You weren't there in the hospital room,
on the day my life began,
you even missed the very first time
I crawled, or walked, or ran.

You never got the chance to help, when I cried my childhood
tears,
you never saw me growing up, and you missed my teenage years.

On the very day you came along, I knew my life was changed,
from the moment that you married my mom, my world was rearranged.

You welcomed me with open arms, and I knew your love was real,
because it was never just words that you said, it was a love that I could feel.

You WERE there in the hospital room,
when my daughter's life began,
you watched her grow and helped us both, as she
crawled, and walked, and ran.

You gladly took the important role, of "Papa" in my kids life,
you've always shown your support and your love,
when our world held turmoil and strife.

You've seen me through the hard times
with your wisdom, advice, and love,
and I know without a shadow of doubt, you were sent from God above.

I know you missed my early days, but you're the father I never had,
I love you more than words can express,
you're my hero, my friend, my dad.

No one ever told
me that I was the villain
of my own story

7:42 AM
18/9/20

Hungry for something
I have never seen before,
my eager eyes scour
pages of books.

Opening several books,
I marvel at the lives and stories
of true artisans of their time:
Xiao Hong, Joy Harjo, and William Faulkner.

I stare at each page,
trying to digest
every word
and imitate their style;

however, my mind draws blank
the moment the blank document
reflects back into
my empty mind.

Suddenly
intrusive thoughts rise
to the forefront of
my consciousness.

“How dare you think
you could ever become
a hero like them
without a single reader?”

I finally surmise that
I’m not a poet,
artist, or
author.

I don’t have the
soulless apartment flat
in the middle of a bustling city,
finding muse in every corner of life.

Nor do I have the freedom
to explore outside’s
blank landscapes
as there’s a spike of missing women reports here.

Instead,
I live in my empty childhood home,
bedroom walls plastered with heroes from video games
as I hide away from my mom’s boyfriend.

Afraid of both the outside and inside world,
I remain still.
I am no writer.
I am no hero.

there's no limit to what i'd do
to keep this little game of ours going.
you don't wanna know how far i'd go.

yes, i'll keep on trailing you;
for although hope lies beyond the finish line
no ending is better than an empty one.

we'll stall this thing a while longer, so please
let go for just a second; i think that you could stand
to take a small lesson. no, you can keep
holding on to the chain. forget i ever said it.

the night sky reminds me of that one time -
i'm sure you remember, you still have the scar -
eighteen thirty-four, the city was on fire
along with our skins; along with your disguise.

i've never seen rage burn so pretty
in someone's eyes before, you know.
you lean in and i'm not quite sure
if i'll survive to see another day.

and i ask you: do you like what you see?
you answer with a blade to my neck.
eloquent as always, my love, although
are you sure you could stand the silence?

Dragon in my Closet


1.
I should write a poem
today. Now. But
I just don't feel like doing so.
Instead, I'm going to write
a story
about why. About the Dragon.
And that'll do.


2.
Once upon a time,
there was a To Do List
that needed to be Done.
It had items and points
and notes and scribbles;
she was absolutely the most
prettiest thing.

This beauty belonged to a Knight,
a pilgrim in the Land of Adulthood.
And I'm about to tell you
why, though he wanted,
and tried and tried
he never could
get the stupid List Done.

So, one day while
he was wooing Lady List,
a thunderous roar stopped him
in the middle of his speech.
He smelled the sulphur before
he saw the shadow fly over,
but it was too late
and the dragon grabbed his Lady lover.

The List yelled for help,
but what could Knight have done?
Before him stood the vicious
Merciless Procrastination Dragon!
With a slice of its claws
and just one breath of flames,
the poor List was done for
and could nevermore be Done.

Well, you can imagine
the scenario that now unfolded:
List gargling on the floor,
Knight screaming like a toddler.
The Dragon wasn't done yet, though,
he still had one more goal:
Keeping the Knight busy all day
so he won't rescue List with CPR.

This was the easy part,
and loads of fun too.
Knight had snapped out of his shock,
but the dragon just had to
keep his paw on the Knight's head
and hold it there until
the Knight got tired of fighting air
and became very still.

Then the Dragon lifted his paw.
Knight fell on the floor with a
THUD.
Dragon flew off with a smile on his face,
happy with the fun he'd had.
The Knight scrambled the strength together
to crawl on all fours to his List -
or rather, what remained of her -
and pretended she still exists.

(But she was dead,
and the Knight was broken.
He would never even look
at another List again.
Until he gets lonely and
tired of Nothing,
then another To Do List pops up
that's in need of Doing...)


3.
This tale is true,
believe me, 'tis so.
I have met the very Knight
and greeted the Lady too.
And the Malicious
Procrastination Dragon
made its nest in
my closet.

And that's why
I'm not writing a poem.