Ambiguity

Never truly defined,
I stand in line.

Doubting my presence,
criticizing my essence,
slowly composing my message
as I wait.

Wait for those in my front
and my behind
to tell me I am
just a mime.

I mimic what they are
and never truly know me,
so I am always their
ambiguity.

They say I'm
neither here nor there.
Either this or that
and because of my indefiniteness,
in my box I will be forever
trapped.

But seeing that
there's more to me,
I step out of line and preach.

I preach to my future and my past
that today marks a new day
in which I begin to see
that I am no longer marked
by my uncertainty.

I say to them,
I finally know myself.
I know I am a preaching soul
with clipped wings.
That although content,
my heart still desires
material things.
That while a stranger,
I'm still part of the
in crowd.
And that although quiet,
my voice is still loud.

The line moved.
People staring as
I wait for their reply.

The only sound to be heard
with the shuffle were
deep sighs.

They said,
"Young blood, go back in
that line. Go stand
where you belong
because the words you
preach, is no man's
song.

You can 't change our
interpretation because
it is painted with obscurity,
so you will continue to
remain the chosen
ambiguity.

Now come to this window
with your card out and
let your indefiniteness
be marked.

And begin to understand that
you're in no man's land
and learn to embrace
your part."

Sadden by my failure
with the card in my hand,
I step outside to breathe.

Nothing surrounded  me
except
the swaying trees.
And so I looked up
for I needed to pray.

As I saw the blue sky,
my pain now prevalent
turnt my world an ugly grey.

The rain came hard,
making puddles
all around.
In moments,
I dropped my card
to the ground.

But not knowing
what's right for me,
I reach for my card
and in the puddles
I could see.

I could see my crown
staring back at me,
my doubt as well
as my uncertainty.

And as the rain continued,
now clouding my sight,
I sadly waved to my
ambiguity.

The Light

The fiery light

Dances in the glass.

The movements it

Illustrates is seen as crass.

The fiery light

Emanates from the wick

What it absorbs.

Its movement has

Now become a

Flick, flick, flick.

The fiery light

Has now achieved piece.

No longer it dances.

No longer it moves.

The light has found

Its rhythm in the night,

The light is

Now still.

No Tears Shall Fall

You’ve been forced to
Love a woman
Where enough is
Never enough.

Don’t be upset.

Her time will come
When one love
Will be the only love;
When the once wandering
Eyes will only be wondering
About you.

Don’t be upset.

Your love was
Never in vain
Because love is
Never in vain.

You’ve been forced to
Love me, a woman, where
Enough is never enough.

But I’m here to
Say that your
Work was not
In vain.

So before
I walk away
I would just like to say
‘Thank you for all
You have done.’

Sorrowful Song

My sorrowful song, “Someone Like You”

Pierced my ears with a pounding passion.

When heard, I would cry

While cradling my crippled soul

In the comfort of my down comforter.

When heard, I would relive

The relic of our romance as

Each kiss robbed us of our sanity.

When heard, I would think.

Think of the thoughts we once thought.

Of the troubles we would once face

While we willfully waited with open hearts

For time to tell our transformed infatuation

That it no longer ticks for us.

When heard, I knew.
Knew that we were gone.

Our gullible hearts once again

Gobbled up our reality.

Now, the howling hour has been hushed;

we are done.

The song that once strung

My soul, “Someone Like You”

No longer wraps my

Once withering heart.

Jazzy Nights

Where the cats go

When it’s cold?

The cats, when it’s cold, goes

To a place nobody knows.

A place where only the finest and

Fliest cats converse.

A place where the

Melodic meow is of

Purrfect harmony.

Bplurrrr…. The bass.

Bplurrrr…. The voice.

Oh the sweet nectar

That bellows from

The belly.

Where the cats go

When it’s cold?

The cats, when it's cold, goes

To a place nobody knows.

A place so dingy and dirty

That even the crows wouldn’t crow

Or the bats even hang.

A place that is rodent paradise,

Where the knights of

Thievery reside.

Squeak, squeak…. The march.

Squeak, squeak, squeak…. The plunder.

Where the cats go

When its cold?

The cats, when it’s cold, goes

To a place nobody knows.

A place so hidden,

So obsolete,

So recluse that

Only a troubled

Soul could desire

To seek.

Walls

If these walls could talk

They would scream obscene,

Cruel things.

Words so harsh,

So mean that the only

Way to be fathom

Would be in my dreams.

They would say,

“Dear Child, don’t break

Me down.

Uphold to your crown

 And wait for now.

Guys, my sweetheart

Come by the pound.

So don’t waste your

Treasure on a

Decision that isn’t sound;

Respect yourself

For now.

Remember for only you

Can help

How your life

Is being dealt.”

If these walls could talk

They would continue to say,

“Go through with

Your virtues

And enjoy the

Presence of the morning dew

With a clear view.”

If only these walls

Could talk.

Rain Window Pain

With the rain dropping on the window pain,
I see with my young eyes the struggles of my parents.

With my undying love for Him,
I ask that He gives me the strength to take care of them.

No children I seek to spoil, no man I wish to desire.
Only thing I want is the 'striving' fire; the thrive to do better is what I acquire.
From us to both of you, a kiss we lay upon your cheeks.

Our simple way of showing your love was never obsolete.
With the rain dropping on the window pain, I see with my young eyes a reflection.

I see a determined child
working hard to make her parents proud.

Can I?

Can I experience

Spain with you?

Can I hold your

hand in the night

while strolling down the

alleys of El Sol,

searching for churros y chocolate.

Can I experience

Spain with you?

Can I wake up next

to you in your

arms, with drool

dried on our cheeks,

staring out the window

as the shine of the sun

lay upon us, as we

regret but relish

in the past night.

A night filled with

laughter, dancing,

alcohol, music,

churros y chocolate.

Can I experience

Spain with you?

Can I ‘siesta’ with you

in the middle of the

day, when the sun is the highest

and the streets are

the quietest.

And dream about the

crispy churros y the

thick, dark chocolate.

Can I experience

Spain with you?

Can we go to Atoche,

travel to Barcelona,

Run with the Bulls

through the defecated

streets, as we

meet strangers who

quickly become friends after

seeing death and life in

‘los ojos del toros.’

Experiencing laughter

over churros y chocolate.

Can I experience

life with you?

Can we go to Spain,

travel through the

streets of Madrid,

Barcelona, Toledo,

Ibiza, enjoying life,

enjoying each other,

with the only care

hugging our minds is

when and where we

will find and eat our next

churros y chocolate.

No Touch Thus Taken

He was just sixteen and she only twenty-one

but he rocked her world to galaxies unknown.

They barely spoke and never touched but

she knew he could see her soul.

In the day he approached her with ruses

disguised by roses so their bodies would be near.

But when night appeared his schemes once thought

foolish made her cracked life whole.

Their forbidden infatuation lasted for

only weeks of four. Victims of summertime lust.

Throughout the rhythmic heat their

sinsual sound was their only tone.

For a time being their desire was their home.

The years have passed and their tainted love

has gone. Him finding comfort with young beauty

and her with rugged handsomeness are

the lives they have sewn.

They barley spoke and never touched but even

with these passing times the sound of her

voice or the mention of his name

still makes their bodies moan.

Dear Jack

Dear Jack,

I received a letter from John

and nothing good comes from it.

He says he’s hurt;

the alcohol that formerly caressed

his throat now burns.

He says he’s sad;

the words he writes no longer

belongs to him, they’re

no longer his comfort.

He says he’s blind;

the life he dreamt so much

about is now dark, oblique.

He says he’s fallen;

he wants to die but

he’s too weak to move.

Dear Jack,

I received a letter about John

and nothing good comes from it.