Dear America

I’m sorry America
for turning my back
for being ashamed
of the gifts that I have
for mocking my freedom
and turning my eyes
from all of the privilege
you’ve given my life.
I’m sorry America
for denying my plenty
for believing the lies
and forgetting
your memory.
I’m sorry to say
I’ve been rather blind
forgetting that America
is where one can thrive
I might be poor now
but the choice is still mine
to open a business
or give dreams a try
like writing these poems
or publish a novel
I don’t need anything
but choices to follow
it might not work out
but you’ve given me
the chance
I know now I’m lucky
you’ve given me the path.
I’m sorry America
that I couldn’t see
that so many in the world
honestly wish they were me
poets that come
from lands that still stifle
artist that died
because they disagree
I can see now
I am truly free.
I’m sorry America
for being so dumb
but it’s just like America
to let youth be young.

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Petals birthed from thorns

I walked away
found a road
I should’ve known
I took the darkness
made bitterness my home
I am a rose
in thorns only this I know
I’m not a queen
worth innocence
in name or deed
I am the poison
in the tiniest of seeds
I’ve planted toxic
while kissing I find my own
a place like heaven
where I’d no longer be alone
my debts are many
but the price I will absolve
my time is plenty
all I’ve become and much
much more
I’ll bloom with color
burst these petals from
this thorn
I’m still quite deadly
but I know what I want more
I have roots growing
they push deeper
deeper than before
and I’ll grow bravely
brilliant and reassured
that heavens waiting
once I open up that door

It bears repeating

When they come
you know they will
break their bones
and cut their heels
wound them ever
mortality
break their souls
and feed their needs
everything will be alright
whatever you choose
it will go on by
if you live-only if you survive
you just have to live
with that fight or flight
reap what you sow
it bears repeating
the only thing you’re owed-
your choices fleeting

Clocks

Clocks
so many clocks
the ticks they tock
and time runs out
the clocks they tick
the tock and drip
down
the drop of blood
beneath the rug
floorboards painted
with the sun.
Clocks
so many clocks
that tick and tock
the remaining seconds
of your life
and when they stop
the tick and tock
your life becomes
the paint
beneath the floorboards
is where you now
belong.

The heartbeat

It’ll be okay
it’s really all the same
a game of wills and minds
this time I’m on the line
so sitting still won’t do
but I will make it through
adaptable it seems
the things you’ve made of me
but it will be okay
the final word remains
even if it dies
I will still survive

Boredom in the time of magic

Kill the passion
snuff the fire
everything decays
and tires
grows so old
with what we own
the world around
a tomb not home
rainbows all in shades of grey
brittle bridges meant to fade
fade and blacken like the sky
we cry our stars
and break or eyes
we see death in wake of life
we break bread before we fight
bleed the joy of wonderment
and scar the happy that might of been.