things undone

that carousel ride you had
once promised, the ice
cream cones and their emulation
of the sun, that afternoon aired sun;
in all the wrong places, at the
complete minute hands of stolen
time, to wait an enternity for a chance
at that one brushstroke of bliss.
the caricatured hearts on the margins
of a mess untold and unfelt,
in sleepless starlit nights and the glow
of the lingering light so soft;
made to a perfect imperfection one can
never, distinguish, per se. that
wind which by all chances found
its dance among locks of charcoal --
in all the familiar places, and the parks
across the way, and the songs which
the birds' peals envied,
much too erratically, and
the unknown final strand of a web
which broke a moment too easily.

and the colors, those shades we never saw;
lost, to be discovered in a fickle while
ever so hurtfully lovely.

in a manner of speaking

at least now i know why.

and little tinker bell,
to ask peter pan how to catch a shadow.

sunrise, sunrise. looks like morning in your eyes

wintergreen lifesavers

i miss talking into the late night and not realizing what time it is. to be happily sleepy the next day, just to go through the same thing all over again. i miss my daddy taking my side in every argument i ever got into with my sister or my mom, except for that one time i refused to admit that the notebook was my sister's and not mine. i miss picking out the gray strands of his hair for 50 cents each. then losing it all back because i accidently picked a black strand. as silly as it is. as stupid as it is. im a broken faucet, you tell me.. i was never fixed to begin with, i don't think. faucets don't heal. and i dont know a plumper. so whats a drip drip dripping faucet to do? plain words. easy to understand. i dont think ive ever been so outright ..sensical. but mr wonka, he says even the wisest men are the most nonsensical of them all. i miss you. and you. and you. to live in a shell that's poked at everyday, but never visited.. it's no fun. all i want is nothing more than for you to hold me back when i try to run away. because i dont mean it. i dont. id rather not, but i do because i dont know what im doing. the love leaks over but no one bothers to scoop it back up. but i think im draining now. i suppose it's not normal to be a bottomless well. i shouldnt have tried to in the first place.
hello, goodbye.

i feel crushed

that i'll always be the singly stupid blame.
dear god,
i lost you a while ago, i think.
and i'm sorry i dont try to gain you back,
but you're not trying either.
i call it quits.
i think i'd rather be a quitter than a wistful wisher on a dream that'll never make it alive.

maybe?

hello.
i dont think this world is mine
i dont think anyone quite listens
i dont think the missing piece is very missed
i dont enjoy reading frankenstein.
i want a colorful threaded friendship bracelet
the kind you make at camps laughing over rocks at 2 am
why doesnt anyone ever pick up late at night?
to shrivel inside your own body is so exhausting
slowly slowly
forgotten and hidden
in an attic no one cares to visit.
la
la
lala
laaa.

i..

itsy bitsy spider

iSUPPORT
love in its every form, at its worst and at its best.

the phonograph and a little dream to be dreamt

birds singing in the sycamore tree.

what a funny name for a funny plant. craving answers i already have and too many cough drops. what happens when the leaves have fallen and the snow has melted? what happens when the sun loses its heat. what happens when the familiar bench is gone. things that represent something else will never be able to replace the object itself. so comes the feeling of loss. no taking it back. lalallaa.

sigh.

chilly saturday mornings

dear god,

i've unintentionally forgotten you.

i'm sorry.

please, please do come back.

boxes of tissues and a whole lot of nothing

dear mom,
my mom who looks prettier smiling, whose laughter is a treat that people receive only on rare occasions. dearest mom.

i don't mean to block you out. i've never wanted to. but you understand this heart of mine more than i do. that's the problem. i cry a lot over the times that i could've spent with you, just talking. i cry because i won't get them back. i cry because you have to suffer for my own lack of courage. but when will i be able to tell you about my first kiss, which was more than two years ago, or the way someone can make me feel? when will i be able to explain to you that age doesn't play a factor in love. or that it makes me sad to see you and dad apart. it breaks my heart. but it's this damned cycle that keeps going and can't find a way to stop. i made a mistake, you lost your trust for me. you can't believe me for my words, so i have to keep everything hidden. anything not said, won't be held against me.. so i just don't tell you. and so this continues, until the last part of me has been shattered and i can't look to anyone else. it's my doing, you're right. even unni says so. your actions are a direct consequence to mine.. but don't you see? that's not at all how i want it to be. i just want to be able to tell you the latest gossip at school or who i think is cute. i'd like to tell you that when i grow up, i want to be something more than an ordinary girl from an ordinary town, and change the world. i'd like to explain to you the feeling of nostalgia. and the way writing makes me happy. i want an argument over my curfew, not over why i don't love you.. because i do, mom. i really do. but i've got the heart of a scarecrow. there are so many things i wish i could tell you, but i don't, because my words are always so misinterpreted. what am i doing that's so wrong? why does it hurt me so. dear mom, i'm in love. i can't tell you how i know, but i'm sure of it. dear mom, i miss daddy. i wish he visited more often. i wish i could see him again. dear mom, i know how to differentiate between wants and needs.. and when it comes to my wants, i like to be reasonable about it. but i dont want a sweet sixteen. it's overrated. i'd rather have that money go to kids in the third world country who have never seen a pair of shoes in their lives. i'm not trying to be selfless, i just don't want to be selfish. dear mom, i like to fit in.. but not in the way that i must do every single thing that my friends do. i just honest-to-goodness don't accept the idea of cheerleading. but you ask me. over and over again, why. and each time i tell you the same thing: i just don't want to. you think there's a story behind my every word, something you're missing. but there's nothing about anything i say to you that i don't mean completely. dear mom.. i want to give you a hug. a good, long hug, and tell you i love you. dear mom, i wish you could read my tears not as an act of blame, but evidence of a suffering that's tugging at me ever so much. i wish you were happy. i wish..

throwing my mind out

못해준 약속이랑, 보고싶어도 못보고. 바로 옆에 있을떼도 무엇이 없는 그 느낌. 한번만 더, 믿어 보고 싶은데. 한번만. 한삶안에 한번은 너무 짧어. 기억하기도 초차 이제는 더이상 모르는 느낌, 다시 찾고싶어도, 내가 뭐를 찾고 있는지도 모르고있지. 바보처럼. 언제나 똑같이. 안놔줄꺼라고 한데는 언젠데... 말좀하지.

보고싶을때 찾아갈께. 기달려.

i'll send all my loving to you

everything's replaying, for the hundredth time now. hundreth? hundredth? whatever. first time i could care less about what i spell. too much in my head. hipocracy. and being true to myself. my forehead feels more than comfortably warm. where is God? i forgot Him for a while. maybe that's why. i'm sorry. i don't need this right now. i'd rather be a flower. trying to playing it cool. failing horribly. erase everything and feeling. and being. to roam the streets and go backpacking through europe. to find the same sticker in a different story. my words have gotten me nowhere. my actions have retraced the same old mistakes. and now i don't know where to head. and for the first time, i want to know. i'd really rather not leave everything up to spontaneuity. it's not just the allergies that make me cry. broken cinderella wheels and soggy tissues. just a few more years. until i can throw away everything because i choose to. just a few more years. i can keep up. i can, i can. and i will.

please go away.

lucy in the sky with diamonds

believe me when i tell you.

charcoal in a paper cup. fold over the edges, closing open minds and letting my eyes close. "nothing's going to change my world" and pictures on the wall of the girl you've never seen. across the universe

thoughts and delights and blindly grabbing for things halfway around the world. happiness is a warm gun? stop telling me it's not true. and these guitar strings tell all, so can't you be happy for me. can't you hear me. "it's not what you do, it's the way you do it."

hey jude, don't make it bad; take a sad song, and make it better.

"i thought it was the other side that dropped bombs."

sitting on the edge of a skyscraper, overlooking too many;

and we forget. we forget too easily. taking your broken wings and learning to fly all your life, blackbird. to watch, over and over again. to feel a striking difference. into the .. into it. whatever it is. this is what i long passion for. a kind of belonging i never understood. she's so heavy in my mind. welcome back's and good bye's.

did you give her the right address? i was so sure i saw her.

it's okay. nothing is labeled anything, ever. it's good to be back. keep moving. microphone feedback on the top of a building, only a direct message that a sentimental man would hear. i can't distinguishably tell you, but..

nothing you can do that can't be done;

nothing you can sing that can't be sung.

nothing you can say but you can learn how to play the game.

breathe, free me.

and i'm walking in strawberry fields forever.

i've got a story to tell

and an audience the size of air.

to fall off buildings and feel the wind

i want to be.
SMALL!
and big and

too loud to care

and away away.

"it was so intimate, like we were already lovers"

dear God,

truth is, i don't know what i'm looking for. i ask You everyday for one thing or another, but i just end up forgetting whatever it is i have initially searched for. it disappears, pigment by pigment, until i can't recognize it anymore. so what do i do, when i'm done wishing. this faith, it's so hard to keep. but as i realize that there's nothing more that i could want, it seems to discourage me a little. as if i've lost my chance to prove that i can earn my way in life. a chance to see Your work with my own eyes. maybe we thrive on a sense of greed. like they're two different parts of it. i can't say why i feel this way, or try to tell You about it, either, because i frankly really don't know. all i can think is i'm in the middle of nowhere, with no specific place in mind to travel to. it's too muddled. i walk aimlessly. i'm just waiting for something to start me off again.

where i have been

what i wouldn't do to bring back my love for God. what i would do to keep it there, what i would and wouldn't sacrifice to have Him near me. if anything, anyone, if ever, makes me cry or laugh, it's Him; so how do i forget Him so easily? why do i disappoint myself over and over again, why do i keep refusing to admit the truth? why is my Bible stashed in the corner. what good is my faith in being a Christian if i don't recognize the God that i follow? somebody remind me. please. of what love i don't deserve, yet what i'm still given.

finishing my life story, word by word

teach me how to color around a picture of myself.

as selfless i'd like to be, the things that i can do are limited by the things that i'd rather not do. so many times people tell me of how giving, in itself is a gift. only if i could recognize that feeling as being such, and appreciate it without letting myself mistake it for compassion. and even as i try to decide which choices to let befall the finishing of my story, i want to grow a heart. be a witness to something i can't quite understand. draw a world of remembrance, make a list of what i see myself as. i want to learn, without purpose and without a second thought, how to throw away my pride and ask for help. heal those who hate, and stifle jealousy in its most contagious form. contain the image of what promises are. and even as i think about these things, i wonder if it's not just a tune that changes on a whimsical basis. perhaps not. it's been a while since i've seen sunny rain. isn't it about time that we all experience a miracle only describable by the words of God?

"Come near God and He will come near you"

"Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth." 1 John 3:18
there are people who do not cry even in sadness, because they lack enough tears to mourn. there are people who sits and watches something horrible happen in front of them and not do anything about it, becuse they are no longer able. we cry because of a single cut. we cry because our grades aren't good enough, or a scene in a movie really touches us. what about the people who know nothing more than sadness and misery? who crave for the things we'd rather trash?

how has this child of darfur come to such a state. how is it that while we are sinking in obesity, this one child doesn't have enough to cover his ribs? how is it that we're so selfish that we don't care for anyone else other than ourselves? the feeling of pain is too unbalanced in this world. while people are being burnt alive, raped, hacked into pieces, here we are, agonizing over the fact we can't afford a new car. pastor dan said, even if it's painful, show compassion. not out of pride, not out of thoughtlessness, but compassion. but because this storm of genocide is so far away from us, and we cannot feel or hear the thunders, we refuse to act upon it. we don't see it, we can't believe it; whatever happened to believing is seeing? while it's torturous for one to watch this happen right in front of their eyes and not be able to do anything about it, it's even more torturous to spread the word about the genocide but have no response from everyone else. darfur is just one little part of one little country sudan. why is it that the united states, a billion times bigger than it, cannot rid the villagers of pain? they have so much faith in us. they see hope in only us. and yet, we sit here, knowing, realizing, but not doing anything. it's not enough to donate money, send food, supplies, and resources. we're only taking care of the symptoms of the problem. we have to get to the cause of the whole dilemma; the sudanese government. even if we send enough food for 5 million people, it won't stop the janjaweed from wiping out people by the hundreds. why do we fail to see the right thing to do. why.
for the first time in my life today, i've heard someone say, "i want to learn." i was volunteering at the usual good spoon organization, when i asked a student - one of many who are all hispanic-americans - if he wanted a break. he replied, "no, i want to learn. i'm here to learn." aged well over 30, this man had taken 2 hours off his friday to come and learn whatever he could do, because he couldn't afford to pay for such education. it broke my heart to hear these words. here i am, wishing daily, that there was no such thing as education, and that i wasn't expected to do so well, pressured to succeed. and here was a man who was more deserving of this education than i. here was a man who knew and wanted, to overcome the barrier of language in order to win in his already old life. i want to know what i feels like to want what i already have; i want everything taken away from me, and have to work for all of it back. i want to feel this toil that so many other people feel. i want to give up all my wants to God, and try to walk in someone else's shoes. "there should be no poor," the pastor had said. "there isn't supposed to be poor people." so today, i throw away my thoughts of want completely.

nothing false about hope

It was a creed written into the founding documents that declared the destiny of a nation.

Yes we can.

It was whispered by slaves and abolitionists as they blazed a trail toward freedom.

Yes we can.

It was sung by immigrants as they struck out from distant shores and pioneers who pushed westward against an unforgiving wilderness.

Yes we can.

It was the call of workers who organized; women who reached for the ballots; a President who chose the moon as our new frontier; and a King who took us to the mountaintop and pointed the way to the Promised Land.

Yes we can to justice and equality.

Yes we can to opportunity and prosperity.

Yes we can heal this nation.

Yes we can repair this world.

Yes we can.

We know the battle ahead will be long, but always remember that no matter what obstacles stand in our way, nothing can stand in the way of the power of millions of voices calling for change.

We have been told we cannot do this by a chorus of cynics...they will only grow louder and more dissonant ........... We've been asked to pause for a reality check. We've been warned against offering the people of this nation false hope.

But in the unlikely story that is America, there has never been anything false about hope.

Now the hopes of the little girl who goes to a crumbling school in Dillon are the same as the dreams of the boy who learns on the streets of LA; we will remember that there is something happening in America; that we are not as divided as our politics suggests; that we are one people; we are one nation; and together, we will begin the next great chapter in the American story with three words that will ring from coast to coast; from sea to shining sea --

Yes. We. Can.

____________________________________________________________________

in the end, we all want change. we're used to change, we change things to feel change. but almost never it's not the need for it we seek, but rather, a reason to believe in change. i'm not at all caught up in the political scene of the united states, but this video says something to me. in everybody's ideal utopia, there's always a flaw, and along with it, change. what we don't realize, is that it's inevitable. nothing will ever stay the same. it's not meant to.

to be able to marvel at what words can do. to be able to understand. to be able to feel. to be able to speak, dream, love. to be able to. we're able to. but can we? however many times my fourth grade taught me that there's a difference between a 'may' and a 'can'. it's difficult to differentiate between a 'can' and an 'able to.' we're able to do as we'd like. but are we really? all these rules and restrictions - are we really able to? of course we can. but we won't. because we aren't able to. or perhaps, i myself am confusing what is allowed, and what we're able to do. this is complicating my thoughts. dear sadness, it's those moments i want back. just those few thoughtless moments, when what i said was able to inspire. i can't write a good enough speech to bring tears to the eyes of a crowd of a billion, but what i miss is when it was so painless and easy to just not care whether i could or couldn't; when it was more about whether or not i would or wouldn't. i'll always remember. i'm just at a loss as to how to bring it back.

no more waiting for the right chance

may i borrow your time? lend me a page of your memories, save a spot for me. it's okay if it's dusty, it'll do. somethings i'd really rather replay, over&over again until the battery runs out or it's been glued into my head. the secret words you tell me through the smiles you send. an overdose of infatuation. our hearts are drunk with things that our eyes will never see. getting my thoughts tangled up, everything's all right. because today, i live. it's this moment i'm breathing, this moment i'm existing. "if anybody wants a sheep, that is a proof that he exists." i get it. jars of clay; letting God shape it. have it your way. at one point we're all breakable, but even the most fragile has a heart. easily repaired, maybe not. scarred and bruised, perhaps. but made happy again, always. so in the end, i'll still be that whim of contemplation.