Month: April 2019

a dream is all it seemed

“the love walked out the door
and took the pain along with it.

the hate that burned
the joy that stayed
the face that turned
to face the rain,
was washed away
when moonlight came
to grave the day
when moonlight came
along to grieve . . .

it was the same night
all of the stars fell
out of the sky.

the day the door slammed shut
it shook this world
and brought down structures
built to last.

the lies that left too
still deny me truth
got left behind me
proof it wasn’t
just another dream . . .

a fakeness left
a reality set in
seemed . . .
too bad to be true . . .
too harsh to believe . . .

a dream is truly all it seemed . . . “


forms of poetry

MUSING|6/6/17|2:28pm

“. . . however, experience is, at times, confused with simply enduring. complacency. simply being surrounded by a situation but, not really being a part of it. being surrounded by a certain group of people but, never engaging them in attempt to understand them. never talking to them.


how can you control what you don’t know?

how can you be controlled by someone/something that doesn’t even know you?”

MUSING|5/24/2017|5:46pm

as individuals, we oppose _______ and all of his/her supporters; yet, we all either know someone like _______, have someone like _______ in our families, or could be just as bad as _______ ourselves, either in the same way or in a different way. but, we still love ourselves with all the flaws that we have. and, we still love our flawed family members. and, we still love our “asshole” friends. and, we still watch our horrendous TV shows and movies with all the scandal we can handle. yet, we call out other people for not representing a culture the “correct” way.


fix yourself, first, to fix the ones around you.

NO MORE FEELING, NO MORE PAIN

destroying the body for self-preservation: a hell of a cycle.


doused it in gas from head to toe
and struck a match,
watched it topple to the
ground and start to squirm . . .

the feet were thrashing around so heatedly . . .
the arms were stretched to stiffness, reaching out greedily
trying to grab a grain of oxygen on the right,
and a pair of hydrogen on the left.
a force of habit,
to no avail. the body squirmed . . .

the eyes went black as they were charred
to sudden blindness,
the head was spinning out of control,
the body was squirming . . . it was a murderous sight . . .

the expression on the face was almost unrecognizable . . .
the anguish . . . it appeared . . .
had convinced the mouth to curve into a smile . . .
a devious, innocent, slightly crooked, little smile . . .

but, why?
but, how?

the flames died down
and the body went still . . .

the hand let go,
and the used-up match
landed softly in the rubble . . .


forms of poetry

addressed to: you

I went to sleep
(right next to you)
alone.

then, I woke up and I was still
(right next to you)
alone.

I wanted to check my phone.
(no texts from you)
I’m still alone.

I want you home.
(what’s left of you?)
I know, I know, I got
(the best of you)
issues, I’m wrong.
(what’s best for you?)

but, I just want to know
(the rest of you)
if you’ll come home.


HE’S A MYTH

forms of poetry

he’s both:
uncaptured and unpursued.

expecting errors, unforgiven,
disappear with constant movement,
he’s untouchable.

harassed and under pressure,
never harmed and undisturbed,

he’s undying . . . he’s unconscious . . .

he’s a legend,
unforsaken . . . unforgotten,
he’s a myth