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My words
In an ideal scenario, my words would be for everyone but some like thrillers, while others like suspense; Drama, where others prefer RonCon Similarly, my words won’t be picked by everyone And I’ve made peace with that My words are not for the conformist Not for the pretentious Not for the egocentric Not for the trends seeker Not for the devoted religious Not for the shallow hearted Not for happily-ever-afters My words are for stripped souls who are not afraid to let it all show The ones who find comfort in comforting others The nostalgic who understands time-travel My words are for the quiet observer For the stargazer and the…
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I forgot
In a bid to please everyone but myself I forgot my age, my purpose, my middle name am I here just to serve? am I to blame? I forgot what appeases me but very well know what provokes me I’d feed a mouth before my own a selflessness that’s costing me love freedom, peace, mental repose I forgot what I’m worthy of.
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High Five! (Repost)
Once upon a time, I wrote a few timeless lines. This poem from 2014 is called High Five, and it’s still true to my heart. So here it is again (with some light editing). Just keeping it alive. For finding the courage to let go of weaknesses however benign thoughts of cake? Cigarettes? Drugs? Maybe wine? High five! For getting your degree against all odds rubbed it in the face of whomever said you wouldn’t get jobs High five! For working out every day ’til seeing the results you wanted feeling confident in your own skin knowing every effort counted High five! For cutting out of your life the loser…
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Seen, heard, written all over
My eyes close on a good day and a verse writes itself, turn on the water in the shower and by the end I’ve written a page But tonight, under the dull stars nearing March, my mind as cluttered as the sky can only hear words get stuck as my eyelids touch my under-eye Mistrust is now normalcy and instead of asking why I wish they could see who made these eyes cry Cause it might be cluttered but my mind’s still running and written on its corners are their names all over.
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I’m praying and I don’t even pray
A prayer is interpreted as a “humble request” to a higher power. It is closely linked to organized religions, but those of us who believe in spirituality only may also invoke whatever power for help or guidance every now and then. So, I pray… that I walk through a rose bush on the way to my day-to-day that the sun shines bright, that the air is warm, and breathing it will be all right. I pray sometimes that the needle puncturing my skin, injecting the survival fluids in my veins, is pushed in by gentle hands and a reassuring voice telling me everything is okay. I pray that my gained…
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Quest for Hardening a Soft Spot
Peeled eyes, clumsy hands stubborn heart, late at night can’t think right, so I write Confusion and fear over a million years that seem not enough for a cluttered mind to clear I sought comfort, a sign in cheesy inspo lines just because they rhymed but answers I can’t find Mind gamers like to play when you’re at your worst when your highs are low when vulnerability shows Ignoring the ache I stay convinced I’ll be okay ’cause I’m hopeless and it’s senseless and I’ve wondered why hasn’t this soft spot hardened? How many times do the mind games need to be pardoned?
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Nobody Asks How You Are
Nobody asks how you are Because you checked in with your stories, you’re alive And your skin is glowing you must be fine and that last post of yours dope, fire, kiss, and hearts You smile a lot to be insane You’re in good shape Your limbs are moving Can’t be your strength Forget the validity of your struggles others have got it worse but thank your god you managed a week full week, now rejoice Work meetings Leisure travels People judging Razzle-dazzle But nobody asks you how you are when you barely managed a phone call before you choked When sleeping is a mystery to be solved When you…
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One Lie at a Time
My closed eyes won’t let me see what’s right in front of me, but will navigate deep into the what-used-to-be. My attempt to drop the baggage as I make my way out of this black hole that seems to have no fin or starting point, has failed me every time, bringing me back to that dreaded point, starting back at one. Progress seems so slow; a step forward ends up being two steps backward. Still, no finish line in sight on this, the longest stride. And forget my cluttered mind — can find no solutions there. The fog inside is thick and thoughts are all in knots, words lose their…
