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.

Toxic Cure

smooth sensation
red and fluid
hard against the pain
soft against the mind
easy to swallow
and easy to cope with

why cant it always be just like this?
soft to the touch in everything that i do
my mind is foggy,
a mist of never happenenings
and what can be's
a mist of surprises
and secret desires

talk to me a little longer
tell me your secrets
let my heart be your refuge
and let me hide in your love

Immobility in the Storms

I will make it through this storm--

although the winds are harsh and sharp against my wounds,
I will make it through whether you are there or not.

I can't turn off what I feel,
all the pain, the love, the pain,

the memories;

vivid in my mind
seared into my heart...
although
I scream inside, "No More!"--
what is there left for me to do?

I can't seem to move.

I close my eyes ,
but my heart can't forget your image
and my skin crawls at the thought of another.

Is this all there is for me?

Almost a prisoner,
without a desire to escape,
I can't seem to move.

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.

Vile Eyes

Mutual understanding is the key;

If I am in this 100% of the way,

but you're on the side lines with a 'nay'

or with a 'I don't know what to say,'
then just don't be with me.

I'm in the most beautiful place in the world;

I'm experiencing the best time of my life,
and if you feel like
all you can contribute is strife,
then by all means, don't get in the way,
don't waste my time.

I was excited, ,
elated,
and thrilled,
to see your face again,
to hear your voice again.
And yet all you could say was
nothing,
killing me a little inside again,
making my heart slowly die again.

Your grunts of disappointment,
your stories of missed appointments...
Your empty stares and forced smiles,
your eyes have now turned vile...

adding extreme negation,
subtracting from my mood of elation

And yet,
I'm diverging from your disease,
because you see, "I'm doing me,"
and this life overseas
does more than please;

And it does so
in more ways
than you ever could

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

"Song of Myself"

(Inspired by Walt Whitman)

I rejoice in this; that every part of me is a tightly-knit part of you, And every part of you clings to me.

I sit in the winter snow, gazing at the falling blanket of bliss, observing others in their merriment; Children laughing and playing, parents talking and worrying and listening for the possibility of slips and cracked bones of their young ones.
In the morning, the sun rises over the building tops, shedding light on the city… illuminating the dark and bringing into light each and every occurrence. Soundly waking, doors locked and windows shut, yet the sun pokes through and it is a new day.
My eyes slowly open, distracted by dreams of the night before… and as I regain consciousness, the shouts of city-goers are already blaring; cars honking, whirring and whizzing by on the streets below, the blanket of last night’s bliss turned to dirty slush beneath their crushing wheels.

Across the street, the lone pigeon perches on the windowsill, while her friends fly on; The eighth floor of my building is desolate and a lone girl sits in her room, awaiting her friends to take her and fly away; Downstairs, the youth revels in their joy and in their ability to never necessitate sleep.

Somewhere beyond the confines of city life, families awake and share breakfast and dreams. Somewhere beyond the confines of these walls, hands tell more than pushes on a keyboard, as they hold on tightly to their beloved. Somewhere beyond here, lion cubs suckle at the breasts of life as gazelles are chased to their death. Somewhere, children do not eat nor sleep and raise themselves into what they will.

I write new words of hope or demise; We have had luxuries and ignorance about enough, I present to you that life is all incumbent.

Have you no heart to help? Are you the Devil himself? It is a sad state and we shall all live to see the day of the end.

Come hither, city of dreams! City of never-ending lights! City of sights and sounds beyond imaginings! City of scud and sparkle! City of knifings and kisses! City of new starts and new ends! Sweet City of Life! O Richly Poor City of Souls! Excessive City and Wasteful City! You have shown us everything and nothing, and there is so much left to do to get to a new day… Smile, precious city, for help is on its way!

Where the Black man is accused of murder… Where the Latina is seen as an easy lover… Where the rich, white kids obtain everything they want without doing anything for it… Where the deserving, poor child gets nothing although he does everything he can in hopes of something… Where the homeless live in the cold and the heartless live in warmth… Where the stray dogs are caught and put to sleep… Where the weed is shared among hopeless friends… Where the under-aged allows themselves to witness worldliness before their times… Where the innocent are convicted because the guilty have a strong societal influence… Where those that want to help can only do so much… Where the sweet souls must accommodate the disgusting filth and where the smiles of young ones are silenced, bringing forth cries of solitude…

This is the life that we have chosen. These are the lives in the city that never sleeps. This is the life that I try to escape every time I close my eyes. Yet, this is my life. This is your life…

Pleased with opportunities if you just keep believing… Pleased with prayers in hope of peace and tranquility… Pleased with words that can say so much and strike a fire in the hearts of some… Pleased with the ability and capability to love beyond imaginings… Pleased with the possibility for so much more. On the pavement, pleased with the chalk markings of children, as it reminds me of the innocence that is still pure and still dreams beauty. These children are our future. Their young minds still have a chance to change for the better. Our children can affect everything, every new day…

All This is what I rejoice and that which I share with You.

*Image provided by: http://www.pixdaus.com/pics/1207694713GN7KshL.jpg

Can we be made New?

January 3, 2010


How can the person I love consider himself evil? I just had a long conversation with my supposed one and only true love and I was supportive with every bone in my body, as much as it pains my heart, but sometimes you just have to let go of your heart and find some love to give to them, because maybe, just maybe, they need it more. But is that stupid?

We are Christians, and we face a battle every single day. I pray and sometimes I don’t. He sins and sometimes he doesn’t. I love him and sometimes I despise parts of him. He loves me and sometimes wants to smack me, even though he doesn’t (and if there comes a moment when he does, I could never forgive him and I would leave him forever). We forgive and sometimes we don’t, and sometimes we judge others when we know we shouldn’t. But how can I cope when I feel like all my faith has done to me was help others and drain everything out of me, just so that they can have a deep, comforting gasp of fresh air? Where is my relieving breath?

And don’t think that I am saint or an angel, because believe me, I am not. I am jealous; more jealous than any person should be, as I am so jealous that sometimes I feel like taking a certain female and smashing her head against the wall, and then shoving pizza down her throat and watching her choke on the fat she doesn’t have, and this is all because my one and only true love finds her attractive.

Sometimes, I am evil minded. But I know that my sins and that my bad thoughts and my bad deeds come and go. But I also know that the good ones are harder to come by and when they do they make a lasting mark on your heart; It is easy to be bad but you got to work at it to be good. I also know (from my one and only true love) that a small good step can lead to another one.

When hearing the sins that trouble my one and only true love, I miraculously find these words coming to me, words that are so opposite to what I’m feeling: I am feeling hate and immense sadness knowing that what he goes through is something that I cannot really help him with, yet I am finding the words to let him know that I support him. It pains me though because I sit there and look into his beautiful eyes and as I see love and everything I could ever want, I am baffled as to how it is possible for my innocent, one and only, true Love to be corrupt. And the more I think about it, my support for him is verifiable. I actually do support him because I love him more than anything of this earth. I want him to change but to be honest, not for me. I want him to change for him. I want him to finally come across a computer and not once think about the sin that tempts him. I want him to be able to hold my hand and not have a wandering eye at the same time. (The second one is perhaps asking too much, because even I have a wandering eye sometimes.) I want him to grow in his faith and believe that he is not the evil; he is a sweet man with a good heart who just happens to do bad things sometimes. I want him to stop doubting everything and to finally have the confidence to realize that anything is possible if you just believe. I want him to be new. I want myself to be new. I want our relationship to be new. I want us to have a new start.

It is a new year of the earth. It is a new year in our relationship. It is a time for the next new edition of our devotionals. It is a new chance to begin anew. I know in my heart that there will be more times when sorrow creeps at unsuspecting hours and chokes my tears out of me. I know that there will be more times when sin slides under his door and forces his hands into a corrupt state. I know that there will be more times when temptation spreads our faith apart and opens doors that should remain closed until marriage. I know all these things but I keep praying for strength. And slowly but surely, my prayers will be answered because I know God is good.

I pray for God to make this New Year a real new start. I pray for us to want to change, to want to stray from sin and find solace in God’s grace, to support each other when we need it, to come to God when there seems like there can be no more support from each other, to trust that God will be there for us no matter what, and most importantly, I pray for me, for him, for us, to always keep trying and keep getting up no matter how many times we may fall. I know that God’s love is there for us to take if we so choose. And believe me, we choose to consume our beings with God’s love, but sometimes, it feels like such a stretch for our wavering arms and sometimes, it feels completely unable to grasp or sometimes it feels like it is completely gone. Sometimes, we lose sight of our faith. But I know that we just have to open our eyes again and see all the wonders of God’s love; Just wake up on a new day and have a new start.

We are able to change but what is more important is that we are capable of change. We are able to love but what is more important is that we are capable of love. We are able to receive God, but what is more important is that we are capable of receiving Him. What I truly realize is that sin is just a sometimes. But God’s love and grace and forgiveness and mercy and glory and majesty and power and salvation are a forever. With Him and in Him, there is always something new He does in our lives; we just have to be open to His will (If you don’t believe me, read it for yourself… Isaiah 43:18-19).

*Image provided by: http://ysanames.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/white-rose1.jpg

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.

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