Untitled (Poem #107)

She told you,

everyday,

through little glimpses,

and moments.

Yet you didn’t listen,

or see this falling…

Why didn’t you see it?

Why didn’t you see us?

Why didn’t you save us?

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One man is enough (poem #106)

I can whisper words like:

feminism,

racism,

sexism,

police brutality,

genocide,

homicide,

assault,

battery,

and rape.

Yet I could scream my name at the top of my lungs,

and none of you would hear me,

because disaster only gets our attention for four or five seconds,

unless it is in gastric proportion that forces

which forces or mine to not move along to what Kim Kardashian is doing,

or the next thing Apple is going to release.

No,

one person is not enough

to cause us to stop and stare,

or wonder how the world could be so cruel.

But one man can save a nation,

one man can start a war,

fuck one man can push a button,

the size of my eye,

and obliterate the existence of man.

Your next status (poem #105)

Avert your eyes children,

because your attention span is up,

social media is calling you back into it’s arm,

to hide you from a world filled with pain.

Until it hurts you,

then you will understand;

how quickly the world that embraces your stupid statuses

about being thugs, basketball, or doing drugs

will turn a blind eye to your sorrow as you cut your wrist.

Social media claims to be bringing us together,

but it took the individual out of individuals

and replaced it with what can get the most likes and re-tweets.

I bet you if you put a status out there,

about how you really feel,

the responses will surprise you;

because even though you may receive a million

you could see them the next day

and they would look through you as if your status update was a joke,

and as if that one person

who told you to die

never spoke a word to your soul.

Social media didn’t create friendships…

it created monsters.

Four in one; cry for help….(Poem #102)

One tear fell,                                                                                          Quickly

by the rushing revine,                                                                     as it all rushes by

as the tall blond girl,                                                        never knowing what will happen next

let a scream petrude from her lips,                                        praying the answer will come

the last mercy call,                                                                    to anyone willing to listen,

and cry for help.                                                                       hopefully not onto deaf ears.

His hands shock,                                                                         Rapidly

as they twisted,                                                             grabbing at bits and piece

and knoted the rope,                                                       trying to keep it together

if it was too lose,                                                              everything would fall apart

he would suffer,                                                                         worse than before

too tight….                                                                             and it would be too late.

he is already dead….

The kiss of the rain (Poem #99)

It always amazes me how gentle the sky is to the ground,

when it graces it with it’s presents,

as it tip-toes across the ground,

elegantly sheds it’s tear,

turns it’s head with a breeze,

then smiles upon the earth with it’s light,

only to remind it what darkness is…

Until you anger it,

then it will slam it’s fist in anger,

thrash it’s waves in agony,

and scream it’s winds in terror.

Itsukushima Shrine (Poem #98)

Red and orange hide the blue sky,

each second they flood my vision,

soon it is all I see,

it overtakes the sight of the leaves and branches,

I become mesmerized,

focusing only on the next glimpse of red I will get,

holding onto the idea that they will never end,

then I turn and I see it with all of it’s glory.

No reds,

no oranges,

yet that is what makes it beautiful,

the contrast of stone to red,

and intricate marksmanship

to nature.