Sunday, March 5, 2017

The Wishing Box

maybe someday 
I'll learn to get up from the table
when love is no longer being served. 
maybe someday 
I'll learn to stop coming and trying
to reach someone that is simply unreachable.
maybe someday
I'll learn to walk away from what is temporary
and though unhinged,
maybe someday
I'll learn to heal what can be healed. 

and maybe someday
you'll learn to see beauty 
in wreckage, in dark places, like I do. 
maybe someday
you'll learn to touch what's broken:
to love it, instead of ripping it apart.
maybe someday
you'll learn the true meaning
of being strong. 
maybe someday 
you'll learn to shine despite the beautiful rain.

maybe someday 
we'll learn to let someone 
completely in. 
maybe someday 
we'll learn to forget someone
who breaks us, even the pain. 
maybe someday 
we'll learn to walk away from love
that only make us wonder. 
maybe someday
we'll learn to accept the love
that we always longed for. 
and maybe and hopefully 
someday come sooner 
than we hoped for. 

Tuesday, February 7, 2017

Hello?
Are you there?
Are you here?
Can you hear me? It? My prayers?
Does God even listening?

MESSY AND RAW—THE ONLY WAY TO DO IT. THE ONLY WAY TO GO.

Sometimes, I just want to be a poem instead of a poet.
I want to not feel so much of the pain, to feel enough joy.
To not wear so many masks. To not bear so much of all of of these, even the realm of dreams doesn't feel like a place to escape anymore. Just another routine. Just another mundane thing that is always seems so fleeting to be called a safe haven.
Not being covered with so much scars. Literally and figuratively.
I want to be able to fill the void, but how? Isn't that the question? How can I do that? Is it meant to be filled with something or is it supposed to be filled by a person? But how can I fill the space that meant to be for someone that is no longer here? (Am I even allowed? I don't think I'll allow myself to fill it)
I want to be able to choose the right one, to be able to reverse my destructive-self.
But how??????
I keep seeking answer, yet never able to find it. In the good days, I thought i need to be here so that i can go on to the place where everything will be clear. But some days I thought I was looking at the wrong places, and/or I might have missed it, too busy looking for it but not really seeing it.
Sometimes, when the days slowly turns rather solemn, the months slowly becoming somber once again, wishing for someone that's no longer here and the someone that was never here to be here, I wish I was a poem. I want to be showered with words that feel like the warmth of the sun. With words that gives comfort. With words that sounded like the falling leaves, that sounded like rain in the night. With words that made me sigh, the kind of sigh that will make the world trembles. With words that can relief the pain right here, right now.
I keep wanting something that seems to be in front of me yet so far away. So out of reach. One of the few is wanting to be a poem instead of a poet. And i'm not even that: a poet. 
All this wishful thinking is screwing with my head.
And tonight, I don't think I'm okay. I don't think it's okay, because it's not. It's not. It's not okay.

Monday, January 30, 2017

DEPRIVATION

From the brink of existence
life spills over,
you started collecting all the pieces
that are once again shattered— withering.

You started to look at him
through poetry.
Because staring him in the eye
feels too bitter, and it wrings your heart. 

The good and the broken things are showing itself in silence.
You are every shades of blue, that aches
that only recognised violent
that forgot tenderness. 

Because sometimes, it's not about brimming in confidence.
Sometimes, you just need help to remember
as you tend to forget about all the good things—
it's nice to remember, doesn't it?

But you're just a girl,
strangling out the flowers,
that stinks with desperation and loneliness,
inhaling the bittersweet scent of love.

Too much of your time is spent looking for love 
in all the empty places, 
in all the wrong people,
at the wrong time.

(It never seems to be the right one.)
The earth started to laughs in flowers,
you started to pray so hard your bones break.
You understand, but you don't— maybe you never will.

Friday, January 13, 2017

THE IMMENSE PERPLEXITY OF A BROKEN BEINGS

a subtle kind of fear,
a subtle kind of insanity
hidden beneath a lifetime of masks.
there are cries of a wasted, forgotten beings

being muffled by the world.
what is left is just blood—
blood and broken poems,
and broken minds.

the walls are trembling and bleeding out,
as i tried to set free of all the burdens i've been carrying
by knocking the doors of heaven down
one poem at a time.

yet there is a normalcy of being wounded,
because we are perplexed by gentleness and tender beings.
silence is a shattered glass you carry within
as it became the craved intimacy.

but oh, how unfortunate
that not many hearts can see
there is a resonate grace in wreckage,
how unfortunate.

if only they are willing to go in.
if only they are willing to stay...

—C.L.

Tuesday, December 27, 2016

THOUGHTS THAT WANDER, GUIDING WHAT'S UNEXPLAINABLE WITHIN

This month has been the month of emotional-rollercoaster. So many unnecessary distraction. It becomes undeniable that I've been feeling rather.. lost, uninspired, and disconnected from so many things this year but more so these last couple of months, that it becomes rather distracting and distressing, also concerning if i may add. Then there is this problem with writer's block, where i simply cannot write about anything as there are not much that is worth writing about.
Currently, I have been obsessing (if you want to call it that) over reading and gaining knowledge on buddhism and their few on loss and grief, also once again on the subject of "intuition" and "empaths". It has come to my attention that though i might want to close myself up when it comes to anything that is unexplainable by science, I have to try to open my mind up because there might be a chance such phenomenon is real. At least, in some way. Life could become rather interesting if it is. Because I believe it does.


in▪tu▪i▪tion
noun

     the ability to understand something immediately, without the need for conscious reasoning.


Intuition is the result of the way our brains store, process, and retrieve information on a subconscious level. There are many recorded incidences where intuition prevented catastrophes and cases of remarkable recoveries when doctors followed their gut feelings. It is believed that people experience true intuition when they are under severe time pressure or in a situation of information overload or acute danger, where conscious analysis of the situation may be difficult or impossible.

Albert Einstein once said, "the intuitive mind is a sacred gift and the rational mind is a faithful servant. We have created a society that honors the servant and has forgotten the gift." I believe that our intuition is this powerful and useful little piece of us. But more so than I said in the previous paragraph, I believe that if we use it often, it will grow stronger and become more accurate. Like other things, it will of course need time. But only if we are patience enough, and I do believe that it's worth it. Yes, it can be a curse and a gift but if you work through it and enhance our intuition, it can be more of a gift rather than a curse. But most people are too "rational" nowadays and that most of them can't handle it as they find intuition as "too much." I think there should be a balance in everything we do in our life; it's good to be rational, but sometimes we should also trust our intuition. The reason why a lot of people find intuition as too much is because instead of trusting their own intuition, they tend to question it some more trying to rationalised it. In this situation, it's okay to think about the consequence of following our intuition, but sometimes, it better to just do what it asks you to do. I know, I know. I'm talking about intuition as if it's something real and alive and the skeptics might think this is a lot of rubbish, but it is not.

It took me years to get a handle of my intuition and reading better into it so yes, like I said before, intuitions get better with practice —especially with a lot of practice— because at bottom, intuition is about the brain's ability to pick up a certain recurring patterns; so the more we are exposed to a particular domain of activity the more familiar we become with the relevant patterns, and the more and faster our brains generate heuristic solutions to the problem we happen to be facing with that domain. But the most important thing that I learned through out the year, if you're the intuitive empaths (of some sort, if you want to label it) and you want to control, to see it as more of a gift than a curse also to find balance, you need to stop seeing "people" (or the object of it) as a problem. Accept it as a gift, then it will become a gift.




Apologies about the rambling and the badly written chosen subject but i have been having the need to write something and more on these subjects. I hope you enjoy that and find it somewhat educational.

Merry Christmas and happy New Year,
The Law Family. x



p.s. you can also read some more on empaths by clicking the words empaths and it will direct you to two different website. 

Monday, December 26, 2016

REQUIEM

How can the light goes in
if there isn't even a crack?
How can you let anything in
when the walls are completely blocked off?

All the words are being kept
in a small cramped dark space inside of you;
a bluebird that you kept hidden
a bluebird that you teach to keep quiet.

Yet the voices under all the silences
dares you not to feel, only think.
But time, like some things,
aren't ours to hold: (there is something familiar about this.)

Some things felt good, but never felt right—
it doesn't elevate the soul.
To let go, could be the right thing.
But to fight and to try again, is courageous.

Because words are powerful forces of nature
but silence, too, speaks volume.
Some things can live silently, slowly crumbling
but reborn, at the sight of

a resonance smile; on the sight of a crack.
Because that is how the light gets in.
Do it fiercely before you break slowly, and
ever so gently


—C.L.