With a favourite person,
they are fun, memorable, and sweet.
Time flies fast.
Things to share remain in heaps.
Half of the matters get interrupted with laughter,
the other half—
with silences that feel like home.
Eyes half shut,
hearts wide open,
stories spill that wouldn’t during the day.
Even after talking time to time on calls,
direct conversations hit different.
A mix of talks, singing, vibing together—
it can only be felt,
hard to explain in words.
At the time when everyone is lost in dreams, fully asleep,
here we are—
laughing to the fullest,
talking in whispers so as not to wake anyone.
Remembering old memories,
dreaming about the future,
sharing current happenings,
narrating to each other the dramas we watched and books we read.
Things like this continue,
until one of us drifts into sleep quietly listening.
The other just smiles,
tucks them in gently,
and falls asleep with a content heart—
ready to continue the conversation that was left halfway tonight.

[  ] I can never forgive myself for forgiving you

[  ] All those chances
[  ] All those days
[  ] And yet still you have always behaved the same

[  ] "Forgive him, he's family" is what they would all say
[  ] And I did
[  ] Every. Single. Time.

[  ] You were supposed to be the grown-up
[  ] but somehow, I always ended up being the one who acted grown
[  ] I was just a kid
[  ] And I was the one holding us together.
[  ] It was me bringing calm to your chaos,
[  ] Nursing you when you were sick
[  ] Keeping myself entertained
[  ] Playing with ******* to keep myself from feeling lonely
[  ] Cause you never bothered to grow up and show up
[  ] And even when you did, I still felt alone

[  ] And every time you got it together
[  ] you’d be better for a while.
[  ] You’d laugh again
[  ] act like things were normal
[  ] And make me think you were finally here to stay
[  ] So I’d let my guard fall just enough to believe it.

[  ] Then you'd disappear.
[  ] Or snap
[  ] leaving me again.
[  ] Always blaming myself, always thinking it was my fault
[  ] Also thinking that you didn’t love me anymore
[  ] Leaving me a mess.

[  ] And there I was again
[  ] In a never-ending cycle
[  ] a kid who was forced to grow up fast,
[  ] spinning lies to make you sound okay,
[  ] telling myself maybe next time would be different
[  ] Telling myself and everyone else "he's different this time"
[  ] But you were always the same

[  ] But now I'm grown up
[  ] And I'm tired of giving you chances
[  ] Of giving you my undying love and trust

[  ] Every now and the it replays
[  ] The sentence that got said so often it's written in my vains
[  ] "But hes your dad"
[  ] But I'm his daughter
[  ] But to everyone else that didn't matter
[  ] Because I should have been greatful that at least he was still "around"


[  ] We grew up together, really
[  ] you were practically a child too.
[  ] But with age, I matured.
[  ] You didn’t.
[  ] Even though I know you wanted to.

[  ] So I've finally decided I'm sick of making excuses for you
[  ] I've moved on
[  ] My patience has been used
[  ] But i understand it more now, however i dont accept it as an excuse
[  ] So for now, I made peace with who you are and what you do

[  ] You only get one dad, and I suppose I do love you
[  ] But I'm sick of forgiving you
[  ] Even though this time maybe it stuck

[  ] You have gotten better.
[  ] And I see that you try.
[  ] I know that you feel guilty.
[  ] But how do I know you mean it this time?

[  ] My one wish with all of this
[  ] Is that one day you will finally forgive yourself
[  ] And make peace with the fact that you ****** up.

[  ] Mistakes can fade,
[  ] but they don’t always disappear.

[  ] Like a scratch in polished wood,
[  ] you can sand it, seal it, varnish it with love
[  ] but the grain never forgets.

[  ] And neither does the little girl inside me.
[  ] She’s still there
[  ] stuck in time,
[  ] hoping you’d finally get your act together,
[  ] hoping you’d finally be her dad.

[  ] I’ve grown. I’ve healed. I’ve moved forward.

[  ] But she’s still waiting for the day
[  ] you become the man
[  ] she always believed you could be

In A Corner
Utterly mine, in the deep silence,
in a house of purest white,
On the cusp of a morning,
with my soul utterly serene.
In the garden of the soul,
among the butterflies,
softly fluttering,
gently whispering,
poems,
within me.
For me,
sighs,
tranquil and hushed,
from that weary breath,
that still persists,
whispering poems,
even as I drown,
in this life that is not mine.
While I await my flight,
to soar from my corner to another place.
That distant realm where the soul takes wing,
where peace knows no end,
where living no longer burdens,
where I shall never tire,
where all is beautiful,
on the very wings of God,
in my own place,
so far away.
Meanwhile,
time softly slips by,
and I still gaze out,
from this beautiful corner,
of a soul that has grown weary of living.

EN UN RINCON

Muy mío, en el silencio,

en una casa blanca pura,

Al borde de una mañana,

con mi alma sosegada.

En el jardín del alma,

entre mariposas,

revoloteando,

susurrando,

poemas,

en mí.

Para mí,

suspiros,

tranquilos,

de ese respirar,

cansado, que sigue,

susurrando poemas,

a pesar de ahogarme,

en esa vida que no es mía.

Mientras espero despegar,

y volar de mi rincón a otro lado.

Ese sitio lejano donde el alma vuela,

donde la paz nunca se acaba,

donde ya no cuesta vivir,

donde ya no me canse,

donde todo es bello,

en las alas de Dios,

en mi lugar,

lejano.

Mientras,

pasa el tiempo,

y yo me asomo aún,

en ese rincón tan hermoso,

de un alma que se cansa de vivir.

May i die in my sleep,
for the words I’ve been told.
Their Blades are stained with my blood.
Harsher words don’t stab me anymore,
But the emptiness does
Before i cut my heart open
I wish they would **** me
While i sleep soundly

VERY SLOWLY
How many years have drifted by,
Time rushes swiftly on.
And I, at times, pause myself,
So very slowly I go,
And in myself get lost.
Very slowly,
I take my time,
To lose myself,
Within my being,
Deep in thought.
I take my pause,
So very softly,
I look and listen,
I lose myself within,
Cease thinking,
And only feel,
That beating heart,
That soul,
That throbs,
That feels,
And I forget,
Of everything, no more.
I turn to me,
And let myself just sleep,
Within those dreams.
Sometimes I read verses,
So very softly,
Just as I like it.
Very calm,
I stop my clock,
And rest.

Stories, reports from wars past, haunt me,
in spirit sensing wondering,
perplexing twisted strands
from National histories
kept for posterity, seen as certain
evidence of life being as reasonless
as distant suns in swirling galaxies.

The business of making ends meet,

make any punctual sense, ends now.

------------------

Dear, the word, intends
to express worthiness, valued

by cost, not
to make or gain the dear thing, but
by pain
at the loss,

remembering reason,
reattaching whole
required why lines, dangling

Among the many joys,
eudaemonia, silliness in the sense lost

nine cousin romps in the lawn sprinklers,

secrets sacralized sold
for students tempted so,

sacred vow bound logic

-
mid-14c., logike, "branch of philosophy that treats of forms of thinking;
the science of distinction of true from false reasoning,"
-

Refine elemental whying, trying, taking
for good, leaving
as worthless but
for marking
in mind, poisonous deception

Games of getting to the perfect peace,
having no driving curiosities or prides,

mystic authority granted me, poetically,
costly so-called sciences, I am, by faith,

for which homeostasis is the reason, ready,
balance of energy store and energy conversion

self guided discovery, so deep is one's ignorance,
self sorting discourses through mortal events, time
since e verily was allegorically massively imaginable

at thought sped enlightenment intended
to disrupt rote thought, symbol assignments
and general intelligence deceptive practices,

the bread and butter of the business of Psyche,
logic by which mankind live and learn and lead
those yet to be to become augmented generally
intelligent choosers of values… versus costs, price

personal, what portion of one's daily bread is paid,
back by me, the muse user enjoying being alive,
and safe, high in the coastal foothills environs,
practically perfect weather for happy humans,

gatherers more than hunters,
crafters more than manufacturers,
traders more than sellers or buyers,

but lacking religion, woe is them, indeed, if
all the witnesses to Hell, sent back to spare us,
perdition due the ignorance of original foul sin,
are not exalting their knowledge of damnation,
against the sacred knowledge of good and evil.

Live evil lurks in mere repetitioning prayer error.

Hooks in Jim Morrison's oevre, say… you cannot

imagine a reality without disgusting disdain for order,

order, in the court… witness under oath testing if we
agree, this is the ever we got this morning, as we rose

from slumber… we, thee linking me… in mind, inspired
thought, amused bemusement refusing confusing truths,

God loves Hell, love's it, or…

blasphemy, accuse me, gospel performer professional,
j'cuse, indeed. Did I dare to die for the American Story,

Home of the free, Land of the brave, oh, say, can you,
remember the first hand grenade WHUMP! can you,

not mirror neurologically callused startle response wise,

real deal, dead people, blood, smells, smoke, silence,
deaf deal with it… accept

therapy, publish, or perish, laugh and live free in truth,

not simple, but sub-elementally perfectly sublime

---------
The news from my future,
is mentally actively spiritually leading,

holding my circumstantial ordinariness,

spending a lifetime to reach one last day,
which can, we may imagine, be any day.
---------

Meaning in landmarks set as scenes,
who imagines whose mind's lost all hope,

who can, as a God-fearin' man, *** boy, cowboy,
drifter with a gift of gab and a deck of cards,
declare 'is whole soul forfeit, should he lie.

Bet me I did not beat my own demons, just
now, for the rest of my life, on the most likely last

day, I spend this way, like it were that very one.

The day called Judgement day, same  size day
as those in that original week, rest assured. What?

Obfuscation, cultural integrity, opposing
the holy Pharisees of mutual warring wills.

---------------------

In word form, as a thought, logic is open
seeping sneaking suspicions suggesting surety,
has an am big is us re-both-knowing ness spirit form
for a ready reader, list as doth the spirit, sure hot
wind in a gape jawed face, asking if this may be real
as has been realizable
since commercial radio, propagating productive
personal mysterious
signals sent via zeitgeist,
which reasserts itself, prodigious certainty of purpose,

what do I wish, what do we wish, we, with us in it, me
and you wishing we felt some fealty due the heroic me…

what if expressing a self, molded military mind model,
in a complex religious mystery granted symbols just as

right angled and perpendicular to gravity, per se

timely, chance, definite purpose, be as good as truth,

no harm, no foul, patiently pretending toward goodness,
as do little green apples, and children in my vicinity, true,

all the children in my house, and yard today, are good,
universal attestations, any ever experiencing, such a July,
presume these kids are as happy as can be, today
where I happened just to be, he who chose
to stick and stay and make it pay, by faith
some how, kindalike an intuition,
by now, this'd be real, an actual poetic privilege,

the truth that once the best that I could think or ask, a day,

whole, no ritual mass or mirror mantra back atcha, one day,

surrounded by children, literally running around my house,
and squealing little girl laughter at little boys rolling in mud.

no one loves you
as I do
no one cares for you
  as I do
no one sees you
as I do
no one serves you
as I do
no one hold you close
as I do