unforeseen journeys, where life
is loved and captivated. we
have gone with or without
complaining on a diversed thoroughfare. we are the trekkers
and drivers. we are the walking
feet. we are the souls wishing,
looking, praying for miracles that
can save us from any unknown.
2021
my words, i write them.
they are the rush and swift verses.
the hands i use, i cannot stop.
rainy days, or summertime,
the brave and colors on gentle sands.
i am representing, i am expressing.
this is the pursuit of my expression.
2021
every CHANGE
is UNIQUE. we cannot
defile METAMORPHOSIS.
2021
sharp, indifferent. sharp,
intolerable. don’t cut me
while i’m drunk. don’t cut
me while i’m plunked.
2021
i’m up here.
look, stare, don’t be scared.
if i fall,
will you let your hands
save me?
i’m up here, breathing.
i don’t fly, i don’t dive.
i just stay.
let me rather love you,
now and tomorrow.
2021
golden dust on your feet.
silver grains in your mouth.
honeyed milk on your skins.
fire wraps in japanese papers.
is there another world?
where are you?
where are you?
where are you?
2021
Silence in absolute conquest.
It mimics our hiding.
To those we abhor.
The bad blood we don’t bury.
Is this a war that consume us?
Or do we forget that we still have to make ends meet?
Silence can divide us or make us whole.
You have a choice.
You have to be clever.
You have excuses and alibis.
Will you be silent again?
2021
your language
is a giant monument—
stood remarkably,
audibly beautiful for
our ears.
2021
in many days of my external silence,
i have not killed the noise internally.
there is a heart aching without the moon.
there are eyes crying at the flash floods of noon.
2021
This is not an episode of hate.
If you can’t speak what is right,
just keep it to yourself.
And don’t delight bad things
in your mind.
Our hearts speak volume
of different representations.
My hands write poetry
of different angsts and anxiety,
cheer and solidarity, red or yellow
or blue, lemonade, fire, or kazoo.
2021
