Soap not Soap Opera

My soul
Has tasted dirty waters
Of the unconscious leaders.
There is a need of soap
to wash it away
Not this soap opera
That’s filling our minds.

A soap with the aroma of love
With the texture to exfoliate
The impurities of hate
Leaving our minds
With empathy and resilience.

Let there be peace
Let there be joy
Let others be alive
Let’s recognize
Lets mourn those lives.
And above all
Let’s keep
ourselves safe.

That is all

It’s not the colors
It’s what’s behind it.
It’s not the job
It’s the worker.
It’s not the rioters
It’s the sleepwalkers.
It’s not the dying
It’s the living.
It’s not “together we stand”
It’s the injustice at hand.
It’s not the nation
It’s the leader.
It’s not the eyes
It’s the soul.
It was not yet his time
That is all.

Nameless love

You are bound to be free
and that is how
I will let you be
This silence is my love.
This smile is my farewell.
I can not say
You are my first love
Yet you are the one
That hurt the most.
The moon is clear tonight
The waves are ready
To sail away.
The treasures are left
Forever to be lost
And the wind
Has set its course.
Pretty sure you will
Set foot in many ports
As for mine
Is for ever closed.
Goodbye
My nameless love.

Spring break of March

Back when the day stopped
In March our world had a break
We stopped and breathed
And others stopped their breaths.

A march was on the way
Of no hugs in display
The love was in the air
Yet disease was also there

Unconscious walls were built
The unseen were feared
Robbed we were
Violated as well

The gods were no where
The scientists were busy
The teachers were learning
The kids were struggling.

It was left open
Our lady is broken
Her flame is gone
Nowhere to be found.

Alone in distance
In distance we face our whole
And the earth is healed along.

The extinct are now seen
There is a new color to the eye
A new horizon is in sight.

Queen of the jungle

Have you ever driven with four kids? Just to give you an idea
As soon as I start driving, the two-year old starts crying
“Please, teta, teeetaaa!” Somehow I grab the backpack from the backseat
Prepare the bottle while driving with my knee
Yes my knee, and pass it to him stretching my arm to the back.

“Mom! Oh no! I’m dying!”  My sixteen year old screams.
Of course, he means in the game, IN THE GAME!
Then again, by inertia, I turned my head as he leans
He is next to me playing again
“Easy there,” I tell myself, breathe 
Reasons, there’s too many, starting with four.
Soon after, there’s a scream from the backseat

“Dude, chill,” my seven-year old tells my 4-year-old
And he keeps screaming for God knows what 
Yet my seven-year old covers his ears and yells “mom, tell him to stop!”

“Breathe”, I tell myself again while turning off the music
Listen boys, if you all don’t stop it now
Even your dinner will go to the sink
So, do you think they listened? Of course not!
Screaming and yelling, of course my two-year old after finishing his bottle joins the chorus
Inspiring enough to think that this is a jungle. Monkeys, exotic bird and even cicadas
Nothing out of the ordinary… “Breathe,” and finally an idea popped up.
“Guys if you keep at it, there won’t be any nintendo switch for the weekend.”
Silence… Finally no buzzing, no humming nor chirping, for how long? Who knows? let’s enjoy it while it lasts.

That which is like sand

Some say that time never stops
But I believe otherwise
Time defines our surroundings
But not our belongings.

It is wise
It gives us what we need
Sometimes to heal
Others to think.

For sure
it will teach us to live
To some, it comes in a breeze
To others, it comes after a slap.

It defines a new life
It seems long to some
At least to those yearning
Yet it is so short
To those transcending.

I guess it’s just there
To warn us
To guide us
To give us that push
But above all
To give us a sense
Of direction in our lives.

Food for the soul

As much as I thought
There were no such words
That came to my thoughts
When we talk about food.

Is not that I don’t enjoy
The delights of eating
It’s the preparing
And then the cleaning.

So let’s change it a bit
Food for the soul
There’s many things
Some are loud
Some are zens
And humor is among them.

There is dancing
which let’s the body sweat
With the sweating
and the moving
At least I forget
What needs to be forgotten.

And with each brush
A feeling is left behind
Such is a feat
That the painting
Becomes alive.

Of course
with each word
Our expressions
Give an illusion
Of a new world.

And there are much more
At least that I know
But for now
Let’s say this is my song
The food for the soul.

Creator or Maker?

From creation to cremation
Life, the core itself
Is full of iffies
Love becomes a goal for some
Others prefer serenity in their lives

Then there’s excellency
Which some reach
With tears and despair
And for others
Is like breeze in the air
The most natural thing on earth

Then again,
there are some
That have to fend for themselves
With no studies
Just the grace of God and will.

Although
the path at the beginning
is the same
Somehow with luxuries of the mind
From the bigger generation
Or lack of thereof
Marks the boost in creativity
Of the young fellows.

Then, like a diamond in the rough
If you use whichever tool
The cut won’t be precise
The diamond would be
Of poor quality use.

Now, if you got
another good diamond
You can make the most
Exquisite cuts
The best rainbow look
Not to mention
Higher price in the market.

But let’s not forget
Those loners
Wolves
leaders
Of them all.

Which makes one wonder
Is The Creator
the maker
of it’s creation?
Or is the maker,
the creator
of it’s creation?

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