(As an adolescent, I was particularly disturbed by the fact that men in suits declare wars and the masses follow instructions….I felt it was all a lie)

Une Fleur à Quatre Pétales,

Noir, Rose, Rouge, Vert Pâle,
Violence, Innocence, Passion, Raison,
Couleur d’Avril, Odeur de Vanille,
Homme Sage, derrière les barres d’une Cage,
L’Esprit lointain de ces Châtiments Vilains.

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(This poem is about a horrific war scene which is inspired by a true story)
Hier soir, en un moment de sommeil
J’ai revécu pour la millième fois,
L’horrible scène qu’un jour, j’ai vu.

Là-bas, derrière les vitres,
À travers les collines,
Dans le silence hurlant,
Alignés, tête à tête, des enfants
Qui, vont être tués,
Un à un, leur vies volées
En un coup de feu insensé.

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(THIS POEM REPRESENTS THE AGE WHERE WE MUST START TO DISTINGUISH BETWEEN TRUTH AND CULTURAL MYTH)

Mon âme qui se bat à comprendre
Et pouvoir enfin faire la différence
Entre la vérité et ce qui m a été enseigné,
Pour goutter tes larmes
et connaître ton âme
Fallait-il vraiment se livrer aux flammes?

(This Poem was my impression of these ‘Cool Gangs’ after observation and research… )

J’ai enfin démasqué la vérité
Ce masque qui leur permet de s’éviter
Qui leur donne l’air d’être
Maîtres de cet Univers
Mais si tu regardes à travers,
Ils te feront pitié!

Ils ont tous l’air très forts
Alors qu’au fond ils sont pétrifiés

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(This poem is about an image of a letter you’d leave in the crib to explain the political world to a child)
To my child not yet born,
I hope forever you will stay warm.
I will tell you all that I’ve learned
In 22 years,
For maybe, it will save you some tears;
The flag is dripped in blood
So away from it we fled.
We drank for peace,
And drowned in beliefs that darkened our deeds.
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(This poem is about the beauty in this world, fine things that matter, and nonsensical injustice on the large scale… How we must write our thoughts and knowledge before we pass on…)
If I had nothing left for me in this world;
If I lose my one true love, my family,
My home and all my money,
I will draw on my pencil
And write down the script of my life
Pour out all that is in me….
I will write about all those that I loved,
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(This Poem describes the night club scene through a man’s perspective with a twist of Drama of course)

Thoughts in his head come and go,
As he sits and absorbs the whole club scene
As loud music plays
Blocking all prospects of conversation,
Thoughts in his head come and go
As he looks around in a blaze
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(This poem is about never giving up, always being true to oneself, free of all attachments and remaining positive)
To look deep within me and like what I see
To spend a lifetime on my own, not once feel lonely.
To see bare beauty!
To see the weakness of others and not let it affect me
To see love fade away and not cling on to its shade,
To embrace the change!
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(This poem describes my impression of a close friend who was suffering from a terminal illness….)

Lying in those same white sheets,
For days, staring at this empty chair
Ceased to notice the dreadful combination
Of blood and medicine,
I cannot seem to remember ever feeling
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(This poem is describing an elusive moment)

Sitting in a Café

The taste of coffee

The sound of music

The cold sensation in my toes

The aroma of the wind

Wondering how it all could have been…

(This poem is about the confusion we feel during adolescence and the desire to be what we are not)

Je voudrais être
Ce que J’ai toujours voulu être,
Mais pour que Je sois
Ce que Je veux être,
Je devrais être ce que Je ne le suis pas.

(This poem I wrote in the memory of my Grand Father)

Peux-tu me dire pourquoi?
Peux-tu me dire quand on le sera?
Je suis là où je ne le suis pas,
Içi ou ailleurs,
Mais comment donc nulle part ?!

Nulle part d’où je suis venue,
Est-ce que là-bas que j’irai?
Sans toi, ni toi, ni toi,
Ni même mon miroir
Quel redoutable effroi!
Ni même un autre pour me tendre la main,
Ou un sourire qui brillera seul au loin.
Si tout ce qui reste de nous est une boîte funèbre
Enterrée dans les plus profonds ténèbres…
Et nos Sourires seront effacés,
Nos Visages oubliés,
Mes regrets, ont-ils même existé?
Et on dira “C’est dans le passé,
Ayons le courage de le laisser!”

Et toi grand-papa, ou est-ce que tu es?
J’ai même pas versé une larme pour ton passé,
Qui t’as trahi et qui t’as aimé?
Dis-moi qu’est-ce qui compte,
Maintenant que tu le sais.
Dis-moi, s’il te plaît, grand-père,
Dis-moi que tu n’est pas seul,
Rassure moi, j’ai trop peur,
J’ai peur d’avoir perdu ma clarté,
Car je suis loin d’être parfait.
Dis-moi que toi aussi, tu ne l’étais,
Mais Dieu comprend et pardonne ces êtres préférés.
Dis-moi que tu es au milieu de fleurs, de roses et de champs de blé,
Dorés par un Soleil qui ne dort jamais,
Et de lacs de vin et de d’eau sucrée,
Avec tous ceux que tu as jadis aimé,
Que tu es jeune, beau et plein de santé,
Que tu es, enfin, dans le Paradis tant désiré,
Et peut-être un jour, je te reverrai,
Là-bas où j’irai,
Et non pas dans un Cercueil enfermé.
Je m’excuse de n’avoir pas pleuré,
Mais je promets de te faire une prière,
Aussi souvent que je le pourrai.

(This poem is about inventing your perfect someone!)

I Have invented you

With the ink of my heart

And the stars of my night

I have invented you….

With the tears of my soul

And the dreams of my imagination

I have invented you…

And I fell madly in love with you

Until I got to know you

And I had to leave you.

(In the memory of my grandma)

The veil on her head
The holes in her socks,
The light from her face
The freckles on her hands ,
Are all things I remember…
Her praying in my room
Her cooking around noon,
Her arguing with her daughters
And complaining to my mother,
Are all things that are so real…
Her constant criticism of world politics
Her imposing her own beliefs,
Her desire to always feed us
And attempts to marry us,
Her radical opinions of men and women in general
Yet her solid comfort whenever we are in real trouble,
Are all things I remember about my grandmother…
Always ever so present and now gone forever.

(This Poem is obviously about my Grandmother, to whom I was very close and what I felt she got very ill before she passed away)

The storming words spoken only through her intense stare,
Her eyes filled with her life stories- just passing by,
Her hand tightly holding mine
Out of love, out of pain, out of fear,
Her gaze questioning our faces
Looking for answers, for clues,
Knowing that she is soon to leave,
And perhaps the excruciating pain in her body
Is making her wish she could end this agony
And go off towards eternity…
Was her life a happy or sad journey?
She had a large family and some money
Raised five girls to her full capacity,
Including my own mother,
Who, in turn, nurtured her like a baby.
Her hands, so white, so soft,
Touching my face, my hair,
Wanting in stillness to say goodbye
To tell me: ‘not to be sad and not to worry’
Letting go is hard to do,
She had prayed for us all and paid all her dues,
And now forced to silence, forced to bed,

Death is near…

Loudness and movement followed by silence and stillness
I wish she could tell me one more time
Not to cry, for with God’s presence there is nothing to fear.
In this hour of sorrow,
After the tempest of her struggle
Complete nothingness and void…
She was a dreamer and now a dream,
A visitor, a thought,
An ever-lasting memory.