Fallen Angel

Lone Star lucked upon Angel
Strong as angels appear.

Inadequacy consumes
The thoughts of Star's isolated soul.

Angel loves.
Time

She nurtures.
Time

Star begins to unlock her treasures,

And the loving labor grows
To a savory sweet friendship.

Angel shows
A new Star her worth…

And Star begins to shine.

The Devil:
Tempter,
Twister of minds;
Distorter of angel's being

... an inward war consumes her...

But Star,
Blinded by her new light, doesn't see
Till Angel's gone too far for saving.

Fallen Angel;
Tattered, Cold,
Beaten.

Fallen Angel;
Fallen Angel,
My turn to take you

Home.

Invitation (enjoy reading about my life :^} )

Everyone’s soul lies somewhere,
Waiting to be discovered.

Some are never found,
Their fruits never reaped;
They are lost, never to be uncovered.

You are fortunate,
For here,
In this very book
Lies a soul
Waiting for you to understand it.
It is written,
All you have to do is read.
Come; follow the maze of my mind,
Let yourself succumb to my thoughts,
And feel my feelings.

Discover a soul today,
Don’t let the chance slip away.

Poetry

The ghostly galleon
Rising above the
Mountains
In all it's mystery;
Dispersing the last
Gypsy's ribbon of
Color,
Fading the final light of
The bright day to nothing.
It's the scent of
Rain
After a summer storm.
The ground is
Overturned with
The force and
Power.
It's the song of
Caoimhe, the fays’ tune;
The haunting sound
Trickling, flowing over the
Far hills.
It’s a swirling stream,
The silver water
Gliding down your
throat as you
sip, being
deprived for so
long.
This is freedom.
This is simply,

Poetry.

Riding the Waves of Life

Twisting

Swaying

Changing

Intriguing

Deceiving,

I wade into the pool of life.

My hasty walk is disrupted repeatedly.

Crashing

Sweeping

Tsunamis

Tempests,

The storm swiftly scales to its climax

As I press forward.

I glance at the thought of turning back.

Pushing

Tugging

Pulling

Thrashing,

The tide sweeps me to the unknown.

I wish this tossing and turning of fate to end.

Night

Late,

The sun droops below the horizon.

I reach the mystical island;

I succumb to sleep.

Light

Sun

Warmth,

I awake replenished

The past journey’s fury no where to be found.

The isle is so celestial,

It must be the heaven I was searching for.

Through the Rolling Hills (talking about the palm of a hand)

My lifeline is…

A long winding dirt road
Stretching far beyond the line of sight
Twisting and swaying dramatically,
But always moving towards the sunset,
Forever glimmering, shimmering on the horizon.

It takes me away from dark experiences in the past
The hurt is still pushing me on, pressing me forward.
The endless amount of dust is being kicked up by my briskly trotting feet,
Blocking all rear sight, keeping me from turning around.

The wind on my back forcefully leads me forward over rolling hills
Always moving toward the light.
The trudging will continue till I die,
Of thirst or desire, I’ll never know.
The passion to keep moving is fixed in me by some unknown force.
I will eventually meet the cliffs that lie before the ocean
Signifying the end of my journey.
But till then,
I will press on.

Die Flote

It lies there
Open,
A book, waiting to be played
And its stories told.
A mole
Lost in the dirt
Peeks above the surface
To create hollow holes
For which the wind can give sound to his entire life’s
Song of work.

It’s a magnified scrap of material,
The gaps waiting for a redemption needle
To thread and weave to and fro;
Waiting for pudgy human hands to
Pick and Prod at the string
And temporarily fill in the gaping emptiness.

The reflection of light from its internal prism mirrors
Ocean waves;
There nature as mysterious as a masked moon.
As the air sweeps through the metal chamber,
A vibration releases giving you
The solemn sound of satisfaction;

A living artifact of the past.

A flute from our homeland.

Momo-ville USA (dedicated to my best friend Michelle)

Momo-ville,
this is the place
where everyone is Perfect.
There are Perfect husbands and wives,
Perfect jobs,
Perfect houses,
and a ton of Perfect children
who never make mistakes.
It is made up of
cookie-cutter castles
and lavish layered lawns.
But what lies beyond this
full fledged facade?

A gaggle of gossipers
filled with hate and spite
ever-using blackmail to backstab
neighbors and “friends”.
It is a place where politics rule
and talent is tormented
because envy and jealousy take control of their hearts.
It’s a unique person’s nightmare
crawling with hypocrites and deadbeats
just waiting to drag down your self esteem.
As the paper drawings of the once towering manors
tear themselves down in a dramatic fashion,
they reveal a broken home,
bankrupt in heart as well as the pocket.
The parents have trained their children to put on their masks,
the ones they’ve been forced to create since birth.
For some, the mask doesn’t fit
so they are forever excluded from the army of mechanical robots.

But you will do anything to fit in here
even sell your soul.

No one knows what it’s like to be alone
till they’ve been to Momo-ville USA.