Talking To An Angel

Vague conversation past each midnight
Wind blows echoes softly like a feather
The ease of words as they take flight
As gently as the touch of a mother

The light of love that angels impart -
Sounds of violin travel across the ears
Opens up the door to the coldest heart
Undo hours of forgotten tears

Serene image irradiates the sight
Pure as snow that melts into water
Poetry in motion dances in twilight
Short and sweet like a lingering whisper

All dreams and hopes anew they shall start
By a voice that comforts like a choir
In the end the angel will depart
Kisses good night with a silent prayer

Song of A Homeless Man

A young man with his beaten guitar strumming
Along the street corner outside a liquor store
With a raspy voice and a beer he was humming
A country song ’bout a town by the river shore

He was tired and drunk but he was charming
The charm of a man who has lived his life poor
With no one watching he kept on performing
His body, spirit so numb he no longer feels sore

Almost emotionless he just stood there smiling
In a hapless world where people don’t ever care
About his helpless thought and hopeless feeling
His eyes restless, distressed with an empty stare

With each cigarette he lit up hopes of settling
Yet the idea of home felt like a haunting scare
The very reason why he kept on traveling
Living the sweet life of an aristocrat’s nightmare

Insecurity

I am lost in a city painted in unfamiliarity
The beauty lies in its chaotic uncertainty
Taken out of my zone of comfortability
What is left is a interrupted mental clarity
Shoulders rubbed with a hit of insanity
This is not a life for he who craves stability

I am this man with dreams of dreams
And yet nothing is ever really what it seems
Behind the dark brown eyes that look grim
Is a man who looks tough but feels like a wimp
Under an appearance of proper and prim
Is a heart so fragile and broken it is limp

I am tortured with a hidden insecurity
A secret that toys with my inner vanity
Blurred was the line of sense and sensibility
Surrounded by the charm of insincerity
In an uphill battle to uphold my dignity
Before I sink in to an ocean of unreality

I am a musical score without a composer
A grand living room without any furniture
I am bitter like iced coffee without sugar
A confused question without a right answer
I am the past, the present, and the future
An unknown suspense of an epic cliffhanger

Lonesome in Los Angeles

Back in Los Angeles lost in loneliness
Blinded completely by naive foolishness
The clock here always tell it’s time to pretend
Never really knew what is real, who is friend

Purposely ignoring the small warning signs
With desperation I searched among all kinds
Once again end up in the very wrong place
Thinking I’ve fallen into the right embrace

Making sweet love in a plastic paradise
Waking up morrow couldn’t quite pay the price
Fights after fights I wrestle reality
Then I smoke to numb in solidarity

With ev’ry smile I crack I become fragile
While fallin’ for good old tears of crocodile
Scripted for two actors with no chemistry
Most of these love stories end in tragedy

Played like games of poker and Russian roulette
Dealt like Monopoly cards of chance and chest
Love’s a battlefield some is cursed to suffer
Perhaps someday I’ll end this streak of loser

Island Lovers

Boys and girls holding hands in the rain
In their flip flops they kiss, they gallivant
To the soundtrack of ocean waves and breeze
As they gaze into each others’ eyes with ease
Her sun-kissed skin on his surf’s up tan
Laying freely across the soft pale sand
Two hearts beating in place where times freeze
Beneath the shadows of coconut trees

Lovebirds hiding to elope out of sight
To be free as a bird, high as a kite
Over the sky they witness a rainbow
On a day when Cupid strikes his arrow
Silently the blue skies cruise into night
Passion and desires waiting to ignite
As fireworks illuminates hopes and vows
May they love for as long as time allows

Lost Luggage

 

 

 

 

 

 

Travelers surround and leave the baggage carousel
Suddenly I am the only one left standing there
This suitcase missing is the beginning of a tale
In a place where it feels like the middle of nowhere

As I saunter around feeling flustered and empty
There is a new sense of direction and clarity
A man with no excess baggage is a man set free
Like hippies with nothing I set foot on a journey

In my sweaty tank top, jeans, and overnight backpack
I smoke the last two cigarettes as if time stood still
My colorful world swiftly turns into white and black
This old soul trapped in youth’s body never felt so real

In man’s loneliest time a book is his best company
Inspirations run through me like silent blasphemy
Push me into the wild wild world with no guarantee
Who needs belongings when life turns into a party

Away and back…

Sorry for being away for the past few months, I always intend to update this blog but work has been busy and I was less than inspired to write.

But recently one of my readers told me that they are inspired by my poetry, and that I should always keep writing. I am more than grateful to hear such encouraging words.

Now that I have time for myself, to take a break from work and get on the road again, I will keep up with my posts. In fact, this is my first day and already I am inspired…

Poetry never dies, a true poet never stop writing.