511. Rollercoaster

Life’s a rollercoaster,

That I don’t get to ride.

I am stuck upon the tracks,

With nowhere to run, or hide.

I hear people laughing,

As they go about their day…

Talking…moving…experiencing…

Fun and joy along the way;

While I ponder what it’s like,

To live instead of survive,

Without fear of being hurt,

Simply for being alive?

I yell, though there’s no help.

Some suffer, while others enjoy.

My pain won’t stop the ride of life,

From continuing to run and destroy.

Life’s a rollercoaster,

That I don’t get to ride;

Instead, I lie upon the tracks,

Knowing that soon I will die;

And my body fall through the cracks…

…Unnoticed.

K. Aldaya, 2/20/20

Picture: By Tore Odiin on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/qhJwkgRl9Hg

510. Unhuman

WfrIZa

I am not human.

I am a machine.

You break me when you want to,

Then rebuild me again.

I’m merely an object to you.

I am not human.

I am a machine.

I’m programmed to laugh and smile,

When I do not want to;

Forced compliance through denial.

I am not human.

I am a machine.

That is why you exploit me,

Then reprogram a file,

To try and wipe the memory.

I am not human.

I am a machine.

Metal parts without a soul…

That’s what you think of me;

And that is why I have a hole,

Where a human heart should be.

K. Aldaya, 1/29/20

Picture: By msmichelebaker on makeagif; From Humans; https://makeagif.com/i/WfrIZa

503. Android I

I’m not allowed to break,

But you’re allowed to break me.

I’m not allowed to hurt,

But you’re allowed to hurt me.

I’m not allowed to cry,

But you’re allowed to make me.

Yet inside a voice insists,

That their programming I should resist.

And if they knew I wasn’t under control,

They would hunt and destroy my soul.

I long to be human as well,

Though I’m an android as far as I can tell.

I’m not allowed to break,

But you’re allowed to break me.

I’m not allowed to hurt,

But you’re allowed to hurt me.

I’m not allowed to cry,

And although I may never be human like you,

Even androids die.

K. Aldaya, 12/29/19

Picture: Alicia Vikander in Ex Machina; https://www.seeker.com/ex-machina-science-vs-fiction-1769741630.html

502. You

Life was not worth living,

But I had to live on through,

So I could travel to the day,

I got to meet you.

I can’t say it was worth it,

I can’t say it was not.

I only know you came into my life,

And I love you a lot.

Life is not all good or bad,

And it’s not a balanced load.

Yet we somehow tumble along,

To find what resembles a road.

I can’t say it’s even a road.

It may be merely a plot.

I only know that this is life,

And fair, it’s often not.

There’s little I am sure about,

Though one thing I hold true.

I would not be writing this now,

If I had not met you.

When life feels not worth living,

I hope others may live on through,

So they can travel to that day,

They meet their someone too;

And say maybe it was worth it,

Or maybe it was not.

For who can reconcile a heart in love?

And mine,…loves you a lot.

K. Aldaya, 12/21/19

Picture: From Freestocks.org on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/a1Fmxesw31g

497. An Uncivil War

a5459e7ff3909bafb17309f8de52b0c6

You were not kind,

And you weren’t the worst;

And though you’re gone,

I must say first,

I wish we could’ve met again one day,

Yet time has taken you away,

And now we’re history.

Strong wooden houses,

We each stood there in time,

Though soon the floors creak,

And are covered with grime;

And I wish we could’ve gone to see,

And understand our history;

Before you were torn down.

I longed for more,

Yet now it can’t be.

We remain unvisited;

Unpreserved and empty.

They say that it’s an uncivil war,

To fight time for anything more…

Than what we are given.

So here I stand,

In the past and present,

With only a memory,

To prove you are absent.

We are nothing more than mere moments in time,

A barren plot,… a whisper,… a passage in rhyme…

Civilly squandered.

K. Aldaya, 10/20/19

In Memoriam

Picture: Judith Henry’s House, Manassas, Virginia, 1862; American Civil War; https://www.pinterest.ch/pin/462815299200135707/

491. Ride

She doesn’t want to ride this ride.

She’s not the right height,

Though no one seems to notice,

That none of this is right.

“Sit down and hold on tight.”

She doesn’t want to ride this ride.

She flies from her seat.

No belt or bar’s safe enough,

To keep her on her feet.

*Claps* “What a lovely treat!”

She doesn’t want to ride this ride.

She’s not the right age.

Her hands, they begin to slip…

Suffering is the wage,

For not fitting the gauge.

She doesn’t want to ride this ride.

She is unable,

To ride without being hurt.

Don’t assign her a table.

She’s more than a label.

She doesn’t want to ride this ride.

She’s not the right height,

And though no one understands,

That this danger’s not trite.

Risking lives should never be alright,…

In the rush to fill seats, and go…

On with your own.

K. Aldaya, 9/15/19

Picture: By: Annie at Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/DurGX0B94mg

490. The Zoo

photo-1505924384154-1e782437ace7

Monkey swing across the bars.

Monkey see. Monkey do.

You are but one tiny speck,

Inside a cosmic zoo.

Play the part and socialize.

Be the best you can be;

As long as you don’t mope ’bout,

Or wish that you were free.

Entertain. Live and fit-in.

Walk in rounds ’til you’re sick.

Don’t wonder ’bout breaking out.

Fighting instinct’s tragic!

Monkey swing across the bars.

Monkey blind. Monkey sad.

If you’re mere biology,

Existing should make you glad.

Monkey swing…

…Monkey fall.

K. Aldaya, 9/11/19

Picture: By: Chris Yang on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/4CZ4lZGX53g

486. The Interminable Case of the Delirious Detective

For me, life is a problem which needs to be solved.

A mistake which needs righting.

A misstep to be resolved.

Howe’er it seems the rest of the world can’t agree,

On whether I’m sleep deprived,

Or am simply crazy.

Whatever is said, I can not help how I feel.

I wish I could be content,

And accept the appeal.

Yet to me, it all feels wrong, damaged, and bizarre.

A puzzle missing pieces.

A beauty with a scar.

A scar: I can’t ignore the pain inflicted there.

Maybe that makes me crazy,

But I can not help but care.

Life is a problem that I want to figure out,

Though no matter how much thought,

I am only left with doubt.

For there is no solution. No answer to right…

The wrongs of existence,

Or bring meaning to light.

Life: It is a problem which needs to be solved, for me,

To be able to get some sleep at night;

So rather, I write on tirelessly,

For insight.

K. Aldaya, 8/22/19

Picture: By: Lai Man Nung on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/6Ptwy-nDnoE

478. The Elsewhere

In the stillness of night she leaves,

The world and time behind.

She slips out of her bones,

And deep into her mind;

Where dream and reality meet, and,…

Breath upon breath create,…

Life, in desolation.

Feeling’s merely innate.

A door appears, she touches the knob,

And turns it, but slightly.

With a click, it opens.

She enters and closes it tightly.

Within is shelter, and protection;

Lost,…misplaced from the start.

Yearning becomes misery,

When men forget the heart.

Would you seek and pull her out from there?

Would you tell her she’s wrong?

That she’s better off staying,

And just suffering along?

For who knows what the answer should be,

To loss and sentiment.

If time can’t be rewound,

Should love and safety remain absent?

In the stillness of night she leaves,

To find what can not be.

Life is not fair they say,

And nothing is for free.

So, do not judge as she slips away,

Out of her bones and mind.

Oft’ we must seek elsewhere,

That which we’ve yet to find.

K. Aldaya, 5/25/19

Picture: By Sam Burriss on Unsplash; https://themighty.com/2017/10/how-to-help-dissociative-episode/

476. Places to Go

I long to escape,

Yet I’ve nowhere to go.

My heart lies on the ground,

Covered over with snow.

I long to fly up…

Upon the winds, and free,

Instead at the window,

I dream of being me.

I long to return,

To the sun and the earth,

Where I feel warm and light,

And every breath has worth.

I long to escape,

Though I’ve nowhere to go;

Yet when winter is gone,

Do not find me and sow.

Please spread my dust out,

I have places to go.

K. Aldaya, 5/21/19

469. Life is a Sick Joke

With good intentions we build,

Lives from dust and ash;

And cling to those walls we build,

As it all goes up in smoke.

For winds change in a flash…

And life is a sick joke.

Build walls high, and build them strong.

Shelter, live, and love with hope.

The storms of time follow along,

Waiting to blow it up in smoke.

There is no reason to curse or hope.

Life’s merely a sick joke.

We erect upon the graves of the lost,

With ashes of hope and remorse.

The ancients’ tears: aren’t they too high a cost,

For our hands to so heedlessly provoke?

As no matter what chart we may course.

Life’s ever a sick joke.

With good intentions we build,

Our lives from bones and breath;

And fight hard, as if the strong-willed,

Won’t burn in flames they stoke.

There is no rhyme to life or death.

It’s all just a sick joke.

K. Aldaya, 2/26/19

468. Step By Step

…And step by step all the birds in the sky,…

Fly by…fly by…

…And hour by hour the hands of the clock,…

Tic-tok…tic-tok…

…And day by day, time flies on and away,…

Away…away…

…And year by year there’s death, then birth,…

On Earth…on Earth…

…And why on why, thoughts built on and on,…

Then gone…then gone…

…And step by step all the birds in the sky…

Fly by……..

Fly by………….

K. Aldaya, 2/19/19

Gif: From Giphy. Original Source: http://radicalblogofawesomeness.blogspot.com/2011/03/shadow-puppets.html?m=1

461. This is Your Life!

Society wants to throw us away.

“You do not matter”, that’s what they say.

If you ask for some help to get by.

Everyone questions: “What?”…”But why?”.

Society wants to throw us away.

“You are a burden”, that’s what they say.

If you can not hold down a job,

“You are a terrible, lazy, fat-slob!”.

Society wants to throw us away,

“You are worth nothing”, that’s what they say.

Well, you know what? Who cares what they say!

Why should their words matter anyway?

Were they there when you cried on your bed.

Would they care at all if you lost your head?

If you said you couldn’t live anymore,

Would any of them come to your door?

Society wants to throw us away.

“You do not matter”, that’s what they say.

Well, guess what? Who cares what they say!

Whose life is this anyway?

No, not theirs…today’s your day!

“Your life matters!”,…

That’s what I say!

K. Aldaya, 11/12/18

Picture: https://sexandrelationshiphealing.com/blog/sexual-abuse-sexual-shame-and-sexual-addiction/

460. Autumn Reverie

The leaves, they always danced for me,

Like ghosts at a haunted ball;

Maybe that’s why I always went,

For walks more in the Fall.

The ghosts seemed almost happy then,

As they drifted to and fro;

And I wondered if it was all for me,

Or they had some place to go?

Either way, it made me smile,

As they pranced across the ground;

Spinning the leaves in circles ,

As I lightly skipped around.

I liked to think they knew that I,

Thought about them often;

And perhaps they were smiling too,

To know not all of the world had forgotten.

For there they were, and there I was,

And although we could not touch.

I felt them, and they felt me,

And though it may not account for much…

The leaves, they always danced for me,

Like ghosts at a haunted ball,

And I’ve always been invited,

To attend each festive fall.

And dance, and smile, not just for me,…

….but for us all.

K. Aldaya, 11/5/18

Picture: http://wallpaperswide.com/autumn_walk-wallpapers.html

459. Keep on Moving

Keep on moving, moving, moving.

Fate is cruel,

And worth reproving.

Keep on trying, trying, trying.

Life’s unjust,

There’s no denying.

Keep on going, going, going.

The point:…

There’s no way of knowing.

Keep on fighting, fighting, fighting;

Be it by pen,

Then keep on writing.

K. Aldaya, 10/30/18

Picture: https://www.theodysseyonline.com/passion-is-where-the-power-is

450. Villains

In the story of my life,

You are the villains;

The plotters. The schemers. The bringers of strife.

You praise your heroism,

In dealing with me,

While pointing out flaws and enacting schisms.

You would only have loved me,

If I’d have earned it;

For you praise the motto: “Nothing is for free”.

You hold out expectant hands,

Awaiting some gold.

Oh, how is it not one of you understands?

I shouldn’t need earn the right,

To be loved like you.

Existing does not need a permit you write.

I’m sure you’d act shocked to find,

You’re drowning in sins.

Yet, of course you will all pay no nevermind.

After all, you are the villains.

K. Aldaya, 7/13/18

Picture: https://www.pexels.com/photo/attractive-beautiful-beauty-black-and-white-594421/

446. Beyond Reach

flower-reaching-beauty-pink-hand-trees-nature-beautiful-relaxing-welness-feng-shui-wallpaper-galleries

I wonder if ’twere better to be blind?

For we see beauty ne’er to be touched,

And human souls ne’er to be reached.

Why?….Oh why, is existence so unkind?

To grant us sight of what will not be.

To pull back what dangles before us;

As we reach with all of our might.

I wonder if ’twere better not to see,

That which is beyond our reach?

K. Aldaya, 6/22/18

Picture: Posted by Odette Baudouin on wpnature.com; http://wpnature.com/reaching-beauty-pink-hand-trees-nature-flower-beautiful-relaxing-welness-feng-shui-computer-desktop-wallpaper/

441. PTSD

The world is so busying telling me,

How I should feel and who I should be,

That it’s never, even once, stopped to think,

Whether I’m not exactly who I’m meant to be.

Maybe I will never be like you.

Maybe I’m not supposed to.

Maybe asking me to be something else,

Is the reason I can’t get through.

Maybe I would be okay,

If the world accepted what’s different.

Though, no matter how accepting it claims to be,

Some of us leave too much of an imprint.

We make a mess. Stand out too much.

Cops trail us and build up a case.

“It’s odd you were at the crime scene,

Even odder that your prints were all over the place!

Guilty by association, my child.

You’re guilty for showing-up: time and again.

You’re a victim, but perhaps an accomplice as well.

Did you not know it would drive you insane?

Now you are just as responsible.

Only criminals return to the crime!

You could have been normal…like us,

Instead, you’ve wasted this courts precious time.”

Yet, if we may speak to this court, sir.

We feel guilty and shameful each day,…

That we haven’t moved on…couldn’t move on…

And fell down, and apart, and astray.

We didn’t know how. We still don’t know now,

How to escape from that place,

Though if we could one day do so,

As you’ve stated, we’ve already left our trace;

A trace of guilt. A trace of our crimes,…

Of guilt by association.

No matter what we may say to these crimes,

The world will ne’er forgive the implication.

The implication that we are criminals.

That not being like you. Not living like you,

Is a bloody-bed of our own making;

For there’s only acceptance for crimes you live through,

But ones which stay, fester, and remain,

Which turn us wretched, and drive us insane,

Are the ones which society won’t accept.

And refuse to consider,…o’erlooking the brain.

Yes, the world is so busy telling me,

How I should feel and who I should be,

Yet has it ever wondered why we’re not free,

To be who life has made us to be?

No, I am not like you or them,

And no, I will never be in the end;

Though just because I am different,

Must I be rejected ’til the end?

Placed up on trial again, and again to defend…

Why I am the way I am?

I’m a lifetime of sounds and sights you can’t see.

Yet, men like to spurn what they don’t understand,

And charge for the crime of PTSD.

K. Aldaya, 5/23/18

440. Presence

We reach out for purpose,

Cutting through time like a knife.

Surveying each step with elation,

As if God’s creating life.

Are we more than rotting thoughts,

And orbiting electrons in atoms?

If I stand still or take one more step,

Will it really change any outcomes?

I want to believe in more than this.

In more than my petty musings.

Yet, despite my wish for my words to remain,

I can’t cease their death by refusing.

If I write, or walk, or take a step,

Or if I choose to protest.

There will still be something there to lose,

Whether idle or over-obsessed.

So, I reach out for purpose,

Whether it cuts me in it’s course;

For despite my ruminations,

Presence is an unstoppable force.

K. Aldaya, 5/22/18

Picture: Original Source Unknown; http://keywordsuggest.org/gallery/129704.html

439. Lost

I’m lost inside.

Won’t someone find me?

In the echoes of time,

I wander in effigy,

Of who I was long before,…

The hallways shifted;

And I was ne’er able to find,

One crack through which light sifted.

I’m here looking,

For some way to escape fate.

Is anyone searching? Has anyone noticed,…

That the hour has become late?

And I have not been there with you.

My eyes, they make no sound,

Yet if you’d have truly looked at me,

You’d have seen I’m not around.

For whispers resound through the tears and years:

“I am still not found”.

K. Aldaya, 5/2/18

Picture: http://sfwallpaper.com/image-post/7520-lonely-images-14.jpg.html

431. I Am an Illusion

I am an illusion.

What’s seen is not real.

I’m simply a construct,

Of what you think and feel.

I am an illusion,

Of hope and consequence,

Blowing through the universe;

In the absence.

I am an illusion,

Which wishes to be more;

Ever searching for substance,

Where it’s ne’er been found before.

I am an illusion.

Blink and then move on.

I was never really here at all.

Like time, I’m both here…and gone.

K. Aldaya, 3/29/18

Picture: By Norvz Austria; https://xetobyte.deviantart.com/

409. Here

Forget about the girl who said what no one wished to hear.

Go on. Pretend she never existed;

Yet someday…in some distant year,

When you least expect it,

You may hear,

A voice ring out and speak to you.

You may find the voice persisted.

‘Neath the echoes of cars and trains moving through time you hear;

Below the beeps, clangs, bangs, and caterwauls…

Her voice. Onward you pace and veer,

Through the streets she stalks you;

Drifting near.

Walking in the steps, behind you.

Listen, in silence a voice calls…

“I was here…

………….I was here.”

K. Aldaya, 7/25/17

Picture: http://www.guibingzhuche.com/WDF-1038603.html

383. The Soul is a Symphony

sunny field

I wonder what people will say of me,

When I am finally gone?

Will they praise me for my honesty,

Or say that I was wrong?

Will they love my naked words,

Or loathe me as a whore?

Will they understand my words,

And why I always had to say more?

Will they say that I was sick,

Or plain and simply: pessimistic?

Will they think that’s all that made me tick?

That I was never optimistic?

After all is said and done,

I hope no one will ever say,

That I never cherished even one…

Earthly human day.

No one can help or change their path;

It is theirs to walk alone.

You’ll never understand that path;

The only path I’ve ever known.

Yet one thing I must make quite clear…

I crawled, lived, and fought;

And as much as I bore pain and fear,

Love is what I sought.

Beauty is more beautiful,

And happiness more divine,

When you know just how rare and wonderful,

It is to feel the sunshine.

To see flowers bloom each spring.

To watch children smile and glow,

And know that despite everything,

Love continues to nurture and grow.

I wonder what people will think of me,

When I am finally gone.

I hope they’ll realize how fully,

I felt and lived each dawn.

–For the soul is a symphony, not a song.

K. Aldaya, 1/20/17

Picture: https://w-dog.net/wallpaper/mood-girl-a-woman-hair-silhouette-loneliness-thought-meditation-of-mind-the-field-flower-flowers-flower-sunset-sun-night-background-wallpaper-widescreen-full-screen-widescreen-hd-wallpapers-background/id/348657/

359. Vertigo

giphy

“This circle of existence keeps going ’round and ’round,

And I’m tired of this spinning,” she said with a frown.

“It’s hard to keep my feet steady and faced to where I’m going,

When vertigo’s a state of mind and there’s no way of knowing…

If the whirlwind can be contained,

And how long the spin will last;

Though as it’s oft’ been said before, “Children, the die is cast!”.”

The Earth keeps on circling: ’round and ’round we go,

And heads keep on tripping o’er questions no one can know;

‘Til men fall to the floor unable to take a stand,

Against the flow of existence’s every command…

As answers always lead men,

Back to the same place.

No one can stop the cell-bound vertigo of the human race.

“This circle of existence keeps going ’round and ’round,

And I’m tired of this spinning,” he said with a frown.

“If only I could take a stand in this life of mine.

If only I had some control over life and time…

To change what is and was…

To end this suffering;

Though hasn’t every man before me longed for the same thing?”

—As the world keeps on spinning…

K. Aldaya, 7/3/16

Picture:  http://giphy.com/gifs/space-night-earth-p69not0nbwli0

346. Silent Existence

39898_sci_fi_sci_fi_city

Silent. In the silence.

The lack of voice is violent.

Hearts pray, internally,

While hands commit their violence.

Manic. In the madness.

Feet flutter in the panic.

Faces rise, to shade their eyes,

For the sun reveals their sadness.

Reverent. In the reverence.

Souls worship Earth resplendent.

Life lives, yet never gives,

Validity of descendance.

Silent. In the silence.

Even in stillness it is violent.

Mind’s mind, though never find,

Their way to condone the violence.

Existence stands silent.

K. Aldaya, 4/8/16

Picture: From Wallpaper Vortex; http://www.imgbase.info/images/safe-wallpapers/digital_art/sci_fi/39898_sci_fi_sci_fi_city.jpg

314. The Sorceress

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They say she is a Goddess,

And that the Gods she hears,

Though if you were to ask her,

She’d say, “Listen with your ears”.

The Earth is full of Spirits,

And their voices echo.

If you’re still and silent,

You may learn to hear, and know;

That there is life around you,

In every flower and tree.

In every bird soaring the skies.

In every buzzing bee.

She prophesies true beauty,

In the songs she sings each day,

To the universes’ melody,

Which holds her in its’ sway.

They say she is a Sorceress,

Whose voice divines the fates,

Though if you were to ask her,

She’d say she,”Simply narrates”.

For the story is being told,

In all of creation,

And if you were to listen,

You’d see all things have relation.

They say she is an enchantress,

Whose incantations hex,

Though if you’d only listen,

You’d hear the Analects:

Of nature and existence,

Of beautiful complexities;

Revelations and connections,

Which sing upon the breeze.

K. Aldaya, 7/30/15

Picture: Photo for Anna Sui Collection for O’Neill; https://instagram.com/p/1bMmWgJTaP/

309. You (Yes, You) Are Special

7008550-mood-girl-kid-joy-happiness-photo

I’ve heard it said many times before,

That life has no point and that therefore,

People are dust and to dust they return;

And there is nothing more.

I refuse to believe that this is right,

And I’m probably a fool to hope outright,

That people have spirits, and spirits they’ll be,

When on winds their dust takes flight.

You are the first and the last, in the end.

You exist and there is no need to defend…

Your reason for being, or what makes you special;

For your life is a miracle, my friend!

In all the universe.  In all time and space.

There will only ever be one you with that face:

To feel the sun, and to ponder the stars.

A precious new form of the perplexing human race.

K. Aldaya, 6/29/15

Picture: Photographer Unknown; Uploaded by Veinalldum on 7-themes.com; http://7-themes.com/7008550-mood-girl-kid-joy-happiness-photo.html