Modernland has legalized murder, they roll these streets
Billyclubs in tow, those weak are taped and tortured
Throw'em a gun and a bullet grinning through glass
As those who suffer pull the trigger, bang
Darkness isn't evil, the real monsters are people
Art is rebellion, they want Armageddon, life isn't Christmas
They decide who gets presents, I'm number one
On the naughty list, then, some call it divine intervention
Others say entertainment, I say sacrilege to the manes
i tried to end it all last night
i failed, obviously
it's so crazy to me how life goes on
when it almost didn't
i talked to my friends today
laughed with them
smiled as if everything was normal
but i doubt they could tell anything was off
i even hung out with a friend
and i love to hang out with her but
i spent most of our time
just wishing maybe she'd notice
see how lifeless my eyes are
see how yet another part of me is gone
just like the last time
and the time before that
but she didn't notice
nobody ever notices
but that's okay, i know they have their own struggles too
i try to always be there for them
even when i'm not there for myself
it's easier that way
to fix people's problems instead of my own
i'd rather sit back and let my life crash and burn
than confront them
but i'd be lying if i said i didn't want someone to see
i won't tell them on my own
i'll tell them if they ask
they don't ask, no matter how many times i ask them
so instead i'll suffer in silence
mostly silent, besides writing these
until someone finally notices
or i can finally succeed
HUNGER’S AWARENESS BOAST
I have no boundaries,
And an unusual equanimity;
My equality is most extraordinary:-
The world over, there’s my shared pity;
Like death, I practice a weird democracy:-
Matters not to me, who and where you may be
I’m there in all cities, states, and every country:-
There will always be a luscious place for the old me;
I’ve survived in the best and the poorest family:-
I’m as old as time, and still here, ticking too:-
Y’all better get on to what you need to do;
I may soon be coming to visit with you:-
You may think this is all really funny,
But one day, you may cry with me:-
I have been to the depths of despair
With physical pain
Emotional sorrow
And something more elusive
A sense of standing at the edge
With nothing behind or beyond.
I don’t assume this is anything special
In fact I assume it is a given
For all of us
Who have lived at least
To a certain age.
What I have learned
Which may be of some solace
To those in these depths now
Or there someday soon
Is that we can endure more pain
Than we ever could imagine
And that when our life ends
As it eventually does
That pain is gone
As if it never existed.
(8/23/25)
Never imagined an emotional blow
Could crush a bubbly gorgeous girl's world,
For whom the universe was an enchanting lore,
With bird's songs and flowers in the vase!
The garden turned barren,
The swing stopped moving,
Koels stopped cooing,
Roses lost their hue.
Sky no more looked azure,
Raindrops did not whisper love,
All she faced was fear and harshness,
No compassionate faces around.
With hurt, suffering and cruel abuse
Inflicted on a tender mind,
Delicate petals of her heart
Didn't crumble, turned resolute inside.
A promise she made to her dear ones,
Never will she bow to an oppressor,
Strength and courage she imbibed
From the family who fondly raised her.
Like a Sphinx she rose from the ashes,
She remained unflinching in any misery.
As a grass blade survives,
Rough wind could not shake her prowess,
She is never a victim, because her soul is unparalleled .
I was looking at the world through my eyes,
curious to see its parallel side.
I had grief because I was seeing it through blood,
but as I heard my praises and insults,
glanced over the beautiful mountains
and growing poverty,
that became my biggest pride —
to witness the world like this.
But when my hand started to grow cold
from the pain and suffering,
I saw the blood was in my hand.
In the stillness of darkness
mockery, lies, gossips like air arise
dragging you down, for a penny sake
Abuse of power just for wealth.
Who would have thought of these silent moves?
Cheating on a poor innocent
While still in a dungeon of fire in a
gloomy weekly days and nights in lost paradise.
The so-called "smile" is a shadowed
for the world to see, but the cruelty it brings into reality.
A smile that wears a mask, sarcasm and insults that leave behind a scar.
'Till a dame's untouched heart broke
Lonely, weary and dreary.
No one cared, nor listened.
In the name of Penny.
Still, I wait for the beaming light above,
the everlasting hope in my heart
will never fade.
I won’t let evil take root in me—
only the Spirit,
somewhere, somehow,
guiding me
to make my deeds upright.
Amid the fire of twilight sun
I wish I knew my way
horizon’s char and moonlight’s shun
has ashed my hope I pray
for dark cloud constellation to free
a cosmic steed for me to flee gunshot streets
for primrose to steal my yellow jaundice
and burn the itch as its incense in roadside stars
for me to follow scent and sight
and find forsaken door
to open with my key contrite
a waif who’s lost no more
but gods of dirt and sky refuse
this pessimist with optimist dreams
side-of-road primrose mowed as needle holes
grow my nebulae-scars of blown-vein bruises
a morphine horse runs dirty track
while stars in alley air
just stare and offer not but black
expanse —my nowhere lair
Four times they opened the flesh and bone,
Four times I woke to a world of stone—
No river of morphine, no drift or dream,
Only the scream behind the scream.
White coats turned with empty hands,
No balm for fire that sears and brands.
I wept in shadows of hospital light,
Each hour a tunnel with no end in sight.
If coins had clinked inside my palm,
I'd trade the law for stolen calm—
A vial, a capsule, a pill that's laced,
To soften the vise of time and place.
But silence crushed the walls of my mind,
And reason fled what it could not find.
Three days I wandered in jagged flame,
A nameless ghost without a name.
Suicide bloomed like a blood-red rose,
A constant whisper the daylight knows.
This is no mercy, this is no care—
This oath they swore hangs in the air,
A mockery writ on parchment scroll
While I, in agony, begged for soul.
If kindness lives in the sky’s great dome,
Let it lift me gently, carry me home.
I ask not gold, I ask not fame,
Only to breathe without the flame.
To see the sky turn dusk to day,
And feel the stars not slip away.
O let the wind move through my chest,
Before I lie in endless rest.
Pain
Life can sometimes be happy. Really?
Oh, positive thinking and proactivity!
But this is an illusion only. Self-deception
Happiness is the shadow of suffering
This is the reality. Nothing else. That’s it
When truth is reversed into lies,
a silent cry takes its place.
And when this happens,
prayer becomes the only weapon
against the cruelty of the world.
A cry the world refuses to hear.
A pain that goes unnoticed.
A silent cry in a solitary room—
and yet, a flicker of hope,
a thought still blooming
beyond the ache.
Trust becomes a fragile thread—
easily frayed once you step away.
Laughter echoes in your absence,
not always in kindness.
Advice arrives,
dressed in concern,
but its weight presses you further down.
Encouragement stays silent,
while sympathy hides behind walls.
Words come sharp,
not to lift, but to slice.
They speak as if they know your path,
yet never ask where your feet have been.
The smile once shared
to lift others from despair—
gone in a breath,
vanished in the hush
of midnight blues.
In a moment, everything changed.
Now, with only the weight of sorrow to carry,
I hold on to the one thing that remains:
prayer—
the shield against the shadows,
the strength to block the evil
that prowls unseen.
A crown of thorns it had to be
He cried out in anguish from that tree
No one would listen, no one cared
Then John said brother please be still
Your Father in heaven for you awaits
You mean the world and more to Him
God said for You, My Son, I'll wait
Burn it, burn it to the ground
The crowd shouted at Jesus on the tree
How cruel can anyone possibly be
To make One suffer as He looked down at me
He eyes grew dim, He wouldn't last
In the night to heaven He went home
To be with His Father in all of His glory
God came to save Him, He's not alone
What truly is power
Is it control or the silence that follows it?
Is it born from bullets and broken promises
Or from the love we dismiss as weakness?
Can power ever be shared
like bread split between hungry Sudanese hands
as if leadership were a meal
the poor can taste in equal halves?
Or is power what poisons the soil
the reason Sudanese children sleep in graves
instead of schools
the reason Sudanese mothers run carrying loss?
Power has become a cruel currency
bought with lives and traded in blood.
But perhaps the truth is this
power without love is nothing but war.
If Satan had said sorry
My hunger wouldn’t haunt me daily
I’d breathe in peace
And sleep without the weight of worry.
But pride made him defiant
He traded my hope for his ego
Now I walk through life unknown
With doubt as my shadow.
If Satan had said sorry
Maybe God would still feel near
And grace wouldn’t hang from a cross
Paid in blood to drown my fear.
Now I carry the weight of a war
That I was never meant to fight
Owing a debt I didn’t incur
Chasing dawn through endless night.
Related Poems