The Only Calm in the Storm

dark rain violently drips from the windows to my soul;
a rampaging river, fuming and crashing against jagged rocks.

raging thunders engulf the coasts of my veins—
mercilessly, relentlessly piercing the sands of my mind.

ccrrrrrack! a suffering slices itself through the air,
and my lungs are drained, hopelessly in want of breath.

the clouds furiously roll;
with haste, they completely cover the crimson horizon.

and yet, a movement among the mammatus’
exposes a Light— barely visible, this enchanting streak of gold…


for the only calm in the storm is the steady, rising, Sun.

What was I thinking?

I look at your pictures but they make you seem sleezy.

You were something brief, potent yet unmistakably easy.

And now I actually feel an anxiety in my stomach, so queasy;

No matter how hard you tried, you still couldn't appease me.

I was once fond of your essence, enthralled in the chase of the moment,

but honestly, right now, I think it wasn't well-paced nor well-spent.

Reminiscing, I wonder where my mind was encased or where it went,
perhaps your poison caused my judgement to be misplaced, and vacant.

I sipped in your breath as if I had been drinking,
and after it all, I do not know what I had been thinking!
It may be true that I was almost far gone, just sinking,
But my desire for you has been exponentially shrinking.

My attraction to you must have been fogged with faux lust,

because for some odd moments I thought you had earned my trust.
But your speedy departure has been a necessary must,
And I will no longer let my heart roll around in the dust.

grieving

why do I continue
to raise you
on a pedestal
when you are

WORTH LESS

than the least of men?

my mind is blurred
my tears now stain the floor
my heart has always only had hurt
and all of it due to you

i've been here before
crying on the floor,
tears overtaking my body,
losing the fight against gravity,
sinking
as I am aching
from the pain that seems
to never cease,
and not caring
who hears my grief...

Hidden Hearts

Occluded from her, as the sun sets,

we share the quiet night.

These hidden hearts

will eventually come into light.

As the sun greets us

once again,

my heart knows

this is one it can't win,

But why are you the epitomy of my sincerity?

In all honesty, I wish for some clarity

to guide your rationality

so that you could see that you simply belong with me.

And yet, you share your warmth with her,

but all I am able to share in are stolen smiles,

and all the while, I'm hoping to pass this trial.

My heart has a verdict--knowingly guilty,

yet innocent in its claim,
yours is the name

it dwells on at night,

and what a shame that I must rid you from my sight...
For with one more stolen glance,
I could fall too deep,
deep into an abyss of a love I can't keep.

For my Eyes Only

This is not for you

This is all just for me

I am strong

I am confident

I am motivated
I am determined
and most importantly,

I am hopeful.

I will find love,
I will find mutual support,
I will find commitment,
I will find devotion.

I know what I did wrong,
I know I wasn't happy,
I know that I was settling for less than I deserved,
for less than I really wanted.

I wanted to believe in you,

I wanted to believe in us,
but after everthing was said and done,
we were both forcing a current to flow against its destiny,
a flow against its course,
but we finally admitted this run was at its end.

Things were good once,

but things do change.

People change, and
we clearly did exactly that.

And I still weep every night,
but that's part of the healing process.
I weep for the bad, for the good,

for the wrong, for the right,

for that sweet touch that will not be shared again.
But those same once-gentle hands laid force against me,
and it was because I let it happen. Why?

Time will give me an answer.

There is no blame,

no fault,
no hurt,
no regret,

no remorse.

Just forgiveness.
and wisdom.

And hope,
for a better future,
for a happiness that awaits me eagerly.

Jealousy

(written April 19, 2011)

A rage of passions deep within
that not even time can keep caged in.
These feelings and thoughts are riddled of sin,
and can't be drowned with bottles of gin.
If only trust could be acquired again,
then the pangs of angst could cease to exist,
and then maybe,
the violent words could be stifled, muted, hidden...

Faithful in heart, and yet, this jealousy fit
has left only ice cold empty bitterness.
Where can the tiny bulb of love blossom?
Where are those delicate lips that have chosen.. to lie?
Lips so desirable, but only to lies.
Fibs so unbearable, dismissed by disguise,
and all the while, there exists a never-ceasing ringing
warning your thrusting hips to stop singing
the song so loved by the faithful heart,
because that once perfect melody has been torn apart.

There are only Spoken words embodying a Possible Beauty,
and possibly another forgiving opportunity...
But the repeated apologies
are now thrown to the side,
resembling only a broken hand
of a second in time.

Sweet Deception

I was so naive,
I was deceived by your sweetness.
I was nothing more but your next prey
and my soul is now devoured completely.

I'm stuck in this fog
and I can't see what's in front of me,
I only know where I've been and where I came from;
And somehow, you're stuck here with me.

I try to break free from the cold winds,
but my lungs are constricted more and more
and the more I try to move forward into the blindness
the more I do not sway from where I am.

The ice has settled
and I am numb.

Farewell

You will do well to avoid these things. Farewell.
Acts 15:29

I was thinking about a man that I love so tenderly, that I have put all my energy into loving so honestly. And I was getting sad and frustrated and angry at the fact that he doesn’t reciprocate. And so I turned to God—which I haven’t done in a while. I leaned over my pillow to grab my Bible. I dusted it off and with thoughts of this man in my head, I opened the Holy Book to any random page. And the first things my eyes set themselves on was the simple one-worded command, “Farewell.” Then the line above “You will do well to avoid these things.” Could God have been any clearer? I KNOW that God has finally given me a clear direct answer with my situation—probably because He finally sees how stubborn I am with indirect answers. How manipulative I can be if something isn’t straightforward and accommodated to my situation. And, now, here I am, with this amazing advice from above—with this perfect advice that will probably help me in more ways than I can imagine—and I am simply scared at the thought of saying ‘goodbye.’ I’ve had to say goodbye before, and I thought I was doing pretty well—until that man that I love so tenderly just surprised me with a ‘hello’ out of nowhere. And then the conversation of love continued, or so I thought; because just as quickly as he surprised me with a ‘hello,’ he attacked me with a ‘goodbye.’ And here I am, miles away from him, alone, with my heart on my sleeve, bleeding. No one will ever come to understand the amount of love that I hold for this man. Not even him: because if he really knew how much I loved him, he wouldn’t be so eager to say ‘goodbye.’ I would do anything for him, in a heartbeat, even at the cost of my heartbeat. As I sit here and let the words of the Lord sink into my heart, I am torn emotionally. I know, I FINALLY know, what to do. But I don’t know how to justify it to my heart. My heart is telling me, “What? Wait, things were getting better… Don’t worry, He will love you again!” and then it’s also trying to tell me, “Well, okay. Obviously: listen to God. He knows. But maybe, this farewell is only temporary… maybe he will love you again later on. Who knows?” And you know what, no one really knows: except God. So, I think I will say my farewell. I will not speak to the man that I love with all my heart. I am saying farewell now… And if he finally realizes what I want him to realize (even if it takes a year), then great; Then, maybe we can be together again. But that is not the only thing I will be waiting for: actually, I will not be waiting; if he doesn’t realize anything after a year’s time, hopefully I will have been healed by then and can go on living my life. My heart will still hold feelings for him, but I cannot and I will not be made a fool of any longer. I have spent over 7 months trying to show him that I can be trusted again—EVEN THOUGH I NEVER DID ANYTHING PURPOSEFULLY TO HURT HIM—and I have definitely showed him that I can be trusted again. He just insists on being stubborn and weak-minded and fickle in his decisions. And so, I will no longer be tormented by thoughts of waiting for his approval, or of just waiting for him. There’s so much pain in saying ‘farewell,’ but sometimes, farewell’s can lead to new hello’s. There’s so much pain in this world, I see it all the time: because people have been hurt so much by love. Love can be the greatest thing, but it is also the swiftest, stealthiest, and deadliest killer.
My heart aches, my tears have dried, and here I am, saying goodbye.
And I finally know that it’s the right thing to do.

Make me Free

A friend
who was not a friend
wound a cord around my flesh,
so deeply and mercilessly,
that it penetrated my skin,
and confined me to feel
intimidation
and fear.

& How interesting it is
that although I am
35,000 miles
away,
I can still feel
the deep-set marks
as they sit on my skin
and remind me
of the incisions
and briuses
on my heart
and my ego;
reminding me
of how I was held down
by the weight
of this ever-tightening cord.

Can distance stretch
and ultimately break
that tie that once held us so close?
Can distance fade
and ultimately erase
the photographs of our memories?

Can hours eliminate the guilt?
Can months erase the moments?
Can time put an end to the pain?

I am now miles away,
in a beautiful city
filled with the sights
and sounds
of culture,
and joy.
Yet, I am still worried
that upon my return,
my growth as a person
will fade
into the blackness,
into the cold,
sharp metals
of the cords,
as they intertwine themselves
with my being...

Can the distance
and the time

MAKE ME FREE

from that bond?

O, how I pray
that my GOOD BYE
showed you that
I am NO LONGER wound
to your whims.

I am free
and
I freed myself.

O, how I pray
that my GOOD BYE
shows you that
your tight grip
and endless demands
may end up choking
and killing
another
loved one
of yours.

Because they
still
are intertwined
with your
merciless cords.

So Much

I take a look at my life thus far
and the crazy twists and turns
I have undergone in a matter of months
...and I cannot help but be overwhelmed with how things turned out,
...and I cannot help but keep wondering why it had to happen this way,
...and I cannot help but be extremely grateful for where I am now.

They say that Dreams really do come true,
but am I still dreaming?
Or is this reality one that I can readily embrace,
one that I can fully take on,
without being afraid of it drifting off in the wind
as a dandelion does when you make a wish upon it.

I have been foolish in my actions;
I am sorry for what I've done.
I have been hateful towards the ones I love;
I am sorry for what I've said.
I have been lost because I ignored the Light;
I am sorry for straying from the right path.
I have been selfish by placing my desires first;
I am sorry for forgetting that others matter most.

I have been given a second chance;
I am so grateful for another opportunity to be happy.
I have been lifted up by the ones that know what it means to love;
I am so grateful that they still stand by me.
I have been shown a world of forgiveness and mercy;
I am so grateful that I need not dwell on my past.

I have been granted a new life;
I am so grateful for so much and more.

When I close my eyes,
I sometimes let the darkness
sink in for a little too long,
but when life seems
to get consumed in that blackness,
I remind myself
that I have the power to open my eyes,
that I have the strength to look towards the future,
that only I can show myself the things that will take me further.

There is So Much left for me to do,
There is So Much that I have been given,
and I know that there is So Much that I can do with the gifts laid before me.

Thank You, whoever You are.

A Day in the Life of a Journalist

January 8, 2010

You see this world for what it really is
At last you see the shine and the grime the dumpsters and the buildings the gambling and the bidding of young executives and of prostitutes that have been in the business for too long You see the endless trash the cars whether they speed or crash the pedestrians as they walk even if they are doing it all wrong speeding and stopping halting and flaunting but they never do it right Next thing you hear are the sounds of the night the repetitive drawls of bus engines starting and breaking down the numerous shouts of drunk teens as they lose function of their motor skills the subtle quick inhalations of the smoker late for a meeting in town and the whispered prayers of the homeless as they hope to endure the winter chills
You read the headlines stories all just stories You read faces more stories to be told You read the nutritional information on the side of some menu there is no story there There are stories on the street but all you do is walk on
This morning I saw an accident Or the remains of the accident An ambulance in all its glory and the streets shouting a story There was Blood yet the doors to the vehicle were shut and I could not get Lady Gaga’s song out of my head but something inside knew the story before me would go on unsaid
You are now passing an electronics store with windows that run for miles and each television you can see has Tiger Woods and the list of his whores that runs for miles You see some people stop and stare and comment and shake their heads disapprovingly and you walk on that story should have been left unsaid
About one o’clock now your stomach grumbles and you hunger for a satisfying bite No need to fight the urge you want a burger a cheeseburger or maybe you feel wild and you want a double cheeseburger to surge in you and last until dinner later that night You know not to indulge though because the nutritional value of such a thing would be horrendous and you would then have to surrender to a gym membership Besides if you had that burger the homeless would still go hungry
You leave temptation and you are now on 10th An elderly woman is crossing the street and you feel like you should help and as you proceed you notice your shoe is untied and you let the moment of putting others first pass you by O why O why was your shoe untied at that exact moment in time She walked on leaving you behind and you are bent down tying and untying and retying and just tying away all your precious time
Now you walk on across the city to the riverside You pass by streets of stores just stores merchandise that are pointless and useless like a Snuggie as seen on t v or merchandise that are useful but unexplainably expensive like a pair of gloves or earmuffs You wonder whether you should buy some because of the winter chills you must endure It’s a test of endurance we all must face Yet you walk on
You pass by payphones and remember that talk you had with your grandfather when he was telling you about how in his day there were no such things as telephones so you had to make personal house calls if any story was to be told You pass by an empty shopping cart tied to a hydrant You pass by a pair of sneakers hanging from the telephone wires You pass by a bar and suddenly the street lights go on
From the street you can hear the roar of the soccer game as it plays on the flat screen t v inside the bar You can hear the grunts of disgruntled men who are sipping away their sorrows You can almost feel the pinches that the waitresses are receiving as they pass by the disgruntled men You see that one of those men happen to be a co-worker but you walk on because there is no story to share between you and him But a bar fight breaks loose and you are inclined to stay and see if there is a story
The chills the skills the town this place of no ups only downs this bar the lights shine eerily on the car you see you hear you feel the first punch the crack of the first jaw and the wobble in your knees This story might be one to please your boss But you walk on

You refuse to be a prostitute

a sad story

Friend to My "Self"

December 7, 2009


Another week has ensued, but it just so happens to be my final week of “real” rigorous work in my first semester at my first year of college at New York University. I can say that it has been difficult at times, but I think I have become acclimated and I am content with where I currently stand, grades and all. I haven’t made the best of friends, but I have met some pretty interesting people, who happen to be very nice and not at all what I perceived them to be. There is this French girl who is a Buddhist and has sex constantly with her boyfriend, and at times I am envious in their open relationship but I have my constant reminder of waiting until marriage and so all is well. There is my mentor, who is a fellow Christian although not a strong one, and she is well on her way in life, and has had a boyfriend for ten years straight, without ever breaking up (which I find to be amazing and so beautiful) and you can be sure that they will marry very soon, although I can only hope to be invited to what will surely be a beautiful wedding. Then, there is my friend from high school, someone who I believed would not be the great friend she has become, only because of her demanding nature, yet we have never found our relationship at a cross-roads that we could not come to figure out together, something I believe any good, true relationship should embody; communication is key and compromise is second to that. Plus, it helps that we both enjoy psychology and are both easy to talk to and easy to get good advice from; Jessenia is one-of-a-kind, and although she is not my best friend, she is the best one out of my friends, and she is someone I cherish whole-heartedly.

Friendship is something that takes time; that you can read about in books, that you can witness portrayed in movies, and that you can see mimicked and mocked in pre-adolescence, yet it is all a matter of time. I used to have those “best friends” and we used to think that we were the best there could possibly ever be, that every guy wanted to be with us and that every girl wanted to be a part of our “crew,” however, as an old soul trapped in a young body, I soon realized the error of my ways, ofcourse through painful humiliation and exhile (which no teen should ever have to undergo, especially, if brought about by the stupidity and ignorance of stupid and ignorant teens). I realized that the fame and glory that I attained from being with them was transcending, was but a moment in time, and that it was not original, it was not “me”. I quickly became ensnared in the ideals of teenagehood, for “adolescence” doesn’t quite capture what I mean; I mean that the immaturity represented within certain teenage souls is one that can shatter any other soul that is not innately strong in nature. I lost what I thought were good friends. I lost many tears and many hours without sleep. I lost my sense of self as I was caught up in the “other” of those early moments of high school life. Yet, with time, I realized that in losing these things, I ended up finding the most important things of all: I found good friends, ones that wanted me and accepted me for who I was and still am. I found many smiles and joys that came with natural laughter, nothing ever had to be forced or mocked. I found my “self” and I am never letting myself get lost again.

Today, I was speaking on the phone with Jessenia, sharing in the trials and tribulations of life, college, relationships, and it dawned on me that she is really going to be a psychologist one day. She is so good at what she does, recommends the best “cures,” and helps you really analyze yourself so that you can find out what it is that is bothering you. While we held our conversation, I got hungry and decided to make myself a bowl of cereal, Captain Crunch and Skim Milk (yes, I am trying to semi-watch my weight), and yet as I opened the cereal box for the first time, the immediate reaction from the box was “Sorry, You are not a Winner. Please try again.” I pondered if this could ever have affected anyone negatively in their lives, for what is the place of good old Captain Crunch to tell me whether I am or I am not “a winner”? As Jessenia told me today while we were speaking on the phone, “You can’t expect to always get the prize in the box,” and by that I am sure she meant that the box cannot tell you your limitations; Nothing can, only you, the interpreter of the box.

*Image provided by: href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-_zPBm3to-oCnKV9jWsCce-AtizUpu2es4cY83hcLj3dl6e3_BOR2Oc4MWlr0-4-E342PZMEHOyDTUPUK1_K66k9vh0U6aLbpYY7Vio9ViOTVcxHDazqnbQo4PWKWmJmGzHHRbBNleoL5/s1600-r/friend.jpg