Weighed Down By What-Ifs Poem (photo: Kelly Sikkema)
you’re one of the few people
i’m glad i never confessed my love to,
not for fear that it was unrequited,
but because i’m not sure we could’ve
had a happy life together.
it was ultimately our ideals
that made us go our separate ways.
we wanted the same things
but on different terms.
i hope i never run into you again,
even though i secretly want to.
looking into your big brown eyes
takes me back to a time when
my love was pure but my heart was torn.
my spirit’s desire for freedom
brought me to where i am today,
a challenging but beautiful place
filled with solitude and gratitude
but sometimes weighed down by what-ifs.
i don’t wish to kiss your lips anymore,
nor take you away from the ones you love.
i think we may have already been together
in an alternate universe, where our love
knew no bounds and your kisses were all mine.
and that’s the only love we will ever share
because i plan to keep this selfish love quiet,
expressing it just this once,
to please my soul and lighten the load
my heart has to carry through this life,
even if only to prove to myself
that i’m no longer in denial
about how much i used to love you.
You Will Always Have a Piece of My Heart Poem (photo: Rolando Oliveira)
it was a sunday morning when we met.
the beach was tranquil, with sunlight sparkling
over the waves that washed the night away.
our hangovers cured by warm embraces
and passionate kisses that turned into
texts and dinners with decadent deserts.
communicating more with our bodies
than our words, exploring each other’s touch
and falling asleep in each other’s arms.
i miss snuggling up to your warm body
and telling you about my day while we
sat in the candlelight after your shift.
i still crave the way i felt with your legs
wrapped around me, your fingers running through
my hair, your lips gently grazing my neck.
i was close to falling in love with you.
i was happy when we were together
and a part of me will always want you.
but i couldn’t let you into my heart,
into the place that you deserved to be
cause my feelings for you terrified me.
and even though my life is lovely and
i’m ready to let someone in, i know
that i don’t deserve your heart anymore.
i just hope that you find these words one day
and realize that they are meant for you.
you will always have a piece of my heart
and i’ll always regret that sunday night.
For a Thousand Year To Come (photo: Alexandru Tudorache)
a thousand years
of sun and rain
but the life we breathe
through our leaves
will not be enough
to sustain us
we can cry
turn a blind eye
or resign to the
that one day soon
we are going to die.
but on another planet
in a different time
i hope we meet as seeds
so that our flowers can bloom
under a new sun together
for a thousand years to come.
Wishing for Wings (photo: Kelly Sikkema)
at arm’s length
i want to bring you close
to see where your purple ends
and indigo begins
but i know
that any move
will send you flying.
at your mercy
wondering if it can get any better
craving a closer look
terrified of scaring you away.
wishing for wings
to fly away with you
out to sea
to rise above
and be free.
i wanna figure out
what makes you smile
and make it my art.
of my daydreams,
you’re the only one
i would give up everything for
because i wouldn’t mind it
if you were all that i had.
i wanna make memories with you
and reminisce about them
when we’re old.
but i don’t want you
to be with me
if you feel that
i can’t make you happy.
now, if you think
there’s a chance for me,
then please make my dreams come true
and let me love you
In The Wild Wild West (photo: Jaime Cooper)
leaning against the wall
in a dark corner of the bar
your black cowboy hat
conceals all but your full lips
stealing sips of your beer
when you think nobody’s looking.
i can’t turn away from you long enough
to see anyone else
through the cigarette smoke
i wonder what your lips would feel like
pressed against mine
while we tear each other’s clothes off
in the bed of your pickup truck outside
letting our bodies bathe freely
in the cool moonlight.
you approach the bartender
signal him for another beer
and your distance
gives me the feeling
that you don’t even know I’m here.
my eyes wander south
to your tight denim jeans
your big muscular thighs
down to your worn leather boots
planted firmly on the dirty floor
of this dark local dive.
i want to rub my face
all over your hairy body
and find out what your armpits smell like
before you squeeze me so tightly
with your massive outstretched arms
that i can’t feel where my body ends
and yours begins.
i want to lay you down
with your hat on my head
while you look up at the sky
with your hands on my hips
moving to the rhythm of the night.
but before long
you’re back in your corner of the bar
and i’ve convinced myself
that this will never be.
you’re nothing more than a fantasy
i’ll take with me
out of this bar and into my bed
where we can be together
in my dreams of riding a cowboy
in the wild wild west.
they hold firm to their
belief in a creator
of the beings that are
visible and measurable
to them in time and space.
they rationalize that they
couldn’t have come from nothing,
but they couldn’t have come
from something, either.
their creator cannot be a thing
because by their definition,
a thing must exist in time and space.
and their creator must exist
outside of the measurable universe
because to them, to be measured
is to be something.
these beings will never really know
anything about their creation
with any certainty.
only that they were created
at a certain point in time and space.
perhaps this is why they place
such an emphasis on birthdays.
a collection of poetry, art and design
that advancements in technology and
communication have made possible for
an artist whose work is currently being
cultivated and curated outside of
the realm of editors and galleries.
the product of years of observations
amidst the grit of construction and crowds
in mass-consumption during what some call
the development of the magic city,
the new miamian is an exploration
of what it means to be from miami.
thoughts, ideas, images and patterns
born from a desire to connect and
express truth without fear will find a home here.
love, beauty, family, culture, ritual,
anger, money, death, society, greed,
we don’t need a new miami, we need
a new miamian.
What Becomes of Civilization (photo: Seth Doyle)
scarcity is a fallacy that’s
perpetuated by poverty.
earth’s abundance is being squandered
by the entitlement of tyrants.
their goal is for humanity to
concede to the will of the wealthy.
what becomes of civilization
should be determined by us, not them.
power to the ninety-nine percent.
why all this hate in you?
is it because i’m blue?
’cause i can guarantee,
blue i will always be.
my color reflects love,
no need to rise above.
my hue will never fade,
take on another shade.
i’m proud of my color,
don’t dream of another.
never will i deny,
nor will it make me cry.
created by the lord,
use his strength as my sword,
to kill your ignorance,
and prove my importance.