Sun drenched clouds beam oe’r,
twin flames whose euphoric hug,
a red rose embrace!
If I were a zombie
I would definitely eat your brain
Not because I wish you pain
But because I’m consumed by jealousy
I want to be just like you
Act just like you
Think just like you
Have your brillant brain in me
Be able to understand what you see
If I were a zombie
I would eat your brain
Is this a part of my insanity ?
I don’t want to be plain
I don’t want to die in vain
Please, let me have your identity
Truth
is invisible
Its effects
are not
To know it
to live it
Like the wife
of Lot
It hides
in plain sight
In judgment
per se
The air
that’s inside us
Life’s breath
— of our stay
(Dreamsleep: August, 2026)
It’s plain, pure and simple, in July
We should all get hot, heavy and high.
Down dirty and tanned,
Get laid in the sand -
As summer and cloud nine sashay by.
A mournful moon ascended,
Haggard,
Bland,
Weak.
Silence unfurled upon the grassy plain.
Gloomy shadows:
I felt so depressed
And lonely.
All around a sense of nostalgia,
Of reluctance
That made me wince in pain.
I sat beneath an old, gnarled oak tree.
The air was mute
But not peaceful!
Still, sparse stars swung in perfect symphony.
Dreams descended on restless somnambulists.
The waning moon continued
Its steady downward course.
The dark green plain stretched afar.
Where were their ghostly shadows?
Spectral and weird darkness seem to dissolve.
The moon was now at its resting place.
Soon, the sun would clear my befogged mind.
You can find me
Hidden in plain sight
Through the ebbs and flows of life
Through the cracks and veins
Of the Acropolis’ stones
You can run into me
In the most shadowy corners
Of suburban alleys
Skating fluidly on metal bars
Impervious to any scratches and scars
You can spot me
At the first bolt of sunrise
Skimming over the water
Until the twilight fall
You can come across me
During your rest at that cozy inn
At the end of the downhill road
Or
During your usual antics in that rowdy tavern
Lit by endless stained-glass lamps
Whilst drinking from a bulky glass of beer
Enjoying the company of your peers
Who am I?
Perhaps
The reflection of the light
The darkest shadow of the night
Wandering freely before your eyes
It is me, right?
The one you claim
To be hard to find
To identify
To pinpoint in space and time
Well
I am all over the world
I am the elephant in the room
Boldy and gracefully stepping outside
At all hours of the day and night
For I
Am the essence of life
Always hidden in plain sight
Joyful ice blankets coat Soldier's Monument
Air full of condensation, hands warm with hot chocolate
Many families gather to the stands, breath cool like peppermints
Amazingly, I feel content in a cramped apartment I call home
In case I change my mind, the balcony door is left ajar
Calling my lover briefly, I let him know my urges
Answering to heart's demanding beats of passion
Pet my cat goodbye, then run like I'm playing at Fenway
Lunar energy gleams, caressing my shadow
Arduous quests became feathery to my muscles
In the nestled Boston burrow that I was born
Never will I leave somewhere else to die.
Democracy is a portmanteau word
People in power, it’s well understood
The power is huge, and the people are not
They give power to a few who sound good
And those representatives are ruling class
They don’t smell like “demos” at all
But they like to be chosen by them, or by us
As democracy fable is told
But there is a sweet paradox I discovered
The assortment of those who campaign
Can’t recognize that it’s people in power
Because ruling’s an elitist game
Plain people aren’t very ‘elite’, to be frank
It’s believed they are not that refined
So what it boils down to is the front rank
Of the very top people aligned
But do you believe it? I doubt if you can
Considering what’s on the list
And what is prepared for us by those men
Looks not too enticing, at least.
The pretty ones are sky dwellers.
Often arrogant- highly inaccessible unless you have deep pockets.
The plain ones are earthbound and stable -somewhat compliant.
The homely are of the subterranean world.
them is aloof and complicated, largely ignored.
God says angels come in many forms.
Too Real
Too Done
To Feel Again
Where Words
Won’t Fall Vacant
Like Rain.
-Gray Squirrel
09-22-2025
I am not quiet,
Not easily forgotten,
Yet somehow
Still unseen.
I feel it,
In the bones of my being,
This weight of being
Unappealing.
Not the kind
You’d walk toward.
Not the kind
That draws eyes or hearts.
It’s not like me
To say, “I hate myself,”
But sometimes,
That silence speaks louder.
Strangers
Faces I’ve never met,
Mouths that never called my name,
Eyes that never really saw me
Still, they judge.
They know me better than I do,
They say.
They define my shape,
My walk,
My worth.
And so, I wear it.
Their truth becomes mine.
And you
You’re beautiful,
Unique,
Undeniable.
You can see me.
I cannot.
And though it’s not like me
To admit this ache,
This shadow inside,
It is still me.
Still here.
Still hurting.
Now you must have God’s insurance
So no more illnesses and pain
You are my everyday occurrence
You live in the Elysian plain
I dream you standing by the door
Although I’m blinded by the sun
The sunny zigzags on the floor
Form the same patterns outrun
That special day may come if only
We stop to think about it
Too often, as it goes with lonely
But we don’t walk the lonely street
You’ll see me coming through the glow
We didn’t have much time to waste
Some other time we spent before
In all our evenings, yesterdays
Despite that we have left the planet
Our efforts have not died in vain
We did our best, as if we planned it
See you, my love, we’ll meet again.
Petunia is the plain little sister
who gets overlooked and passed over.
She’s not the pretty one,
always quiet and reserved,
not classy, fancy or graceful.
She takes backstage at every turn.
No games, no false pretenses.
She’s frumpy, floppy and flimsy.
Her scent is unrefined,
not confused with real perfumes.
She’s somewhat of an ugly duckling
but when the going gets tough,
we can’t help but admire
her tenacity when facing adversity.
Slow and steady wins the race.
She’s low maintenance, demure and bashful.
So reliable is her performance,
she’s been known to outshine competition.
Unpretentious and free from vanity
Yet, fact not known… surprise ~
petunia blooms are edible !
AP: 2nd place 2025, Honorable Mention 2025
“Why are you friends with someone like her when you could be friends with popular people?”
Someone like her.
Someone who doesn’t stand out
Not with looks
Not with personality
Plain girl doesn’t talk to boys
She doesn’t wear makeup or buy the right clothes
She spends her free time doing homework or writing poetry
If she's beautiful, it’s the kind nobody sees
At least, they don’t see past her flaws
the way she collapses into herself while in public,
Crossing her arms and hunching her shoulders to be as invisible as possible
They won’t look past the anxiety that extinguishes any confidence
Because plain girl isn’t worth the effort
She’s just there.
the first object we see is space
holding us close in warm embrace
a truth we fail to recognise
since mind would weigh, measure and size
thus self-blocking influx of grace
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