reigns
over Wakanda
How he stands proudly
with a coat of black
with his heart rooted and mind
conscious of the mistakes of the past,
has his eyes of the sunrise
which has the world and beyond
singing to the Sun, the Moon
and Wakanda's sacred tune
Jun 17, 2018
Jun 17, 2018 at 3:58 PM UTC
The world is full of beautiful mysterious mazes,
And each breathing soul, including us, is solving it.
All of us are trying to reach our destiny,
which we are clueless about and seek.
Just when a small streak of light transpires
showing us where our passion lies,
we set forth towards it, to see for ourselves,
if it is the key to our life’s purpose,
if it is what we want to become.
Reaching there, we find all the resources
we need to build the castle of our dream.
Block by block, we build the castle of our goal.
Once done, we spend some time at the castle,
enjoying our creation, making the best out of it.
As we spend some time at the beautiful castle,
we realize we want more from the maze.
We set out on a different journey, a different field,
this time exploring the unexplored.
We, once again, dream of a big castle,
a castle filled with bigger dreams and happiness.
Block by block, we build again a beautiful castle.
After seeing many days and many nights, living in the castle,
we wish and aspire for something bigger.
We keep building huge castles,
trying with all might to figure out
what we want to be,
where we want to be,
what we want to do in our life.
Years roll by, we have built many breath-taking castles.
We have had many adventures, many failures, many successes.
At about this time, the secret of the maze becomes
visible to the human eyes,
we see the road not taken,
we dive in, building the magnificent castle,
the castle of our dream,
the castle of our destiny.
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 2:44 PM UTC
Across the track, a rail yard worker
big innocent bear of a guy, beer
belly, embraces his girl. She’s
a conductor, comes up to that belly,
reaches arms not quite around
his back. They separate and embrace
three times while the train prepares
for departure.
Across the aisle,
a mother and son. Lights out, change engines,
they play Mercy. Squeeze fingers until one
cries mercy. The son still too small
to seriously challenge his young, athletic
mom. Ask and answer questions, laugh
and cry mercy, she draws and he colors
the features.
Unless a society
expects its fate to be better than its past,
it will strive to make its present
immutable as possible.
Optimism is a way of exploring failure.
It says there is no law of nature
or supernatural decree preventing progress.
Nearly all failures, and all successes, are in
our future.
Dec 12, 2022
Dec 12, 2022 at 7:15 AM UTC
The ceiling of the grand ballroom
Opens as if it were taking in a deep breath.
All of the golden oil painted negative space
And striped Moorish arches allow the chandelier to shine
Blood red.
The pirates hung from the ceiling,
Each with his wrists bound to his ankles,
Festooned in the shape of a teardrop
Or a bell or a drop of blood.
The Jolly Roger slowly turns
Without even a slight breeze or breath,
Dangling from a single chord of rope.
How jolly Roger used to be before the navy came,
Smiling at the sinking enemy ships set on fire by black powder.
Perhaps he still smiles, even through the darkness,
Even through the gaping, gasping
Cannonball holes you can almost hear moan
On the side of his ship far below the surface of the sea,
And hangs high and proud on his ship’s tallest mast.
Perhaps the pirates hang high too, robust and glorious
Like their billowing flag, shameless and naked
With nothing to hide and everything to be proud of, a trophy
Not for a queen and her navy
But for themselves and the successes of their wanderlust.
Jan 6, 2012
Jan 6, 2012 at 12:37 AM UTC