I thought I could be strong

But I guess I was wrong

That I’m safe and my guesses are perfectly calculated

That I won’t be later instigated

But instead, my mistakes have made me learn to keep quiet and not be stern

Especially when they say oh hey let’s see what you have to say

The truth will always be, that whomever speaks more falls deeper

Deeper and deeper than before

With every word given more

So be careful when you store your lore

And even more when you decide to let it pour

For that stuff has refined like wine

And comes our way more intense than the steady suspense that had built up over time

Did I say too much?

The irony

The only release of my numbness is to ignore my feelings

Because my feelings make me to numb.

Sad and scared, distraught with regret

I’m wondering why

I even said the things I thought

I thought maybe, thoughts should be shared

But I forgot entirely

That thoughts can become things

And things can become dangerous

And I should be brave enough

To fight what my own words create!

My fiend , Fear, and also friend when I am near

As I lie back into the comfort of solace
With eyes closed and enveloped in darkness
I forgot that I’m a visitor to someone sinister
And that this blissful darkness is not my own domain.
Rather Fear dwells deep within the warmth of this depth
Crawling, creeping up to whisper to my heart so crassly
“Do you really think that you can have what you desire- I’ve trained you to want nothing but for you to prosper”

My beautiful friend, my formidable foe, Fear, is a ghost risen from the broken death of tragedy. She forms her words so carefully, all crafted from the pain of past misery. She thinks she’s my teacher and my savior, a priestess who has sought my forgiveness.

But forgiveness for what? I speculate in silence, but in silence or sung aloud,

My thoughts are music to her shrine.

No secrets over here. All is heard quite clear.

“Forgive yourself for foolery! For faltering and fumbling to and fro, from past tragedies! Oh you should know!” She rose, eyes bright with excitement. She thinks shes kind and loving for every syllable in her chastisement.

I fall back, “no. Forgiveness is not imprisonment. This is nothing less of a punishment. You’ve changed the meaning of forgiveness to a cruel way of admonishment. I’m in no need of atonement, there was never any sin in my disdain!

Even if wasn’t innocent,if I don’t persist, then wouldn’t my life become meaningless? I’m now safe and now un-sorry. I’ve found how to face my past folly. I assure you, oh fear , by God I shant fall again.

So please , be my friend and guide me according to sense!
We must oust ourselves of this great suspense, and grow together once again!

And thus, the fiend, Fear, fell silent, defeated yet retreated. She is now my beautiful friend, an advisor once again, and dwells with me in darkness, ready to guide me upon my acquaintance.

She made one last request before I left.
Crept up and calling with humility, “Goodness, can you call me , Wisdom, my dear woman? “

“I sure can” , as I tipped my imaginary hat!

Crying in words

Why cant I stop this overwhelming feeling of heartbreak and rigidity?  My emotions have become immobile- unable to shift and change. Instead, it’s off the charts in angst and frozen in the tundra of a once blooming spring.  Dreams and whimsy, all flushed into a sinkhole of reality. A blackhole of burden, pressure, and a repeating pattern of hopes time-warped into non-existence. 


This is why I hate being tickled with the happy ideas of life’s average milestones. Because average is exactly what I’m not. Average is aristocracy among all those around me dwelling in posh politics and wealth. I’m living in my own world, within the world of my immediate community, within the world of my city, within a grim world of war, poverty, and distrust.  Of course the overall world has it’s little honeycomb pockets of honey with honest-working people buzzing in their lives for the greater good.  


But coming back to me, my purpose, and my stability, I’ve no choice but to rest my case of happiness into studying, labor, and discipline. I’m a soldier in my own war, and there is no giving in.  


So here I am, chiseling my goals out of the glaciers of my gloom.

Sip of words and Snack at color

Let me sip my cup of words

and nibble on a bite of color

for both together

give the most luxurious belch!

intoxicated with inspiration

I forget all my aggravation,

all, at the quench of my thirst!

Let me tip my pen in honor of my reader

and flip my brush in honor of my admirer

For I feel I have found an old friend named satisfaction

at the silent consumption

of this humble interaction!


Speak with silence

I will never understand how friendship is made.

Maybe it’s a miracle of mutuality

But sometimes I share things

And the person just begins to fade

I guess friendship

Runs on a certain frequency

Where both must be at similar wavelengths

Both are ready to give and take

Transfer bolts of happiness and laughter

Until ones frequency becomes stronger

And abuses the other

Maybe it’s time I learn the language of speaking with silence.

And allow others who also speak the same, to miraculously drift towards me and I unto them