like a fish out of water
walking backwards upstream
grand illusion of compliance
buying nothing sight unseen

respecting their essence
detached from their path
connected in spirit
repelled by all wrath

norms without ethics
morality sans love
passion ever searching
a need to rise above

heart sinking hatred
mind numbing neglect
mountain moving greed
rarely circumspect

not infrequently i ponder
how my being was unfurled
wondering deeply in my soul
if i belong to another world

I haven't known her for a really long time,
But I can already tell:
She likes the subtle things.
The things that people don't usually acknowledge.
The smile, the laugh,
The kisses and the hugs.
I can just tell...

She has bright blonde hair that matches her personality.
She wears clothes that reflect her soul; relaxed.
And she has a laugh that is powered by her heart; it's amazing.

You see,
I can write about how the sunset is so beautiful with all of the colors mixing together like a fresh oil painting.
But I'd rather talk about her.
Because honestly, she takes my breath away.
I don't have to say much, I just have to look into her eyes,
And I know that things will be okay.
They just have to be...

Again, I haven't known her for a really long time.
But I can tell she likes the subtle things.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.

Engage yourself,
So much with reading and learning,
That you forget,
What beneath your ribs,
Is aching.
Is breaking.

All of it, every grain of it
Is a simple white lie
Well worded, well voiced
And alluringly expressed
And it has pervaded so deep now
It is deceiving
To me it is the truth now
I was cognizant of it all this while
But the soul inside me
Did not have the courage
Or energy to absorb the fact
That I was lied upon,again
So I played it along
Played it well,
And played it for too long.
To live a lie,
To see it in front of your eyes.
Staying quiet because of
The Horror you see,
That will originate
If you confront about it,
Talk about it,
Just accept it.
Play it with a smile,
And all goes fine.