womb that is my room

my bed, clenched like a child
inside the womb that is my room
and i the fetus, crumble down
as painstaking pulse of life
pound my heart
til it breaks, how such beauty be so brittle


my fist stabbed into my heart
to stop the blooming of pain
as my forehead reach the top of my toe
wordless, they articulate
the misery of the abandoned


as the night carry an amber breeze
that surrounds the moon
creating a galaxy masacre
and i imagine the rape of luna
now bleeding with stars
that continuously scar the sky
jet black to acid red of pain


if the sky is in chaos
like an unending war for peace
unhealable wound of love
where else can i hide
but back to the womb that is my room
and keep my sorrows adrift like seafoams
at the edge of my bed
this little abode--is the safest
if not a home.

2:00pm

long due posts

better than
12/;16pm 10/11/5


sitting heavily inside a teacup
i taste the bitterness of yesterday
in each gulp of leaves dried up by memory
the rythm of the cup twirling between my palms
bring me back to you
how each cup of tea paints your imag inside me
and now in retrospect
i know i've loved you, and still
still as remembrance
but today i have decided
to move on with time
and sway with the generosity of change

unbearable lightness
of life, like the wind
that blows in you face when you wake up on holidays
crisp and fresh, innocent, unkowing
it lifts me up
to the dark ocean waves
and i feel my soul illuminating
together with trhe pearls i've cried--
surrounding me, brightly
and lightly carressing my back
giving comfort to the abandoned

inside my shell i slowly crawl
like an infant
seeing the world for the first time
with all its splendor
embracing the unknwon which is such a beauty
as i crawl on further i see
your face, the memories
of what has been --- is never to return

but i am grateful for the gifts you gave
hurting and dying wrapped wonderfully in your skin
which i have praised
yes i was once your pagan
despite blind great love
that will never win
against anxiety and restraint
i have learned taht loving
from far away
is better than hoping (waiting)

in memory of

in memory of

as we try to savor
each day
knowing it will end soon
like all days must
like all roads must
like all cycles will
we create memories
which can be clasped in our hands
like a bird in your palm
ready to sing the songs of yesterday
in memory of
days long gone.