Tag Archives: Inspiration

Don’t Be Fooled

Don’t be fooled by the forevers that drip at the corners, melting away before your eyes. Don’t be fooled by the sunlight streaming in through the windows, the mornings that brought you bliss or the fingers that blew you a kiss. They’ll poison your eyes and wither your soul even after you’ve given your all.

Don’t be fooled by the beautiful as they turn into stone, cold to the touch, freezing already frigid fingertips, causing a tremble at the lips. Don’t be fooled by words that say nothing and actions that mean little. Your feelings are much too brittle. Your old bliss will be hard to find. You can turn your back but you can’t turn your mind.

Learn that life means constant change. Otherwise, you’ll constantly be deranged. Nothing lasts forever, and you’ve just got to be okay with that. In the blink of an eye, with the tip of a hat, it’ll all be gone. Just like that. The life you shared, the tears you shed, the blood you bled. It’ll all be a waste, and that’s the toughest challenge you’ll have faced. You’ll remember when you shared the bed, remember when Valentine’s was red, remember your plans to be wed. Well, this is where it all led.

The end.

There’s nothing left to mend. There’s nothing left to be said, so just get it all out of your head. There’s nothing left to cry about. There’s nothing left to get out. The fight is over, and you can rest; wish yourself all the best. Remember that it’s not your fault, and that it’s now time to unhalt. Go on with your life. Get through the strife. You’ll make it through. It’s not a matter of when or who. This is a matter of you.


Peach-colored visions

I can’t think
in peach-colored visions.

I used to think in so many colors,
They’d splatter against the canvas and cause so much clutter.
Now it’s blank and I can’t seem to fill it
No matter how hard I try to will it.

My hands are falling way out of touch,
Touching the keyboard doesn’t do much.
When my fingertips reach for a word,
It slips away with the rest, gone unheard.

I miss the watercolor visions, one big blur
Splashing against the edges so rigid and sure.
They’d blend and bend, break and churn,
So unlike me, as I would learn.

Now I can no longer rhyme or tell the time,
I can no longer sing or cry or plea or whine,
Speak or walk or try or fight,
Color or create or write.

is my attempt to retrieve my mind.

I’d rather it not end

The end is just the beginning.

We try our best to dream, twisting our necks around towards the sound of clapping hands, sparks flying from their lagging souls. Sparking laughter and admiration, blurry faces in the crowd, they blur out the sound of the ending that blends into the opening. Act on your wishes and don’t let them be drowned out by the beat of another’s heart, screaming at your eyes for wandering much too far. There’s no denying who you are. They can’t deny you from afar.

We explore new territory even when they blot out our eyes, feel our way through because they can’t blot out our mind, blot out our drive. Touch the surface of the desk, the cup that holds our fantasies, the soft blankets of our safe nest, the one they can’t take away from us. We smile because who else could tell us what to feel now? I mean, we’re not tied down.

So then let the story begin and don’t fear when it ends
because the end is the beginning of the beginning to a new end.

Process of Poetry


Inspiration in unplanned pages,
Empty oasis, serendipitous encounters,
Minute details of passerbys,
Opaque windows, drawing closed,
You open them with your ink.

Stones in the river, banners flying high,
Nature, city, crowds, but all you see
is poetry.


Nights are never long enough for the dark inside of you,
Waiting on the sidelines until only your lamplight lets you see–
You like to be blind to the world when you write.

Daytime is too bright, squinting in sunlight,
Your white pages, black ink too reflective in sun’s spotlight.
Your blackened, soot-filled heart
Makes too much of a conspicuous mess when spilled out here,
You must wait until sunset, your safety in dark nights.

When the contrast is more subtle,
You can pretend your truths are still hidden.

Proud, Nonetheless

We don’t need tons of achievements,
huge success, supreme intelligence, high ambitions.
Really, we should just do what we’re meant,
go for our passions, what we love, with no inhibitions.

It’s not necessary to be the best in the country,
because someone out there admires you anyway.
Do your own best, take a breath, be who you want to be,
it’s not a competition–you can work hard and still play.

It’s not our desire to desire everything,
the want is not always under control,
but maybe when your feelings of jealousy are forming,
you can remind yourself you don’t have to have it all.

Maybe it’s our pride, our innate need to show the world around us
how beautiful and smart and capable we are, how invincible and strong,
but sometimes, all we need is for someone to be proud of us,
to tell us that they understand all that we’ve done, and that it won’t be long,
until the rest of the world is proud too.

Well, I can tell you right now,
I’m proud of you—
take a breath, take a bow
–and I’m sure many others are too.

Such Is Hope

Hope, like a spotlight constructed of stardust, shines down in the darkest of nights
keeping the light alive in life for thousands of downtrodden citizens of melancholy.
If only this stream of happy and bright could stay always–oh the moods it has raised,
like extreme first aid on the world’s wounds and angry scars.

Hope, unexpected like a burst of adrenaline coursing through our dried-up veins,
saving lives even if only barely… it keeps us here, and sometimes that’s all we need
until something, someone more solid can save us from our own destructive despair.

Hope, satiates us just enough so that we keep hoping, just barely grasping the light
at the end of the seemingly endless tunnel.

Caressing us–we locked in it’s arms–telling us it’ll all be okay
even when the most morbid emotions spill forth from our hearts,
it keeps us gazing toward its light, the radiance more worthy of stares
than any work of art.

Hope, the thinnest, but
strongest thread,
keeping us
hanging on
in life.


Determined but caged inside the house is my soul. It’s trying so hard to break free and fly away but being brutally shot down by a sniper’s rifle every time. As terrifying as the unknown is, it is certainly less terrifying than the present, the horrible today. This is what I think everyday but do not say. This is what I pray to be rid of but this array of struggle after struggle is getting hard to deal with.

We are not whole, not us, no. We are not like him, her, a complete circle. We are broken and twisted, halved and split into two, into more than just us–into what they want. We are mercilessly beaten with an invisible baton, one of words, of emotions and taunting.

We are hated and taught to hate. We hate and teach to hate. The vicious cycle and circle (which, sadly, is more complete than us) continues on and on, drawn long and slow and endless and inevitably always going back to the starting point. Over and over…

I feel incredibly poetically free tonight. This is ironic because what caused this freedom of imagination and wording was being caged. Limited. Restricted. Confined. And back to the beginning, shot down. I guess something good can always come of something bad. In turn, something horrible can also come of something great.

Today started as a great day. I felt like I had true importance. I felt like a leader. I felt this way and was radiating this feeling and then I walked peacefully into the cage. What a mistake. As I walked in, whistling my happy tune, thinking all was well, I got caught like a deer in headlights. I was off-guard and I shouldn’t have been. We could just say this was all my fault as usual. It always is, isn’t it?

We can complain all we want in our human tongues spewing what we pass off as intelligence but in the end, these are just complaints. What we need to do is, well, do. Turn our words into actions and do something about our situation. We need to stay determined through it all and look on the bright side, penny-pinching the light until there really is no more. The thing is, there is never no more. Anyone can do anything, get through everything once their mind is set. The first step, though, is just that: getting set. And then we go.