“Learn to light a candle in the darkest moments of someone’s life. Be the light that helps others see; it is what gives life its deepest significance.” – Roy T. Bennet

Archive for March, 2011

Dalit

I’ll try to tell the tale

Of a small untouchable

A dying girl in India

One too susceptible

To hate and avoidances

And untreated grievances

That left her crippled

Still searching for happiness

But wanting to become

An importance to someone

Crawling on the ground

A piece of her undone

Unraveling and twisting behind

She holds her sari closed

With the other hand grasping

For a root or stone to hold

Crowd begin to gather

Birds flock and wonder

No one cares to help

Only wanting to gaze at her

Her misfortune and poverty

Her disfigured body

Hereditary fate

And the lack of a family

In high standing and respect

Just a birth defect

And an insatiable desire

To become perfect

 

© 2011 singinthebreeze.wordpress.com

Sopaipillas

are delicious little donuts

in a mountain full of sugar

a mexican dessert but still my breakfast

my brothers will go wild

all hyped up on that sugar

i can see the crazy creeping up into their faces

And it’s all my mother’s fault.

Japan

Life can overwhelm

All the different faces

The critiques that come with them

And the ever-changing smiles

The mindsets of millions

The styles of billions

Up and down

Like a rollercoaster

And we are just spinning in circles

Anyway

But we thrive

Fashions come and go

Some should never have come

Our cars get bigger and better

Our minds get smaller and smaller

Or so it seems

We eat

A lot

The food never stops coming

And when disasters do

What??

We lose sight of hope?

Of pity?

Of peace?

The screens are watched

The people panic

But from over here

It’s a thought

In the back of your head

Sometimes you remember to pray

Sometimes you forget

There are others out there

Beyond a haircut

Beyond a music video

Crying like children

Some of them are children

A wall is being built

A tall one

Of loving people

Of helpers

Of those who care

Whether we join them or not

That’s our choice

What do you choose?

 

Pickle Jar

they’ll tell you life is good here and dare you to say otherwise

as they go and steal a pickle jar to hold their savings in

it’ll stay as dry and empty as it was when it was found

but it sits there to remind them to save a buck someday

is it hard to believe that destiny

brought me to this city

where children cry and cease to be

part of the living

and the women walk in the night time

wishing they would meet somebody

and the men lose hope with the fading light

and drown in their misery

they’ll tell you life is good here and dare you to say otherwise

as they stand in line for soup so that their families may eat

it will last a couple days up to a week if they wanted

so dies a hungry mother and the unborn child inside

is it hard to believe that destiny

brought me to this city

where children cry and cease to be

part of the living

and the women walk in the night time

wishing they would meet somebody

and the men lose hope with the fading light

and drown in their misery

one by one, freedom will take them

two by two, the windows will close

and near their little graveyard a vacant house will stand

boarded up and buried deep in the minds of passing friends

and on a broken shelf above their only chair

there sits an empty pickle jar that nobody could fill

 

 

© 2011 singinthebreeze.wordpress.com

Pocomor

That is the name of the lizard in the bathroom. It is no longer sitting, waiting for me, on the toilet seat, but it has graduated to the shower curtain. After a brief stint on the faucet. When I went to wash my hands, it jumped on my belly, onto my shoulder, then into my hair. And there it hid, somehow, for about thirty seconds. Then I whacked it’s tail and it leaped off onto the shower curtain. And there it stays, watching me in the morning as I get ready. I’m beginning to believe it is a perverted lizard. Therefore, it must be male. Therefore, it must be called Pocomor (poke-o-more). Do not ask me why, it makes no sense to me, either. Pocomor eats my mosquitoes for me.

Dear Lizard

Dear Lizard,

I need to pee. So if you don’t mind being scarred
for life after I sit on you, then I’d suggest getting
off my toilet seat!

Sincerely,
The Giant Above You

Dreamer

I want to be remembered

I don’t want to live in vain

No, I don’t want to be a martyr

I don’t want to be a king

Cuz I want to be remembered

For more than just a dream

I want to stick inside the minds

Of all the people that I meet

And live a good long life

Doing things worthwhile

And changing lives

And moving hearts

And free the chained up souls

And help them all to know

They can let go

Of everything

~

I want to survive

And lead

All the survivors

Following me

I want to stay

And want to be

Something greater than

A gave-up dream

~

I want to be remembered

I don’t want to live in vain

I don’t want to be a martyr

I don’t want to be a king

Cuz I want to be remembered

For more than just a dream

I want to stick inside the minds

Of all the people that I meet

And live a good long live

Doing things worthwhile

And changing lives

And moving hearts

And free the chained up souls

And help them all to know

They can let go

Of everything

 

 

© 2011 singinthebreeze.wordpress.com

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