Wednesday, April 1, 2015

Writing To Be

Writing is the way I breathe.
Music is the way I cry.
Reading is the way I ponder.
Timelines the way I escape.

Writing is like another planet for me.
I forget the laws of gravity.
I forget that sun rays burn.
I forget that water can drown me.

When the world is spinning too fast
Just keep writing.
Uncapping that pen will be your stop button.
As you swivel it, time will slowly start again.
But only at the pace of your grammar.

Writing does not belong to me.
I belong to Writing.
Paint me a memory.
And I'll scribble it to life.

Pink Lace & Penguins [On April Fools]

I saw penguins walking on pink lace
They were small and out of place
They waved with hands they don't have
And then welcomed the absent wave

I saw penguins walking on pink lace
They were definitely smiling at something fake
They had sad smiles staring back at them
They were black in a pinkish way of the lake

I think I heard one say "I love you"
A pink penguin clearly saying "I love you"
While walking on lace
I want to say "I love you" too

But today is April fools
So I will definitely say "I love you."
Or maybe I won't.
And maybe I don't.