To Be or Not To Be

You are at your glass breaking point.

After nerve-wrecking your brain,
after gut wrenching years of contemplation
you’ve finally forked up the courage
to bravely walk away

from the everyday hustle and bustle,
life or death,
wear and tear
of working yourself
into a perfectly timed
wheelchair retirement
that will surely come
at your poorly paid expense

if you do not walk away
from your beloved
bread winning
leach sucking,
paycheck to paycheck,
hard to find job.

I Am Certain

I stated my intentions,
loud and crystal clear,
and I intend to have my food on a silver platter.
My word is my bond;
I will not renege.

I am certain that my holy grail is coming to me.
No room for bitter doubts and assumptions.
I am deserving of this great blessing
and many, many more shots of grateful, happy_happy, joy_joy moments.

I am happiness bound.
My thoughts and actions will remain positively charged.
I will strongly continue to live my life
as a mirrored image of my cleared intentions.

Misery Needs Comfort

Oh miserable one,
stop yelling your lungs out.
Your ragged voice is collapsing bridges around you;
your scorching words make dry throats thirst for living water.

Stop using your windpipe to shatter fragile lives,
your demeaning ranting and raving
staircase full of pain is not for others to bear.
It’s not fair that your fear of failure brought forth by years of raging wars
still burns uncontrollable wild,
the result of many grieving battles.

Oh miserable one,
stop overdosing on your jumbled words.
They are twisting and churning already upset stomachs
with your fistful of lying tongue-tied excuses for your bad behavior.

Stop cursing your angry burdens
by keeping your misery comfortable.
Be not thou ashamed that you are terrifyingly mad at your unrealistic life choices
blindly cursing your frustrations at yourself,
thinking you’re saving everyone else from themselves,
when you are just crying out for emergency help.

Oh miserable one,
retreat now, shed your dirty laundry, wash your mouth in detergent
and rinse your tongue in bleach, oh miserable creature of guilt
before you exhaust yourself and collapse
from your next spilled beans.

Emotional Roller coaster

Well, everything we said
got carved in hard stone.
I’m keeping my distance,
That’s what I should’ve done.

I don’t want to keep
bothering you with
my puppy love stories.

I know you are
understandable trying to do “you”
And don’t want to constantly
go down the emotional roller coaster
that splits you in two uneven pieces.

On one side, you want more
But, on the other side,
You cannot handle it
or maybe you just don’t want
a piece of me.

Poetry is an Art from the Heart

Poetry is an art.
A masterpiece from the heart.

Let your words shine through.
Let it reflect you
and no one else’s opinion.

So what if you don’t get
any comments or likes on your post!
Keep posting.
keep writing.
Keep expressing your thoughts.
…they are your words
And as long as you are satisfied,
move on to the next.

Your poetry should move you first
before it moves anyone else.

Keep writing.
Keep posting.
Keep expressing yourself
the way it flows from your heart.

Your poetry is your art.

Burdens Chew

I’ve been thinking about it for a while,
toggling with the idea of this mentality.

I’ve wondered and wondered most times
unaware of the slightest clues
right before my very eyes;
I’ve failed to see.

Burdens chew
through to an early grave
of what is and what is not;
real or unreal—

a bunch of misconceptions
taken lightly and not properly diagnosed,
complete with worries caught
like the cold that stays put long after
all the symptoms were treated
and have long ago disappeared.

Sick of Love Songs

I don’t want to listen
to the same love songs
or dance to the same beat
as I did before for all the men I’ve loved.

This next song will not
be blasted on repeat.

In fact, I’m sick of love songs.
I know what I feel
and don’t need a theme song
to express or confirm
the way I feel.

Looking Up From Rock Bottom

Sitting at rock bottom
looking up at
the sky,
the moon,
and the stars.

Not sure why the sky is so bright
when everything
seems so gloomy and gray
down where I’m at.

I’ve got all these questions,
all these voices
burning fires in my head.
My emotions are flaring out of control,
I cannot seem to catch a single blessing.

My home resembles a lion’s den,
I think I’m about to be eaten alive
if I don’t learn to trust The One
who promises that
“He will never leave nor forsake me”.

I (still) Cry For My Mother

I long for my mother,
I remember her in the past tense of my life,
And I struggle to accept her
as the mother I remembered growing up.

She gave me up for a reason,
She did the best she could.
She showed me she loved me,
And at times I try to remember that.

Going through the struggles I still had to face
Regardless of what she did for me,
I did not have anywhere to go or anyone to talk to
When I felt alone and empty.

There are days when I forget who she is,
There are days when I struggled to remember
What she meant to me growing up
And then the pain passes and I let go of her.

I remember the days when we were together,
And I will never forget the day
I had to leave her behind.
I cried for her many nights
And had to tough it out for the rest.

Half of my life has gone by
without a mother’s love or touch,
And sometimes it plagues me and I wonder:
Would my life had turned out differently
If she were there to love and hold me?

Deep down I hold a grudge against her,
Deep down I fight to accept her
For not being there for me
When I needed her the most
But I must understand that
she sent me away for a reason.

She wanted a better life for me,
She wanted me to have something
she didn’t have growing up.
I have to remember
That she did the best she could.