Puzzle box.

I didn’t know I have to defuse my emotions.
I thought they were just like soldiers, they come and go.
Now I’m facing all these puzzle boxes,
I have to be prepared in a certain way,
wait for the right shade, on my tiptoes.
Will it be a treasure or a bomb, whoever can know?
Maybe that’s why Buddhas have their eyes closed?
They’re looking inside not outside, but what do they find?
There are no puzzles? That can’t be right.
Those that are enlightened, do they just forget?
Leave everything behind cause they don’t wanna deal with life?
I can understand that, I dreamt of running away too.
I’d rather be eating tofu and rice then dealing with the blood on my hand.
These puzzles though, they make my hands shake, they make my vibe weak.
I just don’t know, how far this thing goes?
If it will still be here when I’m old?
Is it life’s mission to push forward and feel?
Is it a chance? A curse? A blessing? A gamble?
Like in the movies, someone writes the scripts, someone gets to play,
someone gets to watch and dream, someone can’t afford the tickets.
I don’t know, I don’t know. One by one I unpack the crumbling boxes,
examine them, break them part, put them together, hoping to build a home.

I went to Jared.

He’s gay and he loves Jared.
It’d be the happiest day,
the happiest day of my life.
I could be a rock star,
I could drive a fast car,
I could do LSD,
I could win an Oscar.
All for this day,
for him to admit-
I’m his lover and not to be ashamed.
He might have a history.
He might have lost his way.
But always a fighter,
he doesn’t know how to quit.
So here I am proud of you,
you think you’re nothing but I know you’re an angel.
So don’t you mind,
what the future holds.
Dynasties come and go,
lovers are eternal.

Singing loudly and not hating what you love.

First thing in the morning, I’m howling. To the tunes of Cardi B and Sumi Jo, I’m taking my throat for a morning drive. If nothing else it’s going to be the harshest sound that I’m going to hear all day. Everyone who heard the noise was disturbed (they let me know), and I’ve learned not to care, because I discovered that I’ve since started to yield a bigger voice and it’s already having an effect on my life. All of a sudden people stopped asking me to repeat what I’ve just said, which was nice indeed. I don’t know what prompted my desire to start singing, maybe the desire was always there and I was just too good at ignoring it. I was a pro at ignoring myself as it turned out. There was this persistent voice that was telling me that what I liked did not mean shit, until recently I didn’t even have the courage to question, “Why not?” That was just how things were.

Something told me to sing, and it was getting louder. That must be the new voice in my head and I am slowly getting to trust that new voice. It tells me that what I like is not shit, it tells me that even though I failed so many times, at so many things, those experiences are not meaningless, that I am not meaningless. I fight myself and others harder to let that voice speak and get heard. It was hard, taking responsibility for oneself was so unexpectedly hard. You have to get to know who this person is, you have to be OK with the history this person brings, the mistakes this person has made and is making. It’s about compassion, it’s about dignity, it’s about courage. It takes work to really love oneself.

This is the way things are now. Do I wish to arrive here sooner? No, I don’t. For having that thought discredits the journey. I’m neither old, nor I’m young. I marvel at the younger generations who are adding their own voices to the melody and I know they are the best. I’m watching the older generations who sometimes appear to be as lost as a helpless child and I hope we’re all learning their lessons. The time spent agonizing and being confused is all worth it if we don’t give up. As it is, I’m glad that I’m singing badly and I don’t mind that it might get heard from time to time.

Happy Easter.

easter egg

A game.

Please don’t look at me.
Please don’t think of me.
Please forget who this is.
Don’t you see? There’s nothing to me.
Why can’t you see it?
You already known this.
You’ve seen my body,
you have peeked at my soul.
There’s nothing of value,
nothing like what you’d hoped.
Just a bag of blood and bones.
If you care still, a bit of writhing soul.
There’s nothing here special.
Long time since I’ve been touched by the spiritual.
It’s a hoax, it’s a swindle.
Looks like a lamb, but a jackal.
Count with one hand
the times I’ve been truthful.
Self-conceit is the trick,
self-deceit on the price-tag.
No receipt, no guarantees, no contact info.
Once you see the scheme through
nothing at all worth a second look.
I swear it’s all just a game.
Quick! Run away, don’t hesitate.
Go call the police, don’t think you are safe.
I’m a local treat, they all know my name.
They don’t know my address, I move around.
That reminds me, the next mark is in town.
Don’t come back till you have something to sale.
After all, this is a game that’s zero-sum.

What not why.

Where love should be
all I feel is sadness.
Don’t know what’s wrong.
Mother did say life is suffering.

I don’t believe her, I mean
if I don’t think deeply,
let’s just count the cheers & grab the beers,
turn sad songs into funny stories.

Depressions hit suddenly.
All makes sense now, only darkly.
Switching out energy for ammunitions.
Shutting down hope for spiritual communications.

You see my eyes, I’m not here, not really.
Thousands miles away & no place to stay.
Thinking on the hurts & things that went wrong.
Present is dead & the future’s sold for a song.

Hope you have a way to deal with this.
Wherever there are lows the high awaits.
Change your mind by looking outside.
You’ve been here long enough, quit being such a weenie.

It cuts, it cuts, it laughs, it sparks.
Only the worst, twisted, so it works better.
Show me the bridge, I want to watch it burn.
You look like a caricature of a total fucking stranger.

What’s the matter with me. I got your apology right here.
Or I will keep it shut so you won’t use it against me later.
You’ve seen this before so guess this is just a comedy turn.
Tomorrow we can play mimes, memes, or just plain stupid.

Hating me, loving this, I swear this is just a period.
Raising it up, putting it down.
Need them fumes for this barely moving trunk.