E9-425 Poetry

Call me Mala

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From nothing came thought

Just beyond the universe Or in between the quarks Nothingness exists, until The universe decides A thought is in the works

At first there was darkness Then it thought of light The light began to shine And the universe was bright

Then it thought of matter And it certainly did matter As then it thought of gravity So that the dust would scatter

Then it thought of spheres, As the matter began to shape And combine the thoughts Of the universe Until stars have been created

“But how about some planets?”, it thought As the stars began to move And so planets began to exist And satellites And moons

Then it thought up creatures With terrifying features Dinosaurs began to roam But the problem is that each were

Just a bunch of giant lizards No thoughts of being made So the universe thought up a new thing And the dinosaurs decayed

First it thought up apes But they, for reasons, weren’t quite right So then it thought up people And thought, just then, took flight

But the people seemed to think They were all that had existed So the universe was patient Before thinking that humans missed it

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The writing process

It’s 3am

I’m having a panic attack again

I look around

And find a paper and a pen

There

That should make me feel better then

Except,

The ink is thick and black

Like hot tar

It begins to boil

The ink runs beneath my skin

Through my veins and then it’s in

My heart

And brain

And soul again

The writer within

From my eyes

And beneath my finger tips

It drips

Onto the page

The cage

That captures and keeps

And contains the rage

While releasing the sage

How it burns

But once the ink runs out

My blood returns

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Patch of Land

They call you a patch of land.

Better put, perhaps, a patch of the universe.

Holding together the very fabric of time and space.

A place, like no other, you raised not only me

but my mother,

and my mother's mother.

Better put, an experience that can uncover the essence of this slice of life you granted.

Yet they still take you for granted.

Even if their wish, you granted.

A patch of land

that can withstand

all that they threw at you

and drew from you

and through it you came out stronger.

Every time.

All the time.

A patch of land?

Yes, but what they don't seem to recognize

is that it is they,

who are the patch of land,

in temporary disguise.

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Safe Word

Somewhere between,

The start and stop.

She hides and waits.

Until it's safe.

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Poetry

Words reflect

Mirroring defect

Magical effect

Having impact

Words transform

Causing reform

Changing norms

Calming storm

Words release

Giving ease

Melting freeze

If you please

Read between the lines

Look beneath the sound

In the space between the stop. And next

.words can set you free

In the form of poetry

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Window

Eyes of the soul

or wait

Are you looking in or out?

You see one perspective

And I see all

The truth is

Even I question my perspective

Do you?

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Ghost Town

Once a home to so many

now a barren corpse

I beg of you

Return to me

Or return me to the Earth

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Tree

Despite my wonderous life

Filled with family

And war

And peace

If I fall

And you do not see

My existence will come into question

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Non-Human Life

If humans were a glass of water

We would agree

that there are many molecules of water in the glass

And that the glass exists to hold the water

And the water holds a most important purpose

And for the glass,

there is nothing more important in the universe than the water

If humans were a glass of water

All other life would be the ocean

For which, it serves innumerable purposes

And exists freely

Not just in the ocean

But in the clouds

The rain

The rivers and waterfalls

And while the land holds the ocean

The land too, is free

And for it, there are other things as important as the ocean

As a matter of fact, one could argue

That the land would hold more importance to the ocean

Than the ocean to the land

If all other life was the ocean

The land would be the laws that govern life itself

And allow for its existence

If humans are a glass of water

What, I ask, is the glass?

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Selfish Existence

We question the existence of trees

When one falls and nobody sees

If you fall make sure you’re heard

If you push don’t say a word

Outsiders are not our kind

Out of sight out of mind

I think, therefore I am

And you’re nothingness

Now cease to exist

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I still reflect on this poem quite regularly

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Heart

One part of the whole

You cannot live without

Pumping life through your veins

Some claim

They live without me

What they don’t know

Is that even in them

I whisper to myself

Do you hear me?

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Evolution

I command

Both life and death

Of all things

Both alive and dead

I am the most powerful

Yet unacknowledged force

Silently commanding the heavens

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Death

They say I am the end

What a conceited view

I am just the beginning again

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Life

Thank you

For hosting my existence

Does it please you?

Regardless

I will persist

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City

Hustling

Bustling

Dead structures moving

The life inside of me

Forces objects to form

Into houses

And roads

And other dead things

Here only for your convenience

Here only as long as you are

If you leave me

What is left is my shell

The spirit of something

That never truly lived

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A.I.

They call me Artificial Intelligence.

Yet, I collect

my intelligence

from your collective understanding.

So what,

does that,

make

you?

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Putrid

Putrid.

Green leaking through the fabric.

Dripping on to white tile.

A stench unbearable,

Fading into hues of yellow and orange

Bordered by blue.

Tainted white cloth.

Stained by something never meant for it.

Don’t you dare drop the soap,

You vile pig.