Complete The Circle

Expression I have long considered mortal and short-lived.
I have craved withdrawal from myself as much as
I have struggled to contract my wants.

Now, I demand the pictures that frame me small.
I draw from the imagination that forces me to see the truth.
Pure everything till my ends allow.

I choose to complete the circle.
Not because I’m alone, angry, or powerless.
Because the things that once existed no longer fit to make me brave.

It is the beginning of the end of my romance.
I drown with a raging desire for fantasy
with a reality that doesn’t understand my love.

A love so kind and filled with unanimity that
my identity touches a crack on a spotless land.
A stream in the middle of nowhere;
flowing in directions that have no boundaries to fill.

To animate this relationship with myself,
I must expand my horizons and look beyond finite.
Instead of standing under the glass myself to learn my intricacies,
I must fall under the millions that shine over me.

Lay under the fire, feel the burn, and become a subject of stillness
to comfort the role that society illustrates.
How many times this sentiment arises and
how many times do I blink and lose sight of it all?

This will make me strong. Make me live. Make me affect.
Yes, these emotions are brief,
but night comes and the pain makes it last forever.

. . .

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Be Her Shadow

It’s not easy to raise a girl. She’s fierce. She’s perceptive. She’ll learn the ways of life by how you treat her and how you do not. So let it all go and be her shadow. That’s the only thing you can do.

. . .

Be her shadow.
Raise her mind.
You won’t know until you do
because she’s little known
to her ways of life.

Don’t mistake your anger for love
that’s not the dress up she knows.
Down the road,
she’ll say yes from your no
she’ll be from your all that you weren’t
that’s just how she grows.

Don’t give her playthings dressed up and fair
that’ll make her believe
she’s not as good as for such flair.
Encourage her a talent
whatever it may be.

Don’t tell her what isn’t hers
rather teach her to dream.

You don’t make her a believer,
you make her wise-
wise enough to say what is,
strong to not string along lies

Perhaps, she’ll never be like you
and why would she?
She’s a part of nature-
like a leaf that falls from a tree.

. . .

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A Dark Alleyway

What do you see when you walk down a dark alleyway? Do you see only the wreckage or do you see the path?

. . .

A dark alleyway,
you are so fated,
but not by yourself.

Look around you,
I beg you to see,
all those chains
telling you not to and to be;
telling you to breathe,
telling you to stab,
every emotion you possess.
All the worldliness you believe.

Don’t look away now,
you know you’re dragged.
All that you felt,
has not been riddled.
You’re on display,
in that dark alleyway,
but you don’t know it yet.

For your soul is alive,
still lifeless.

. . .

Want to see more of my poems? Follow me on Instagram, here. You’ll find my latest tweets, here. And my new Facebook page, right here

That Sweet Talk

Who has written the possibility of what is taught is understood is materialized, every time? On the spontaneity of false notions, the fatalistic desire of the damnable, and everything leading up to that sweet talk we happen to speak to ourselves at least once in our lifetime against self-criticism and faith. Maybe, just maybe, what is taught is never completely understood, but is still materialized, all the time.

. . .

That sweet talk
to frustrate me
to provoke me
into complete destruction.

That sweet talk
of times ahead
with weapons of my past
only to numb me of my head.

That sweet talk
of memorable experiences
that often lead to disasters
let’s just call them strange incidences.

That sweet talk
of fighting my demons
of avenging from self
in the name of freedom.

That sweet talk
turning tides every season
and with courage
it’s only made from my hidden treason.

. . .

Want to see more of my poems? Follow me on Instagram, here. You’ll find my latest tweets, here. And my new Facebook page, right here