西方白虎

The same cat was always in the park,
old and gray - looking for a handout
in nearby garbage cans and litter.

Unwashed and wild, and left ignored,
people walked passed it every day
knowing it would die soon.

But one man in particular had a choice,
he could choose to have it live
in a home with a loving family
and toss a yarn ball around
a giant inferno of a fireplace
that would surely keep it warm forever,

or,

leave it in the park,
where it would shiver every night
and be forced to keep one cautious eye open
for someone looking to capture it
and inject it with death.

The man's girlfriend kind of liked cats,
so while he may have let it go before
he scooped it up and took it home,
where it would live for another year
in a home with soft cat food
a litter box and lots of milk.

They named it 白虎.

Catherine

A wonderful composition it would be,
and when she heard it, he was sure
that she would fall in love with him.

Over two years he perfected it,
such delicate and gentle notes
emanating from the strokes of his fingers.

But she found another lover,
and it was through deep meditation
he decided to continue the song.

He even kept the title,
her name, the same,
up until her wedding day.

It was on that day she heard,
while walking on the terrace,
a sound that struck her still.

"A wonderful song, isn't it dear?"
Unblinking and faltering, she stuttered,
"Yes, it must be for one dearly beloved."

sunspots of the heart

Gliding her hand over the fleece blanket,
smoothing out the texture
and fixing its delicate color,
she remedies the blotches from before.

With her thumb or finger
she'll draw a dark mark on the fleece,
and then smooth it out again
so it looks the same as before.

How long has she been doing this?
How many years has it been?
A tear falls off her cheek,
wishing all her blotches were as easy to erase.

for the most part i like being alone
there's no unwanted noise or farts
i can do whatever i want in privacy
and only listen to the music i like
i can maintain order and structure
there aren't any uninvited ears
and i can watch jdramas in peace

whatever part of my sanity i'd lose
by being confined to live alone
i think i would make up for
in finally being able to write poems again.

yes, everything's fine
of course i'm sure
i'm okay
i promise

my runny nose,
it must be a cold.
and some dust
must have gotten in my eye.

i look away
and contort my face
caused by the mental pain,
like hot irons on my heart.

in a playful move
i cover my face with a pillow.
i'm hiding my feelings, my face,
my tears.

i'm okay,
"daijoubu"
i promise
ok, just this once, i'm a liar.

i changed the music i liked
how i acted
and my hair

i tortured my heart and stomach,
both twisting and writhing
trying to quell the butterflies

the music on my ipod was yours
along with the feeling in my heart
and the words in many of my poems

you asked who she was
and i dodged it like a pro
just like i've always done

the closest i've become to normal,
where other people accept what i have,
vanished right before my eyes.

it is the selfish desire of every sadist to see the pain and anguish their death would cause others. perhaps it an attempt to convince themselves that people care, they would love to see people emit some emotion for them. if only this emotion was present when they were alive, they might still be with us. if only we did not wait until they were gone to laugh, or cry, or at least show some emotion in their presence, instead of ignoring them. if only they could go in to the future, and see themselves lying in their coffin, with friends and family huddled around. then they'd learn that they weren't quite alone as they thought and that their death wasn't needed or necessary.

guys

they get really lonely
and lose faith in themselves.
they lose self esteem
and confidence and rationale.

they lose their heads.
tempers go flaring
and violent outbursts
thrash innocent victims.

they don't have a listener-
not a single one.
frustration ignites an inferno
that blazes down reason.

hot blood is pumped
from their heart
to their warped minds,
and the subjective reality
that they see of the world
becomes distant and bleak,
to the extent where nothing,
no one, matters.

they hurt others.
they call friends.
they get drunk.
they have sex.
they write poems.
they commit suicide.
they lose their heads.

falling in slo-mo

plummeting towards the ground
with my heart in my throat
and my hands outstretched
desperately denying their fate.

i am fully ignorant
of the events before this moment.
how i came to be here,
falling in slow motion.

just before that moment
where my hands hit the pavement,
and my radius and ulna crack in two,
i wake up in a cold sweat.

for a moment i think i'm still falling
before being called back to reality -
an alarm clock flashing 9 a.m.
and a new day to live.

i try to remember why i fell,
what subconscious part of my mind
is telling me to take a breath
and look around at my life.

like holding sand in my hands,
the memories of why i fell
slowly disappear in to nothing.
so tantalizingly close,
yet so many birthdays away.

Sitting in the car with my dad in a Burger King parking lot, I said something I wasn't supposed to. "Well," he said, "you'll think differently when I'm dead."

With my head buried in a pillow in room 506 I thought to myself, "Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to die." I held my breath as long as I could, but the pain was too much.

I had just ran warm-up laps for All-Stars after eating a bowl of macaroni in the car ride over. I threw up, and Mr. Rosenberg, who sat in the bleachers, said, "Well I ate before I came, and I'm not throwing up."

I had just come out of the bathroom of J.J. Daniels middle school and the fair-skinned english boy on our team noticed my haircut, and said, "Nice dew! (doo)."

I was talking on AIM about visiting a friend. "I want to come and see you as a friend," I said. "Only as a friend?", they asked. "No, I want to take care of you."

I always called her back but something always came up.

I am proud that I don't drink, but sometimes I lie about it to fit in.

"She said she just wants to be friends," said Chris McGuire, about my first crush. Ben gave her a warhead at lunch and said it was from me.

"I bet you won't tell those guys to go sit down," said Chad's sister, talking about the three business men blocking our view of home plate. I got up and asked in a way my dad would have if he was there (Hey buddy/I appreciate it/etc.). The guy I asked would later on scratch his forehead, with only his middle finger.

"Who the hell got the controller all greasy?" Gus asked. It wasn't my fault they brought down Fritos, but I felt very guilty and victimized.

"I want to break up," I've never said.

"I love you," I've said alot.

"Will you marry me?" I'll perhaps say some day.

With my hand raised I almost was going to ask the teacher what was on the "other side" of the map of the globe. I thought maybe it was all just water.

While racing Kimani Allen on Field Day I realized I was going to lose a sprint, so halfway through I started limping and faked an injury.

One of the coolest things I learned in school was when T.K. taught me how to catch butterflies during one morning in 4th grade.

I still feel bad about kicking Mikey in the eye while playing duck, duck, goose.

When I broke my wrist and had to have a cast put on it, not a single person (or very few) signed it, because no one offered. People always asked me why no one had signed my cast.

All I've ever wanted is a close group of friends to belong with. I've only ever had this once in my life, which was over 5 years ago.

When I graduated Middle (or Elementary) School I cried. My friends made fun of all the girls who had cried later on that day, and I joined them.

I have a hard time being happy for others when it comes at the cost of me having to give something up.

I am easily bullied and buckle under peer pressure.

My name is Stephen, and the present moment is all I have.

happy valenchyaan's day

i wonder what makes this day
any different from the others?
it has become commonplace
to downgrade valentine's day.

people call it commercial,
a sham and pointless.
but any day i am given
the opportunity to love you,
is a day i cherish like my life.

i like only having one person,
to kiss, to hug, to have.
i like the specialness
that accompanies a day like this,
and a person like you.

i could exist within 1,000 ages of the past,
and travel over every inch of earth,
but i would never find someone as trusting,
understanding and open-hearted as you.

so am i going to shun the day
that gives me even more reason
to imagine a life shared with you?
i would no sooner be a single man again.

i am what i am
exposed for the world to see
my favorite color, blue
my favorite number, three

i have the same urges
and the same desires
i admire old people
and hate liars

this is me
twenty, six feet tall
shy (or cowardly)
and ready to fall...

...straight in to your arms
and be set free from worry
and doubt, and given
something to protect and love
for as long as the moon
hangs high enough,
for me to know that somewhere,
you can see it too.

i am all these things
but i'm proud of only a few,
and of those i am,
is my eternal faithfulness

I know very well my place in life. I am to breathe air from the trees for approximately seventy to eighty years, perhaps shorter - unlikely longer - and then die. The actions in between may lead to the betterment of others or my surroundings, or they may not. Years after my death my time spent here will have been insignificant to the current events of the world. With time, any conventions will disappear. There is no reason I am alive. There is no purpose I have been given. I can give myself goals, and attempt to define the meaning of my existence, but ultimately that is my own self-actualization at work. In truth, from birth to death, there is no reason for me to live, other than to live. Some call this ultimate freedom. Realization of mortal boundaries. Others call it blasphemy, and condemn me to flames of hell. Yet when one realizes there is neither a reason to live, nor a purpose to life, something occurs. They tend to treasure their time all the more, seeking out to identify parts of themselves that up until that point have been left blank. We are all filling in the blanks of our lives, every day. You can choose to be happy or sad, to laugh or cry. You can choose to shelter yourself and quietly live out your insignificant existence of this world. You can make a difference and be immortalized in high school text books. Yet mere remembrance is not a proper measure for life fulfillment. The only person who has the power to ensure your short time of living is at least somewhat meaningful in even the most minuscule of contexts - is you.

I was created for a single island,
a bachelor mansion on a windy knoll,
an eremitic bench -
in a dreary park.

Yet I was not created,
to be alone.
My soul seeks for a partner,
but alas - no more.

No - one is enough -
to satiate desire.
To give what I require,
others are unneeded.

I was created thusly,
for others stir the pot.
Annoying gnats - they fly -
which I am unable to swat.

All I Need

Stand tall and firm,
without a tear or pout.
Be strong in your resolve,
do not regret or doubt.

Look me in the eyes,
not with your head askew.
Gaze deep in to my heart,
where my love is true.

We'll still be together,
underneath the expanding sky.
And all I'll ever ask,
is for a kiss good-bye.

Jumper

I wonder where he went wrong
as his second legs swings
over the guard rail and he jumps.

Perhaps a failed relationship,
or maybe humility at work,
or it could be both.

His worries are washed away
by the wind that streaks
through his jacket that
flaps in the air like wings.

His shoes fly off,
and his pants flutter violently
against his legs,
trying to slow him down.

I wonder where he went wrong,
as his head is forcefully caved in
by the concrete sidewalk.

No one is smart,
no one knows more
than anyone else.
Knowledge and life
are relevant to the person.
There's no right
no wrong,
no justice,
no truths.
They'll fool you
to think money matters.
For you to think
paper equals happiness.

If you want to get drunk
then it's your business
and not mine.
If you want to be loud
and obnoxious
and a complete moron
then go ahead.
If you want to drink
as much as you can
until you can't stand
be my guest.
If you choose to drink
and take a long drive
off of a short cliff,
then it's your business,
and not mine
(though I won't be mourning).

The guys on the other wall are too loud
and I grumble to myself like an old man.
For every bass beat that strikes my wall
and keeps me up another minute longer,
I'd like to strike them with the power
of calmness and intellect that only
a freak like him could possess.

I don't know what the next 10 years have in store for me. I try not to look too far, and live as close to the present day as possible. I've always had emotional trouble when I venture too far in to the past or try and delve too deeply in to the future. I figure the less time I spend thinking about "what ifs" can be applied to the "is"s and "are"s. I've learned that by loving yourself you appear attractive to other people, and they will in turn love you. That loving another person isn't all about giving yourself to them and devoting all you have for them (though it's a part), but taking care of yourself and showing them what it takes to get along in this world. Sure, we all offer each other helping hands every once in a while - that's what life is all about. But learning to stand strongly on your own two feet is perhaps the best thing a person could ever do for themselves. So to live in the present moment, and to love and be true to myself, is a goal I have adopted for the new year, and also for my entry to adulthood (in that I will soon no longer be a teenager). Soon I'll be working - but I don't know where, or what I'll be doing, how much I'll be making, or even whether or not I'll enjoy it. What I do know is that in order to have a successful life I must make whole-hearted and thoughtful decisions in the present. Thinking too far ahead will only limit my ability to make these decisions intricately and carefully.