Poem #6 for the New Yorker magazine.....the last one ;)

Townspeople gathered in a mob.

Pitchforks and torches illuminating hatred.

Betrayal exposing an inside job

on the verge of painting the house pure red.

The cage walls receded.

Compromising the life inside.

The third man had succeeded

in taking pieces of my pride.

Leaving the abode brimming with griefs,

I left the town denying any amnesty.

Defeat is not in my dictionary of beliefs.

That was how I meet this man--dishonesty

----The Third Man: Dishonesty

poem #5 for the New Yorker magazine

I was a child.
You alone supported me
when I was beaten repeatedly.
My tears were my only misery.

Now I am strong.
I stand on my own two feet.
You looked at me and clicked delete.
Abandonment is a form of defeat.

You have no problem leaving me alone.
Your absence I will never condone.
I was honest to the bone.
But now my loyalty for you is overthrown.

--Third Leg

Poem #4 for the New Yorker magazine

You are a beast.
Everyone's invisible when you are hungry.
If your eyes meet a feast,
you can even jump the country.
You care the least
even if the other person is angry.

--Mainstream invisibility

Poem #3 for the New Yorker magazine

She kept a deep dark secret.
Now it is time for the truth.
She doesn't want to keep it;
it happened while in her youth
It is a part of her history.
But to everyone else it's a mystery.

But will anyone care?
Or will they just judge and stare?
Overcome with morbid fear,
she decided it was best to disappear.
Never to be seen anywhere.

--Under Her Pillow

Poem #2 for the New Yorker magazine

We dug together silently
a black hole that would take us.
Unknowingly ending in tragedy
and leaving arguments to discuss.

Every time the shovel hit the ground
there was no pulling back.
We had no idea where we were bound
or what was about to attack.

Inside the darkness swallowed
every tear we ever shed.
The emptiness quickly followed
the dreadful things you said.
Our happiness drowned like a sunken chest.
I am sorry for building this hollow nest.

--Down to Earth

Don't pout...write it out

Thoughts rush through my mind continuously throughout the day. It is a unfortunate truth but I cannot write all of my thoughts down. I don't think there is enough paper to capture all my day thoughts and night dreams. But whenever I get time in the day, I let my thoughts run smoothly on the text editor in front of me. I don't stop to think about what my fingers are typing on my keyboard. And honestly it is the best feeling in the world. Sometimes, I will feel super creative and I will be able to write a poem stanza by stanza with a basic rhyming scheme. And other days -- like today -- I will talk to my laptop screen. I converse through my writing.

In fact, writing has become a part of my life these days mostly because what goes on in my head becomes a lot more clear when it is written in ink. I don't know how many people can relate to this, but I find clarity when I am writing. Whether is a short piece, a poem, or a blog post--it's just plain fun!

Words can be a powerful tool. Combining the right words together can create a really powerful message! And I think everyone should try it out for themselves when they feel like they are having an overcrowded head :P