Assorted Rats.

——-

You have to go the whole way
there’s no stop nor sit & wait.
You won’t see anyone for miles,
only you and your demon lords.

You think it’s going to be an easy win.
There are books and movies with happy ends.
And you brought them for all they were worth,
falling asleep among the heroes & merchandises.

There’s no heaven nor hell to escape
unless you somehow make it to the script,
then you can write & sing HIS praise,
have your face among the saints.

But you know it ain’t true,
life’s a rose,
little bugs & thorns
if you bother to get close.

Or you can say it’s a bitch
like mama who gives you flesh,
never pointing out the obvious,
she doesn’t like it here either.

You have to go the whole way
don’t discount your pains.
They are already afraid
of you, reaching the stars and sky.

———-

I don’t care any more if I’m smart or the opposite.
All the judgements & comparisons are making me sick.
Worse, it made me a terrible human being.
There’s no way to get around it,
if you don’t let your light shine
however it wants, whenever it wants
what’s the point of living?
Just so I can reproduce and
watch the kids making the same mistakes?

Nah, the solution can only start with me.
When you are hurrying me, I will let you know,
there’s no late nor early, I’m right on schedule.
It’s transcendental, woodoo-speak & all natural.
So quit judging everyone cause you have nowhere to go,
holding onto some vague sentiment & all enforcer-mode.
There’s nothing to see here but smokes & mirrors.
If that’s your thing, well, pay for the new channels.
Concentration of wealth because we’ve been told,
“if you buy this, own that, you’d be whole.”

Oceans of plastics and continents of land-fills.
Rapes the earth till his last breath cause we entitled.
Oh, wait, I should have used “her” instead,
will that make you more comfortable?
Righteousness’ virtue as old as tombs and caves.
Women are commodities & children raised by commercials.
As long as the money flows, it’s cancer for gold.
Join in the kill, there’s no second fills.
Be the worst you can, who cares if it’s going downhill.

But there’s a catch, maybe you suspect,
whenever you do something rotten your soul pays the price.
So maybe grow some sense and patience and mind,
everyone gets to a point, to face what’s inside.

—–

I looked into the future
and filled with dread.
Tittering on divorce
cause we just don’t fit.
Maybe it’s God’s plan
or the devils, who cares?
That’s the problem,
everything’s too real
until they turn out fake.
It’s not natural,
it’s subatomic,
multiple universes
collide in the consciousness.
If we turn mystical
there’s no limit.
If it’s all scientific
how do we really know?

——

I’d rather be unknown,
as a free creature who roams.
Each identity finds its home,
only then I can be happy.

Miseries.

All my folks know is miseries
from the cradle to the grave.
All they know is miseries,
that’s where they seem to live.

They hand me down their miseries,
they let it roll and it rolls.
From wide-eyed to pinched heart
no way to count its toll.

All I know is miseries,
and the supposed black hearts and deeds.
All I expect is miseries,
it’s the one thing I can see.

I don’t want no miseries,
one thing ends another can begin.
The fear and longing for miseries
are the reason we are not free.

I don’t see no miseries
maybe you’ve made me blind.
I don’t accept no miseries
not from you or any one.

I don’t create my own miseries,
just having fun giving it a run.
Don’t talk to me about miseries.
It is just one of them.

To Inspiration.

Hello, Inspiration:

This is your unfaithful servant.
It’s not my fault you’d chosen a coward
and won’t stop blasting her with visions.
I’m not responsible for your noises
nor the beauty that I’ve seen
for I’m not the one that’s destroying it
though I’ll admit it’s kinda pretty.

Without you where I’d be?
Pretty sure I’d be more at ease
enjoying the sun & the days without the heartache
that I’d be missing out of anything.
Sometimes I wish I don’t see
the future that can be
or the present that bothers me
and just be OK to be aloof
and write coward songs
and coward poems
thinking out loud but apologize
with every opportunity.
But what is this?
Are you the voice that’s killing me?
Toiling over & over all alone?
To what end so far from home?

This is a coward song
telling you I’m late again.
Can’t help with the hesitations
nor the shaky voice & the shaky hands.
It’s never getting easier
I know that now.
For every drop of water, a world.
And every human being,
her own heaven & hell.

Good night.

There’s much to be done
but it’s time for a rest.
Listen to your body’s demand
and do the thing it likes.
So the inspirations can come at night
and tomorrow you’ll have the energy to act.
You’ll be feeling refreshed,
hopefully rid of those bags.
It used to feel good,
going to bed at night,
reliving the day’s adventures,
I really need to get that feeling back.
Don’t let fear rule the mind,
but give it permission to fly.
It doesn’t matter wherever it may land.
At least we’re bright & clear
with a good night’s bless.
Always more dreams to come
after the morrow’s done.
Paying for its dues
and working for another chance
to feed the mind,
to do some good.
Always easier said than done.
Not running away
but know when to save the strength
for there is a brand new field
that will be growing inside first
which needs time and patience.
Let the intuition be the guide,
stretch like a cat
and go to bed,
but remember,
to bid the day
a “good night”.

New Year’s Eve.

I walk alone,
on the street near home.
Ahead I see a red jacket,
like the one
my mother wears,
the person in it
is taking stuff outta her white van.
Who else can it be?
“So she’s giving us food again.”
I think while shaking my head.
She’s going back to the car.
I start running.
Suddenly feeling happy watching my feet,
one goes after the other.
When I raise my head
expecting to see her
she’s not there.
The van’s just ahead,
now in rest.
My drive-way’s empty.
It’s the neighbor,
another asian lady.
I hung my head
and feel like crying.