Unmindful time sneaks past
the stage of perfect life.
Quick as dreams take their place
nostalgia clings tight.
Embrace fun,
run the course,
laugh a ton.
None fathom
when it's done.
I am intrigued by the letters dancing on the white sheets, forgotten on the desk,
Chapters that lead nowhere, a monotonous and tiring journey.
But what captivates my soul are the pebbles on the riverbank,
I wish to ask them where their journey through time began.
Were they pushed by rebellious waves or did they stop for rest?
Silent, they carry the secrets of the waters that caressed them through time.
I am also intrigued by the fallen leaves, guides of the changing wind,
Was their separation painful, or did they say goodbye gently?
Clouds like cotton candy float on the sky as blue as an ocean,
Will they pass by my house or bless me with their rain?
These questions weave my thoughts into a labyrinth of melancholy,
For in the simple mysteries of nature, I find magic and solace.
Life is often fleeting. You hold it in your hand.
It slips right through your fingers just like so much sand.
And the harder that you grasp it the quicker that it goes
And what it all amounts to no one really knows.
I once saw a picture of a child in the sun.
Laughter there upon the lips, eyes so filled with fun.
I once saw a picture of a mother’s painful tears.
Live your life in moments, don’t worry about the years.
I once heard a story. A lesson to be learned.
Someone set a fire and everything was burned.
And there, beneath the ashes was a diamond wrapped in gold.
Though everything must perish, love will not grow old.
I remember when I knew you as a friend.
And now it all is gone but not forgotten.
Time to pack away all my toys
They no longer bring me joy
I'm no longer a joyful boy
I'm just a miserable man
Trying to live
To see better days
But I still wish
I was a kid again
Didn't keep a single friend
From my so called childhood
I did keep one thing
I kept my childhood misery
Grew up too fast
Wishing I could go back
To open up my toy chest
Full of joy and fun
Now that toy chest
Is full of fear and lies
I've told myself
Over the years
That the fighting will stop
The ocean of tears will
Dry up in a lifelong drought
As for the pain it will
Turn into success
It will be taken advantage of
In the best way possible
Then maybe I will
Live a better life by
Sharing my story of
My nonexistent childhood
Full of pain and fear
I feel or does it truly exist to be
Just to breath, a desert journey in plains
Dead as the weed growth earth's thirst
Wanting to flourish under burning sun
Perseverance to survival, concept has change
I've found myself alone not knowing life
Not of life my steps be but spiritually lead
Forgotten love, buried among the ruins
Try to remember its touch, presence I feel
In my depths kindness, be it my heart
Or soul scream for scent of pleasures identity
Days been long in darkness without sunlight gleam
Distance glimpse a far my eyes chase a mist
Mythic breath to what it be that which breathe
What is it that loves, me or emotion of organ
Soft whispers I hear as if the wind talk
Cries I love from a tear's run down
Filled pain, joy, sometimes just lingering there
Dimming the lights as if nobody's home
Who am I if not love itself I perfect
But that I love another as he has love us
Is not beauty of life obscure from the mind
Or forgotten love we lost somewhere along the way
What is it that makes me love, that makes me tick
But that you love me, accepting what I am
So many names on the page today, so many more gone— vanished into silence.
Does the world still care? I know they do.
I hope they do.
Children stolen, ripped from the arms that once held lullabies.
Teens slipping through dusk, running from homes that never saw them, or saw too much.
The ones who cared are left holding echoes. The ones who didn’t never noticed the absence.
But somewhere, a mother plants lavender beneath a window left ajar— its scent lifting like a prayer for the ones not yet home.
Somewhere, a name is spoken aloud, not forgotten. A candle burns in protest, its flame refusing silence.
We gather the fragments, press them into poems, into pages that refuse to turn away.
I learned what I fear today:
Intimacy. I can’t seem to face
my raw emotions bluntly; in fact
I despise them for being unpoetic
Why be vulgar and direct
when I can hide behind my
metaphors, my harbor; my fantasies, my
buffer—between reality and
my brain cells too proud to be seen
scattered, sprinkled all over—
well, nothing
Even this moment I struggle to simply
write: I’m messy. I’m hurt.
I’m lone and gloomy and primitive and violent.
I can’t speak of my love and hatred in
raw honesty, no—I must be filtered
so when I scramble myself undone on paper
I no longer belong to
me. I’ll be
safe, from me; an
outsider, from me.
Critics say a raw poem
whispers secrets like readers are old friends
But I have long forgotten,
how a girl usually lets her voice confess
here, between myself and myself,
God dwells when
He flees the world.
I found Him once
in a forgotten loaf of bread
on the steps of a hospice,
in an old woman asking forgiveness
for simply living.
He did not ask who I am.
He touched my brow
and retreated back into the wound.
we do not think.
we defend ourselves from thoughts
as from a fire burning within.
I speak English—
not because it is mine,
but because it was burned
into the soft clay of my childhood.
They called it brilliance
when I spoke the master's tongue,
and shame
when I whispered my grandmother’s lullaby.
But language is not just words—
it is blood,
it is soul,
it is memory coded in sound.
Africa,
how can you rise
when you dream in the syllables of strangers?
When your science wears foreign robes,
and your spirit speaks a muted voice?
You cannot build a future
on borrowed breath.
You must write your destiny
in the language that calls your ancestors by name.
Swahili sings in your bones.
Your tongues are ancient rivers—
deep, alive, and holy.
No empire stood tall
on another’s voice.
Teach your children to speak to the stars
in their own vowels.
Let them pray in the rhythm of drums,
count in the cadence of their tribes,
lead with words rooted in earth.
Africa—
your brilliance was never broken.
Only misnamed.
Return.
Speak.
Rise.
Laughter hides in the strangest of places.
I laughed when she spoke, the sun's rays kissing her
Beautiful smiling, the lilt in her eyes
Betrayed promises of many tomorrows.
It's no secret that our life's been hard-- NO--
A betrayal of modest happiness.
And yet, I found joy. Laughter whilst walking,
Joyful moments of tender lovesickness.
I forgot sorrow, and laughed at clowns,
Awed at acrobats, and, entranced I watched
Fish and sharks, colors shimmering behind
Glass walled cages, swimming. It was a day spent
More of emotion than of my wallet.
My wife squeezed my hand, reminding me, “Love.”
I forgot sorrow, anxiety, and…
What was I saying?
In a forgotten corner of the world, where silences stretch like a carpet of mist,
My thoughts wander among the ruins of lives scattered by the wind,
Reminding me that wisdom and madness dance hand in hand,
Like two shadows merging under the pale light of an eternal sunset.
In the silence of an endless night, I contemplate the broken destinies,
A silent song of those who fell prey to their inner storms,
For only when ruin touches our own being do we truly understand,
For only then do we see clearly that the lost ones are our unknown brothers.
In the shadow of an existence unraveling like an old canvas,
I realize that the drunkards, the mad, the prisoners, and the dreamers are part of us,
People who wear invisible scars like medals of destiny,
They are as commonplace as a rainbow arching after a storm.
Memories intertwine like threads of silk in the wind of time,
And I understand that every ruined life is a story worth hearing,
For in their fragility, we find the reflection of our own searches,
And in the fragility of a shattered dream, we find the strength to be reborn.
Alone I rot, yet no one cares to see,
The darkness deep within me.
I reach for loving hands,
Yet all I get is emptiness in these dark lands.
My voice is lost like whispers on the sea.
The wind may howl,
But no one will think of me.
I am a forgotten soul,
Never to feel whole.
They dance in warmth, while night encircles me,
never letting me feel glee.
Never help, never care,
leaving me in despair.
And when I cry,
I feel as if I wish to die.
I search for happiness,
yet I still feel nastiness.
All I ask for is one chance,
yet all I get is a glance.
Some have their joy untouched
By sorrow’s cruel design.
But I never feel divine.
Alone I rot, yet no one cares to see,
the darkness deep within me.
Hopelessness
When your body and mind are disconnected
When your falling in a sea of darkness and accept it
When the silence is loud you can hear your heartbeat
It's the feeling of a deep pit
In your stomach
All the contents of your stomach being Consumed by it
Replaced by the feeling of sickness
Leaving a taste of lingering bitterness
Creating an atmosphere in which you question what is the point of living When life feels so meaningless
Clouding your thoughts and taking your happiness
Leaving you with nothing but emptiness
A lingering ache in your chest
Rendering your heart stressed
Pumping the tainted blood around your body, travelling to the mind leaving you depressed
Having to deal with the lifelong effects
remember when the playground slept
in dreams that seldom smiled
the merry-goes and seesaws wept~
few truths were reconciled
yet still, the empty swings
bade lonely hearts to sit
all wet from early morning dew
and tears from wasted wishes
there was no one to push the swing
and laugh at tethered flight~
we stretched our legs, a song to sing
to snapping wind and kites
what raucous silence joined the din
and danced its dizzy spell
as twilight curtains drew their shade
upon the waning stage
I begged my slumber to be still
imagination tossed~
but dreams will tarry on until
their memory is lost
I limp into the empty driveway.
Four days, two rainstorms, one infected leg.
The coyote's nip itches.
Dry spot where the red car parks.
You forgot me in that park.
My coat matted with thistle thorns.
I hope you don't return just yet.
That you're out searching for your friend.
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