I want to miss my kids
I want to see my hair no crumbs or cheese whiz
I want to enjoy healthy friendships
outings like camping and family things
me plus one for a change
I’m so tired of doing everything on my own
I’m always that single mom who’s alone
no partner, no man, just me,
Here I am
no other family, just a loner.
the judge me like a park perv with a *****
the way they look at me, like they pity me,
It was healthier than living with his violent mistakes
No sorry is good enough
When a man treats you worse than his stuff
Society sees a woman that can’t keep a man
They don’t see a woman strong enough to stand
Alone without allowing the disrespect to go on
Every carnival, every movie, every oil change, every bill I pay
Every flat tire every mile
every family photo a forced smile
the biggest lie ever sold
is too tell a woman she can have it all alone
she’s ripped apart shredded at each end
not knowing where she ends and the kids begin
night from day’
far from child's play
but something like a living nightmare
every lonely not long enough exhausted no rest day
(for Stephen)
There’s a certain point in summer
when it feels like it’ll last forever
a dazed mix of complacency and lethargy
when everything is tired
from the gardens, to the dogs, to our senses.
Satiated perhaps, but it’s something more,
a sense we have arrived at the peak of the peak season,
the fullness of Leo,
in all his solar glory,
and what can top that?
Of course this is about the exact time the nights get cooler,
we notice the peak has passed,
and winter approaches
with all those chores undone.
So is life....
in all its simplicity,
and yet with this endless cycle of seasons
the endless cycle of human ups and downs also churns on,
all the things that
naturally arise in our habitual
dualistic mind.
And this is far more taxing and exhausting
than the external heat and dust and smoke,
exhausting and overwhelming,
at least for me.
So a good friend tells me something today
he probably didn’t make up
but just as easily as anyone could have;
“Everything you need you can get from a single exhalation.”
(Originally published in my 3rd book, Sun Made Flesh and Fiber, 2019)
I see that look in your eyes,
That sparkle with shine,
Asking me for something more
That I cannot provide.
I don’t want to hurt you again.
Why give you half of me
When you deserve me at my best,
And I’m just not there yet?
I want to tell you, you can trust me.
Your feelings are safe in my hands,
But I might end up letting go
And chasing after something that’ll hurt me more.
I know you’re what’s best for me if I healed,
If I stayed focused and put myself first.
I could be the man of your dreams,
Instead, I’m like any other man.
I wish I was like Atlas and could carry your load.
I’d tell you my cup is empty, but I can take more.
But I’m on the edge, with one more bad day
Enough to make me spill everything over.
I don’t want to
Why?
Because I just don’t want to
It’s not because I can’t
Its just plain and simple
I don’t want to
The day the dam finally cracked.
It sounded like a loud boom followed by several snaps.
In the distance, a warning siren.
Then there was a hurricane-like sound of water crashing through metal pipes.
I was home, unbothered when it happened, taking a long-needed nap.
This did not surprise me; after years of warnings that fell on deaf ears, harsh remarks, and side-eye glances.
Myself and the 300 did our best, but grew tired of cleaning up others' messes.
Patching daily holes, coming up with ways to make this dam stronger for the next generation.
Of course, it did not last, with many throwing stones and other sharp objects.
Breaking the mold.
Hate and violence — it simply could not hold.
So as the waters rushed into my home,
I simply let it take me under, closed my eyes for one last time.
Inwardly, I thanked the Lord with a smile.
Broken
fractured, hollow
shattering, weeping, falling
shards, scars, breath, spirit
rising, mending, enduring
resilient, golden
Bravery
In these systems so broken,
where no truth can be spoken
fighting to keep it alive
no one on your side.
Every hour, we’re waiting to feel not so suffocated
leaving our lives behind; it’s just expired time.
Weekends are no end now, months just become years
you start to miss having feelings
what was it like to have tears?
Of course, you never win, in this game you’re in
it’s always the fault of your own, your fault and yours alone.
That party that you didn’t attend
the family Christmas that you spent
picking up each piece, they had you on your knees.
So void and so empty but outside there’s plenty of people just like you,
just pushing through.
No one ever told you that this was the point
everything you’ve ever dreamed, is really not what it seemed.
This race is years long, the road ahead stays unchanging
all of us are just numbers that they can count twice.
Dancing toes paint a liquiscent waltz
Fluttered limbs impossible grace
Floating form the unreal flight.
Shelves of air on feathers.
Ballerina's death
Preposterous
Bewildered
Starving
Art
When customer service forgets its name
and kindness dims to a fading flame ,
RESPECT grows thin and help grows small--
you start to wonder if they care at all…
She grew so harsh, as if kindness were a chore!
She pressed like a child, fierce in what she required,
never stopping to see how your body was tired.
She urged you to read - though the words turned to haze,
not caring your blurred eyes had reached their fading phase…
You try to rest inside that cramped small room ,
But comfort never seems to find its bloom.
No fan to stir the thick and weighted air ,
Just crowded bodies coughing everywhere…
You suffer through each careless, noisy burst
and peace , it seems , is always the one cursed.
And when all they care about is what they can gain,
not noticing your tired body or the strain,
it hits you somewhere deep, a quiet kind of sore…
some people put money first, nothing else anymore.
written_12072025_PandaLodge HomeStay
I'm refusing to lose hope
there's rising evil in this idyllic world
~ let me catch my breath
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Wakey, wakey!
The buzz from my advanced THRITY THREE TEN seem to yell
Opened windows slapped aging mango leaves on my face
Monday already? Morning already?
Granny’s creaking chair again!
Savoring with folks of mine the bland toast with juicy old gossip, mom’s warm smile
Welcomed into my everyday worn out NIKE with pain
Unending miles, but starts with a mile.
The bus took forever to come
Even when it came two minutes, fifty-seven seconds earlier,
Latest gossip rent the air, formally strangers banded like long lost brothers
Monday already? Morning already?
Of course, the day went by quietly as usual
The honking of tired vehicles continually pierced my ears
It seems like the beggars made a fortune again
Afternoon ended, the sun is setting.
Inspiration Mode: LOADING
Obviously, this early dinner has become part of us
Worth it though, because I was stolen by a dreamless sleep…
Wakey, wakey!
Morning already?
It's all in your head.
It's all in your mind.
One day, you'll be dead.
One day, you'll be hard to find.
We say, "we wish we could fly."
We say, "Give us some time."
They'll work you till you die,
They'll work you till you commit a crime.
Freedom is only in your head.
Freedom is only in your mind
i am a house with the doors left open
for too long.
too many footsteps have walked in
dragging their storms with them.
i do not know how to tell them
i have no space left
to shelter their rain.
i try to listen, to nod, to stay—
but the ceiling is cracking.
i can’t hold up another storm.
so maybe this time,
i will lock the door.
i will sit in the quiet
and hold my own hand first.
My bedroom is such a mess
The room of a hoarder
It makes me feel depressed
I am exhausted when I open the door to it
I can barely climb over the stuff and flop on the bed.
I would clean it but I am too tired to get started.
Start with one box, my friends say.
I did that a few years ago.
It did not help much.
Mess creates depression
Depression inspires exhaustion
Exhaustion spells nap.
It ends with a crash.
Exhaustion.
It’s a wobbly feeling in my feet.
When I’m walking, on the sidewalk.
Three days ago, I slept.
But that notion is far away now.
I had so many opportunities to sleep.
With a blanket, and bed.
And comfort.
This feeling of my feet collapsing under me.
It feels cold, and spreading.
The crowd mutters.
The crowd wonders.
The crowd makes me a spectacle.
My heartbeat.
My blood pressure.
When did I last sleep?
I don’t.
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