I Bleed Words Sometimes

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I’m Angry

Couple, passant 1996 – Eric Rondepierre

We’re tough, heh or so we believe,

We can have abuses hurling at us and we wouldn’t flinch,

Be called a “Bitch!”, and nothing…

May be we even enjoy them, revel in them,

But some words bring out the worst in us,

They have us barking like mad dogs,

A condescending tone from those we love,

And we retaliate with anger,

We retaliate from inside our fortresses,

We tell them how we wouldn’t tolerate their inequities,

All the while crumbling.

All the while grieving,

Because we’re hurt beyond repair,

Left bruised and battered,

We mask our grief with anger,

We mask

our grief

with anger

Every harsh word cuts through us, but we pretend like we’re wearing a shield that no words can dent, nor scratch…

Funny thing is, anger can be released In a fleeting moment.

But we carry hurt in our chest, and ever so often we feel it, as we hear the rhythm of our heart beat.

Dum Dum Dum Dum

Dum Dum Dum Dum

Dum Dum Dum Dum Dum… Dum… Dum…

Do you feel it?

I know I do.

Morning

Credit: Eva Rubinstein

I thought of those who had died in their sleep

Such a beautiful way to go

You rest, you dream, you leave this earthly shell behind…

I wondered how peaceful it would be

How there would be no suffering; at least in death

A thought crossed my mind. But I didn’t say it out loud.

Wishes are made with closed eyes and secretly in the heart.

I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep

6.30 am. Birds began to chirp. Sunlight beamed through the cracks in the curtain.

And I was awake.

Never have I felt so alone, so dejected, so sad.

Rich

Credit: Leopoldo Pomés Campello

The rich…

What do they pick up as they walk through life leaving their prints on the sand?

What do they pick? Empty shells? Pebbles? The washed-ashore bloated dead?

What do they bring to supper? Are there fish to fry on the fire?

Is there kindness in their hearts?

Oh these are questions for the real, not the rich.

Or am I wrong?

Do the rich have a heart?

Do the rich have humility?

May be I’m asking the wrong questions…

Humility is the virtue of the rich.

Those in power either choose to be rich or remain so very poor.

So, let me ask again,

Are YOU Humble?

Heaven

Fajar P. Domingo.

Fajar P. Domingo

 

May be heaven isn’t a place so far far away,

May be it’s here and now…

May be heaven is a place where you get to relive the best moments of your childhood,

May be heaven is a stranger’s smile on a tiring day,

May be heaven isn’t a place… but time spent with yourself,

May be heaven is nothing but the feeling of being in love,

May be heaven is just hell, because you’re in love.

 

Baiser, Passage Versailles, Paris, 1950.

Baiser, Passage Versailles, Paris, 1950.

Lamentation

I have seen the face of selfishness,

It’s repulsive!

I have witnessed the image of unworthiness,

It fills me with disdain.

Every time I look at it, I’m consumed by the insatiable urge to tear it apart.

I look at how pitiful it is and I wonder, how?

How did this come to be? Who made you? What made you?

The answer was staring at me through the mirror.

Mirror

Happy Birthday Handsome

You weren’t here to hear me speak my first words,

But you heard me say ‘Papa’

No one ever did before

You gave meaning to a word that meant nothing to me

You didn’t watch me take my first step as a baby

But you helped me up every time I fell

Oceans apart you stay

Closest to my heart you are

Your smile, you laughter, your words and your silence

They mean so much to me

In your heart is where I wanna be

Every day and always.

Through your mind, I want to run

Every time you’re down

I want to be your smile

When cry is all you want to

Happy Birthday My Handsome!

Piece of my heart,

So far far away,

Yet so so precious.

Happy Birthday Papa.

She’s So Ugly

14095953_1070849909631601_9116327375689174467_n

PC: Christine Wu

 

It’s amazing how we are quick to judge

And seldom slow to anger

How we make assumptions and then believe them to be true

How we make our opinions our God

And worship them, blindly, in the temple of our own minds

How we give ourselves more importance than we deserve

How we do NOT give people the respect they deserve

How we think we know best

When really we know nothing at all.

Our mirrors are dusty, just like our minds,

We don’t let the new wash over us

And we let cobwebs of preconceived notions ruin that which can be beautiful

Understanding can be beautiful

Being respectful of other peoples’ beliefs can be beautiful

Imperfections can be beautiful

Ugliness can be beautiful

When will we stop judging and start embracing?

Never.

Desolate

tumblr_o0msplgk2s1v3p83oo1_1280

People are desolate,
Lonely islands walking about,
They lay barren
In the wake of the destruction.

People are foolish,
Blinded,
By their own selfish desires,
Unheeding, they pass each other by.

People are people,
Consumed by the worry of what the future holds
Engulfed in the past,
Sweet irony.

People are desolate,
Lonely islands walking about,
Oh, how they lay barren!
In the wake of the destruction called Life.

nigel-van-wieck-940x606

Artist For Both Pictures ~ Nigel Van Wieck

You Smell Of Memories

Saul Leiter

 

You smell of memories,

And when I’m with you,

The scent of sadness permeates the air,

Leaving me gasping for breath.

 

You smell of yearning,

You smell of lust,

You smell of longing,

You smell of thirst.

 

Darling, you smell of me.

 

Saul Leiter

Both PC: Saul Leiter

 

 

Too much

1625467_942696235761024_3658108102813100371_nPC – Anastasia Smurova.

 

Sometimes we love people too much,

Love is responsibility.

Love is ache waiting to be felt.

Love is a tragedy in the making.

Love is beautiful.

Love makes you do all the things you yourself wouldn’t approve of.

Love pushes you to the point that you do not recognize yourself.

And if that love is poison to someone.

It’s best to let it go.

Sometimes we love people too much to keep them in our lives.

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