The American Dream Is Sacrifice

If you don’t work, you don’t eat.
The streets here
aren’t paved with gold,
within the first week,
you had that wake up call.
The American dream is sacrifice.

You work extra hard
for a little bit of change
but you do it
because you are building
your house back home
and your family has to eat.

You take the best job
you are qualified for
which is the worst job
in some people’s eyes,
few citizens would consider

but you don’t mind
washing dishes
is far better than anything
you could ever find
back in your country.

You are more than grateful
to be able to provide
for your family.
Pocket change to some
but a luxury to you.


Why can’t I write poems that rhyme?
Poems that rhyme.
Yes, that’s right.
I’ve tried my hand at this rhyming thing
at least a dozen times but they always
sound like amateur nursery ….
…….(yep, you guessed it)


Sometimes we feel broken
and don’t know why.
We try to fix ourselves
but nothing seems to do the trick.

No matter what we do;
no amount of tying (or untying)
seem to mend the strings
left cut and dangling.

Beautiful Me

I am beautiful,
I cannot lie.
Even when I don’t feel
like dressing up like
a beauty queen.

I am beautiful,
no one can tell me anything less
even when my hair looks a dang mess.

And, even if people
stare at me or turn their nose in disgust,
it won’t matter
in how I feel about myself.

I am beautiful.
Yes, I am beautiful.
Inside and outside
of all the turmoil dwarfing
my real-time progress.

Part 3: The Suicide Series

Everything seems “normal”
from the outside looking in.

You could be the shyest person around
or even the most popular girl or boy;
anyone can become a victim.

For no explainable reason,
one day, your life got turned upside down
by someone who is fighting
his or her own demonic battles.

You are living in a nightmare,
day in and day out,
you try to find an escape route
from the dirty words and jokes,
mean looks, and cruel laughs
of those who are not in your shoes.

You cope and deal with it the best way
that you can
but the pain and scar
of the taunting and teasing
is squeezing your life support.

You start doing and thinking things
That has never really crossed your mind before;
you are constantly in a foul mood,
depressed, and stressed.

You suffer alone
in the confines of your room
wishing you could tell a parent or a friend
but for you, it probably wouldn’t matter at this point
because you are at the end of your rope anyway.

You have been a bullying victim for months,
Inside and outside of school.
Even on the social networks,
there is no breath of fresh air for you;
there is no end to the madness.

None. At least not yet.

Everything is in perspective now,
the pain you feel
won’t ease up
until you are out of the picture.

The Blame Game

Who’s at fault
for the demise
of our empty relationship?

You or me?
We both blame each other
for losing sight of
what was important.

I despise you for dragging me down,
and for not being the man
I thought you thrived to be
and you condemn me
for not putting up with your lies.

He Invades My Mind

I think about him
and I think about him.

I try to forget about him
but end up thinking about him more.

I think about him
and I long for his presence.

I try to forget about him,
trying to ease my troubled mind.

I want to forget about him
but no matter what I do
I can’t seem to get him off my mind.