Pomegranate
Careful, tentative and delicate tips shiver over the forgiving skin
Shell barring the bloody body of the fruit
Only condemned to,
consumption
Bruising without protest
Its sweetness not asked for - only expected
Though some things are more beautiful broken
(“Dark Pool Nebula”, 2011, original oil)
Different Worlds
I travel to different worlds in my dreams,
In my mind, even day by day
With different aspects of my self
In this one body.
As I get older I see we all live in different worlds,
Determined by what we believe, how we are raised,
And what we learn.
Sometimes we can stand on the same street corner
And be in totally different worlds as we chat.
Some people know all about this
And some are totally clueless,
Yet still we are all in our own world.
Is this a problem that needs to change?
I don’t think so
It is just the nature of things
The nature of having a mind
Especially so with an independent mind.
So maybe it is good the way things are.
What is bad is trying to change this
Trying to make everyone conform.
But how would it be if a fish thought itself
A bird, or a bird a fish,
Or a man a woman, or a human a god?
Some things are just not meant to be.
And so I travel to different worlds
In my dreams and in my mind,
And as I become more familiar
The worlds become more wonderful.
(9/15/25)
Feelings, like storms, disrupt the inner peace and leave the future uncertain
Hopes, like mountains, seen and far away to reach
Desires, like eternal, keeps running and stop’s nowhere
Thoughts, like lightning, shine, disappear, and keeps coming
Tears, like rains, clear the clouds and leave it’s
Sign
Life, like ocean meets river, people comes from various channels with infinite waves, some to live and some to leave
Evil little faces
In little evil places
come in from many cases
Behind the glass door mazes, do we really make changes?
Do they actually change us?
I walk by the metal cages, I've come to feel the same spaces
Humbly, I have to say this
We are all on borrowed time still
I look at my soul killing its flaws. I appreciate it and let it do so. But when I came back to earth to show them a perfect human, I realized my mistakes made me who I am. Without my flaws, I am just a perfect human—but not me.
Love them for who they are
Not
Who you expect or want them to be
Oh, those we love don't go away,
they walk beside us everyday.
Their murmurs soft, a tree leaf whisper
defrosts my heart that did grow crisper
with grief that stained inside and out
when I embraced and lived with doubt
that voices lost to yesteryear
would still be here in atmosphere,
but breezy hands they brush my shoulder
and shake the lilacs, zephyrs bolder
as wind-tossed-scent awakens my recall
of purple June bouquets that did enthrall.
Ah, souvenirs and picture frames
can flare or tame my mourning flames.
Our days once filled with cheer and dare,
alas, souls fly as sheer as air,
or sit to contemplate as still as moss,
they come to help alleviate my loss.
I see them in rejiggered shapes of clouds
or gold of sunshine warmth spilled over crowds;
I catch a glimpse in happy eyes
and sense they’re there in spirits' guise.
A moment here and then they’re gone,
beyond white angel-air-chiffon.
I’ve come to know and feel inside
that never-ending, they’ll reside
within my heart and everywhere…
to sense them near, fulfills my prayer.
Come near do not take your gaze from mine
The heavens have nothing on the stars of your eyes
If you're willing take my hand. let our destinies entwine
If not then fear not for your company will grant me respite
A reprieve from the death of love unachieved
The loss of my heart to an unassuming thief
To be deprived of mourning causes even greater grief
So stay even if to leave if best as you may believe
Stay so your presence will shatter my deluded heart
Stay so your presence will not be granted a deserters part
Stay so that when I heal. my heart will be built anew
Stay so that when your heart is given to another
I'll be devoid of envy and my happiness for you will be true
I kept quiet far too long.
I couldn't open my mouth,
it seemed, not even for a peep.
The perfect doormat.
Welcome to one and all.
Come wipe your feet.
Tolerance is that ugly sin
a coward learns to live with
while incessant cycles repeat.
Nothing changes when nothing's said,
silence being the prime enabler.
And like a weed, shame grows
in the shadow of acceptance.
AP: 1st place 2025
I found her spirit heartbroken;
she needed someone who would listen.
Her hot tears made my own eyes glisten
as on and on she labored, outspoken.
In time, her story would in part, soak in;
she wanted her baby to be christened.
I found her spirit heartbroken;
she needed someone who would listen.
A neighbor’s harsh words had woken
her to the fact, people will call this sin -
do unmarried mothers deserve prison?
The town gossips’ pardon would be token;
I found her spirit heartbroken;
she needed someone who would listen.
Her story dug deep breaking my spirit.
She wanted help in her sorrow,
more than just someone to hear it.
Someone who would find time tomorrow
gathering young moms to share and borrow.
Acceptance is what heals a broken heart;
getting involved is a good place to start.
Heartbreak is rising heat in spring.
Summer welded my heart back together,
Fall leaves reminded me that time has passed so effortlessly.
You’re turning into a faded memory and just another lesson.
My weight, smile, and spirit is back into place.
Soon enough, love returns back to my mind and soul, but never in the form of you again.
I see new rare blooms in the winter.
I haven’t truly lived until now.
I have been locked away for so long
In a small room in a place that was never my home.
Home is where you feel safe.
My freedom without judgment is where I feel most safe, maybe that’s home.
That’s how I feel now.
Full throttle and no chain linked connected to the wall on my tailgate.
I broke that.
A cloud of smoke from the exhaust and my tires working hard to break the chain made me feel like I was in the sky.
I flew.
Down the coastline, windows rolled down
Serendipity is waving hello with the waves.
Okapi thought he was a horse
Attempted to blend in, of course
Zebras kicked him out
Horses ran about
But okapi had no remorse
my personality is too much for some
i can change it.
i’m too loud sometimes
i can change it.
i overwhelm others with my emotions
i can change it.
i laugh too much
i can change it.
i’m not popular enough
i can change it.
the constant struggle
to fit in
to be liked
all revolves around perspective
don’t look for certain things
in the wrong people
I know making you less perfect
won’t make me any better
yet I can’t help it
I fabricate your flaws in my head
as if it would make my own disappear
almost as if ruining you
made me any better
…
almost as if making you imperfect
made me as perfect as you
—maybe I should learn to love my flaws instead of obsessing over yours
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