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COLLECTIONS
Alejandro Diego Guzman-Flores
“Pharos”
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AUTHOR’S NOTE
These are a collection of what I determined to be
worthy enough poems to slam together into a book
format. I’ve always wanted to have a medium
through where my writings could live – so far that
has been through my website (shameless plug
diegosomething.wordpress.com).
I’ve often worried however that something might
crash there, so in order to be safe I wanted to place
what I considered the best or most meaningful
poems I’ve written into this book.
Please enjoy what you may call the director’s cut of
my poetry.
-Pharos
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COPYRIGHT
Collections
Text by Alejandro Flores copyright © 2018
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,
distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in
a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission
of the publisher.
Contact: [email protected]
Visit my website diegosomething.wordpress.com
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THE PERFECT FIRST LINER
Whose forest this is I think I – No, no, not right. Ah, what about?
Much have I traversed in the land of–
Cold, I’m just cold. Far from what I want.
How do I like thee? Let me count the- Way. There’s gotta be a better way.
The bird and the cat went out to–
See! That doesn’t even make sense!
One day I will, find it near – using my wit! The perfect line, The perfect fit.
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PAINT A POET
If only… the ability to retain every subtle stroke of every secret bush,
friendly boulder, and comfy pastel cloud was endowed and instilled
in my prepubescent, eager-for-Arthur, can’t-wait-for-this-afroed-
painter-show-to-be-done, it’s-a-wonderful-kind-of-day, 10 year old
mind.
Then…oh, if then… I would capture multitudes, and singularities of
every individual wave conceived; even ones that do not brush the
shore.
I would let live forever the bossy seagulls, etch-a-sketch swiped
footprints, and serene foam-filled ocean.
Let my creations, my imitations of true art, command my budget:
dictate a grocery list composed of a gallon of milk, eggs, cheese,
varieties of paint, and room for a nifty brush.
Not to err myself as a great writer, but. I wonder if there is a painter
who can no longer quench their thirst for expression with routine
strokes. I wonder if they are sitting, staring, and waiting, wishing for
my ability.
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IT’S BEEN SOME TIME
It’s been some time since I would
Feed my mind, with the sublime
Chit-chat banter of a max line or bus ride.
Chiseling and sorting
The Mephistopheles, the sordid
The Job promisees, the rewarded
From the jumbled noise of voices coated
With whispers, while among others being transported.
Sometimes I think some time would be well spent
With a few more chimes from muses past.
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BARRIERS
The short yellow school bus pulled up to the bus stop. Not its bus stop, but my bus stop.
Through the window I could see a little boy. He smiled and waved at me, and I waved back;
Curious as to why he waved at me and not the older woman next to me ,who could’ve been his mom.
He pointed at me, getting my attention, and I looked behind me following his finger’s gaze.
I looked back and he was still pointing ecstatically –
That’s when I noticed he had hearing aides, The fancy kind that my friend has,
The ones attached to a metal plate embedded in your head. The one you have to undergo surgery to get. The one with the long, complicated process.
He lifted the magnet attaching his ear piece to his head and placed it back, then pointed to his ears.
And then back to me. I realized now he was pointing to my ears.
He must’ve thought that the weird headphones I was wearing were hearing aides.
He tapped on the window, and proceeded to make gestures with his hands.
I could only pass of a shrug of “I Don’t Know Sign Language” Along with a courteous smile,
And pull out my earphones to show that it was for a music player. He still persisted and pointed and tapped on the window,
Followed by some more sign language. Maybe I misunderstood what he was pointing at again.
I looked down out of shame that I did not know sign language and could not communicate with him through the glass barrier.
The glass only restricted me, I couldn’t hear him. He could talk the eyes off of someone with his hands.
And I wouldn’t understand a word. When I looked up ready to face my shame again,
He was gone. But my shame grew stronger.
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WONDER WOMAN
Standing an astounding 6 foot 2”; The most perfectly constructed woman in all of history.
Her posture superb, her words sublime.
Her form suffers no imperfections, Godly proportions,
And a non-upsetting, wonderful complexion. Cherry blushed cheeks; bronze blazed skin; Delicate hands; luscious, curly, smoky hair;
Smooth petite feet, Heaven-forged pink lips; And a warm-kindred spirit towards all, within.
Eyes that pierce and are precarious, Yet, at the same time invite romance with an enthralling glare.
Joyous ears shrouded by lock after lock. A cute button nose – that no one could disagree.
Trimmed stray hairs – an organized army of the self. The most perfectly constructed woman in all of history.
She battles the demons of housewife standards.
She ignores the cries of howling hooligans. She steps over the crevices of isolated feminists.
She demolishes the ignorant walls of bigotry.
She landscapes Man’s world to a Utopia of serenity. She crafts beams of a mother’s stability.
She whittles arches of fertility. She shaves redwoods to a woman’s touch.
She utilizes nature to sustain the world. She withstands the tides of regression.
She resists the temptations of a swift end-to-it-all. She cannot be restrained.
She is a man eater if they don’t greet her. The most perfectly constructed woman in all of history.
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Wha..why-how?! No!!!
The most perfectly constructed woman in all of history! Her mouth ripped off – the hole sewn shut. Her eyes bloodied black and swollen tight.
Her nose broken and forcefully shifted to a hard right. Her crafty hands mangled to solid stubs.
Her malformed bare feet are accommodated by ankles shattered
and shackled. Her skin blackened to soot.
Her spirit trapped in her paralyzed vessel,
Protruding from busted kneecap to bludgeoned breasts. She lays there bald and emotionless.
Naked, unshielded from the elements. Naked, unshielded from violent attacks.
Naked, unshielded for the world to bear witness. What has happened to the most perfectly constructed woman in all
of history? How could this happen to such a versatile beauty?
As blood trickles down from between her legs-
The most perfectly constructed woman in all of history- Becomes history.
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US
Walking out the door cold cheeks and flowing flags
Let me know it's Windy.
When the red shows
On my palms and fingertips
I know it's worse in the city.
Forgotten fools and lost souls-
I'll give you a hint one is cold and the other twice much so.
Peering precariously over painted white lines, I examine the rails
that sometimes cure blues.
Contemplating on the cure I assure myself what would be a quick
blur would stir headlines for just a day, and a family might lose its
way.
That's all it would be.
Static builds in the air as it draws near. No inkling in my body says
go but my mind is still screaming no no oh no don't go.
The whispers send chills down my spine either locking it in place or
pulling it back.
One thing is certain just in due time,
when there is silence
I'll either stand still or lunge forward from the slack.
That's all there is.
Then the air speaks to my knees and back
A soft push forward it says relax
But no! I react and fall flat.
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THE LAZARUS EFFECT
Not like the Republic of Roman fame,
With Devilish hands assenting from man to man.
Hear out or anguished screams, what we demand.
A fallen man, and a forgotten aim
Is imprisoned in ink tattered remains.
Mother of bad habits plague honest plans,
Glows are diminished from the bright-eyed bands,
Their twin ideals, hope and change, the rich claim.
"Keep, ancient practices, quiet "cries he
With trembling lips. "Give me what you adore,
Your rights, your trust, you can't just breathe for free.
The interests of mine, is what I'm good for.
Send these, the hope full, to die overseas.
I crave Gabriel's horn, and at home grant war!"
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MEGALOSTOREMARTOPOLIS IMAGE IS TOPPLED WITH
The skittle consuming kid riddled with
A soothing life a little less than middle class. Fascinated with an obligated schedule
Ahead of, which, he knew not. Illegible inside his eyes
Surprise, surprise, he finds
Sure fire prizes, eligible to own
But confined, not alone, behind A full blown mimicked ice, glass with a crystal shine.
Solely accessible from a vice, that of which is equivalent to time. All this be for the better if not shown, at least until he is a little
grown. The necessary evil that a nine year old has not yet known
The touch of three quarters, two dimes, a nickel, One dollar – unbeknown, this child has not asked for a parent loan.
This trip, expedition, the parent’s mission
Is expected yet not reflected into suspicion. Cabinet, fridge, hidden garage rations
Dwindled, abridged from the first of the month’s edition.
Caught unawares on the spot, but also prepared. A happy upbeat trot, charged up feet, in the car
Approaching the lot.
Jittery kid, with visions of glittery tiles amid aisles Of winter solstice breezes, permeating from pieces
Of air conditioning that goes on for miles. Stock piles, practically recess with games bringing smiles,
Hideouts in different clothes styles, compiled while Momma sneezes.
If she knew, oh believe Jesus, a thought or several for them to chew. The wait in line, sublime, when compared to an arm locked in a
chair, Unremembered fear, wrestling with sister without a care
Of the crime it appeared to Momma – oh dear.
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The trials of the behind, would find apologetic pleas facing repeated denial.
Skittles evolve into cooling mint followed by a now grown gent. Clothes are clothes, the chair is both fear and revered signals of
health and what to stay clear from. Lines grow, into time.
No longer filled with shelf browsing, signs of what will be billed
applied into frowning. The mystery and escape are blatant examples of a young fate
rambled with misery of adult shambles.
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Stranger so Familiar
So you see some stranger strolling the down the street,
A pitter patter of feet after feet
And suddenly you sense something so neat
It slaps you in the face, with a sting like mace, and a slight disgrace
That you might misplace a name, a fright takes place, for shame of
un-remembrance.
The pressure of a waterfall released, and appeased, a piece of you
left enthralled,
As you lock eyes, like some jock guys, with someone you did not
know what to call
A stranger all-in-all.
But you could’ve swore, you’ve seen them before, somewhere some
more feelings implore
Sweat from pores, extra knocks from your core, and your tummy
grumbles for what’s in store.
Nervousness incorporates as you navigate down Memory Lane from
door to door,
Not one woman or man settle the score, until you remember the last
steps to explore.
You arrive and see the person to be, this stranger is not them – your
mind disagrees.
You scout back, with a glance for your last chance, with an antsy
stance for fast pass of your eyes to prance, and dance around the
thought that science has advanced so much as to be able to clone a
person from your past.
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EUPHORIA FROM URINE
Dawn’s serenity, like ocean waves, splash against the drapes. Shifting its color –
orange to white. orange to white. orange to white.
My bladder – Captain Bladder – commands me to attend to the
Great White. Detracting from orders a bit, I take a few seconds to assert my
dominance to the house.
A roar escapes my mouth, a commanding yawn similar in presence to a Tyrannosaurus,
and I relish the state of drifting between sleep and reality.
Leaning on the port side of the hallway, I shift course to the starboard.
Relying on the wall’s sturdiness like it was mother’s sustenance and I was still unable to crawl.
I slump to the Great White.
I steady the harpoon, aim, and don’t hold back. I fire with a rhythm my vessel’s accustomed to –
rarely straying off course.
Each relieving second pleasing the Captain as he sees the Great
White being filled with the ammo. Each relieving second pleasing me as I stare towards a roofed
heaven. Euphoria from Urine.
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SCARS
One for me please-
How ’bout above the knees -
No wait! better yet ‘bove the eyes .
I want to show that I know too Struggle and Suffering internal;
Ripped up stomach and torn out heart, Shaved brain and Scraped lungs.
I want what they have on the outside- One of them, outsider, to, One of us.
Give me one please, I beg of you An external entity attached to me,
bruise at the very least.
I want one please, fit one on my arm so that I can fit in.
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COUCH
What secrets lie within the couch?
A lone nickel, the remnants of a gambling addiction reaching its pinnacle.
An elastic piece of gum, DNA a kid decided he’d leave in the sofa’s
pouch.
The remote, the t.v. one that’s never there for long.
A lost cell phone, that somehow has turned itself on silent.
A leather wallet, with used gift cards for every sort of store.
A lost sock, torn off when a couple fought and the couch was one’s
companion for the night.
Maybe If I kept looking within the couch, I could find more than change for the ice cream man.
Just maybe.
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HALLOWEEN
The Children’s Association of New Dandy Yummies Carries assignments to kids far and wide to fill their tummies.
The draft is complete and the military is ready.
The uniforms of spider-men and women are plenty.
The newcomers are shy, and resilient to touch a bucket, a basket, and handful of candy – way too much.
They can’t utter words, but they know the password.
The veterans proudly assert
in the face of danger They outright blurt:
Trick-Or-Treat
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MUSICAL NATURE
Reject if you will. Most primal of thrills.
All those who have less, of hearts, souls, and jests -
Embrace a blank mirror, mesmerized by fear.
Restrained solely by, immobilized lies.
Break the folly stance, give instinct a chance.
Lift a foot or two, and let truth fly too.
Free both your soles, and belt out pure soul.
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The Northwest 7th Circle
Sultry dog days of summer.
Unleashed heat hounds like thunder.
Blasphemers and Sodomites
Sympathize my restless nights
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STOPPED
I sit staring off,
In a familiar primordial warmth,
Across seas of blazing, spiky, green;
An ocean of blurring, stunning variation.
In the distance I spot a threaded cloud
From its shimmering mimic of the sun.
Its seamstress descended from the heavens;
Drifted towards a secluded choice – a true bohemian.
On my weather beaten raft –
Enticing boards of vitiligo,
I welcome strangers both new and old;
Varying degrees of sympathy, but most leave before they meet
empathy.
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A NORTHWESTERN AUTUMN DAY
The ground spells Fall,
But the sky pronounces Summer’s Day.
A ship beyond my vision throws its foghorn against the cliff sides.
It is soon answered by the church bells –
Ringing a familiar chime heard throughout religion and time.
That too is soon retorted by a student’s anguish cries towards
philosophy.
I idly sit on my mute bench
Watching a troop of birds chirp in unison-
Sailing over the Sea of Noise;
And stare in wonder at the trees partial humility,
Shrouding their nude bodies with few leaves-
Proudly exposing the rest of its form.
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DANCING RAINDROPS
Petrichor the Savior.
Rallying the troops of cool kissing breezes
under the guise of shaded skies.
Breaking the chains that bind us to the
heat stained mind of summer.
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BUBBLEGUM SWIRL
I’ll take a bubblegum swirl The sky, not the ice cream – thanks
I prefer this price, what the best things in life are in this world.
It’s like someone abandoned it on a plastic Tupperware bowl
This situation landed nowhere else but the summer role.
Baking heat
Sugar rushed kids Runaway colds
Its form bound to the will of the dome, its will however…
unwavering as it wound round Changing
Only the sky around it as it drained from the swirled tip top down to a blended bottom base
Staining pink through its journey across the blue paned sky
Soft stirred winds soothe my soul and skin with gentle comfort akin to a mother’s hand grazing the unsure arm of a five year old
set alone to the wilderness that is colored paper snippets, spilled
glue, and broken wax crayons.
The scent of rose petals fills my lungs with a color so pink that it burns
Either that or indigestion Is it nature or what I foolishly nurtured into my mouth?
Flavorful Funnel Cakes and Cheesy Coney dogs
Four pound burgers and foot long corn dogs
Beat down by enough thirst to retreat We go home after the summer beat
But it soon leaves us Lost to an autumn defeat
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I SEE YOU, I DO!
I saw a Rainbow – and I kept it to myself. The people to my left and the people to my right didn’t see it.
They can’t muster the time to look up once in a while to explore new horizons.
Their contorted, centralized views don’t allow them to understand the world, the Universe and all its beauties.
So yeah, I didn’t share my Rainbow,
It was mine.
I took the time to find it, I took the time to appreciate Earth
And It blessed me with an non-duplicable mystique In a serendipitous scene of a gorgeous shimmering arc
Against a bland clouded sky canvas. It remained still,
The same distance in front of my eyes, The distance created specifically for me.
I saw a Rainbow And it spoke to me.
Not in English, Not in sign language,
Not even with any words, letters, sounds, or symbols.
It spoke to me with its presence. It was Earth’s Hermes,
Greeting me, Thanking me for knowing who I walk on,
And for appreciating its power. This Rainbow was crafted elegantly to suit my reward.
Earth was happy that I didn’t permanently glue my ears and eyes to my phone.
Earth was happy that not all hope was gone. Earth eradicated all second thoughts of setting out thunderous
clouds. Earth knew I would repay it again with spreading word of its
existence. So I thank Earth for giving me my Rainbow.
Now it’s your turn to thank Earth.
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PLEASE PLEASE NOT TO PLEASE
The free breeze trees feel
Heal leaves with real dank and frank
Social Awareness
The trees dye their leaves in
Imminence of the upcoming fad.
Some think it is summer blonde
But others know it is autumn gold.
And others still did not yet get the memo.
They shake in pure bliss
Side to side over their neighbors
Peering over them and pressuring
In favor of searing winds
Filled of rain, slight tint, and recognition gain.
Refraining from noticing, the alopecia enrooting spree
Raising cockiness and developing blindness
Aborting true beauty for some cads in
Imminence of the upcoming fad.
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THE HUMMINGBIRD
The frailty of a hummingbird is astounding to me. It’s strange how the tiniest bird can one up the dominant species of
Earth, in sight and hearing, Yet is destined to die within the first year of its life.
I saw one once Or maybe even twice.
I was standing in front of an abandoned school. There it was
Perched on the branches of an ancient tree – reaching out for the
sun’s rejuvenating rays. It just sat there, it didn’t tweet, it didn’t show off its brilliance.
It just sat there. It was not looking at me, but it was looking at where I have been, Somehow it had determined everything it needed to know about
me, and it came to the consensus that we were too similar for me to harm it, and at the same time it also deemed that I was not
important – not yet ready.
The second time I saw one was one of the most beautiful images ingrained into My memory till this day.
It fluttered so freely, flashing its green and pink coat carelessly. It maneuvered around the virgin cherry blossoms of a tree as they
effervescently fell to the Springy grass. It suckled, as far I could tell, every nectar stem in its perimeter.
They say a hummingbird flaps its wings 7o times a second – It appeared to me to be one perpetual motion of a gravity defying
act. And as I sat in awe, It stared wondrously at me, surprised that it lost
its invisibility. This time, it was I that determined, and I deemed that it had a deal
with Mother Nature. I will learn one day,
How it gained its pact or favor, So that I too can be as free as
The Hummingbird
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THE BRAVE LITTLE SPARROW
The brave little sparrow
Off the road a ways
Couldn’t be anymore narrow
From where my wipers spray
People Call to Jesus Christ in times of great need –
So what words slipped from my mouth, during the fray?
Jesus Christ! Indeed.
Not because of how close it was,
but for where it must now lay.
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A SIMPLE.
A simple walk
To clear my head, not really, but to fill instead
With tunes and thoughts through my tread.
A simple crow
To cliche my words, not really, its prescence self-defined
The beauty of nature, a gift gods provide, all life unified.
A simple step
To cement my path, not really, but an existential stomp,
To through my essence into the Earth, a return to my primordial
birth.
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BLOO-JAY
Was that bird for me or you
or us?
Not in a romantic way.
But in a human way.
-I already have my
own romantic stay.
In the midst of rain, downpour and hooded blind-spots
a bright blue blip blazed by
-Unintentionally or by higher power
forming a crossroads between me and you.
We obliviously cross but do we dare do so together?
-As humans, connected?
Or as Wi-Fi disconnected?
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CAGED TIGER
We know why caged birds like to sing.
But what does the caged tiger bring?
He sits in sorrow, petty grief
Waits for a dinner bell to ring.
He stares with eyes lacking belief,
Between bars that should hold the thief,
Into the souls of public awe.
The tiger lays, like a dead chief.
Only I notice his large paws,
46 stripes under the jaw.
Double that if you count split stripes.
He loses people, straw by straw.
Power restrained by jealous types.
Thirst encouraged by rusty pipes.
Years to come, arsenal of swipes,
Years to come, arsenal of swipes.
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BEETLE
Run, Run, Run –
Stop.
What’s that? That’s new. Run, Run, Run –
Stop.
Oh my it’s hot. No shelter in sight.
Run, Run, Run- Stop.
No place to go, but under their shoe.
Run, Run, Ru- Stop.
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Mr. O or Mr. P?
Silently sinking, slowly so lowly
Slithering like a snake into shrubberies only.
So silly seeing the similarity of secrecy in your sneakity ways - your
seemingly slimey ring tail.
But of course, your coarse name has an Omission of O, so Oh of
course! For shame I shouldn't have mentioned your tale of woe.
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THE POWERFUL ANNUAL BIRTHDAY
Birthdays lose their magic over the years.
Is it the decline in the number of-
Presents, or the encroachment of grey hairs?
I say if we substitute wrapped presents-
For a loving presence; Then, each new year-
Will be full of freshly shed, welcomed tears.
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MOM OR MAID?
I scrapped my knees on your floors
I washed all your doors,
Windows and walls.
I did everything, and nothing at all.
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MOTHER’S DAY
For someone who understands love, pain, and sacrifice
I love you more than these thrice –
Have affected you in your life.
I hope you know you are still my Mommy.
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TREES
The glint of red off of your programmed fix – I see it!
The lung cancer stick! Code Black – tarnished lungs Code Red – varnished blood
Code Blue – Damaged body –
Get a Clue! So it’s what I do.
Take a deep breathe.
Before you – Restock, on volatile fuel.
One time, I think I saw you choke
Two times, I knew that you were broke Three times, I saw you paying for Five packs, or Six cigarettes more.
I think it’s safe – To breathe again.
So I relax And Accept my friend –
Instead I’m met
With and old foe – Carson “Second Hand” O’Gen.
Maybe two seconds more, And I would not have Ate Smoked glazed freshness.
Oh well – I can learn and adapt, But I hate the poison,
But then I think, How you don’t have a choice –
How much it must burn.
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OF COURSE, OF COURSE, OF COURSE
Of Course, Of Course, Of Course,
I Will!
Brush, Brush, Brush,
Meticulous Brushing.
Floss, Floss, Floss,
Gum-Throbbing Flossing.
Swish, Swish, Swish,
Mouth Scorching Swishing.
I Did Not Eat Breakfast Yet.
Of Course, of Course, Of Course
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DEAR FATHER
Dear Father, As a child I would rush to you as soon as I heard that old doorknob rattle, the thrill only a father could provide to a kid; I still remember even way back when. And once you left, I was upset, or at least I
remember I was….the heated hateful words cloud my memory….But you know I love you right? And those times growing up where it seemed you and mom could get back together, but they were false
hopes to my own dismay…..But you know I love you right? And every time your brother – my Uncle- would visit, and I heard his voice muffled through the walls, transformed into your own, I would run out to see you, the doorknob rattling in the back of my head, but more false hope to my own dismay. And it wasn’t just my Uncle; every man started sounding like Uncle, started sounding like you. And it was more false hope to my own dismay ……But you know I love you right? Living with you might’ve been hell because you couldn’t afford to shield me from the world, and hunger was an all too familiar unwanted neighbor…….But you know I love you right? I know it’s not easy working two and sometimes three jobs and not being able to spend as much time with your son as you want……..But you know I love you right? I didn’t really care for fishing, but it was
your favorite – and I remember every patient moment and every jumping bobber………But you know I love you right? It might be hard knowing that another man can take care of me better than you, it must hurt……….But you know I love you right? Five kids to worry about cannot be easy on the mind………..But you know I love you right- You know I don’t blame you…………right?
-Sincerely, The Son that you know loves you
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STILL
Tattered trails and tracks
Pathways formed to direct where it's lacked
A bond that grew strong and strong and stronger still
Still is the battered, darkened, neglected creek
Still is the Sun as it lies in the sky and my eye
Still is the son as the dusk drones on
Still is his hand in his dad's as they hop the stream
Still is the son as what seems a dream
as his father falls into the creek
Still is the son who's father is gone
Still is the boy as toys become decoys
as hands no longer help him stand
as his become flies, surrounding and drowning
Still the Sun never sets.
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HOW MUCH DO I OWE YOU?
How much do I owe you? The struggle in you I see, it causes me pain.
The fatherhood and sound mind, you try to retain. Mistakes you've made and you have to learn, but it's as if you're on
your own, attempt to maintain but destined to burn. Petty squabbles makes pride hard to swallow. You were tormented
and I soon followed, allowed you to wallow, it wasn't until later that I shared in your sorrow.
Pizza for me, celery for you.
Why this judgement so cruel? I could've shared, snuck you leftovers between stern stares. I feared from those who rule - why is a child
such a fool. You struggled and got played favorite, I succeeded and got no
payment. Fueling the dissent, something I regret. Do I blame the father, for these sins I encounter?
From desert plains to the land that rains, The shoe is in the other foot and it stuck - I wonder is it because
you stole my socks? Or is it because of the torture that transformed the young one?
Hated by mother because of the other son? Not hate. I know, but it certainly seems so. Her pain is yours - one
in the same.
I don't want you to feel alone - you need to face consequences, but you deserve a guide and someone you can phone and confide in.
I've seen the anger affect you and push others away. After a fit of rage a haircut you engaged
And patchy and goofy and uneven it stayed. From petty squabbles to the pity that follows
I take the first step to that brotherly tomorrow. I buzz away scraps and even out patches
Give you tips for your future haircut matches. In hopes you won't lose - we don't want you to fail. Your brother is here to stay with you through hell.
COLLECTIONS
42 | P a g e
DEFLATING BALLOON
A balloon deflates
A child cries with outrage
Dad’s wallet suffers.
A child suffers
Outrage, cries with Dad’s
A wallet deflates
COLLECTIONS
43 | P a g e
I DID IT
I put my left shoe on my right foot by accident.
I stepped out of bed with my left foot forward.
I put my shirt on inside out and didn’t catch it in the mirror.
I did all these things this morning.
And the world didn’t explode
COLLECTIONS
44 | P a g e
PISTACHI-NO
Minutes of work
– Decades of minutes in eagerness –
Dedicated into opening a closed-shell Pistachio
Just to come across a shallow space
It’s sole existence to guard the air within against light
A smug satisfaction for the heartless being who went through the
surgical measures
To perform a No-reward-for-you-ectomy
This false-advertisement leaves a sting like a
Karate chop to the stomach and a Lugi on the brain
COLLECTIONS
45 | P a g e
DOUBLE UP
So I had a dream
A free chance to say what I
Really want to say
And when I woke up
The chance had gone and left me
To reality
COLLECTIONS
46 | P a g e
COLLEGE INDEED
The emotions are many
Of pain and loss
But there is joy of plenty
Giving chance a toss
My family
My home
My sweetest Sweet
I took my steps with you
Now it’s my turn on my own two feet.
COLLECTIONS
47 | P a g e
REACHING?
How do I reach out?
Without looking
Scaredweaklostsadneedyobssesivecrazyworried
And Without Making you feel
Scaredweaklostsadneedyobssesivecrazyworried
COLLECTIONS
48 | P a g e
OUROBOROS
The fear I know
Is not that of
Spiders and Snakes
Or Ghosts and Ghouls
Instead it is
A fear of Loss
A fear of Waste
Of Idol Hands
Talent and Skill
Encroached and Prayed
By dopamine shortcuts –
A Black foul Beast
COLLECTIONS
49 | P a g e
WHY DO WE DIE?
Mortality keeps
Our Humanity in check.
Those who are Humane.
COLLECTIONS
50 | P a g e
SO VERY TIRED
Pursuing a rest, deeper than sleep can assume.
Pursuing the fresh intensity of energetic sounds concealed within the
amazon.
Cradling the second rain from the leaves after the clouds have gone
–
The steady drip, drip, drip.
Tears cannot match, nor mimic, nor achieve.
Searching for the cartographer who charted out that oasis
For a pseudo moon shields my view.
For these eyes are drowsy, dreary, disengaged.
Awaiting the sight of cocoa beans
Along with the scent of rising steam
Carrying to the light and to my nose delight
Enlightening fragrances
Concentrated more than that of smelling salts.
COLLECTIONS
51 | P a g e
ON THE PROMISE OF DEATH
When sparked by fear of death’s swift hand
arousing the still air past your cheek
You are reminded of how fast your candle will burn out
and appreciate every last drip-drop of your stout wax’s evanesce
shoveled aside by a gluttonous flame
And those who have passed and call to the reaper
reflect illustrious auras in your beating eyes
COLLECTIONS
52 | P a g e
MISSING IT
Missing heaven is the same whether it's an inch or a mile.
So I'll grasp onto the ledge wanting to return and all the while be
weighted down by apathy.
So I guess I'll fall deep down into purgatory, slam against the grey
floor, and tumble and roll and trip and stumble some more until I'm
deep down in the depths of the 9th circle.
But what the universe has taught me, is that there are many infinites:
I mean the hottest place in hell is where you will be frozen ever-still.
So I rip off my apathetic weights and bearing all my will I trot until I
fall and still I'll crawl and walk and bawl as curiosity blinds me. The
same curiosity that drives every man, woman, child and cat, at least
I'm told, to unfold what has been deemed a no-no.
I can see an infinite sea of knowledge. So easily obtained in heaven
instead, I'll dive deeper and assess for myself, the wealth of finding
freedom past where the chains end.
COLLECTIONS
53 | P a g e
SOMETIMES WHEN YOU WIN, YOU LOSE
Sometimes when you win, you lose.
This life you never get to choose.
What plagues and ills the mind
Is not always easily defined.
From chemicals imbalance to bad romance
It will always be hard to take a chance.
Call for help, but without a voice
Can't change a mind, that never had a choice
COLLECTIONS
54 | P a g e
THIS GAME
I never wanted to play this game.
It gives me pain, my mind it stains....
Staying up all night I lay, awake as I cry away.
To my disdain, I'm placed inside this game.
Loved ones come and go, made by the game, erased by the game,
but don't blame the game....
Without it you can't lay awake. Rest ensured but at what cost you
say?
The graves you pay, to lay rest to they, who were slain or just slaved
away- grew up and forgot again.
Goals and dreams that went astray, shredded away, since the day
they sprang.
Much like you since the day you came -until you're laid to rest one
day.
But how can I look forward you say? To the day of rest you say?
The reason I lay awake, why my mind can't be at bay.
I don't want to forget - my life I say.
I don't want to be forgotten- just one more cast away.
COLLECTIONS
55 | P a g e
METEOR
The birds social life resonates in the walls of my room. Children’s laughter coincides with the chitter chat of the birds. Should I have left my window open last night? Sure everyone loves sleep, but the rambunctious noise that awoke me was surprisingly calm. I performed the daily ritual of a morning stretch, the debridement
of mucus from my eye lashes, and the first deep breathe of the day. Later I made some pop-tarts, a quick nutrionless guilty breakfast. The toaster spit them out in record time, and I made up for the
quick toasting with extra enjoyment. I logged on Facebook and there weren’t any complaints, fight videos, or pictures of abused animals on my feed. In place of the lack of violence and drama were posts of appreciation of parents, friends, or the cliche talk of the beautiful weather. Don’t get me mistaken though! When I stepped outside I was stunned by the photosynthesized brilliant colors of the plants which were accompanied by a glowing sun that for once could be stared at without temporary blindness or sneezing. By the end of the day, I had spent time with my family, friends, and lover. The beautiful weather had coaxed me into calling up estranged friends and arranging a huge get-together. After such a long and eventful day, the news was anything but. They
told of Mother Natures’ satisfactory mood, and nothing else. No bombings in Kuwait, stolen cars in Detroit, no gunshot victims. They told no such things. They did however mention soldiers and hostages returned home, reappeared missing children reacquainted with 20 year older aged mothers. The news informed what they could, but they neglected one minor
event that was going to occur. Apart from the sky set on fire and bombarded with lightning fast pebbles, today was the best day ever. I wish it were a joke that the Earth was going to be becoming all to familiar with another planetary mass, that way I could relive this day over and over again. Regret on the edge of my mind, I pushed it aside while I reminisced on the day I was born, burnt my hand on the stove, fumblingly gave my first kiss, oh and that one time-………
COLLECTIONS
56 | P a g e
I AM TIRED I am tired Oh, how I remember! The path ahead looked so promising So easy to tread Past leaves sparked of green apples and glowing embers. A puddle here and there,
Splashed feet or soaked legs The sun promised to dry and keep me on my way. Clay will stain and remain tickling my nasal, and
Caws and tweets keep me on my feet but, I am tired Oh yes, how I remember! Rabbits stray across bare paths Intrigued and in awe of another man. “Don’t chase, Don’t chase” The rabbit’s hole plan. Keep strut and tut Crunch free leaves Venture towards the golden warmth at the end of trees But for now, I am tired Embers die out and apples brazen
A frosty hue coats the world And a darkness weighs down my eye lids. The same wind that brushed crushed bits aside Is now caressing my body to abide. Very well, I am very tired.
I’ll sit here and rest a while, This grayed view is quite lovely after all and, I am tired.
COLLECTIONS
57 | P a g e
COLLECTIONS
58 | P a g e
Thank you to many people in my life who inspire me and have
inspired me to write.
