Dark and Light
In the night I hear them,
Piece by piece they call.
Through the darkness comes a burning light of hope. In the days of darkness a shooting star goes by.
The people who gather among the night's open sky huddle for warmth tonight.
With each frozen breath they follow, a trace left unseen.
For it's what the heart was always searching for in these wild dreams.
There is a place of light, a place for those who shine among the darkest of stars that roll by.
These people wish upon those dark stars because with every wish sparks a new sight.
It wasn't a sunset how a poet would tell it.
It wasn't slow
or full of marvellous wonder and passion.
it was as if that light was being torn from you,
the way you remove a band-aid.
Slow, then all at once.
And then it's over,
but you can still feel it
stinging like a slap on the face.
The pain like the darkness and loneliness
of the cruelest night,
hitting you from all sides,
devouring you whole.
Blue is just blue unless you're a poet, an artist or a lover.
Blue is still blue if you are just one.
But when you are all three,
believe me when I say that blue isn't always a color
or a feeling
or just a pair of eyes.
They can be a soul.
But sometimes a puzzle isn't up for you to solve,
and suddenly blue is the storm
as hope is torn from you.
Blue isn't a color on your palette,
so pristine you want to join it on the canvas,
it's a tsunami washing over you
and everything you thought you knew.
Blue isn't just a color of the sky,
it's the feeling of all those butterflies
dying in an icy coldness.
If ever blue was just a color to me,
I must have been blind,
but God I wish I could tear out these eyes
and be blind once more.
The Fight for Refugees: Just Beating at Brick Walls Again
I can't teach you how to love
Or be aware of more than
What you can immediately see
With your glasses off.
These are things my
And all the tears that go
Into them are
I cannot show you many layers
Between right for you
And actually right
For you only see God
As a means to an end.
Is only what you strive to be
From 7 to 6 every other Sunday.
And how am I supposed to show
You shades of gray
When you only see in black and white.
It must be easy to see with cloth over your eyes.
Because I'm blinded by the things
You choose to pretend
There are people
Outside our border
Looking for refuge
You act like this is not your
But this is a country founded on
The backs of immigrants,
Have you so easily forgotten your roots?
For they are not here.
No matter how many minorities you beat down,
This land will still never be
And there are people dying.
It doesn't matter,
Because they aren't your
And the stories you create
Just to justify
Make my stomach turn
Because I cannot bear to see
Needy people dehumanized when
All they want of
And I keep writing poems.
I keep doing it.
Placing pen to paper,
Hoping to open closed eyes,
But I know
That I'm wasting my time.
I can't teach you
How to love the world
Like your brother,
How to mourn every casualty,
Not just the ones
Who remind you of yourself.
I could write you an ocean full of prose,
And it still wouldn't make a difference,
You stopped listening
The moment I stopped saying
What you wanted to hear.
Now I'm back again.
Pleading at a brick wall,
Hoping for a flicker of something.
Life is good.
Life is strange
But all you gotta do,
So you don't go insane,
Is to find the sunshine,
While dancing in the rain.
I am not a new canvas.
I do not exist to become another
Page in your story.
You write all over me
Just the same.
I know you can see
The ink you are covering,
The poems carved into my skin,
I started creating when I was
The only beautiful things
I can call my own,
But you just keep scribbling until
Even I can no longer read them.
You leave toxic
And tormented thoughts
Burned into my skin,
Like the cigarettes you smoke
At three in the morning,
Glowing embers against a dark
You destroy me,
And then you leave,
Because I am not the person
I was when we met.
Then I was beautiful, free,
Now I'm empty like the
Bottles you left on our kitchen
No Thank You, I'll Be Walking Myself Home
It isn't a compliment
If you shout it out of a car window,
Or at a twelve year old girl.
To tell me to smile
And expect me to do it
Because you said.
No you can’t walk with me,
I'm sure I'll be fine on my own,
No I won't lift up my shirt,
Get a life of your own.
Yeah, I'm sure you've had
A rough day,
And of course a smile never hurt anyone
Until you take it as an invitation.
My smile is not an invitation
To my bedroom.
Doesn't make me a tease
At the end of the night when it becomes apparent I wish to leave
Thanks for the drink though.
My Eyes to See
I look in the mirror at the beginning
Of each day, and ask myself what mask
Should I place on my face today.
No, not the sad one, it’s too revealing, I
Don’t want to show the world my true
For the mask that you can see camouflages
The true me.
It's my public face that I remove each night,
When I bare my soul the mirror's light.
It's the only one meant for only my eyes to see,
It speaks of all my history.
It tells of my youth and girlish ways,
My adolescence and my young woman's dreams.
It tells of good times of which I had my
Share, of love lost and pain so hard to bare.
So I choose my mask so carefully, to cover
The face that was given to me, the one that
Was meant for only my eyes to see.
Remember he who lives,
Remember he who dies.
If not who you deem as savior,
Than the ones who need to be saved.
Remember the loved whom would die for you.
Remember the loved whom would cry for you.
Remember the forgotten who died alone.
Remember the forsaken who never had a home.
Preserve what lives so you may cherish it.
Cherish what dies so its memory is preserved.
Remember the fallen and keep them in your hearts, but do not try to fall with them.
Those who are hurt by the fallen need you as you need them to prevent you from falling.
The fallen need the living to remember them so they can live beyond their death.
Your life means more than you know to so many around you.
Do not waste your life on something that won't matter in two years.
Do not fall for the fallen and do not rot for the sick.
You are loved
You are beautiful
You are known
You are cherished
You are preserved
You are remembered.