Oh God...
Ya Allah...
Hay Bhagwan...
So many more names to reckon the great soul.
.
.
.
And amidst all these names,
Why is it always, that we keep forgetting whom we call?

Voice always waiting, waiting, wanting.
The stars are real but remain unused,
Unused and unhurt.

I saw wind and beauty wrong
(the arms should have been longer)
Wonder understands Miss Change lovingly.

It takes feet to stand.
The moon lies and memory matters.
Come, sit, watch the bad words with me in darkness.

Sound person.
High earth.
Ask the song fingers for something less boring.

We just like love,
And time and life and heart and
Something to be different, new today.

Feel the day
Way away, so far away
That day the thought train lost a good man.

Spirit never dies but neither
does it always return just
because we
need it
to.

I shortened my name
not out of shame
but merely to be a hero and save...
you
The embarrassment of not being able to say
and you cannot say this is not true
That when you read my name it confuses you
How the Brie is like cheese
and the Ana is pronounced foreignly
Put together
having no meaning;
To you.
But to me it's originality makes me
me
A shortened name carries a long line of pain
A name that no one can understand because it's always being changed

Jessica

What’s in a name

Oh what’s in a name

Teeth ache’n sweet  

Oh so sweet

Pure as ****** skin

Oh so pure

They won’t know

Oh no they won’t know

what you’ve done

Oh what have you done?

Pure, sweet girl

Hand me the gun

Oh no they won’t know

you called
me so many
names i could
barely keep track
but i did and i can't
help but wonder how
i let you hurt me so often
or how i managed to stay sane

Many little children wander by
Ogling the window shops’ merchandise
Replaying dreams of Christmas past
Inside their infinite minds
As a glimmer of possibility
Hopes to peek through the July heat
— Moriah J. Chace

WOW, isn't that lovely?
Would you call your child that? Would you leave them there,    
   hanging without a piece of    
   identity to clarify just what  
   *they are?
Would you leave them there
   without a beautiful name that
   suits them dearly like: Grace,
   Hope, Joy or Micah, Joe,
   Ben?
Would you call your child Untitled?
No?
Then why would you call the
   poetry that you've raise from
   an idea and helped it to
   develop Untitled?
Be careful, poems have
   feelings too!

My world is filled with strangers.
People without last names.
Intense closeness and then nothing.
Passing through without a trace.
I don't mind but it all feels paper thin.
I want something solid to stand on.

A name can be home to many faces.
It conjures memories, feelings
and long forgotten places.
It's sad hearing yours, although I
still smile.
'Cause I was glad to have known you,
If only for awhile.