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2.22.11

February 22, 2011

Breeze is coming in
and the curtains flow,
but the windows are still.

Children are laughing
and their smiles are being lit,
but their parents don’t notice.

Birds are flying,
and they’re uniformly moving,
but no one looks up.

Flowers are pollinated,
and start to bloom,
but no one stops to notice.

My mind is busy
and I’m exploding to share,
but no one has the time.

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2.21.11

February 21, 2011

Clear,
foggy,
rested,
thoughts.

And then there’s lightening.
A doubt.

There’s a doubt in my mind,
and I can’t let it go.
It clings to every word,
phrase,
thought,
and it won’t let go.

It’s sucking the positivity
out of me,
and I, I can’t breathe.

I want reassurance,
I want this dreadful thing to go away.
This doubt is not welcome.

Talk to me,
reassure me,
so this doubt can go away;
and again,
we can be smooth sailing.

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2.20.11

February 20, 2011

Words.

A few letters
strung up together,
and they’re supposed to express
the rainbow in my heart?

The thunder in my brain,
the numbness in my fingers,
the pep in my step,
and the ignition of my smile?

No, these words are useless,
words that sit there
and reveal only certain parts of the puzzle,
not the whole picture,
sometimes not even most.

I look and I want to speak,
I want to tell you how I feel,
but the world is judging
and I can’t grasp the right words,
and time is passing,
and emotions are flowing,
and it’s gone.

The moment’s passed,
and it’s too late.

It’s gone.

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1.17.11

January 17, 2011

The stars glisten and I,
I think of something irrelevant.

Something more temporary than a shooting star,
something on my mind,
but not in my heart.

I lift my head on a different axis,
and I wonder,
if you see these stars,
what do you think of?

You who has nothing,
you who is stuck in a third world country,
you who lives in a sub-sufficient world,
where everything is on the rocks
and nothing is certain.

You who can’t tell
the dollar from the euro.
You to whom it doesn’t matter,
not because you’ve never been taught to read,
but because you’ve got no pocket for change.
Your pocket’s been torn and that hole,
that black,
black,
hole,
is sucking the life out of you.

You don’t care for the dollar or the euro,
you want the thing that’ll make you see tomorrow
the thing that’ll make the pain go away.

You,
your wants,
your biggest desires,
are the littlest things I have.

And yet I?
I wish for things beyond your imagining.

Why?
Because the world I was raised in
validates it,
but yours,
yours doesn’t.

But if you’re on this planet
and so am I,
why am I on this side,
and you on the other?

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9.24.10

September 24, 2010

And so even though the tears seem to be coming,
and my heart seems to be racing, or stopping,
I don’t know what to do.

My life can change in an instant,
with a yes, or a no.
But I don’t know what to do.

Say yes, better for the long run,
who cares if you throw away one year of your life,
and it might not even work out in the end,
you won’t look bad and ask “What if?”
But I don’t know what to do.

Say no, life’s too short,
who cares if one of your biggest dreams won’t come true,
and you’re throwing away years of hard work,
you might not live till tomorrow.
But I don’t know what to do.

To swing this way or that,
I can’t seem to go with the wind,
everything seems to be bigger to me,
I’m just more cautious.
But I don’t know what to do.

So as the tears come and go
and I contemplate between
yes and no,
won’t you sit down next to me,
talk to me,
hold me,
so I’ll know what to do?

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9.21.10

September 21, 2010

So today,
today life threw me a curveball.

I don’t know much about baseball,
but I did what came to me naturally.

Now I won’t know the consequences of my actions,
or life’s actions, for a while.

But I do know that I did what I could,
under the circumstances.

And no matter what happens,
the world won’t end
because I didn’t know much about baseball.

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9.4.10

September 5, 2010

I want it.

I want the tomorrow in my dreams,
the one that promises to reap what I sow,
not one based on luck and chance.

A tomorrow that gives me a dime
for my ten pennies.

A tomorrow that will last,
even when I don’t.

A tomorrow that will illuminate my face,
even when the world is dragging it down.

A tomorrow that will hold my hand,
when smooth turns to rough.

That tomorrow is my wish,
and I’m looking for my shooting star.