In Palu, Indonesia, the death toll of more than 1400 people continues to rise as rescue efforts turn out unfruitful. And there is nothing I can do about that.
“i don’t like them
they’re all i seem to make”
I wrote this poem while I was eating out alone. The seat across me was empty, and I felt a lack, somehow.
“Awaken, Sleeper” is a poem that serves as a warning to those who are asleep, to the non-believing, unenlightened souls of this world. It is also a heavy warning to those of us who are already awake, because I believe we are in the last of our days. Dearly Beloved: we must keep watch; and to those still sleeping: awake!
“Son of Heav’n and Earth Attend: That thou art happy, owe to God, That thou continu’st such, owe to thyself.” — John Milton
“The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a Heav’n of Hell, a hell of Heav’n.” — John Milton
Translation: Listen to the voiceless They killed Kian The funeral march is finished The mother has been interviewed There is no resolution yet She said he will not rise The child who had been buried And where are the voices Of our generation? No one listened to The rebellious students Who they say keep on […]
When you’re too tired even to make a short poem a little longer.
Because lately I've been feeling like I don't have enough love surrounding me, but then remembered that I am loved (very much so) despite who I am.
Silence is golden.