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 why 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

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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 plan 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