windchimesandairlines-blog

[windchimesandairlines-blog]

anchor

my anchor won’t lift as i try to sail away,

leaving me stranded in this dark, rainy bay.

my crew is fighting to get out to sea;

the only thing holding them back is me.

a lighthouse calls from some faraway shore,

but i’ve lost my direction, can’t see anymore.

even the fish scorn my very existence,

spurting bubbles as they watch from a distance.

i lost myself in the construction of my masts,

as they poured out my oil-tank heart,

and turned my mind black.

so now i am stationary, wondering when

i’ll finally feel my heartbeat again.

[windchimesandairlines-blog]

Utopia

I’ll find a secret place by the chirruping stream,

where rocks are bright blue and trees glow green.

Birds singing like baritones, bears roaring the beat,

in this beautiful land where the air remains sweet.

I’ll find my secret place in a forest full of moss,

a single patch on earth where I will never be lost.

The wake of adventure will nip gently at my feet,

in the calm forest where the world will be at peace.

I’ll discover my utopia on a crystalline beach,

hidden from the world, where no one can reach.

The water will paint the sand purples and teals,

and seagulls will socialize with kindhearted eels.

I know, though, internally, that this place isn’t true

or, at least, it will not be until I first find you.

[windchimesandairlines-blog]

Princess

I like to pretend I’m a starry-eyed princess,

temporarily stuck in this constructed mess.

My tower is scraping the skies of New York;

escape’s gonna take more than long hair to work.

My companions are pigeons, stray cats, and flies,

but beautiful enough to be loved in my eyes.

My kingdom is made of Starbucks and lawyers,

no such thing as kings or medieval employers.

I’m chained by the words that we speak as we live,

things that take happiness, with no room to give.

I’m restrained by poverty, and kids without love;

but even if I yell, I can’t be heard from high above.

I still make believe that my prince is out there,

and he’ll find me, 

and save me,

when the world starts to care.

[windchimesandairlines-blog]

barefoot

I walk barefoot in the snow

‘cause I miss the warmth you used to show me

I reread books I can recite

‘cause I miss the way you used to know me

I no longer share my secrets

‘cause I miss the way you kept me safe

I made an island in my heart

because you left me cast away

[windchimesandairlines-blog]

rhymes

forget rhymes

and verses

and poetry

can’t you see?

i can’t think in alphabets and number lines,

can’t count in minutes or hours or time

i’m thinking in leaves that scatter, widespread

in bursting colors like umber and red

i’m living in sap that gets stuck in my hair,

breathing in feathers that swirl through the air

writing in deep breaths and tears and chewed nails

running on nothing but deep forest trails

feeling through vespers I’ve said years ago

it doesn’t have to rhyme to be poetic, you know

[windchimesandairlines-blog]

plant life

I think I learned to live a little in the woods out past my place

feet free of shoes, nothing but wind against my face.

I shed my jacket and grew wings that took me in the trees,

nerves not reminding that I was bound to freeze.

I left my socks on branches, white flags in autumn wind,

forgetting every moment of impending sin.

I felt what I can describe as alone but not at all lonely,

pressed against a being, a girl defined as me.

I let my hopes fly, and almost cried as they grazed clouds,

didn’t even care if I was being far too loud.

I blew kisses to bluebirds, and they tweeted back melodies,

whistling to my heartbeat as I nodded off with ease.

I went home within the hour and slammed the door behind,

plant life (or was it hope?) crowding my mind.

[windchimesandairlines-blog]

To be

To be numb, you must first feel the pain.

To see sun, you must first live in the rain.

To truly live, at times you must feel slain.

After all, without hurt there is no gain.

To be found, at one point you must be lost.

To be worth something, there will be a cost.

To feel warmth, there first must come frost.

Every rebirth was once a holocaust.

To have undying courage, you must know fear.

To understand completely, you must first hear.

Trust in me, and keep these words near - 

for to be in love, you must believe I’m here.

[windchimesandairlines-blog]

trust

in the backyard where our souls entwined,

I planted a seed, just yours and just mine.

the roots grew, expanded, below our feet,

to far down places where we couldn’t reach.

the buds on the stem grew old and bloomed,

and I was too blind to see, but I was doomed.

the seed of our friendship grew to the sky,

as we sat in happiness, just you and just I.

I was telling you that just a day before,

I’d found another seed, and we could plant more.

so with my heart in my throat, I dug down deep,

planting the secrets we were trusted to keep.

as the roots and the leaves started to fall in line,

I watered the trust, just yours and just mine.

one day I went to water, but found in deep despair,

our seed of trust, so beautiful, not to be there.

all the time I’d spent watering, tending to our seed -

and you’d plucked it out, mistook it for a weed.

I don’t know if I can plant trust

in a garden 

anymore.

[windchimesandairlines-blog]

it's just like love

come, hold my hand. it’s just like those years,

when we knew each other without all these tears.

come, walk with me. it’s just like that time

you fell and hurt your knee, so I purposely hurt mine.

come, lead me down. it’s just like that day

we sat on the swings while the sun fell away.

come, hold the door. it’s just like i’m there,

as I thank you shyly, and you tussle my hair.

come, sit by me. it’s just like i’m not obsolete.

and be just friends, young, lost, and sweet.

come, promise me. it’s just like love:

in summer, hand in hand, in winter, glove in glove.

[windchimesandairlines-blog]

miles mean nothing

Van Gogh painted night with swirling movement,

Salvador created scenes of abstract illusion.

Among the jungle of quixotic brushstrokes,

I fell in love, and my heart slowly awoke.

But you, you’re the master, not just of your brush,

but of painting the world, creating forests so lush.

Of washing hunger away with your watercolors, 

not just painting covers of future bestsellers.

Miles mean nothing when your heart is broad,

roads don’t matter - it’s with your mind that you trod.

Friend, paint the world with words of your heart.

They are the purest form of your art.

[windchimesandairlines-blog]

love

I’m a citizen, with a birth certificate.

Sorry if you’ve never seen it.

I’m a person, with a name, I swear,

sorry if you don’t care.

I’ve told you five times, I counted.

Look at what it’s amounted to.

I’m not “that Japanese girl,” seriously -

in fact, I’m not even Japanese.

I’m half human, not one percent great.

The other half’s human too - so swallow your hate.

Sorry I consider things you haven’t ever thought of,

but that, my friend,

is what we call love.

[windchimesandairlines-blog]

reality

the dust bunnies jousted while under my bed

as I wearily tried to fall sleep

and dollies wound folly and tales of despair,

of the sheep of plastic Bo Peep

glowing stars on my walls came alive and jived

serenading the artificial moon

I stayed wide awake, beneath in galaxies fake

as birds outside softly crooned

plastic spiders wound webs of deep shadows

across my wrinkled sheets

and model airplanes swooped, dove, and fired

as they raced to compete

and I fell asleep to the soft sound of reality

flying out the window

[windchimesandairlines-blog]

hello

Hello, I’m the night. 

My shadows sweep and guide you home.

Hello, I’m the road.

I’ll stay with you and watch you roam.

Hello, I’m the sky.

I care even when the people don’t.

Hello, I’m the heart.

I keep you going when other things won’t.

Hello, I’m the dawn.

Like soft velvet silk, I light up the morn.

Hello, I’m the cloth.

Kind against your skin, snuggly and worn.

Hello, I’m your mother.

I have loved you ever since your birth.

Hello, I’m your mother.

But call me by my real name, earth.

[windchimesandairlines-blog]

dream

I had a dream about you; you said you were feeling better.

But when I saw you today, you’ve only gotten deader. 

I had a dream about my yard; the flowers grew and grew.

outside, though they were weak - and just like you.

I had a dream I met someone, and they taught me to see.

But now, when I’m lost, I’m blind and, well, I flee.

I had a dream about the world; you taught me how to rhyme.

But, in cold reality, I can’t even rhyme this line.

I had a dream, a vision, of jumbles, mumbles, and confusion,

and I think it’s just like life, this gigantic delusion.

I had a dream I understood, but I think it’s clear now I don’t,

I had a dream I’d hate you, but I know I won’t.

I had a dream that told me, firmly, to trust in all that I heard,

but, in reality, dream is just a word.

[windchimesandairlines-blog]

me

I’ve searching such lengths for a person so deep,

she puzzles me constantly before I fall asleep.

I ask her who she is, but she’ll never tell;

if I never learn, I guess it’s just as well.

I’ve searched for her since years ago;

she always somehow simply knows.

Yet she never lets me into her,

she’s just a murky grey blur.

The girl - she may just be

a person I tend to flee.

In other words, she

happens to be

me. 

[windchimesandairlines-blog]

drying up

the skin on my face is starting to flake

and I think my body’s asking for a long enough break

to patch up the cracks, fix the split ends

to gather nutrients, thick sugars, on which it depends

the stubs I call nails are starting to bleed

and I think I’ve learned their way to ask me, to plead

to fly somewhere nice to spend the week

just long enough for me to clog my bleeding heart’s leak

the skin on my face is starting to dry

and I know that it’s time I’m starting to understand why

and when I can’t dress without makeup

it isn’t only just my skin - no, my heart is drying up

[windchimesandairlines-blog]

barely there

I’m flowers with petals that glint in the light,

the fireflies flashing in a dark, dark night.

I’m grass in a meadow where no one has been,

firelight through the window you look in.

I’m lit phone screens at night, bringing smiles,

expanses of black, top covering the miles.

I’m hoodies in the winter, snuggle, cuddle, laugh,

the pinkness and popping in a springtime bath.

I’m box tops donated for a cause that I don’t know,

the single purple crocus in a field of frozen snow.

I’m the wind in the trees, that dewy summer air,

I’m all but my true self, and I’m just barely there.