Honestly, it's always going to hurt. There will be those moments where you close your eyes and silent tears slide down your face and you'll remember. You'll remember how it felt; to love them, to lose them. A song will come on and pierce something inside of you, something that aches. Of course it will always hurt. Of course we will always remember. It doesn't make things hopeless, it means that we've learned. We have loved and we have learned. And the next time we love, we will make mistakes; maybe even the same ones we've made before. But we will learn again and again until we can accept the love we receive. We can drop the fear of rejection by walking in freedom, believing that all is well... that it will always be okay, even if it hurts. Don't suck those tears back in; let them fall, and remember. But just for a moment, only to remember that you are free. You always were.

november

Sometimes,
I don't understand.

Sometimes,
I sit there thinking
with a squished grimace,
asking myself
Why?
Eyebrows raised upwards,
creating an arrow pointing to the sky...
Looking perhaps to the lightbulb
above my head
that forgets to light up.

Sometimes,
I'd rather break than bend.

And sometimes,
I try it. I try to break with almost all of my might;
to convince myself to crumble.
But there's a piece of
Something that holds me back,

so here I am...
waiting for Something to show up,

waiting for Sometimes to forget the way to my house.

sleeping at last

This world is so ginormous. It's overwhelming. When I put music on and jump on the wondrous site StumbleUpon, I almost go into panic attack mode... there's the sudden and short-lasting realization of how little I am in the world. The millions upon millions of sites on the internet is unromantically comparable to the stars in the sky; when does it end? It's hard to put into words, but it comes with such an empty, stale emotion. A single person seems so immeasurable and unimportant and purpose almost gets drown out in a sea of fear; I get scared. Because it's a scary thing, right? It's like the moment you finally wrap your mind around Inception and then in a snap, the understanding gets whipped out of reach. For that split second, knowledge and understanding grabbed ahold of us and we thought we understood! But, it took us away from the peace of wonder and brought us into a flurry of fear because we're alone in that knowledge. Lucky for us, there's no way to find complete understanding in the world. No matter how hard we try or what lengths we go to reach it, we can never find it. We might get glimpses or hitchhike a ride along a path we may think will bring us to understanding, but it's all a waste. We can't have understanding and peace; it's almost a contradiction in itself. It's the acceptance of beauty and wonder in this ginormous world that makes it worthwhile and a true feat; understanding that God's beauty placed on this world can't be drawn out on a map with a key for the symbols alongside it. The key will keep changing and we get to have a place in that blind journey. It doesn't get much more exciting than that!

The Bride (SLAM)

Grandfather doesn't wait
for his hands to catch up
with his fate
it's a shame
those hands keep twisting
and turning
and churning
with fears
and sneers
with tears
and years
wasting away with sheer -
obedience.

These dry bones cry
and wonder why
there's no amount of water
to quench the thirst of the "father"
each man so calls himself
with certainty,
and pride,
but what he doesn't know is he already died.
But not to himself, to the world
in a whirl
of empty emotions
and daily devotions
to the lukewarm bath
he never leaves.
These dry bones cry.

They weep in echoes
that all will hear
and jeer
with mere
ignorance -
like deer not even listening
to the shears
of the oracles
hunched over,
volunteers who are
light years
away.

It seems so cavalier
to listen to the auctioneer
sell his soul
to the ones he so
desperately knows
will soon take it straight
to the black marketeer.

So remember you insincere,
the ones who interfere
in only one ear,
far and near,
that this is the time
for the holy year.

This is the time
for the "father" to become the bride,
to attend the world premiere
of the only Father who ignores
each political sphere,
sabbatical spear,
that pierces the life
of the ones who don't hear
His river rushing,
His sons and daughters musting
for His love He so abundantly gives
for us to give away to those who are gushing
with blood and tears
and sweat and veneers,
with beers
and pap smears,
with swears
that wither and wear
and tear down the very walls
we work so hard to build up,

He is here.

War Zone (villanelle)

"Don't plant a garden without light"

She said. "For, we all know that

without it, there could be a fight

between the tulips and the daisies in flight.

And the technicolor bugs that accompany it

won't hold back their might

of dissonance and discord like white

paint splattering the black canvas in combat

with the cover of the night.

Soon the tulips will align with the hydrangeas with spite

for the daisies, who attack

alongside the sunflowers' height.

And together they tumble through clouds in plight,

screeching for they soldiers lost to the slab

of cement, wishing there was some red knight

that would save them and rewite

their allergies to bone fat.

She said, "Don't plant a garden without light,

without it, there will be a fight."

Redemption (sonnet)

Without the invention of spies
Bred by beady rats and uptight mice
We would not see the cries
Of the cocooned butterfly; enticing
And nesting quietly with beauty
Concealing itself, it's naked self -
From the moody
World outside that shelf
Of the proverbial sunset
And the stomping rain,
Of the inhabitants that let
Each day pass in vain.
For the cries of the hidden
Can now be forgiven.

Repelling Opposites

Come follow to the place where the nectar is bitter
Where the petals taste sweet
And the leaves crawl and might jitter.
Where the bees do not sting and the roosters don't crow;
The owls' gaze droops wide;
Life reaped, but not sowed.

If your eyes could talk, they'd say not a word
Til the last dying breeze
Weeps quietly with allure.
Trailing behind with secrets so gentle,
The glint of the light reflects blindness; like metal.

Trudging unsteadily, head hung to the floor,
The darkness will cease, I will find you once more
Where the moon rises high and the sun waivers low,
The only goodbye is a kiss of heavy glow.
The fish blink coyly, their lashes magnified,
Come find me here, let our colours be dyed.