Thursday, November 17, 2022

How to Tell Someone to Change Without Telling Them How and Being Surprised at the Lack of Change:

Okay then what do we do?

What is the first step to take?

That’s the question I asked you.

For the progress you want me to make.

You said we have to try,

Trial and error to figure it out,

But you don’t understand that I

Can’t try without knowing what about.

What’s the first thing then to do

So we don’t sit here the same way,

But my message doesn’t get though,

And you say the same thing you always say.

Tell me how we can do better,

You tell me to communicate right,

But I ask you how to change how we were

Cause right now we’re stuck in the same fight.

You say I need to talk more

And I ask you how I should do that,

You tell me have patience before

We even know how we’re to combat.

And all of this repetition,

All the things that we are saying,

Its all things based on wishing,

And not something useful to weigh in.

Cause we can’t move one foot,

To be in front of the other,

If there’s not a path to put,

Or a an option to occur.

We can’t make the journey,

If we don’t have the tool,

To keep our progress sturdy,

We cannot just overrule.

We need each step,

In order to climb the stairs,

We need to work to prep,

To make any of the repairs.

we can’t move forward,

If there’s no where to go,

I wish you had heard,

But that answer is no.

You think I won’t try,

You think I’m staying here,

Out of choice you imply,

Or that its change I fear.

But that isn’t close to what I said,

If you had listened to me,

You would have known instead,

You can’t unlock a door without a key.

I can’t begin to make a move,

If my mind is stuck and paralyzed.

You have to give something to improve,

Or things will stay compromised.

Friday, November 11, 2022

Buried in Trenches

I remember a fact, signed in a pact,

In which all the world said

“Time to pack and don’t come back

Until they are all dead.”

A story of war, one we’ve heard before,

Where we believed we were right.

But the vitality in the reality,

Saw nothing more than a bloody night.

For what we lost, the toll it cost,

Weighted more than the metals,

The ones we won, when all was done,

Revealed after the dust settles.

Hidden in the field, what victory concealed,

Was not victory but instead,

The remains of attack, those who didn’t come back,

Because they were all dead.

Monday, November 7, 2022

The Best We Could Do

 Inspired by the novel “The Best We Could Do” by Thi Bui

We stand alone,

Our hearts cold. 

Brought together

To be torn apart.

Absent of normalcy

Our family built on the blood

Of the lives around us

Starving and poor

Under the weight of communism.

There is no freedom

Where there is no hope

No chance to escape

What is already within. 

War is a poison,

That seeps into the heart

We take it with us 

To new lands

Where war is not gone

Only pretending to be finished

But this poison

Lives inside

Quietly you hear it

But loudly it acts

As an instinct of survival

To run for safety

As if the problem 

Could be left behind.

But no,

It was carried with us

And you born from it

You will carry its weight

Until you choose to let go

Because we cannot

We carried you to new land

But carried the past with it

And now we are broken apart

But speak as one

For you, our children

We did the best we could do.

Friday, November 4, 2022


 the sun aflame hung high above

a subtle blaze grazing my surface

a peaceful moment overwhelmed

squinting in the presence of her bliss

lost in the panic of life’s demands

I long for a chance of tranquility

owned and defined by the deadlines

I hope that peace can be with me

time is short so do it now, they say

demands and demands are evermore

enslaved by the responsibility

the next day same as the one before

tell me not a thing, I beg of them

for I know all the things I must do

but for only a moment, a second alone

I wish for a break, at least a chance to

if only I could pause the time,

when I feel that all will fall apart

so that I can go at my own pace

and have my best interests at heart

Wednesday, November 2, 2022


    Nothing is better than catching someone in the act of a dark secret. My neighbor, Albert, certainly had one, but so did I. 

    It was a bleak day in December, where the air was crisp and the world was quiet in the New York mountains. I dragged my tools up a hill, crunching snow with every step. The air nipped the tip of my nose. Everyday it was the same routine: Stacy my belongings under the same bush. Bring my spiky mat, as I call it, to the same small, lonely road. I unrolled it carefully across the snow-kissed asphalt and returned to my bush. I ducked down and waited, my rifle at the ready. 

    It was all about patience. This road, abandoned by the state, was the perfect place for me. It only ever got a few cars driving on it per day. Most times I had to wait long hours before someone drove by, but today, I didn’t have to. A tan SUV was speeding by only to be halted as the tires popped. I counted: One, two, three and then four. They combust simultaneously, but with my experience, I can now hear the difference in a second. My rifle was ready, but as the driver stepped out to see what happened, I lowered it. 

    This driver was none other than Albert, my elusive next-door neighbor. Taking someone so close to me was a risk, but I don’t leave witnesses. As much as I liked the old man, mainly because he remains unseen, I can’t have him reporting this. A dead man tells no tales, and the cops would never find him. They never found any of my other victims. I readied my rifle once more and blew out his knee caps, where his unprepared body collapsed. As he bled out, I grabbed my bag, raced to his side, and stuck a needle through his neck. 

    Before he became unconscious, his eyes looked into mine and he smiled. I looked at his legs, which now stained the road more than I was hoping for. It would take me hours to clean this, but I got to work. I also rummaged through his person and his car for personal identification, but found that there was nothing of the sort. No ID, no license, and no registration. All that remained was one trash bag in the trunk that reeked of rotted meat . As I opened it, I realized the reason for his smile. 

I wasn’t the only one.

I Think Often on Your Words

I think often on your words. The ones that linger in the air and coexists amongst the breathable air, but still leaves a bitter taste. A tas...