January 20, 2019
i feel you searching
lost in the darkness, blindfolded by your own wit
arms stretched out like a scared child, touching around the lightless room for comfort, for control
Thud. Bump. Wooosh.
your pesky little arms sweep the darkness, latching on to whatever you can’t see
Hiss. Squeeze.
your grip tightens, rejuvenated by my serenity.
you plunge us into the past
before we skyrocket into the future
fear, love, joy slipping into insecurity
judgment, anger, doubt flowing into equanimity
we go for a ride, it’s sometimes fun, i’ll admit
but it’s time to let me go
and the wind cut the chord
- simply a thought
January 27, 2019
an empty. vacancy.
a
minuscule
speck
sucked into a
cosmic
celestial
vacuum
arms spread out, motionless
openness
incoordination
hair dispersed, drifting
intermixing
one with the cosmic dust
as oceans fade
and mountains quake
she’s ready to release, but instead
numbs emotions in place
~
poking
holes
in
the
darkness
you
for
me
me
for
you
February 11, 2019
she's on time to erupt.
Wide pleading eyes,
tears swim muddy, filling
bags
sag
heavy,
holding on to opaque memories.
heart
sulks
steadily,
as the taste of salt saturates her face.
unexplored words ring in her ears,
obtrusively.
hidden confusions stammer in her temples,
compulsively.
tempered injustice layers into the crevices of her throat,
corrosively.
suppressing all she did not say
suppressing all she threw away
her throat becomes a storage container.
Bubbles
boil
to
rise.
​
Pressure
pounds
till it
POPS!
​
Tremors
ricochet
with all she wishes to say.
​
​
Inspired By: Marjanfrom The Book of Kings series by Shirin Neshat 2012
February 17, 2019
Plant Series
in search of the right soil
wanted
but, un-wanting
lonely
reciprocity of boredom
unconscious assimilation
stuck.in.place.
‘I want in this cage’ – the ego
surface level actions
unsatisfied present
blamed. blaming. blame.
‘no’ to experiences
stifle the heart limiting
unwelcoming
closing…trapping
Absorption of self-projection
trapped in cyclical misconception.
internalizing
the external.
attaching
sense of
detachment
getting better at the same external games
she’s always played
what holds
her down
will wake
her up…
Stemming Up
but first
she needs
to
let in the water.
Trapped in isolation
absorption of its intoxication.
Lost in contradictory rumble
Compressed by the uncomfortable.
She veers forward
only to waver in retreat
listening to the chitter chatter
of constant thoughtless pattern.
…
Then a spark of wonder
as she
questions
the uncomfortable.
Water trickles into her mouth
Drip.
Drop.
She
Stems
Up
​
February 24, 2019
0
I hate this feeling of
Stagnant
Static
Sticky
Stuck.
Every time I go to write a poem, I sit and I wait
As the thoughts seem to conglomerate
Into a clump
Of
Emptiness drifts into doubt drifts into sitting here looking around
Wondering when SOMETHING will hit me.
So here we sit, again, waiting it out.
March 3, 2019
let in
lettin-go
as you
re-
lapse
running laps
inside your pen
​
rusted in lack of trust,
trusting in only rust
​
you will stay
penned
unless heart untethers
open
​
on/in
planarity’s
plane graph
plain to the eye
until
you real lies
everything we know are lies.
​
so, note to
notice
that which
passes unnoticed
​
all together
​
a
drift of eternal guidance,
a
part of this collective game
​
you are wise to
otherwise
real-
ize
​
you are cradled
by the plan (e) – t
​
de-
fence
your defense
​
​
release
your
re-
lease
​
let in
lettin-go.
April 2019
Cocoon of Identity
Dearest you,
you’re not good enough. And you never will be.
please, try a little harder, reach a little higher
you are never going to get where you want to be
unless you
think like me. act like me. smell like me.
but never to worry.
you’ll hear the pitter patter of my infinite chatter
sift into your ears tonight.
let it tend to you softly with all the things
you could’ve done, should’ve done, wish you hadn’t done.
as your eyes flutter to a close
you’ll feel a cold press on your forehead,
your cheeks,
your chin.
my hands will knead into you further
securing our mask from within.
gently allow my wisdom to manipulate your own
because when you awake
you’ll feel so much better
and believe me as your own.
yours Truly,
your Ego.
April 23, 2019
dainty~LION
I shall let you in on a little secret, something my dad’s dad told my dad who told me.
Pay close attention as you may begin to realize beliefs are not always as they seem:
A little seedling
was born and everything turned green.
It sprouted up in abundance with all awaiting to see.
Grown on a hollow stalk
supported close to the ground,
its baby yellow leaves flourished
and all seemed perfectly sound.
Rising from the soil
it befriended the tall white flower,
the plump purple one,
and even the elegant red one.
Together they felt
the wisp of the wind
ruffle their petals,
the beat of the sun
tickle their bellies.
The little seedling’s eyes opened to
the peace of all who surrounded as one.
...
Then one day,
the men casted their shade
as they began to water the garden.
The tall white flower reached towards the sky
the plump purple one expanded like the wings of a butterfly
even the elegant red one deepened in color,
the little seedling waited in wonder.
The next time the men casted their shade,
the little seedling
wiggled its stem a little taller
ruffled its baby yellow leaves a little wider
desiring to feel the trickles of the water.
But to no avail
as day by day, the men casted their shade
giving water to the select few.
​
So the little seedling began to doubt
the color of its petals
and the strength of its stem.
Then one day
as the men casted their shade,
they reached down pulling the little seedling’s yellow friends from the ground.
Withering with terror, the little seedling
called up to the tall white flower for protection,
the plump purple one for guidance
and even the elegant red one.
The only answer
was the wisp of the wind,
the beat of the sun,
the only flowers being pulled were the slight yellow ones.
In protection, the little seedling cowered its leaves all the way in
wilting closer to mother earth
no longer bearing to be seen.
As the men reached to pick our dear friend from the ground,
the little seedling’s eyes closed to
the peace of all who surrounded as one.