I may come to you
like a wave
Quietly at night
Or like a tide
crashing at the shores
But love
I may come

a bear
growls loud
a gun

I do not understand these night words
That come to me like stars,
shining in my thoughts,
I extend my hand to reach to them,
But they are too far away, beyond a sense,
I feel like a child at a flat roof of life,
just swaying in a hammock that God built for me,
But I'm just amazed, flabbergasped to say the least, I simply enjoy watching the stars shine when my brothers watch it with me.

Me and you
In the road of over here is now
And in the intersection
Of over there is later
Just walking
Following that road
Not crossing the intersection.

Do I feel what I write or do I write what I feel? I know that I write what I feel, but somewhere in between the lines, I feel what write, I just feel it to the point that I write what I feel.

I wandered barrels in between my tongue
tripping over words,
as if I tip toed to reach the clock,
then crack, hearing the wooden floor,
I cringed then ran,
to the kitchen screaming to speak more.

I want him to know what I know,
This feeling in me, that only me knows,
If then, I could feel free,
I could forget that the world exists,
And just let go...

But only I know, and I know,
That I should not tell him so,
I know that this feeling in me,
I should just let it go...

I write what I write
Just to write what I have to write
Because if I write
to not write what I have to write
It'll be like I write
to write what I want to write
But this art of writing
does not work like that

Come bathe with me in rivers of sunshine
And let us fly in oceans of clouds

Till we fall

In

Love

It happens very often, Often than ever
I say one thing but the thing I said
Is not the thing I wanted to say
But I said that thing anyways

And the thing is

That I can't say the thing I wanted to say
Because everyone just hears the same thing I said

My heart beats less and less for you.
It feels as if it'll soon stop
pumping love to you.

You said, "your love is the blood
that circulates through my veins
It is your love that warms me up
And returns life to me."

"You are my heart."

And turns out,
that this heart of yours,
has a heart of its own,
And that this heart of mine,
beats less
And less
each
day

Oh Jesus Christ,
I follow you day and night,
I know you are righteous and just
And that in good people, you are found

Oh Jesus Christ,
I love you with all my heart.
In you, I find the strength
And the courage to go on in life

I know it's not easy to do what is right
And that often we deviate from our paths
But oh Jesus christ,
I met a man,
Who makes me feel energize, and alive,
Who gives me the joy, that I needed to continue following your path.

Day
You come along without pretending
Sometimes you are moody
Stormy, windy, sunny
Other times, you are cold

But you don't pretend
You are who you are
Regardless, people like you or not
But most of the time
They accept you the way you are
And in some occasions
They even try to acclimatize their lives
according to your moods

And what do you know,
Look at here.
You see that book.
Grab it.
Read it.

It's covers are old. Dusty. Almost broken.
It's pages are yellow, almost ashen,
But it's letters are readable.

Just grab it.
Read it.

These type of books are the substance
For your mind.
If you feel hungry for knowledge,
Search for one,
Just like this one, here, have it.

Read it as if you were eating
Your favorite food.
Slowly, chewing and chewing,
Bit by bit, as if not wanting
Your food to ever finish.

Remember,

These sort of books with substance,
are what your mind needs.

Grab it.
Read it.

There lays asleep, my lady of dreams,
Wake her up and help me dream,
But if by chance, she walks asleep
Don't wake her up, guide her towards me

I see the stars brightly shine,
I see the waves ebbing back,

So if you see her in her even'g gown
And if you see her in the shorelines
Don't wake her up, guide her towards me
Don't wake her up, else she'll scream in fear

Just guide her back into my life
Just guide her back into my path

But don't wake her up, or you'll disturb her dreams
Don't wake her up if she walks asleep
Don't wake her up unless she lays there asleep
Under the moonlight
Under a palm at the beach

God if by chance, I were to forget about you
Please, do come, knock into my door
And if by chance, I were to not open
Please, my lord, make yourself at home

here, here is the key.
Here, come in

This my heart is the door
This my life is your home

Can I tell you something?

I search for the sun rise in these waves of life
in this still waters that sometimes
become turbulent with the winds

I search for some oxygen
some life to breathe in me

I search for an island; a place to land
and find some peace

I've been floating and swimming, and often diving deep deep down
in oceans and oceans
that drown the me in them

I come to the surface
but it's always the same
So I search for the sun rise

To admire it
and just lose myself
in its glowing
rays

together
hands hurry
Mr. Time

I'm hunched over pain
trying to straighten my spine

but on the desk, I got
too many problems to solve
and a brain that has lost
all of its spark

I was once on top of my marks
...
Don't know, how I lost my marker.

May be Alzheimer's
is horse riding my back,
pushing me
Closer to death'a
finishing line?

To be your arms, and feel your warm.
To be your body, and feel you whole,
I may want, I may want, or I may not

for if I'm your arms, then I would feel how you feel
when you touch her and not me
For if I'm your body, then I would feel how you feel,
but not, how you feel about me.

For then I would be you and I won't be me.
For then you nor I would exists.

Bright, bright, stars,
that visit the sky with lights,
without you, my nights,
would be nothing but dark

And full, full, moon,
that comes every once,
without you, I'd be soon,
a lonely lagoon

Somedays,
I want to scream my soul out
And just be a ghost
Wandering through time

But I'm flesh and bones
(I thank God for that)
who screams and nothing comes out
Not a single sound

For fear to scream too loud
And scare the people in my life
For fear that I might scream too loud
what I'm unsure is right.

I thought you were the benches at church
where people knelt for support.
I thought you were the incense in the air,
that filled the entire church.
I seriously thought that was your smell.
and that if I closed my eyes,

you will be there,

I thought, I thought

I only thought...

but how silly, ah, I don't need to close

my eyes

to know you are there.

May be...
Someday... I'll be

something
or nothing
or a thing

I might pretend that I exist
and that I live in the present
never seeing the future
Not looking back at what it use to be

May be...
Someday... I'll

stay still

It's just a tear in my eyes,
That breaks my heart, and makes me sad

It's just this tear,
A tiny drop that falls like waterfalls,
Calm,
And then it gains currents,
Fast,
But it relaxes me as if were a lullaby.

I just want to cry,
And feel the stream moisten my skin,
I want to feel the salt in my lips,
As if I were in a beach, away from all of this.

To know the truth
it's as if not knowing it at all,
it only hurts,
it aches
but at least we know
what's going on

because the truth is
Like a knot around our necks,
meant to be unknotted,
to allow us to breathe

These eyes as brown as Earth
And these tears that flow like rivers
are the land where you walk on
are the water you drink from
yet these very same eyes
are the very same eyes
that keep a watch on you.

the ocean
waves hello's
to the sky

on my bed-
stars reflect
a mirror

I was a student roaming through thoughts,
always getting lost in the alleys
Of people's words,
Their sentences were cities I wanted to visit,
And I did, I visited these cities via my thoughts,

Though My thoughts were the feet that walked me through their cities,
And their cities were the ideas that captivated me with their beauty,
I was amazed at their grandeur, that I became a tourist to capture the monuments of their truths with my own hands, as if these hands held a camera, capable of capturing what others could not see.

But even then, I still could not make an album of the pictures that I took,
my pictures became collages, mixing one with the other, creating a whole new complete passage, or picture I should say, one that everyone could admire with their eyes, but one that wasn't real to the naked eye, nor one that anyone could touch, unless we all worked towards constructing it for ourselves.

Night
you are dark,
though stars keep you company
even the moon accompanies you
See, you make everyone shine
everyone
except you

Written by: L.L.

This anger
Angers me more
than the anger I felt
while being angered
Yesterday

It's just that this anger in me
Consumes the anger of yesterday
Plus it feeds
Upon the anger of my yesteryears.
It just grows and grows,
While feeding and devouring,
the angers I felt
in my past

It intensifies
yet it digests the leftovers
from my past angers.

It does.

But even worst,
This anger of mine
Never sleeps
It just feeds and grows,
At all times.

It's a glutton, right?

Oh heavens high, where are you now?
I searched for you within the clouds
I found some gates but of airlines
that only took me for a flight
then came to land me on some ground


Oh heavens high, where are you now?

I,


would love to smell
like roses sweet

And I,

would love to be
like roses sweet


but I....

--------------------- can't be.

for I,

am some bird
that jumps on roses sweet
and lands
on thorns that sting


till I,

---------------------bleed.


Yet I,

stopped to pray for roses sweet,
and soared the skies
to see the ground from which I stood

till I,

.............................found me.

but I,

saw the lands to be barren;
petals fallen,
no more roses sweet

---------------------just me.

life is an ice cube
floating and melting each day
in this hellish Earth

I felt the breeze greet me, tenderly,
like arms that hug, sturdily,
tightly puling closer towards a chest,
with heart, beating,
pump,
pump,
like a wind that leaves one refresh.

There are times
When she feels like trash;
Like some big fat container
that holds
waste inside

Or that it's empty
To then once again
be thrown
A little bit at a time
More and more
Waste

Until she cannot longer hold it inside
And everything starts to pile up
coming all to the surface
And the ground

I cannot explain the way I feel...
Today.

These feelings are complex.

It's no longer,
the I feel sad or the I feel happy.


It's more of
I'm in reality
and in the imagination;
as if I am
stranded on Mars
but roaming my dear Earth
while wondering if
the internet
is a safe place


I mean, it also has walls
And there's also a police

Plus, the net
is supposed to capture...


Yet,

Here I am

Captured

within this web

Of

Poetry.

Am I a criminal? Or am I some prey?

Why am I here Today?

Forgive me love,
I've been floating in your currents
Like a castaway who built a boat,
I've been swimming in your currents,
in search for the Earth that I belong,
Where you and I, could build a home,

So forgive me love,
I tried to drown in your love,
But I cannot. I need to breathe.
I need to live. I need to continue give it strokes,
Until I reach the place where we belong.

I choose my choices based on my choices
Not on the choices you choose for me to choose

But if you thought that I chose based on yours choices,
I'm sorry,
it's not my fault that some of your choices
somehow ended up being the same as my own.

Freedom is like writing sonnets
without having restrains
Just writing as if it were free verse

That's just what it is

managing to be your own self
despite following the every rule
that are imposed on yourself

little frogs
water plants;
with a jump

My eyes, a see-through window
full of smudges,
Light can barely pass through them,
It's hard to see in and out.
Though people still stand in front of them: waving as if trying to clear the smudges with their hands
But all I see are their intentions becoming more blur :(

can it be possible that God in all his mighty,
when he created men,
did not know that turning dirt to flesh,
could corrupt the soul?

Could it be possible that God in all his mighty,
did not know that dirt can contaminate?
or did he know, but hoped, no I mean,
did he have faith that man can become clean?

Or is it possible that the soul is a moving river,
some oasis, or moving water,
that should remain in constant motion,
to remain clean? or become clean?

Could it be that since our birth, our soul,
this river, starts losing it's current,
and thus, we end up drying up,
becoming more like what we were, dirt,
and nothing else?

But then,
how can our souls remain in constant movement?
How can this river continue growing?
Is it through pain? Is it through tears?
Or could it be, that through our tears
we can reflect in them and find ourselves?
As if those tears were raindrops, falling
one on one, then forming this river,
that keeps on growing to reflect ourselves?

Could it be?

It's a just a mess, a mess, my mom complains.
why can't you have it organize, cleaned?
I tried. I tried. I cleaned it. I organized it.
But it's always the same.
All I have it's clean clothes. No ***** clothes.
I left them in a chair. I tried to put them away.
I tried. I tried.
But It's so hard to find time to organized my mess.
I just accumulate them. I piled them up.
one by one, one after the other,
I'm sorry, I cannot find time to organized myself.

I'm such a mess.

I can't let my thoughts wandered,
my mind is a temple in ruins,
there's debris and weak foundations,
thus, if by chance,
I let them wandered,
my mind and I, could collapse

and in the process,
**** those thoughts along with me.

I cried yesterday night
in hopes
that a tear
would be you

right there
under the moonlight
caressing my cheek
making me feel
as if you
were there

with me

embracing me in your arms

Our hearts beating
to the sound of crickets
And our minds
lost in each other eyes

And I just cried...

I cried a tear and only one

Before you arrived

I could become a pen and lay in a desk forever,
I could wait hidden in a drawer and wait there forever,
but what's the use of being a pen?

Sometimes I wonder...

Is it fair to remain in one place until the ink dries,
until there's nothing else in me
that could leave a mark anywhere in the world?

Is it fair to be in one place until someone comes looking for me,
Until with me
that someone could leave a mark anywhere in the world?

Though at times I ponder...

Why can't I just be the person who holds the pen?

And then I think,
I will suffice with just being like a pen.

I thought about the waves
And how they rose -up -down -forth- and -back
And then they were known as tides

those waves
those waves
those waves

Just known with different names

Those waves
Those waves

everything seems to come from the same source

In this case

Those waves