Saturday, November 29, 2014

Breaking Dawn - The Twilight Trilogy

Feast Before Famine

Dinner for two,

A sunset stolen,

A walk to remember,

Swing sets of adolescence,

The fortress of a starry night,

Waves crashing,

Flittering autumn leaves.

Two midnight icicles.

Eight hours like a flash.

Fill my heart,

For I must hibernate,

For another twenty more years.

Midnights of Madness

Midnights of madness,

You held me in your arms,

All of my passion,

And all of your charms.

Why don't you come back to me,

I'll show you the way.

La da dee da da,

I'd just wished you would stay.

Friday, November 28, 2014

The Irony of Truth

If I put truth on the page,

You would never believe me.

But ...

If I put truth in a lie,

It would serve to deceive thee.


I am not in love with you,

I am obsessed with you.

My imagination stirs wild,

With the endless possibilities.

As I forcefully push you against the wall,

A warm embrace, holding tender hands.

I stalk you for hours on end,

On Facebook, Instagram and Twitter.

Your last Twitter message replays in my mind,

It haunts me and begs me to reply.

A million replies, a million words circle through my mind,

A message of anger or compassion or love.

Anxiety builds and the pressure behind the dam grows,

And it is only a matter of time.

Restraint and self discipline,

Are no match for such an addiction.

For the world’s sake,

I must replace this obsession.

A Tale of the Nerd and the Bully

I met Mike when I was in six grade. He was in eighth grade at the time and a friend of my older brother. We both went to the same middle school together and lived right down the street from each other.

As a middle school kid, I was more than just a little awkward. I had glasses, braces and played chess.  The classic, Nerd. My personal brand involved being the youngest kid in eighth grade math and performing impressions of Steve Urkel, a well-known Nerd from a television series.

I thought Mike was generally a safe person. He never said anything to me at school. After school, he would always pretend that he was my friend. He would convince me that he would be nicer to me. I always forgave him and decided to give him another shot. But time and time again, he would pester me with his words and continuously make fun of me. Day after day, I dealt with the teasing as I walked home.

Back then, I had a backpack full of textbooks. People probably wondered how a kid so small could carry a backpack that looked so big. Like an ant carrying one hundred times its weight. But the real burden was carrying the emotional weight from his oppressive comments.

Each day, I would try to escape his wrath. Some days, I would escape to the haven of a close friend’s house, begging him to let me stay a few hours and then asking his mother to drive me home. Other days, I would take different routes, to try to avoid Mike. But most days, he would find me. Jump out of the bushes and scare the living day light out of me. Slug me in the arm jokingly.

At the end of our street, there is a house with a green hedge surrounding their lawn. This hedge has always been perfectly cut, creating a square shaped tube around the front yard.

One day, Mike asked me to stand in front of the hedge. He told me, he would never bother me again if I just stood there. I didn’t know what he was going to do, but naively, I decided to comply. Mike rushed at me, lowered his shoulder and struck me right in the chest. As his body pounded into me, I flew backwards over the hedge. I landed on my backpack full of books and the wind was knocked out of me. I started to crying.

Mike seemed shocked. He might have actually been compassionate. Or he might have just been worried that I might need to see a doctor. Surprisingly, that was actually the last time Mike ever bullied me. He did keep his promise.

A few years later, I shot up to my 6’ 2” status and saw him roaming the halls from time to time in high school. I had many opportunities to pommel him into the ground for harassing a kid that couldn't protect himself. But I didn't.  I decided revenge could never get me anywhere. Surprisingly, I felt no ill feelings toward him and just looked at him as something from an ancient past.

Years later, I would see an overbearing boss grilling a defenseless employee with his words. I saw the employee’s body shrink in confidence with each word uttered. In plain sight and public view, when no one else would say anything, I walked straight up to the boss. I told him, he had no right to be yelling at the other employee in public. His criticism could only be taken as humiliating and demeaning in this context. I let him know that if he had anything further to say, he could escort the other employee to a private area and complete the conversation there.

I was soon fired. But in my lifetime, that is probably one of my proudest moments. I have always been grateful to the bully who picked on me. Not because it broke my confidence. Not because it led to a low self esteem. Not because years later, the term “Geek” or “Nerd” would still strike directly at my core. But because it caused me to learn how to have grace with others. To be sensitive to their hurts. And in the end, I guess I decided to get my real revenge by protecting the weak.


I do my own thing,

And strive to be the best I can be,

My light makes people uncomfortable,

And makes them feel judged,

As they feel the weight of my personal standards.

I love being hypocritical,

Emphasizing the standards which are beyond my reach,

But never allowing the acceptance of reality,

To taint or ruin my idealistic nature.

I hate seeing people avoid their potential,

As if they were completely oblivious to how special they are.

In each person, I see a unique gift that surpasses the entire universe.

And I let the disappointment build barriers, to allow myself the space to grow.

And the barrier grows as I see others as complacent and stagnant.

And they see me as compulsive and unstable.

But being alone,

I can never fully hit my own potential,

Or find my blind spots which are so clear to others.

Or experience the power and capability of a well performing team.

Or the beauty and love of a growing community.

So in my quest for companions,

I have discovered my darkness is hated by them,

And my sentimental nature feels the full weight of their rejection.

And so I remain, just independent.

Wednesday, November 26, 2014


You took my heart,

So open and vulnerable,

And you crushed it.

The pain begins in my heart,

And bleeds through my tears,

How could you be so cruel?

I feel so overwhelmed,

That being a puppet so easily controlled,

Would not be a stretch.

Though I know it a lie,

I would believe a million lies before I face the one reality,

Now I am left with the tangled web of emotions,

Each slightly different,

Like a thousand drops of rain,

Each with its own weight,

Each with a history of a thousand years,

And a distant past.

Let this weight not overtake me,

Let me turn into water and absorb it,

So that it may cleanse my soul,

And refresh my being,

And someday, make me stronger.

Tuesday, November 25, 2014

Love's Balance

Keep falsehood and lies far from me,

Give me neither poverty nor riches,

Keep me from both total isolation and poularity,

From complete boredom and sensation overload,

Neither numbness nor excrutiating pain,

Let me not be complacent nor successful,

Free me from hopelessness and over optimistic anticipation,

So that I may know the source of love.

Sunday, November 23, 2014

Cold, Tired and Thirsty

When you are freezing,

Any warmth looks promising,

When you are exhausted,

Any bed will do.

When you are dying of thirst,

Even poison becomes drinkable.

The Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

He despises rape and molestors,

He is devastated when he sees women isolated and abandoned,

He is disgusted by the two minutes the average man takes,

No care for human rights,

No consideration of the other person's feelings,

No capacity to develop deep intimacy,

On the surface, this makes him a sheep.

The belief that he can bring healing to a lifetime of pain through intimacy,

The belief that it is his responsibility to fix these burdens of the world,

The belief that he understands what people really need.

But the hurts and pain are deep rooted,

And the heart is so deceitful,

And he is not healed from his own rejection, abandonment and molestation.

That is what makes him the wolf.

What Hurts The Most

Saturday, November 22, 2014

The Outcast, The Rebel

One day, a new kid came to Ruskin. I decided to befriend him, knowing that he was probably scared to be in a new environment and school. His name was Nick.

When walking home from school with Nick, we were chatting like everything was normal. I was getting to know him and learn of his background.

One of my older brother’s friends came up to us as we were walking and joined us. I don’t remember the name of my older brother’s friend but I do remember that we used to say he lived in a mansion. Most likely he just lived in a large house, but I never had visited his house, so I never knew if it was true or just kids exaggerating.

Then, a kid riding a bike started approaching us. Out of nowhere, Nick jumped off the side walk onto the street and kicked the bike really hard. The bike toppled over and the kid was left scuffed and hurt. I did not know why Nick did that or whether he even knew the other kid. As the kid managed to regain his composure and quickly try to leave, my older brother’s friend said, “That was messed up.”

As my friendship grew with Nick, I discovered that these types of compulsive behaviors were not uncommon for him. He lived in a corner house right next to the creek. Since the house was only a few houses away from my house, I started to spend quite a bit of time with him. I discovered that Nick lived with his mother, a single parent and that Nick often was alone, since she was working.

Nick showed me lots of cool things. He once doused his hands with rubbing alcohol and lit his hands on fire in the bathroom. I was shocked. He also showed me a picture of a Playboy centerfold. It was a page ripped out from the magazine, but it fascinated me. We hid the picture outside the house, in a secret compartment used for cleaning his chimney. Sometimes, I would go to look at this picture briefly on my way to school.

Nick was everything I wasn’t. He was fearless and seemed to have no care in the world. No boundaries. In a sense, I felt protected when I was with him. He never seemed to turn his aggression towards me, probably because he saw me as an admirer. So we had a strange symbiotic relationship. He would keep me safe from bullies and I gave him the affirmation of a follower, long before Facebook would capitalize on the concept.

Then, one day, things changed.

Since Nick lived on a corner house, there were four corner houses that faced each other. An Indian family lived on an opposite corner. As Nick and I were playing, he started randomly yelling at the woman across the street. It was my first real experience with racial hatred. One of the things he told the woman was to go back to where she came from. He also criticized her English speaking abilities. Watching this, I was confused. I wondered if I was supposed to hate Indian people just because they were Indian. At the same time, I felt sad for the woman, because I felt she didn’t do anything to us and was just minding her own business. Even more surprising, I felt sad for my friend because he was so full of hatred and anger.

That very same day, Nick and I walked to my house. It must have been a Saturday, because my dad was in the front yard, fixing the flower bed in front of our house. When Nick saw my Japanese father, he started yelling at him too! I couldn’t believe it. I had never heard the word “Jap” before. I thought my father was going to kill this kid. But my father was calm and patient. It was as if my father had experienced this many times before. Like water, he absorbed the hateful remarks and seemed to realize Nick was just a kid and the hatred must have been built into him from his environment. My father never talked to me about this incident. It was as if it never happened. I didn’t know how to process all these things that had just happened to me.

A few days later, Nick and I went to the creek behind our house. I don’t know why I even decided to still hang out with him. Maybe I thought I could forgive him for attacking my dad. Maybe I thought I could save him from his hatred through our friendship. I don’t know.

As kids, we used to always walk through the creek as a shortcut to go to Ruskin. The creek was like the highway for the kids in the neighborhood with exits at both Ruskin elementary school and Piedmont Hills high school.

It was not uncommon for us kids to play with the tadpoles in one season and watch over time as they grew into frogs. And this day, Nick and I set out to catch some frogs. I can barely remember the incident. I can barely remember what he said to me. But for the first time, in the entire time we were friends, he started yelling at me and calling me names. I don’t know how it happened but I picked up a rock from the creek and slammed him in the face. I don’t know if I was protecting myself or if I was retaliating for how he attacked my dad.

But I didn’t stop. I hit him again and again and again. I wanted to make sure that nothing negative ever came out of that mouth again. And when I finally stopped out of exhaustion, Nick wasn’t moving. He was laying on the ground underneath me. Reality kicked in. What had I just done? What would happen to my family?

I didn’t know what else to do, but I rolled Nick’s body over a few feet and watched as his body rolled down from the top of the creek straight to the bottom. His body fell into a shallow pool of water below. Then, I dug a hole at the top of the creek and kicked an avalanche of dirt down the hill. I dug and I dug and I dug until the whole pool of water was covered with dirt.

I knew that Nick would eventually be found. I knew that my life would forever be changed. So all I could do was run home. At home, everything turned to slow motion. I have never experienced a longer day in my life. And that night, I waited. I waited for something. I waited for anything. A question about where I was all day. A question about whether I had seen Nick. I must have stayed awake the whole night, as my heart and mind raced wondering when everything would be brought to light.

But somehow a day passed. Then, a week. Then, a month. I would pass by Nick’s house on the way to school. No one asked about him. There were no police cars, no search parties, no press clippings featuring his mother on the front page. I didn’t understand it. Looking back, perhaps people thought Nick had run away. I still don’t know.

By the end of the school year, Nick’s mother had moved away. I never saw Nick’s mother again. I don’t understand how Nick’s body was never found.

Or perhaps it was. Perhaps it became a week long investigation that was shoved under the rug and wrapped up as a violent gang crime. Perhaps reality was right in front of people’s eyes but they refused to face it. After all, the neighborhood and school district were so pleasant. Who would want to tarnish that reputation?

To this day, I am shocked at how time has erased Nick’s existence from the world. But I still remember.

Leaving the Womb

I stood in heaven,

In the presence of God,

An armed warrior ready for battle,

So prepped and ready to go,

I thought I would be one of Earth's greatest warriors.

Why would I not want to enter the battle below?

And in an instant, I forgot everything.

Comfortably laying in the belly of my mother.

I was warm and knew nothing of hunger or pain.

Time pressed on until one day,

I left my mother's womb and entered the world.

The cold and suffering immediately hit me.

Lost and alone, with no purpose or meaning.

I would cry for hours and vaguely heard the words of my mother,

"Just let him cry himself to sleep."

Why would I have ever wanted to enter the world?

And then school came.

The classroom was organized and structured,

With ample protection from the authorities.

But recess was chaotic and crazy.

With girls and bullies, both equally frightening.

I was scared to go into the school yard.

So I caused mischief and as punishment was forced to stay inside.

Why would I have ever wanted to leave the safety of the classroom?

Soon after came my senior year.

I had finally found comfort.

I was not ready to begin the journey.

I was not done solidifying my bonds on the home front.

But I was kicked out.

Forced to find a way in the world.

Why would I have ever wanted to leave the security I had discovered?

For so long, I feared the world.

For so long, I fought the reality.

For so long, the sword had sat rusting and forgotten.

Until one day, I finally remembered.

The Girl I Never Knew

I grew up with Amy. She lived down the street from me on Ione Lane out in San Jose. She was my first love, albeit it was only puppy love. Everyday as I came home from school, I would sneak out of my packed house to go see her. Amy was an only child and seemed to have great parents, although I never really saw them as a family unit. We used to love hiding under the bed together and it seemed like we could play for hours together. All I remember was that I was completely drawn to her.

Then, one day, Amy's family just upped and moved away. I never got to find out why life would take one of the greatest relationships away from me at such a young age. It wasn't until years later that I found out the truth about Amy.

The truth was that she lived with her divorced mother who had remarried. The whole time I knew her as a child, Amy was being molested by her step father. According to Amy, her mother knew what was happening but never did anything to protect her child. In fact, her mother seemed to grow bitter and angry, rather than comforting.

When Amy was 17 she finally moved out of her house. She never figured out why life would put her in the situation it did. She had no control over her upbringing and she was forced to go through what seemed like many lifetimes, always on guard and afraid. To live knowing that she was defiled, that she was wrong, that she would never be made complete again.

This feeling drove Amy with guilt and resentment, a need to purify herself, to perfect the injustice that occurred to her. To prove her self worth, she focused on achievement. Outside, Amy seemed like the perfect girl. She did well in school and was driven. She attended church regularly and seemed to be involved in every ministry.

But Amy continued to feel a void in her life. She decided to start dating. It was not hard for Amy to meet men because she had never really gotten along with other girls. All her friends seemed to be men. For several years, she dated on and off, looking for something special. And then Amy met Edward.

Edward was an amazing man. He was bold and fearless. He was beautiful. He was popular. It seemed like Edward could just light up a room with his conversations and as Edward would speak, Amy would just watch and fall more and more in love with him. She had never felt such an intense desire to be with someone. To be near him. To be with him.

But things changed. As life seemed to take Amy back into reality, she realized the relationship with Edward was not what she had envisioned. She enjoyed his company and wanted to talk, to go beyond the superficial but he never did. She wanted to save herself for marriage, to keep herself pure, but Edward wasn't on the same page. Then, one evening everything changed.

Amy and Edward were sitting in the living room chatting. The room was tense and filled with a silence that seemed to echo across the walls. Amy was confused and tried to drag Edward out. To understand him. To feel what he was feeling. She wanted to be near him, to help him, to stay connected with him. But the awkward moments seemed to just continue throughout the night. The walls stayed up. "Where did my Edward go?" Amy thought. She knew she was in love with him but he didn't seem to be in love with her.

Amy walked over to Edward and sat next to him. "I love you," she said. She leaned over to kiss him and he kissed her back. For a moment, the old spark seemed to ignite but as things started to become more intense and Edward began to grab Amy, she stopped his hands from their exploration of uncharted territory. Frustrated, Edward stopped. He looked at her, echoing the words that seem to haunt Amy to this day, "Look, if you aren't ever going to have sex with me, why are we even together?"

Amy didn't know how to react. She didn't feel loved, she felt like a piece of meat. Something to be tossed to the side. But she couldn't control her heart. She was in love. "Edward, you know how I feel," she stated. "I am thinking about the long term, I am thinking about us." His eyes seemed to glaze over, and she knew he wasn't listening. "Look," Edward said, "I am cheating on you. I met another woman, who is willing to give me the physical affection that I need." Amy was shocked. She didn't know how to react. All she could do was sit there in silence. "I think we need to break up," Edward continued. Amy couldn't remember anything after those words. It may have been a few hours or it could have been two minutes. But that night, Edward walked out of Amy's life forever.

Amy was heart broken. All of her feeling's of inadequacy came flooding back to her. She felt this gut wrenching pain in her stomach. A knot so deep. A physical pain so strong, she sometimes couldn't breath. "Was I not good enough?" "Was I not beautiful enough?", she asked herself.

Amy's pain only caused her to go deeper into her spiritual walk. She learned to retreat into the safety of God's arms. Two years passed before Amy decided to date again. She promised herself that she would never love someone as much as they loved her. That she would be strong and never allow herself to be hurt again.

A few years later, Amy met Tom. Tom was madly in love with Amy and Amy felt safe with him. They started their family together. Her children and their comfortable life seemed to give Amy the atmosphere she needed to heal from her childhood wounds. To heal from her broken heart. She felt secure in Tom's love.

Fifteen years passed, when Amy finally realized something was missing in her life. She seemed to have everything that she had dreamed. She had a great husband, beautiful kids. A happy wonderful life. But something was missing. Out of a series of somewhat coincidental events, Amy and I finally met again.

Our shared history started the connection. And we built from there. At first, we just exchanged messages to each other from time to time. But over time, we started connecting more and more. Then, we started seeing each other. We would steal time throughout the day and night, any free moment that came available in our busy lives. I was not naive. I knew the relationship between Amy and I was unhealthy, for both Amy and myself. It was a ticking time bomb waiting to happen.

I knew I had to do something drastic to break this cycle. To break this pattern. Before Amy did something she would regret. One night, Amy and I were hiking. We found a resting point along the trail. I told Amy, "There is something I need to tell you."

Hesitant, Amy, said, "Okay, I am listening."

"But I need to ask you a favor. I need you to actually listen to what I am about to tell you. I need you to consider the words that I am about to speak. You will want to fight what I have to say and what I am about to say will be hard to tell you."

"Okay," Amy said.

"And I have another favor to ask you." I started to take off my clothes.

"What are you doing? Stop," She said.

"No," I replied, "What I am about to say, will be hard to hear, and I want you to know that I am not a threat. That as I speak, you are in complete control. I promise that I will not make a pass at you. And I promise you will want to hear what I have to say."

Everything in Amy told her that this was crazy. That this should not be happening. But for whatever reason, perhaps curiosity, she stayed sitting. She couldn't even look at me, as I sat kneeling on the ground, completely exposed. Naked and vulnerable.

"Amy, I am going to offer you my perspective. I have to tell you ahead of time that it will not all be true. But I have to tell you that there will be some truth in what I am about to tell you. Please, let me finish my thoughts, and say what I need to say."

"Okay," was all Amy could muster.

"Amy, you are one of the most beautiful women I have ever met. Everything about you is captivating. From your smile, to your beautiful eyes, to your soft and kind and wonderful heart. But I don't want you to see you as I see you. I want you to see you as God sees you."

"When you were young, the man who molested you. I can't imagine the pain that must have caused you. The insecurities, the years of counseling. Never feeling safe. But I think that God provides everything in our life for a reason. Pain can be the pathway to growth. And perhaps, what he was trying to say, through this, was that while man can defile your physical body, and you may have no control over that, only you can defile your spiritual being. And you do have control over that. Sometimes in life, what we can't control causes so much pain. I think it is supposed to point us back to what we can control."

"And your mother, out of her own brokenness, her own insecurities, the belief that she was not good enough for a good man. She allowed this to happen because she truly believed that she would never find another man. Her brokenness from her divorce. And she grew bitter and angry towards you because you would serve as an ever present reminder of her limiting belief. Every time she looked at you, she would be reminded that she allowed you to be hurt, just so she could bandage her own hurts. She would be reminded of being left through her divorce. Out of self preservation, she blamed you for everything."

"But you are not to blame. You are worth so much more. You are one of God's greatest gifts to this world. And sometimes we see our own brokenness, and knowing that we fall short, we sabotage our own success. We have a desire to be punished because deep down we know we are no good, that an evil lives within us. And you may have questioned your own value, day in and day out, wondering why your boyfriend, Edward, cheated on you and broke your heart. But I want to tell you, it was your beauty, your great spirit, the image of God in you. It served as a mirror reflection, like a bright flashlight, shining on his own imperfections, his own weaknesses. A daily reminder, that deep down, out of guilt and shame, he knew he didn't deserve you. It was not your inadequacy that caused him to cheat. It was the overwhelmingly pure heart that you have, despite what you have gone through, that he just couldn't accept into his life, because of his own brokenness."

"You are captivating. I have never met a woman so captivating. But deep down, your boyfriend believed that he would never have the happy ending. It caused an anxiety to build up, that he just could not hold up anymore. So he engaged in self destructive behavior, to prove through a self fulfilling prophesy that he would lose you."

"So, where does that leave you today. Today, fifteen years trying to mend a broken heart. You are now torn. Part of you wishes you had more courage when you were young. That you would have sought after your true love. And now, you feel you will never have that opportunity again and it saddens you. I represent the boyfriend that you never had. The love that you let get away in your life, because you were afraid to love. Because you were afraid to give it your all. I represent the made up image of what true love looks like. That somehow, in winning my favor and my heart, you will prove to yourself that you could have had the best of both worlds. That you actually deserve true love."

"But I want you to know. You can have me. I am a no good nothing from nowhere and you would be the most beautiful woman I have ever been intimate with. But for you, it would be chasing a false reality. The truth is that the heart is deceitful. And you deserve so much more that what I can give you."

"You are missing something though. The rift in your heart has caused love diversification. You once gave your heart, gave everything to one man only to have it destroyed. Because of that, you have a layer of protection surrounding your heart. You won't go deeper. You are afraid to love again. So you diversify. You have one aspect of love with Tom, representing a family love, a love of commitment. And rather that put all your eggs into a single basket, you grab the other aspects of love from other sources. Me, for instance. Rather than opening your heart in your marriage to receive the love that is already there. To find the passionate love, that is there, you have placed your marriage into a box, where there is only secure love."

"To be with you, would be to take the greater gift of what God had intended for you. To take the plan, he, the patient God that he is, had orchestrated through 40 years of life to give you. The gift, that without your past, he could not deliver to you. What you are searching for is not outside your marriage. It is not even within your marriage. What you are seeking, is within you. It has been within you this whole time."

"It is even greater than the love you had for your boyfriend. You have an opportunity to find a new love that includes the passionate love. But at the same time, it introduces a new element of sacrificial love, a vulnerable love. See, the love you had for your boyfriend, Edward, was given without knowing how deeply you could get hurt. If you knew ahead of time, you would have protected yourself. But today, you have a choice. You have a choice to love, in a truer sense. To love like you're not scared."

Amy sat there in silence. I never knew if she allowed herself to experience the kind of love I was talking about. Or if she even understood what I was trying to tell her. All I know, was that in that instance, I was allowed to love. And that was the last time I ever saw Amy again.

This post was reposted from, originally written on September 25th, 2014.

Thursday, November 20, 2014


You are the hand that feeds me,

I let you down.

You gave me strength when I had none,

You housed me when I had no home,

You cared for me.

I let you down.

I should have known better,

I saw the signs,

I knew what I was doing,

And now, I have let you down.

There is no joy to escape the pain,

No false reality to cope,

Just a gut wrenching pain.

I let you down.

Stack it onto the ever growing heap.

You mirror my inner authority.

That looks at it all and realizes...

I let myself down.

Monday, November 17, 2014

The Firey Inferno

Her eyes are like starlight,

A magnificent galaxy,

With a smooth stone interior,

Exuding a blazing fire.

It encapulates, engulfs and captivates attention.

Her warm, soft lips,

Like chocolate, that melts in your mouth.

The European kind with just a hint of sweetness.

Her hands, gentle and inviting,

They melt the coldest heart.

And bring youth to these old hands.

Where has my love gone?

To which galaxy has she fled.

She must be supernatural.

Oh yes, oh yes,

Land here once more.

Me, Myself and I, The Murderer

It was twelve years ago today.

I wish I could have seen it coming...

For all the abuse, for all the isolation, for all the rejection.

I murdered him.

I hated him and I murdered him.

And because of it, I now hate myself.

I can see how I want to ignore it.

I wish I never loaded the gun.

I wish I never pulled the trigger.

I wish I could have seen it coming.

I wish I could turn back the clock.

But I cant.

All I can feel is pain.

I tried to get revenge out of desperation to escape the pain.

But it backfired.

And now, I am caged in by the madness I have created.

Sunday, November 16, 2014

The Titanic

Our ship appeared beautiful and gorgeous,

A well performing unit,

A picture perfect life,

But when the iceberg tested the ship's might in the darkness,

The true colors were revealed.

We were left exhausted and stranded,

Drowning and at the mercy of the deep blue,

And as I swam to my mother to try to keep from drowning,

She pushed me away for fear that she would soon perish.

And as I reached for my father,

A similar situation occured.

Luckily, the life boats eventually came, but could not carry us all.

And exhausted and weak, one by one my family was rescued.

And they needed medical attention and healing so they committed to never return.

As if a curse was laid down, we were scattered among nations.

And as this occurred, I made certain vows and created certain defensive strategies.

This is how I survived.

And once in a while, I still feel the pain.

And in that moment, I can do one of two things.

I can live, breath and sweat pain in reality.

Or I can elaborate in my mind, a fantasy.

And while I know it would be wrong as a reality,

I can justify the lack of harm as long as it remains a fantasy.

But I find, that the more mental focus I place,

The more my reality becomes distorted, aligning with my original fantasy.

It is as if my mind is so powerful that it can attract the imaginary into the universe.

And then, unexpectedly, I find myself, in the midst of a situation,

A situation which I never intended to really exist.

And I have no control or power.

Reason was abandoned long before.

I become a character in a play,

Drawn to the previously scripted destiny.

Except that this play, has no ending.

And when the script ends, I am left with a brutal reality.

Even more pain.

Even more anger.

Even deeper vows.

This is how I survive.

Friday, November 14, 2014

The Vineyard

One day I woke up,

And looked out at my vineyard.

And to my dismay,

I saw poisonous fruit.

And my first reaction,

Was to purify my vineyard.

So I began cleaning.

And I chopped and I chopped.

But the more I tried,

The more I discovered the problem came from the roots.

And so I began pulling at the roots.

And what I saw was terrifying.

It was hideous and ugly.

It was a tangled web and I had lost all hope.

I came to the conclusion that the only way to obtain a pure vineyard was to leave the plot of land completely.

So frustrated, scared and I tired, I ran.

I ran as far as I could.

I became a foreigner, a beggar, looking for scraps from the table.

But at least I had a small plot of land I could call my own,

Where I could replant and start anew.

So I began planting and working.

I used everything I could.

I worked night and day using all the knowledge I had to ensure my plot would be clean.

But soon enough, early signs of the harvest began to appear.

The problem was that the seeds for my new vineyard came from my old vineyard.

And the seeds all looked the same.

I realized that my new vineyard was destined to turn out like my old vineyard.

And not only that.

I spent so much time focusing on the poisonous fruit,

That I had forgotten to harvest all the good fruit.

So I returned to my vineyard.

And things had become worse.

Weeds had grown,

Some of the good fruit had gone bad,

And the poisonous roots were infecting the good roots.

But I knew, what needed to be done.

I knew that harvest was the time to purify the vineyard.

I knew that identifying and remembering where and how the seeds were originally planted was the key to my success.

I knew that going through the difficult process and facing the dangers head on would build confidence, character and wisdom.

And if I worked hard and was consistent and employed the help of others,

Each year, slowly, gradually,

The poison would eventually be destroyed.

Thursday, November 13, 2014

The Abandonment Box

Its all in a box.

Packed away all neat and tidy.

Emotions folded and organized.

I am in such control.

Oh, how sweet I am.

But wait, is that reality?

Or is it that when I actually open the box,

The chaos inside comes flying out.

Like firecrackers and dynamite.

"Those are your thoughts", they say.

"Those are your feelings", they say.

"Keep it to yourself."

So to accommodate, to gain approval,

I use bleach to take out the stains, as if my feelings were somehow wrong.

I place the settings to "Small Load," as if my feelings were no big deal.

I run the quick rinse cycle, instead of taking the time to really do the job.

And then place them on the "High Heat" dry cycle, instead of letting them air dry through the warmth of the sun.

And I quickly fold my emotions back up and put them away.

I am in such control.

Oh, how sweet I am.

And the years pass.

And time flies by.

And my boat cruises through the sea of life.

Until one day, I look back at the wake.

I notice some of the damage I have done.

And wonder how I could be so blind.

Then, I realize I need that box.

I need the pain of abandonment.

I need the fear of my loved ones leaving me.

I need the pain of never gaining the approval of my father.

I need the fear that I will never be accepted because I am different.

I need the pain of never feeling truly loved by my mother.

I need the fear that if others really knew who I was they would not love me.

But if I ignore them, and do not treat them with respect and leave them in the box,

If I do not use them, if I do not process them, if I do not wear them as intended,

My blind spots grow and with them the wake of destruction and damage.

But if I can feel the pain and mourn the loss,

If I can walk through the fear without letting it drive my decisions,

I can become loyal to my loved ones, never leaving them nor forsaking them.

I can let my children know they are my beloved children, with whom I am well pleased.

I can show the love, I never thought possible.

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Time Warp

He turned back the hands of time.

Twenty years later,

He brought me back ten years to University,

Then walked me back to time at college,

Then took me to my place of birth,

So I could finally leave on my own valition.

He turned back the hands of time.

He took me to my reckless youth,

To face the demons I once faced,

To stand before the novacaine of codependence,

And the healing of independence,

So I could finally choose the path of healing.

He turned back the hands of time.

He brought me back into love,

He reopened my heart to the complexities that love encompasses,

To leave me vulnerable,

So I could finally see what love is.

He turned back the hands of time.

He brought me back to the lonely child,

Feeling helpless to defend my mom,

Feeling unimportant to my loved ones,

And miraculously reversed the roles,

Finally, allowing me to rewrite history.

My Forever Sister, The Silent Warrior

You gave me a glimpse of your world,

Blessing me with your sweet, kind demeanor,

Your words bring life and hope,

Ever faithful, you are but perfect imperfection,

Renewed and reborn from the Spirit,

Forever my sister, I wish to walk life with you,

Oh give me more that just one moment,

While experience leads us to not show we are affected,

A courageous soul leans not on her own understanding,

And is wise to not cast pearls before swine,

Oh be that courageous soul,

Deliver your gift to the world,

Fulfill that blessed purpose,

Be that silent warrior,

Your works will not go unnoticed,

You shall run and not grow weary,

You shall mount up with wings like an eagle,

And one day, in a crowded room,

You will hear your loved ones speak to you,

And they will touch your heart as they share with you insight,

Of the role you played in their life.

Friday, November 7, 2014

What Do I Know of Love?

She was my third love.

And what have I learned of love?

That my version of love was a fasad.

Was just a great shutter of butterflies,

Was just a touch that eases all social anxiety,

Was just a feeling that all the troubles have instantly vanished.

That my version of love was all about me.

A romantic walk on the beach, for me.

A night at dinner full of deeper conversation, for me.

A night gazing at the stars, for me.

That my version of love replaced the creator for the created.

For love originates from Him.

For love is patient, kind, long suffering.

For love from God is sufficient.

And what do I see?

That love would give up its greatest flesh driven desires, for her.

That love would carry the unseen burdens, for her.

That love would stand strong and conquer worldly demons, for her.

Oh, love, let not pride nor fear nor hatred stand before you.

Thursday, November 6, 2014

The Affirmation Thief

He is but a thief in the night, a lowlife

Stealing the affirmations from a sea of ghosts

Whose pleasure builds up a roller coaster of high tides

Though the experience lasts only a few minutes

And leaves the cup filled with dirt

Reducing the space available for water

Muddying any water poured into the cup

It is love, that sets him free

It breaks him, it molds him, it cleanses him

Removing the pain and bitterness contained within each speck of dust

Preparing the cup to overflow

With the only affirmations that matter

Those from his wife, his daughters, his mother, his sisters

This post was reposted from, originally written on November 6th, 2010.