Poems and Musings

Breathe in the pattern Fancy the lines  Capture the shape What a lovely design  It stands still to be awed But for a moment in time Lounge in the meaning Cherish the art To punish emotions  And expose the heart Whisper any sensations  As if a la carte  Trace the remains With a brush meant to dream  The silhouette lies empty Awaiting a theme  For its core is hollow  Just a figure, no form Anxiously hoping Just to perform

My heart won’t let me sleep, for I could never miss a moment with you. Lips intertwined, hands interlocked, souls combined into pure beauty. Breathing heavy, I whisper my feelings, and you trap them inside your gorgeous mind. To never forget. To surrender to our dreams and escape. Jumping into a future where kisses rain and happiness is more than an illusion. For together, we create a passion that is no longer starless. You’ve changed me for the better and I’ve shed my dying self. Your smile dances and cures me of my wickedness, that I’d be so foolish to think -   - to think that love without you is love at all.

Are black and white ever truly options? Or are we forever stuck in the gray space that operates in between? Reaching, hand and mind outstretched, toward either side in search of answers, naively thinking they’re graspable. Each offers definitive resolve, a much desired yes or no. In truth, extending towards one side only makes it so the other seems closer, and as we infinitely move in one direction, the other moves towards us. Appealing to us. Wanting us to select it. So, we shift our gaze, reaching back to accept it, only to find it starting to move away, and the answer we originally sought creeping up towards us, yet also still out of reach. Like a constantly oscillating pendulum, such we are, never able to decisively capture the elusive truth on either side. Stuck. Somewhere in the middle, but never at a finite point in space and time. Until we make a decision, and such we are stuck with that choice. But it is a choice with caveats and nuances and muddied waters. Una...

Was this path laid already before us, or did we choose it? To what extent can we predict, signal, and anticipate? To what extent can we put things in motion towards a desired result or halt those things that have a potentially dark ending? Does patience make a material difference, or does it simply delay the inevitable, yet always unforeseen end state? Regardless of the outcome, were we meant to experience it, nonetheless? Were the hurdles and niceties already bolted to each time-boxed circumstance or did they appear randomly, each dependent on the lesson either learned or not learned prior, as if a missed opportunity or teaching should come again until it was deemed fulfilled? Is each successive moment predestined? If each step towards growth carries its own significance and level of difficulty, but we never know any meaningful details until those steps actually take place, do we really have control over what comes next? With each passing word, conversation, experience, ad...

Undeviatingly, unswervingly, and dare I say, perhaps even dastardly, focus on yourself. A rose, even with its timeless beauty and vibrant colors, still has thorns. A mountain, even in all its grandeur and defiance against Mother Nature, can still crumble and rupture. A heart, even during life’s sweetest moments and cloud 9 affairs, can still hurt, and squeeze, and ache, and break. Under no such certainty is anything promised - there is no light at the end of the tunnel, there is no sun beyond the mist, there is no prize for patience. The only semblance of certainty is what you do and strive for. Not what others do, and especially not what others do or promise to do for you, for their utterances and whispers and yells and boasts and declarations are illusory - mere fragments and shadows of a snapshot in space and time. Here one second, gone the next. What one moment offers is just that, a moment. Not indicative of what’s to come. So rather than remain sleepless with hope tha...

And when he touched her, she would crumble like sand. Poison were his fingers to a soul as pure as hers. Your imperfections are your selling points. To overlook them means to miss your whole uniqueness. When you sleep, dream of chaos. So that when you wake, you are always well received and beauty always touches you before the damned. I wish I could hold you. But when electrons repulse each other at the atomic level, how am I supposed to find myself as one with you? When all else is quiet and the chimes stop, know that you can be the noise the world needs, the ring that turns heads, the sound that makes the deafening silence of emptiness become ambition cherished for its beauty.

So still, a drop could summon a wave. So quiet, a shuffle could burst the sound barrier. So peaceful, wars could become a forgotten regret. A silent breeze kisses the skin and awakens the soul. Today is a new day, and with it comes endless possibilities. Today, question marks are turned to exclamations, prayers are answered, and solace is finally promised.

It burned. It burned from the unforgiving rays of a million suns, searing, blistering, aching. Trapped – it felt unbreakable, unrelenting. Trapped. But through that torturous pain, through that seemingly undying suffering, a light shone. And a rebirth ensued. First, slowly. Pockets of happiness, joy, freedom, elation. Tears that dropped and flooded the darkened and destructive cavities. Screams that soothed and healed the deepened craters. Then, suddenly, a deep breath, a new beginning, and with it pushing out (hopefully) all traces of misery, misfortune, distress, affliction, and torment no one should have to bear. Breaking free. From my former self. What was once a half-baked smile turned to a wide grin. What was once a forced chuckle turned into a laughing workout. What was once a pit of anxiety and stress and anguish, instead turned to emptiness, ready and willing to be filled with something more fulfilling. Inward, felicity, not to be toyed with, for its assertive ...

A shared history is what forges the strongest armor against a hastened crowd - a crowd ready to bewitch your labor at your troughs and pilfer from your purse at your crest. The purest form of brethren is crafted not by riches and success, but by treks upon the barren lands … where sustenance is only grown from sweat by way of infinite sunrises and tears from turbulent thoughts. Be steadfast and noble, brother, for while the path ahead may be treacherous, in these moments blood is borne of water.

Don’t tell me you know. Your feverish struggles only point to one wholly unpleasant existence, but you have the chance to change it. What existence? Ignorance. Ignorance that beyond your homey paradise lies harmony in spirit, not in wealth. Ignorance that beyond your shiny playpen lies connection in heart, not in status. Ignorance that beyond your gated mindset lies beauty in living, not in power. You have pressed down quite too much to be given excuse. You have exhausted your anger to the point of insanity. You have chosen to inherit timidity over righteousness. But you built your own perceptual dimensions. And dimensions need not limitations; they require explanation. And mine explain a world and humanity far beyond superficial comprehension. They describe a world beyond your reach unless you open your mind to them. Go hellishly into rapture. Tighten chains. Keep the evil out with fervor and flow through happiness undyingly. For to be happy is to be living...

I stand firmly on the ground, bound by my feet to the past and present. But with my eyes, I view the grandeur of the future. I witness opportunity, both in paths that lay before me and paths I have yet to create. I twist my gaze and the stars wince at my presence, each knowing that its brightest boundaries are breakable. I know that with each dying sun, I am propelled forward, my feet never moving an inch, but my vision moving lightyears.

Angelic, she burns with the light of a thousand suns, fusing and fissioning. Fusing her thoughts with those of earth’s womb, succumbing to her gentle care. Understanding herself and her surroundings, for they are, in truth, one and the same. Fissioning from the abhorrent, separating herself from that which would make her inhuman. Seeking promise rather than punishment, life and love rather than anguish and fear. Accepting the grandeur of life and perception, she pushes forward toward her future self. For she aims for quiet perfection in the face of opinionated noisiness and cultural distraction. Her movements are sly, her words chosen wisely, for every moment makes up her whole. She does not step away from challenge, instead welcoming it with a smile. From cheek to cheek, the grin ruptures negativity and openly embraces blessing and solace. A smile so bright it shifts her, from darkness to light as he kneels to understand how beauty can be so subtle. Yet in awe, he realiz...

 February 10, 2017 The intellectual ineptitude of the Ivy League class to the political realm, is, in its purest form, a reflection of the vulnerability of its educational standards and its inability to critique critical thought. To denounce scientific principles in light of felt thought and sensation has perverted the very partnership for peace we seek. When students welcome dogma and follow blindly as can be seen with the forthcoming election, we dilute our sense of creativity and succumb to priority. Chant, I say, chant loudly. For your kings and queens will listen. The stability of the system and your anger-filled, emotionally driven mentality, which serves to hoist corruption on its back, craves it. To those students that vote with their hearts and not their minds, that value partisanship above humanity, and that clutter their beliefs with flowery catch phrases and unchallenged creeds, I say but one thing. Welcome to your monarchy.

 July 16, 2016  Our education matters. The beauty of the brain is that it remains immune to pressures uncharacteristic of its innovative capacities - it wanders unleashed and unfettered. Through the graveyard of financial constraints, where the skeletons of my family's past clung to my feet, I found an escape. Learning lifted me. And it can lift others too. As a low-income first-generation college student, I have trudged the steep incline towards desired excellence. I've moved from city to city as school systems from old homes deteriorated. My parents had always sought the best possible educational route for my brother and I, even if it meant living in the cheapest apartments in wealthier, well-funded municipalities. Without scholastic resources to bolster my academic promise, I am unsure as to where my path would have taken me. My dreams may have withered before I was even able to create a college admissions account on the Common App website. But with a boulevard toward...