Poems

MY ANGEL OF POETRY

in

I am a writer not by choice. The pen held my hand and together we bled. It told me that I need not keep the torment in my heart because it belonged on paper and that it would show me out of my suffering if I surrendered to it. The thought of surrendering comforted me. Pen, ink, paper, we became one, to give and forgive.

I ride in happiness and freedom much more often now. I am indebted to my angel of poetry. Thank you for giving me life, so I can journey it to learn and embody love, forgiveness, and gratitude. Please let me guide your light to others who need it too.

A POEM

in

A Poem

We are all immigrants,

celestial things that grouped

and formed an alliance,

then travelled by starlight together,

we landed on this planet

and decided that we were going to... live,

live on and on, no matter what.

First we were minuscule, but not insignificant,

because look, we changed forms,

we adapted, we grew,

we were even dinosaurs at one point,

but then we decided it was time to embrace

the good Earth and pass on the torch

to other creatures of light...

Fast forward some time, we became the breath

of humanity, our hearts thunder quietly,

life has never been so exciting,

so we have always said...

Screen Shot 2021-01-09 at 1.41.12 AM.png

WHOLE PIECES

in , ,

When I grow up I’m gonna marry the world !
the ones that need my love
are who I’ll give my all
in giving, I get a piece of myself
a single piece is still a whole
I am but many, many more
money isn’t the root of evils
wanting, chasing, expecting it, is
religion isn’t the end of humanity
but blind worship, faithless beliefs

LIFE’S A SHORT TRIP

in

life’s a short trip
love hard until we’re dead
and gone

play your instrument
like a child plays with a puzzle
that never loses its charm

time is our great ally
the sweet lullaby
of the perpetual clock

all crisis, opportunities,
defeats, victories
will pass, so process
then get on

EVERY MOMENT WE ARE MOVING MOUNTAINS

in

Why do we discuss problems which we can do nothing about—waste of breath
Why don’t we sit in silence to do what we can—breathe gratitude into the depths

of soul

It is no one’s job to love us; privileged we are if our mother has the strength to,
if any, left from birthing the universe that is us

It is no one’s job to protect us; privileged we are if our father has the gentleness to,
if any, left from being displaced by injustice since before he was born

It is no one’s job to support and guide us; privileged we are
if our friends and teachers have the compassion to,
if any, slaved and toiled for, from the rare opportunities of blessed freedom

It is our job to love, to protect, to support, to guide ourselves;
It is our job to live with dignity no matter our circumstances;
It is our own growth and strength we must pursue,
and our own respect we must earn

Every moment we are moving mountains, wrestling time, conversing with our mind;
So dance with madness, not suffer it; orchestrate peace, not demand it

movingmountains.jpg

AM I THE MAN BEFORE OR AFTER THE WHISKY

in

A faithful husband asks his wife,

“Am I the man before or after the whisky?”

The godly woman replies,

“Dearest love, you are the hand
that lifts the glass
to cheers the strong ladies
in awe of their inner beauty;

You are the heart that makes toast
to honour your brothers for their victories
earned from humble beginnings;

You are the tears you choke back and swallow
for the animals abandoned
and the forests burning in agony;

You are the midnight purging of music and poetry;

You are the man before and after the whisky,
An example for your son,
A shield for your daughter,
A man of old country.”

IMG_4334.jpeg

BETWEEN EVERY STEP

in

The path I walk is a forever one
Between every step I stand

Between every step I stand
at a fork and decide yet again my fate
Alone, together
Lost, united
I stand dignified in public
Defeated in private

I stand for nurturing fathers and dutiful mothers
I stand with my vulnerable brothers and courageous sisters
I stand upon the shoulders of gentle giants
And I walk toward eternal poetry

I walk on a path paved by the revolutionaries
That fought relentlessly against cruelty and tyranny,
That fought their own fears of death and uncertainty

I stand for justice and dreams

Between every step I stand and ponder
the possibilities of peace and wonder
Between every step I give a moment of silence
for the personal sacrifices that birthed this sound surrender

—KING

UNTIL

in

write a thousand times
until all becomes mine
until fame and glory cease to matter
and I am a King
but amongst Kings
with far greater minds

i’ll grieve harder, cry louder,
sing until the wind cracks,
dance until the ground pleads rest
and i’ll laugh
until misery tires,
i’ll love
until hate surrenders

I WROTE ANYWAY

in

my poetry was born from father’s death
his existence felt like a memory from a dream
was he ever there? maybe ages ago
about grieving? I knew not a thing
but I wrote anyway

he was looking out a window, stationed on an angle
and still, I cannot figure out if I had imagined this
only the seizures were as real as my uselessness
it was all just fragmented lines, juvenile vocabulary
but I wrote anyway

perhaps it was my attempt at communicating
with whatever emotions that were
screwing around inside my head,
poetry and I sat patiently listening to guilt
as it rambled on about how pathetic I was
for writing, that it was a vain act of self-pity
it had a point and was probably true
but I wrote anyway

I thought maybe sadness
would eventually become my friend
so I wrote anyway

HOW MANY

in ,

Before we react with anger and disgust and annoyance
Before we mock and shame and humiliate 
Before we act in self-profit without consideration
of the rippling consequences that come with any action or inaction
Before we speak our stubborn opinions
Before we condemn and criticize with brute or intelligent words
Before we judge and expect and demand
Before we boast our righteousness and superiority 

Ask ourselves

How many hungry people have I fed
How many neglected children have I nurtured
How many of the depressed have I given warmth
How many downtrodden have I defended and helped
How many students have I enlightened
How many differences have I welcomed
How many of the old and dying have I embraced
How many genuine smiles have I lit
How many times have I forgiven
How many letters of grief have I written
How many thanks have I given

How many miserable souls have I shown kindness...
including myself, and how often?

RE

in

today I kneel in repentance
to be revived from the sacred well,
rest the wounds that gave birth
to this peaceful moment,
a forever now

I renounce all crude censorship
upon my innocence,
and learn again my thirst and hunger
as a strong and curious cub

today I kneel in gratefulness
to be reborn from the immortal source,
bless the defeats that challenge me
to feel the enigma of nature
and the humbling presence of sun

tonight when I look to the dark waters
beneath the glowing moon,
a reflection awaits me of a vehicle
driven by an eternal light of truth

VOYAGE ii

in

It’s alright.
Come with me sweet monster, my gentle kind monster.
Magna loves you.
Consumed by immense sorrow, a grief they had never known.
Grieving the walls that had caged your soul.
I came and conquered and kept your secret with the angel of book.
Safe and guarded.
I had left many clues, my scripture broken and scattered.
Sent out into the world we had left behind, to begin a new life.
Tired light travellers, messengers of truth, rest well.
In the clustering clouds, the nests of the eternal birds.
Float to the new land there beyond the obscure fog, across the rainbow falls.
A place where no curse has touched, no envy of man has tainted.
Spread your marvellous wings and hatch from the concrete shell.
Rise my monster, rise.
Voyage begins in the second sky.

VOYAGE i

in

Broken moments fall together and
the one decision to begin a never-ending journey.

Why are we so desperate to be seen and heard?
Lonely hopeful creatures we are,
yet creatures of creation we are.
I love my work, exasperated and gladly so.
If all these pages burned to ashes,
and all my trials vanquished,
fears devoured by the flame,
I will have nothing left,
nothing but happiness.

An emigrant from the land of lost
into the land of free.
A new life! How exciting!
Will innocence finally be mine?
My friends await me.
The literary Kings of the past,
they have many presents to welcome
her humble arrival,
the treasures of their worlds.

The entrance hides in the wind,
the key is to sail against,
while others are sailing along.
Head straight onto its unceasing rage,
unbearable force,
the pressures of a thousand tonnes.
At the height of your effort to push through,
you will only remain in the same place.

One can never truly beat it.

The secret is that you need not surpass the wind,
but you must patiently withstand
total obliteration… within it.
And at the moment
of your loudest roar, the portal
will show, and a forewarning with it,

Trust not what you see but be fooled by how you feel.

Proceed with plenty courage and faith,
and you shall be floating then,
gone from this old debris,
yielding into that warm elusive embrace
of the new world…

as their long awaited
King.

HOLY MISSION

in

I am on a holy mission
to sell my soul to the devil
to taint its powers with piety
and seed deep the reverence for music

I shall sacrifice my youthful skin
and my sexual drives
these virgin lips and innocent eyes

exultant cheers from our truest friends
a fan of the people,
I will defend you to the end

I am one flower but if I surrendered,
I could bloom thousands of blossoms

rain down pink petals
cover this earth

until it desires no more
until it bleeds no more

play forever and on
sing forevermore

承載著那神聖的任務
寧靜的魂售賣給了魔
惡意深處埋下了譜子
虔誠將徐徐蕩滌殘酷

瘗祭無辜神态與性慾
純淨的唇與青春的膚
夥伴們的歡呼與雀躍
捍衛著忠誠直到最後

一朵微不足道的花兒
若屈服了將千朵盛開
粉紅花瓣的飄雨
覆蓋大地吧

直到渴望不再
直到血流不再

永遠的玩耍
永久的歌唱

DREAM HUNTERS

in

refuge within
the sad sound of darkness
favorite song to play
on the record
is silence

pray to Athena not Ares
worship the lady of wisdom
forgive the sullen
god of ruins

fish for the stars
counting days on the
pretty crescent
bleed black
until I find
moments of lucidity

home is the league
of the dream hunters
preach not
until we have become
our fate’s
faithful commanders

SEED OF A FRUIT TREE

in

I am a seed of a fruit tree;

The dirty earth cradles me when I am but a grain of vulnerability, it knows of the secret of seedlings, a universe of potential rooted in its entirety, in history;

I dream of skies to reach, of stars to pluck;

Dare an infinitesimal seed imagine the touch of breeze the day it hatches from the dark soils? Or the day it grows the mightiest trunk that can withstand the darkest of storm? Dare it imagine to have in its possession the courage to challenge the sun to set it ablaze?

Yes! I dare.

And the universe forever conspires to reward fortitude with the miracle of manifestation; the greatest gift of bearing fruit! It shall be the most beautiful burdens on those delicate but strong branches, true gems of nature, sweet, watery flesh to feed the good souls;

Seasons will be my oldest friend, birds my comrades, my leaves will wither but I will grow, again and again, I will dance to rain and sing with wind;

I am a seed of a fruit tree, made in the cool and dark earth, raised by the divine light and warmth, I will grow resilient evermore, there is no hurry;

I am a seed of a fruit tree.

Adjustments.jpeg