a
poem for Constantine
i went through hell and back again
like Constantine
but unlike Constantine
i didn’t literally went through hell and
back again
because hell and back again
is literally where i was
where i was
was both ugly and beautiful at the same
time
it was ugly
these scars from battle wounds
of the heart, the mind, the soul
yet it was lovely
these dreams from dreams of another
dream
of the heart, the mind, the soul
oh Constantine!
like you is like me
gifted and cursed at the same time
with the same gift and curse
at the same time
but you fought your battles
against angels and demons
demons
who were angels once and
angels
who were demons sometimes
yet mine is neither about angels nor
demons
who decides, seals the fate
of mortals, half mortals, or what not
He who made angels and mortals
decides, seals the fate
of mortals, half mortals, or what not
oh Constantine!
against angels and demons
to hell and back again
you were victorious
but was there really a need
for that dirty finger on your ascension?
i know it was pointed
against your greatest adversary
and his minions
it was symbolic, your death
it belies all notions on fate
for those who trusts
in He who saves
i hope to be victorious too
despite going through hell and back
again
i can emerge victoriously
that both the ugly and the beautiful
the curse and the gift
becomes one and the same
becomes beautiful alone
becomes a gift only
becomes me alone
becomes me only
me alone
me only
me, like you Constantine
Warning: next poem is very graphic
it’s not suicide, it’s murder
it’s not suicide
it’s murder
when one can’t take it anymore
and kills themselves
it’s failure, defeat, and hopelessness
which enables one to take one’s life
it’s failure, defeat, and hopelessness
from life and everyone else
which makes suicidal thoughts
become thought no more
and becomes real
still it’s not suicide
it’s murder
when you’re forced to die rather than
live
when you can forgive but can’t forget
and life only reminds you of your misery
so everyday becomes a struggle
you prefer to sleep so as not to think
yet thankful to still wake up in the
morning
only to waste another day away again
thinking
and everything reminds you of your
misery
of how you suffered
of how you survived
only to die everyday
everyday you die
reliving the nightmare
over and over again
reminding yourself of your misery
so just to end it all
die you must
kill yourself you should
suicide you will
but again it’s not suicide
it’s murder
no one pushed the dagger
to spill your blood
no one pushed the chair away
to strangle your neck in rope
no one urged you to drink poison
nobody told you to slash your wrists
you alone did it
but it’s still not suicide
it’s murder
because everyone and everything
who have caused your misery
or who have simply watched it happen
gave your dagger power
handed you a chair and rope
concocted your poisonous drink
and provided you a blade or knife
so although the medical reports says
otherwise
it’s still not suicide
it’s murder
everyone and everything
who have caused your misery
is a murderer
a killer
and killed you
i
need help for my unbeautiful mind
a poem for the wicked one
the truth
the cross
you
don’t know me
you don’t know me
i don’t know you
you’re only a random person online
and we have common online friends
i talk to you
you talk to me
because of random online friends
but you don’t know me
i don’t know you
you don’t know me
to think that i’d
blackmail
bribe
kill?!
people
i won’t
i don’t
i can’t
you don’t know me
to believe that i’d
hate
be angry
be bitter
resent
and unforgive
people
i will
but i won’t
i do
but i don’t
you don’t know me at all
and i don’t know you either
closet queen
she lie lifeless
oh closet queen
she hid herself
inside a closet
oh closet queen
she hid behind
her only solace
from the world
she shuns
oh closet queen
she tried to come out her closet
but nobody cared
nobody listened
nobody bothered
nobody knows
the closet queen
shun the world for good
and died in her closet
been years and decades since
i was cursed with a cursed mind
it ain’t beautiful as that movie depicts
it to be
as it brought the bad and the ugly in me
i knew all about it long before i knew i
did
i just couldn’t make up the details of
it
and remembering may seem like forgetting
lo! may have forgotten years and decades
of who i am
i can blame them for not caring at all
for not sending me to the nut house
for not sending me to a doctor
for not buying me meds
when they did not send me to the nut
house or doctor
i can ask God why but God only knows why
and He is both distant and close at the
same time
whether near or far i still know not why
so it goes back to them who knows
they know and yet they know not
they know not anything at all
they pro’lly think i’m lying all those
years
lying of a disease i can’t even truly face
but no, i have been lying to myself
lying that i was ok when i was not
lying that i am sane when i am insane
lying that i don’t need help but i need
help
yet how can you lie
about something you can’t remember?
it is surreal and it may remain to be
who knows if all were mere imaginings
of an unbeautiful mind lost in a fantasy
which appears as if it is reality
yet what if all these were true?
it doesn’t prove anything
it doesn’t prove that i am not lying
it doesn’t prove that i am lying
it only proves that i need help
i need help for my unbeautiful mind
i’ve asked about what i supposedly
remember
i didn’t ask whether it was true or not
i simply laid all my thoughts bare
for i couldn’t bare all these thoughts
anymore
it wasn’t confirmed to be true
nor belied to be false
that’s fine because i don’t want to
overthink
and i have no plans to ask anymore
nor divulge details about anything or
everything
i’ll just admit that i need help
i need help for my unbeautiful mind
help is what i’m trying to find now
forget about everyone who pro’lly and
simply don’t care
we’re too busy about themselves alone
too busy to worry about someone else
too busy even for their own blood and
flesh
they watch the sick waste away everyday
and not bother to stop and help
no, not even to stop and stare
if i knew everything i know now
i would have sent myself to the nut house
if not the nut house, to a doctor
if not doctor, to buy me meds
but none of these matters now
the truth remains that i remain a nut
case
all these years and decades i need help
i need help for my unbeautiful mind
who can help me?
who can stop and stare?
not i for i keep on forgetting to help
myself
i thought i’m ok when i’m not ok
i thought it was manageable
but it was not manageable
intervention is needed
intervention for me
intervention for them too
intervention for them to know that i
need help
intervention for me to know that i need
help
i need help for my unbeautiful mind
choose
ye amongst three 90’s child
choose ye amongst three 90’s child
lime light
sharing the limelight
benefitting from the limelight
limelight had all and more if only
he didn’t fell into bad company:
fame and fortune
sex and drugs
but all should have been nothing
compared to more
if more meant wife and kid or family
if family or kid and wife
was simply benefitting from the
limelight
benefitting from the limelight
would have sacked a pot of gold
if it did not ask for more than that
for as long as limelight shines
so will the pot of gold remain
but with gold at hand
people wanted more
the limelight’s light is put out for
good
and they who are sharing the limelight
are now benefitting the most
sharing the limelight
are now benefitting the most
from gold and everything that’s left off
it
they have also proven
that they were not only sharing the
limelight
they are and will continue to be
limelight in their own rights
but who put out the limelight light for
good?
was it suicide? sure it was science says
but then again it was not
the same science cannot measure
life’s pressure made worst through drugs
or booze
which slowly covers light with shadows
until light is no more
and you become one with the shadows
that you think you are real
and everyone outside is not
but shadows of light put out for good
is all you become
shadow of light put out for good
is all that remains of the limelight now
although limelight remains
for those who were only sharing the
limelight before
for they did not put out that limelight for
good
but are now limelight themselves
while she who was benefitting from the
limelight
who was in one way or another
had put out that limelight out for good
cannot even be sharing that limelight
now
yet whether the limelight was put out
for good
through suicide or murder
it doesn’t matter anymore
because all that remains are but shadows
and what could have been
what matters now are three 90’s child:
limelight – put out for good
sharing the limelight – now the
limelight
benefitting from the limelight
but put out the limelight for good
in one way or another
so cannot be sharing the limelight now
so choose ye amongst three 90’s child?
a poem for the wicked one
be gone, be gone
oh wicked one
my soul you have
enslaved too long
be gone, be gone
oh wicked one
it’s time for me
to be me
me
against i
it’s chaos inside my thoughts
a war wages against who I am
and who i am not
between what happened and what didn’t
the battle is fought by me against i
who shall prevail?
neither
me against ithe truth
let it go
forgive
forget
move on
move along
start over
start anew
-the truth
erratum
how long will this last?
this too shall pass
however
whenever
wherever
whoever
whatever
weather
whether
sunshine
rain
cold
hot
just make it end
the end
i
am me and i love to write
i haven’t scribbled words in pen and
paper for a long time
i can’t even understand the lines i am
scribbling now
one thing i’m sure of though
is that i miss writing poetry for a
while now
and these lines i write aren’t unintelligible
as my handwriting is
for i am sure of who i am and what i
love
even if i have forgotten about it
i am me and i love to writethe cross
black gothic cross
a cover up tattoo
over a scar it covers now
covering a scar of decades
over my right rear thigh
a cover up of what’s unsightly
of what was once wounds
of unguided childhood
toddler hood
preschool years
a cover up of what’s painful
of pain that’s felt and not felt
visible and not visible
visibly evident to the knowing eye
who can read beyond visible:
the spirit, the soul, the mind, the
heart
black gothic cross
a cover up tattoo
over a scar it covers now
covering a scar of decades
unsightly wounds
unguided childhood
toddler hood
preschool years
painful but not visible
spirit
soul
mind
heart
black gothic cross
of black and death
of cross and bridge
of Christ who covers sins
may you cover me
with your cross
tattoos
on my feet
the power of darkness
is underneath my feet
i trample the enemy
underneath my feet
so does say tattoos on my feet:
left feet at the left side
left feet at the right side
right feet at the left side
right feet at the right side
thus where all darkness should be
underneath one’s feet
so i crush them underneath my feet
and they are no more
no more darkness
no more wickedness
no more wicked people affecting me
no more wicked people bothering me
nothing else left but lessons learned
nothing else left to do but move on
move along
forgive
forget
the power of darkness
is underneath my feet
i trample the enemy
underneath my feet
Jesus Christ on my wrist
Jesus Christ on my wrist
Jesus Christ tattooed on my wrist
Jesus Christ tattooed on my soul
Jesus Christ saved my soul
nails on His wrist
whip marks on His back
stripes all over His body
His body beaten beyond recognition
He died on a tree
And was buried in a tombstone
unmovable with human strength
yet it was opened by an angel of God
revealing a body no longer dead
but alive in flesh and spirit
He literally rose from the dead
only to ascend to heaven after
the news spread throughout
the east and the west
the north and the south
souls exclaimed how God became human
to die and pay the price of sins
that those who believe in Him
shall not perish but have everlasting
life
sinners we are
but He paid the price of your sins
confess that He is Lord and Savior
who died and rose from the dead
to redeem us from the wages of sin
the consequences of sin is death
is death in spirit
and hell for the soul
but in Jesus there is life
life for the spirit
ad heaven for the soul
the body of dust will perish
where it came from
but the soul lives eternally
for those who put their faith
in Jesus Christ
for the redemption of their sins
and not in good works
so Jesus Christ on my wrist
Jesus Christ tattooed on my wrist
reminds me of nails on His wrist
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