A Collection of Poetic Attempts

Life in the Desert, Stars in Heaven

I'm alive, 

that's all I think about

Because I don't live in either my past or my future

concentrate on the present

You'll see

Life in the Desert, Stars in Heaven 

Life will be a party

A grand festival, because life is the moment we're living right now.

This poem was inspired by pages from The Alchemist written by Paulo Coelho.

The Pure Language of the World

the pure Language of the World requires no explanation

no need for words

because, when you know that language

understand that

when two such people 

meet, the past and 

future become only that moment.

everything under the sun

evokes love,

without such love, dreams would have 

no meaning. 

This poem was inspired by pages from The Alchemist written by Paulo Coelho.

Question

You make it seem as though it actually matters. 

To be somebody I'm not used to seeing as myself. 

As if I'm just there for "moral support"

whatever that means. 

But I know that it makes you feel safe. 

And "safe" isn't normal for you,

so I don't question. 

Questioning only leads to more aggressiveness and less assertion. 

Because at times when I cannot find myself, it is better to let loose than to question. 

You don't question as to why you help others and why it makes you feel good... do you? Unless you do, which is fine too.

I won't question. 

One thing's for certain though: I question for the sake of questioning.

When your world feels like it is crumbling around you, don't you question as to WHY? 

I certainly do.

Someone else might not, and it feels like I have to do it for them. 

But if you don't like the way I do the things I do, 

don't worry...

I won't question. 

Inanimate

Stop.

Take a look at what you have done,

at what you have taken.

Take a step back

look how far you have come. 

Take a peek forward

at what is waiting.

The world is a scary place dude.

and you? Well, they say you are just a pawn, a toy... one that is controlled. 

Controlled by emotion, thought, and burning desire of... whatever it is that you desire. 

But it's not really your fault. 

It is He who is at fault; the one who created all. 

"And where is He?", you ask.

Why, He is up there; hiding in fear of the monsters He created.

1939-1945

They hold out the silence

Hiding under the grass

out of sight.

S c r a p i n g through the dirt

towards the w-i-r-e-d gates of hell

Fingers br eak ing the cables

b

l

o

o

d

i

e

d.

And again, the devil's messengers

gush

out the doors

like blood from those wounded.

armed with sins.

And again they are broken and again they are scarred

They can see freedom

over the horizon.

So(close)

yet so far.

If I Could...

If I could stay here; expressing worries,

then my plate would overflow.

If I could stand here; bouncing and full of light,

then the stars would look dim.

If I could sleep away all my pain,

then oh good sir... I wouldn't be here today.

What is Love? An attempt at a Sonnet.

What is Love?

Love is a drug they say, it will never keep us away,

Ups and downs will always arise,

maybe it’s time to keep feelings at bay.

the air will be filled with goodbyes.

Love is blind they say; but it’s what makes us discover

the beauty in objects that even the wise cannot see.

The thorns that scar the hearts of the lovers,

just like the branches of an outgrown tree.

Love is strange, one knows this.

Roses fill the path above the pain.

Distance and fright mainly make us miss

the roads filled with blinding colors that help us regain.

Love always lives, but it is hidden away.

There is hope, it will be found again someday.

Time... My Healer.

Time… there’s not enough.

we created it,

Now it is destroyed.

Time… there’s too much.

For those who have been through it.

And cannot let it go.

Time… can be deadly,

For the ones that feel it,

Touching what others cannot endure.

Time… can be a dream,

For the ones that believe,

For those who want to soar…

Heart and Soul

She looks out onto the horizon, mourning over the pain.

The pain left behind by the accident.

Crying softly every night,

Learning to walk over the ugly fights.

She poured out her heart and soul,

Into what you have now.

Gave you all that she knew.

You threw it away, like the wind that blows.

She poured out her heart and soul,

For the ones she finds the best.

They give her looks, like everything was her fault.

Once in awhile, even life gives her crooked beats.

“Life is like music,” one said. “It can change with your emotions.”

Notes can change, but the tune is still the same.

At times she is dynamic like the pain,

But she doesn’t let opportunities go in vain.

“I am not afraid,” she explained,

To the only supporters in her dreams.

Pulling, reaching out, clawing at the hopes of being free again.

Banging her head in frustration.

She poured out her heart and soul,

And he felt it.

She thought she had lost the fight, until he came.

Every emotion, every drop of determination,

He felt it all.

When giving was all they had.

Their story was new, but the feeling was old.

She learned to heal and he was the healer.

Fixing what time could not in the first place...

Home.

She was a time spender, say the littered up cups and plates on the hard concrete floor;

A creative one, say the little quirky projects and crafts lining up the walls

She was a wanderer too, say the pieces of paper with drawings and doodles detailing every aspect of livelihood.

It was her safe-haven, say the round, cozy pillows scattered on the ground.

A place she found comfort in; one she could not leave.

The family was large, say the number of rooms throughout the space,

and the echoes of laughter bouncing off the hollow walls.

There was a dog too, says the trail of fur on the gray stone;

it was an energetic one, say the chewed up toys and tennis balls rolling down the walkway;

say the barks that fill up the spacious and colorful corridors.

There was also a garden, say the vines that snake up the walls and the scent of fresh dew.

It's been a long time, says the absence of the dog that is no longer there.

It's been a long time, says the silence of the family that has it’s own issues to fix.

Say the withered up plants that receive no attention.

It's been a long time, say the crumpled up projects that once had their own stories to tell.

It's been a long time say the cups and plates that now have no use.

It's been a long time they say,

everything has changed.