Last Part


Last Part


Not finished, but a part of me just gone,

left behind in many places

pieces scattered, broken traces

of who I was, a beginning of an end

as I dream of life foregone.

I am not finished but sometimes

I can see far in the distance

how my life in just one instance

disappears around the bend.

And the game in the last quarter

will be played until it defines

if all the traces left behind

either saves me or condemn.






What shall I do with all this freedom?

Time set between sunrise and sunset

and what I want and what could get

without leftover worries or obligations

unraveling a life with simplifications

for nothing I must do unless I choose,

nothing left to pay with years past due

if only one to love twenty four seven,

I can stretch around in my own heaven

and be the person I wanted to become

while madness around possessing some

when the only challenge to overcome

is what shall I do with all my freedom?






Piece by piece we come together

parts barely fitting with smooth edges,

hard to fit between the wedges

of tight closed fingers-

And life goes on, desire lingers

while weaving dreams that fell apart,

but piece by piece with ever part

we fit together we become clear,

year after year

a picture forms that we can see

a part of you, a part of me.

And every piece we place and match

in between love and pain we catch

a glimpse of heavens, if one last piece

with grace attach

to finish all in resting peace-







In my death

flowers bloom, ashes fly

my intentions undone, life not gone

but transformed,

not to miss, not to cry.

Nothing lost, a new dawn

of unknowns, a new place

without flesh, with no face.

In my death

time will pass, love persist

with no grave, mind exist

between worlds,

life just turns, turns and twist

while I’m gone,

nothing lost, a new dawn-








Reality took a peek mocking my dreams

“ you dreamed for too long” I heard

while I refused to accept what seems

reality’s truth so I cut off my ears

and as everything became blurred

I saw signs posted everywhere

“wake up, wake up” it read

so I made myself blind

and to ignore all prepared

when I heard myself said

“what you seek will never find”

so in the midst of my craze

knife in hand I did not care

cutting my tongue, and as I bled

and slowly faded into my dreams

I heard the voice inside my head.








Do we become who we are

or simply hang somewhere

unfinished, unpolished for all to see

alone and unprepared

not knowing how to be free.


Do we complete who we are

or the pieces of us scattered

of our life puzzle missing parts

and simply bruised and shattered

one among other broken hearts.


Do we remain who we are

or fade into nothingness of death

with no heavens or hell

lost hope in our final breath

as we leave behind a broken shell.






If I fade away before my time

the trace of words to be lost

lasting letters without rhyme.


Name of five carelessly tossed

with no meaning to declare

love and life found and lost.


And for that I won’t prepare

when today I can still write

and the rest I cannot care.


To bow my head and contrite

when in words my soul I bare.

without reasons for my plight







Slowly flowing between my fingers

without desperation letting it pass

for there is no price to pay at last

and the bitter taste only lingers

for a moment and then goes fast.


It is only a season without time

a ticktack of days like a dream

glued one by one into a scheme

of a borrowed life I call mine

as I flow to the end of the stream.


But the glue that holds me here

becomes light to guide my soul

while the flesh brittle and old

will turn to dust and disappear

the who I am will stand and hold.


H.O. 4/6/15






If I keep quiet for a while

would I disappear?

a light dust covering left

from the moments I was here

and my thoughts weaved words

out of nothing, when a smile

would precipitate dreams

in what now foolishly seems

unimportant, was it real?

maybe already gone

and my confused reality

intoxicated my senses.

I’ll keep quiet some

and play within pretenses

of what life should be

or I’ll disappear.

H.O. 3/3/15

 Sometimes life is like repeating a word over and over until it loses its meaning and sounds foolish. Reality can be deceiving when we spend too much time in our heads and the line between dreams and reality becomes deceiving. What is inside shall remain inside for the sake of sanity. Maybe.