My Dearly Beloved,
Can your intuition unfold my reasoning for engaging you?
With this ring, I shall commit my heart to you.
Unity begins with U—N—I
so, understand that you and I were meant to be!
A ring symbolizes eternity.
Your ring size is a 14.
My love weighs at 7 pounds.
I believe this ceremony is appropriate.
Our affection mirrors the harmony of harps in the sky.
The circumference of our love revives all that is peaceful.
Peace may be seasonal but love appears annually.
I vow to be a pupil of peace… so show me the right way.
I label thee the love of my life.
“I now pronounce thee, husband and wife!”
My Dearly Departed,
Today marks the anniversary of our courtship.
Today marks the origin of my absence
For I have gone missing since your love has departed.
My father once quoted that
“The foolish man seeks happiness in the distance; the wise grows it under his feet.”
Well, why are my feet so cold.
I did not anticipate flowers to decay in the Spring.
The rain pours as the water reflects my tears.
It reflects my fears.
Dear love,
Why have you forsaken me?
Why is it that I have become a fragment of what once was completed.
You sentenced my heart into an eternity of sorrow.
Even convicted, I show forgiveness.
Please, let me complete the sentence.
You will forever remain my misses!
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Poem: Heroine - A Flawless Mistake
Heroine saved my life
Before I knew heroine, I was a drug fiend,
Addicted to charcoal and graphite.
I would sniff through nasal passages which enhanced my deteriorating sight.
My eyes, in turn, guided my uncoordinated hands
which held the instrument used to administer my fixation.
The narcotic was as addictive as the acceptance of violence in society.
No one likes to admit it but there’s no admission cost for negativity;
Negatives coincide with positives – It cannot be ignored. It cannot be denied
So women find this attractive.
Opposites attract – this is a common fact.
Their positives magnets the negatives in the hearts of men.
Must the nice guy always lose, for their angels become lost in demonic voids.
Seven attempts and yet, again,
I have lost in the battle of love, so I turn to my narcotic - My first love.
The setting is dark and blank. My only wish is to compose my imagination.
The violent image of this instrument suppressing my tree of knowledge constantly causes me to vomit my reality.
Blood entertains the once blank environment.
I was nothing but a young soul with everything to lose and nothing to gain…
until I met her.
She was a canvas full of abstract art; simply unsolved!
Her complexity fascinated me.
Her skin was complimented w/ every signature except mine.
I was told if I sign the canvas she will be with me forever.
And so I spent dark hours absorbing graphite,
Inhaling her elegance, and transferring my affection,
all into a signature.
Our passion resulted in the birth of an error.
A fact her mother could never comprehend, for she was a canvas whom would leave to search for more imprints, as if my signature wasn’t shit.
And so, I am left with a mistake and broken promises.
In result, I sought for my narcotics.
For 3 years I constantly used the instrument to paint and destroy the foundation once known as a home.
Years have passed...
On a rainy day of July 13th, I pull out the instrument.
A mistake appears, and cries aloud its first words -- “stop - Dad!”, and confines my neck with loving arms.
With that, the habit is broken. I gained understanding. What an illiterate fool I have been!
I realized the lord blessed me with a medication labeled misbegotten.
This gave me new life. It gave me inspiration. Through her I was reincarnated.
My instrument was converted into a tool for positivity.
I was saved through her angel tears. I was saved through a love I never held.
It was as if an Amazon goddess was reborn.
Her battle cry demolished and converted all evil.
She was a hero. A potent substitute for my previous narcotic.
Ironically, that error is my daughter, and I labeled her a heroine.
For she was my heroine, a flawless mistake.
Before I knew heroine, I was a drug fiend,
Addicted to charcoal and graphite.
I would sniff through nasal passages which enhanced my deteriorating sight.
My eyes, in turn, guided my uncoordinated hands
which held the instrument used to administer my fixation.
The narcotic was as addictive as the acceptance of violence in society.
No one likes to admit it but there’s no admission cost for negativity;
Negatives coincide with positives – It cannot be ignored. It cannot be denied
So women find this attractive.
Opposites attract – this is a common fact.
Their positives magnets the negatives in the hearts of men.
Must the nice guy always lose, for their angels become lost in demonic voids.
Seven attempts and yet, again,
I have lost in the battle of love, so I turn to my narcotic - My first love.
The setting is dark and blank. My only wish is to compose my imagination.
The violent image of this instrument suppressing my tree of knowledge constantly causes me to vomit my reality.
Blood entertains the once blank environment.
I was nothing but a young soul with everything to lose and nothing to gain…
until I met her.
She was a canvas full of abstract art; simply unsolved!
Her complexity fascinated me.
Her skin was complimented w/ every signature except mine.
I was told if I sign the canvas she will be with me forever.
And so I spent dark hours absorbing graphite,
Inhaling her elegance, and transferring my affection,
all into a signature.
Our passion resulted in the birth of an error.
A fact her mother could never comprehend, for she was a canvas whom would leave to search for more imprints, as if my signature wasn’t shit.
And so, I am left with a mistake and broken promises.
In result, I sought for my narcotics.
For 3 years I constantly used the instrument to paint and destroy the foundation once known as a home.
Years have passed...
On a rainy day of July 13th, I pull out the instrument.
A mistake appears, and cries aloud its first words -- “stop - Dad!”, and confines my neck with loving arms.
With that, the habit is broken. I gained understanding. What an illiterate fool I have been!
I realized the lord blessed me with a medication labeled misbegotten.
This gave me new life. It gave me inspiration. Through her I was reincarnated.
My instrument was converted into a tool for positivity.
I was saved through her angel tears. I was saved through a love I never held.
It was as if an Amazon goddess was reborn.
Her battle cry demolished and converted all evil.
She was a hero. A potent substitute for my previous narcotic.
Ironically, that error is my daughter, and I labeled her a heroine.
For she was my heroine, a flawless mistake.
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