(here is some of my poetry. this page will be updated, so check back if you want to read more)
on a night like tonight
i can not help but feel
as if my skin is absorbing the moon’s energy
a moon that shines brightly
with its memory of stargazers
spanned across thousands of years
the pavement beneath my feet is the only barrier
between me and the soil that has been tread upon
by every pervious generation
the artificial beats and synthesizers
pounding through my headphones
redefine the tribal beats played by my nomadic ancestors
those primitive people who never ceased exploring
the world around them
but never homeless
i invite the cold air into my lungs as an old friend
for it has taught us endurance resilience
and how to adore the sensation of warmth
it also carries the aroma of wood burning and
a reminder of the simplistic discoveries
that shed light upon an evolving species
the past stimulates the senses
on a night like tonight
we spend our time
habitually buttering our scones
occasionally licking stray jam
off our fingers
one by one.
we sip our coffee cautiously
lest we be mistaken for heathens.
we are so very careful
not to toe out of line,
but it seems we forget:
although the jam on our hands
is no longer visible,
our fingers are still sticky.
summer: warm late nights;
our secret spot separated us
from a sleeping world.
your arms wrapped around my waist,
my clasped hands resting behind your neck,
and our eyes heard the songs
of so many fireflies
singing with light.
autumn: a blurred rush
of falling leaves
that hit the ground
before we could catch them.
the cacophony of colors
too bright too handle
winter: i used to love
the crisp air,
the playful nips of frost,
but the miles forced between you and I
remind me that the barren landscape blanketed in
snow is silent
and fireflies die in the cold.
i strive to revisit old memories
only visible through fragmented reflections
in dusty mirrors
that have been repeatedly broken and glued
haphazardly back together
my incomplete recollections
and my overactive imagination
meld to form pedestals for delirious dreams
that become brittle and shatter in the cold
and as i sit here
staring into a wall of broken mirrors
the pieces begin to plummet once again
and gray shards explode like fireworks on the ground
i would rush to to put them back together
like i have done so frequently in the past
but the crimson stained bandages covering my hands
are bold reminders that it isn’t worth the pain
Race the night
Touch the lives of others
Learn to love
Do whatever it takes
and when fate seems to turn on you
there will always be
Me and You
Cut My Strings
I am a marionette
I move as my master says to move
I do what my master tells me to do
I speak the way my master wants me to speak.
When out in public, I am put on display
“Look at her beauty!
Examine how intricately she is carved!
Watch how she moves!”
My master cries to the passing people on the street
Rushing to their next distention.
They can move as they please,
So why can’t I?
Many people pass by, but few stop
To stare at my wonders
They don’t have any strings attached,
They move as freely as they want,
So why can’t I?
When the day is done,
And the street lamps are lit,
As the suns last rays peak behind the ocean skyline,
I am taken to a play house of grand proportion.
Where people pay to see me perform.
I sometimes ask myself
“How can so many people enjoy,
Watching a wooden doll.
Do they enjoy seeing someone in their chains?”
After the last appaulse,
I am taken off stage,
and gently placed into a case.
My strings placed carefully on top of me,
So they do not tangle.
Not that my master cares about my comfort,
Only about whether I’m damaged.
The door is slammed shut.
Cutting off all
I am shut off from the world,
and out of sight
Forgotten through the rest of the night.
Hours pass, before my prison is open again
Bringing the soft pale grey hue of dawn to my face.
And with that light comes the false hope
That someone will finally
Cut my strings…