Category Archives: Poetry

But It’s Our, Bodies…

You Say that Roe vs. Wade is MURDER

But it’s Our, Bodies…

That at Conception, there’s, Something that’s Alive Inside

But it’s Our, Bodies

You Tell Us, that it’s Un-Christian, to Take a Life

But it’s Our, Bodies, Carrying Those, “Lives” (are they really noted as living at the moment of, conception???)

It’s just Not Right, that the Government Now Controls Over ALL of Our (Women’s) Reproductive Rights

But WHAT Can We Do?  We are Now, Second-Class Citizens of the Free World Here

And We Can Only, Allow the Government to DICTATE WHAT is to happen, and what isn’t to happen, with our bodies

Now Consider this:

Would this have happened, if it’s the MEN we’re talking about?

Of Course N-O-T!  ‘Cuz YOU LOSERS ain’t got what it takes to carry your babies, unless, you’re all, seahorses, sea dragons, but your not, or, are you all, kangaroos, with them, pouches here?

Of course NOT!

And you TAKE away the RIGHTS of our bodies???

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Filed under Abuse of Power, Basic Human Rights, Perspectives, Poetry, Pro Life vs. Pro Choice, Right to Life, White Picket Fence, Women's Issues

The Stranded Ark

How nothing stays the same, in the baptism of, time, translated…

The Stars that Lost the Precisions in Words

The Boxes, Flooded by an Overflow of Emotions

The Stars that We Can, No Longer, Hear

The Roses, that Became, Blurred

The Mix-and-Match of the Words

Waiting for the Sharpened Knives to Get Them Edited

the progressions of, life

found online

Cutting Off All the Excess

To Make Things Less, Complex

The Wind Can’t Recognize the Banners

The Cloud Can’t Decipher My Mind

That Ark Made of Words, Stranded

Expecting the Rise of Tides of Inspiration

The Musical Instruments Stopped Playing Now

And Took with Them, the Ripples Like the Poems by that Boat

There’s, that light scent of, loss here, of how things are gone so quickly, of how we can’t hold onto time, no matter how much we wanted time to slow down, it just, doesn’t.

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Filed under Life, Maturation, Old Age, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Poetry, Properties of Life, Things Left Behind

Weather Forecast: Sunny Skies

How we should, live our lives, disregarding what trials may come later on in our lives, living in the moment, enjoying life itself, a poem, translated…

The Weather Forecasts Said that the Fronts Hadn’t Arrived

It’s a Sunny Day

I’d Cleaned Up the Windows in the Winter Sunshine

like this…

from online

On that Crystal Clear Morn

Caring Less How the Rain, the Wind Will, Dirty Them Again

And so, this is how it goes, despite the weather forecast, you still decided to clean up the windows, because you wanted a clearer view to the outside world, and even if the rain came later on, it’s okay, because, at least, you got that look through that cleared window from before…

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Filed under Attitude, Expectations, Life, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Poetry, Properties of Life

We Don’t Got NO Rights!

We Don’t Got NO Rights

No Rights Over Our Bodies

No Rights Over What We’re Supposed to Think

We Don’t Got NO Rights

We are All, Slaves to the Misogynistic World that We’d Been, Born into

despite how hard those who came before us, fought too hard!

photo from online

We Don’t Got NO Rights

No Rights to Speak UP & Out

‘Bout What We’d Been Through

‘Cuz They’ll All Just, Try &, Silence Us

We Don’t Got NO Rights

Because We’re Women

Because We’re, the

Lesser Sex

Because MEN Want Control

We Don’t Got NO Rights!

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Filed under Basic Human Rights, Gender Inequality, Issues on Gender, Perspectives, Poetry, Properties of Life, Right to Life, The Fate of a Woman, Wake Up Calls, Women's Issues

The Reveries of Springtime, a Poem

Despite how messed up the world is, things that stayed constant: the sun, the season, the moon that pulls the tides, and that is all we have, to rely on, to help us all through these, difficult times, of our, lives, translated…

Who Can Get a Bouquet of Flowers for

And, Switch it on the Bright International Dateline

As a Decoration of that, Belated, Justice

I Shall Use My Naked Spines to Give Back to

despite this…

photo from online

That Fire Filled March of Hopes & Dreams

Love is Nothing More than the Vending Machine Sales

Freedom Came, a Bit Later than the Springtime

All that’s Needed is a Bouquet of Flowers

I Will be able to Pretend, that the World is, Beautiful

The Skies Too Bright

And Those Children Who were Lost, are Cute, and Naïve

Who Can, Buy Me, that Bouquet of Flowers

To Switch it onto the International Day Line During the Springtime

the constants of, the universe is still, ongoing…from online

And so, this still just showed, how the seasons still come and go, despite how messy this world currently is, just because so many had died in war, in the outbreaks, the globe still turns, that, would become, the only, constant there is, in everybody’s life here!

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Filed under Life, Perspectives, Poetry, Properties of Life, Tragedies in the World, Wake Up Calls, White Picket Fence

That Child Who’d Not Died, in War, a Poem

On how the children in the population, the most innocent people of ALL, are hit, the hardest, in the wars between the countries, translated…

Because the Father Who Survived, Still Held onto His Tiny Body

Because the Father Who Survived, Still, Kissed Him on the Cheeks

Because the Father Who Survived Still, Whispered into His Tiny Little Ears, Telling Him the Secrets

Because the Father Who Survived Still Looked Carefully, Upon His Tiny Eyes Shut Tight, Using His Tear

Using His Love—I Knew

from the war in Syria, photo from online

This Won’t be the Final Time in His, Life

I Know

He’s, Still, Alive

As are, All the Young Children of War

They’re All to, NEVER, Die in the Wars

I am, the Father of Two

And so, this, is how wars impact everybody who is living in it, whichever side you’re on, you will, suffer these losses, maybe not directly related to you, because you’re lucky for now, that nobody you love died already, but, all around you, there’s, DEATH, despair, and seeing those who’d lost their own young to the wars that the people never selected to fight, it’s just, unfair, but what can you do?  Nothing, you can, do nothing.

here’s the latest, children of war in the Ukrainian-Russian conflicts…

their faces still, very, innocent…photo from online


Filed under Awareness, Life, Loss, On Death & Dying, Perspectives, Poetry, Properties of Life, Right to Life, Social Awareness, Tragedies in the World, Wake Up Calls, White Picket Fence

I Don’t Need You Anymore, Mom

Trying to get the parents to stop worrying about their own young here, a poem, translated…

I Don’t Need You Anymore, Mom

The Speed to Which I’m Currently Traveling is 291 Kilometers

Right Inside the Washer

That Story inside My Pockets

Sped with Me

Gotten Wet, then Ruined

Mom, No Worries

I Shall Dry My Self up in the Sun

Becoming a Piece of Paper

That Swayed, Wandered, in the, Wind

So this, is a child’s attempts, to stop the parent from worrying about her or him, and the child may be going through some trials, but, to help her/his own parents feel more at ease, s/he’d told the parent, that s/he is still, fine.  That, is what a lot of us, children would do, because we don’t want to cause anymore troubles for our own parents, they got enough on their plates already!


Filed under Abandonment of Children, Bad Parenting Behaviors, Life, Parent-Child Interactions, Parenting/Parenthood, Perspectives, Poetry, Properties of Life, White Picket Fence

We Shouldn’t be Easily Completed

Life is a winding road, that we’re all, traveling, and healing still takes, FOREVER, a poem, translated…

Time is Limited, We are

Just about Used Up the Night’s Moonlight

The Moon, Shaped in a Hook, the Night, Flowed Along like Water

We Felt Tonight Together

That it’s Calling Out to Us, to Finish Something

But, We are, Uncertain of What We Can Get Done

and, here’s what that road, looks, like…

and it still, never ends, or at least, we can’t, see it! Photo from online

Anything at All

We Can Only be, Completed

To the Point of, Doing, Nothing at All, Only

Set Out

——We are Always Going Places

Feeling the Excitements, the Uncertainties

The Fears of Not Knowing Where We’re Headed

The Bumps, the Twists & Turns in the Roads

That Excitement, Compounded with the Worries

We Will, Keep on Tripping & Falling Down

Getting Lost

Flipping through that Map Too Many Times It’d Become, Torn Up

And, Missed that Only Ride

To Where We’re Headed————Afar

Or Maybe, After a Break Up

We’d Both Known, We’re Supposed to

Travel Alone for the Rest of What Follows

Some Sights are Fitted, for Seeing Alone

Or, Maybe, Not Being Seen at All

We Will Always be on the Way

It’s Just, Finding Our Own Individual Tracks

In the Tracks of Millions of Billions of Man

Our Questions, Not Yet Answered,

The Doubts, Incomplete

Not Taken Flight Yet

Not Yet, Embraced Still

There’s No Beliefs of: Because the Night is So Persistent

That a Tear Fell Completely Either

And so, this just goes to show, how the healing process is the work of an entire lifetime, you may be on your ways to healing now, but, you’re just not yet, finished, you can’t see the end, because, it’s, nowhere in sight, but you know, you need to, keep on going, to find that closure over, what you’d lost in your lives.

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Filed under Healing Process, Life, Loss, Philosophies of Life, Poetry, Properties of Life, Unrequited Love


As death slowly, takes you, over, a poem, translated…

To the Parts of Me Not Yet Dead

Slowly, Every Time as I’d Imagined

Finding that White Staircase

Just Lay Down & Dying on it

You Will Come, Led Me to the Sweet Cemetery Where the Rainbow Rose Up

Telling Me, that Before the Dews Met the Sunshine, it’s Just

A Breath of the World, Like the Peppermint Cigarettes I Loved So Much

With the Smoke Rings Slowly Getting Fatigued, and Vanishing in an Instant

It’s Still Beautiful Here

Dozens of Golden Butterflies Danced Around

Becoming the Thousands of Golden-Colored Leaves

That Fell from All Around

The Sawed Opened Ribs of the Trees

It’s What You’d, Smelled Like

You Will Come, Get Down on Your Knees

Breaking Open that Pine-Scented Green Chest, Pinched My Head Like

Subduing Me into Eternity.  That Hole Seemingly, Endless Heading Onward Slowly, Telling Me

It’s Nighttime Now

While from My Mildly Slanted Angle I Saw

The World that was High Up

Kneeling Down Just Rising Up Slowly

Puffing Out the Beautiful, White Smokes

a place like this is where this takes, place…

photo from online

In the Covers of the Night

Being Enchanted by, Oneself

Slowly, the Colors Faded Off of My Dress

Allow Me One More Peppermint-Flavored Cigarette

Before I Leave the Cemeteries, I’d Handed the Butt to You, Like Entrusting Something Precious

After I’m Laid to Reset, Do Take it Back Here Again

Bury it Under the Starry-Lit Graves

Stand Firmly, from Outside of My Own Physicality

I’d, Kissed My Own, Death

This is on accepting one’s own death, because time has come already, and, there’s no more time left for the narrator, and, s/he tried to squeeze in as much of her/his final words as s/he possibly can, to leave behind, some sort of wisdom for those who are left behind in life.

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Filed under Life, Observations, On Death & Dying, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Poetry, Properties of Life, the Finality of Life

To Solitude, a Poem

On the meanings of, death!  Translated…

You Said that I’d, Prayed for You

With My Palms Together Majestically Offering to Buddha

A Dragonfly’s Willing Legs

Visited Many Places that Were Beautiful

Now, with its Wings, Together Behind its, Back

I Know You are Afraid

So I Didn’t Speak

hands in, prayer…

photo from online

Just, Watched You, with My, Compound Eyes

The Flower from the Gingko Fell

With the Old Coins, Found its Way to the Donation Box

The Rivers, Mountains, Became the Amplifier to the Vast World

As I Stared, I’d, Let out that First Awe

The Rain Fell on the Flapping Wings

The Wind Started Dancing around that Sky that’s Become, too, Salted

By then You’d Already Gone, Away

Couldn’t Hear that Drum Sounding Off on the Top of the Mountain

And so, this is on, departing, on leaving everything in the world behind, and, you still can’t take it (whatever it may be!) when you go, you leave, everything behind, except maybe, your own, dead bodies, yeah, that’s the only thing you’re, gonna take with you when you go!

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Filed under Life, On Death & Dying, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Poetry, Properties of Life, Values