Category: poem

No title.

If you really look what do you see?
The space in front of your face filled with dreams.
But when you focus there's nothing really there.
And when you blink to discern it's gone forever.

If you really look what you're going to find?
Maybe love, maybe loss, maybe something dumb.
When you pause to write who guides you hand?
When the rhyme is not a rhyme but a breath.

If you really love what's gonna be the keep?
Blood flows, tears fall and a will is croaked.
When you dare to grieve who's holding your head?
The light is dim but the sun still shines.

Comfort child.

I'm a comfort child who's unwanted,
a band aid to my parents' broken spirits.
Forced to grow a pair to shoulder the burden
that my parents wouldn't acknowledge.
They do that by doing to me what's
been done to them as if to say, "
Let's share a life that's painful."
I'm no comfort child. I don't care any more.
Your emotion is yours to ignore, so is
your health, your finance, your power trips & back.
I'm tired of being sick all the time worrying
about if you're warm enough, calm enough, when
you care none of it, so you can't care for me.
I'm a comfort to myself & my heart's desires.
That is all!

My heaven.

My heaven is a Japanese 7/11.
The fresh stuff, seasonal miracles.
All lovelily, lovingly packaged.
The drinks are elixirs, the chips angel wings.
The prices are cheap, at the counter
they apologize for their humble politeness.

I'd get a veggie bun steamy hot from the oven
and egg sandwiches that have no rough edges,
a rare find is the holiday white peach thingies.
All kinds of onigiris especially with wild plants.
After I die, I'd go straight to a Japanese 7/11.

Garden.

There's a dagger in my heart,
shackles on both my arms.
My legs are running fast.
All I see is blood red.

The contorted soul looking for relief.
Don't know how & don't know where.
Too scared to look within,
afraid there's hell fire.

What's important is on the inside.
Know the garden that's neglected.
Build fences instead of walls.
It takes time & wisdom to be organic.

The sea.

I'm correcting a giant barnacled ship
whose rudder's stuck at true Pain
in the mindless sea where no fish swims
where the skeleton crew is true to its name.

The Capitain searches for the Voodoo doll
from a witch with bloody needles & a kind smile.
He's stuck with her & she with him.
Though they struck land, there they remained.

While alive.

I didn't make it.
I've died a long time ago.
I remember being alive
and it scares me so.
Now I'm a waking demon
walking among wolves.
I see your laughters & tears.
They are my entertainment.
There's a place called, "
After Death Before Dark".
I see you there but
you're so so far.
Is it me or the
lack of a spark?
For an ordinary day,
the fire that consumes us?

Inner light.

The wind is a coat that I wear.
She holds my hand, makes me aware.
Half moon, mid night, all quiet except
what's there and not there like I.
Search for the light that I lost with fear.
I don't believe my life's worth anything.
Regrets, outbursts, silence, jealousy,
hold on to an evil when he promises things.
It's not a path but a mad dash to shore.
Will I make it? Did you make it? Tell me more.
The things I shy away turn out to be what I need.
What I was afraid of was the inner light
that tells me that I'm loved & I can live.

The full weight of my heart.

Feels like a bomb wrapped in lead
and tender like a missile in the air.
I try to juggle it knowing it will land
on a sunny day & it's gonna be a mess.
The full weight of my heart ain't no joke.
It's formless, sluggish yet sharp.
Sometime I wish it will be quiet
and doesn't know what it truly desires.

Sink.

Throwing stone into the heart
so it sinks, nobody can find it.
Mama says it's better this way.
Dada says it's all fake.
It's drowning & hella heavy.
The tide is all confused & muddy.
All because of the occasional pebble
that nobody bothered to deal with.
Now we have a mountain of trash
with the lost pieces of a child
at the bottom.