Echoes from the deep

Echo.. Echo.. Echo.. Echo..

So a thought, I have..
Of the reflection, I have..
This reflection of soundwaves.,
everytime I shout down into this,
deep, almost empty - but fills me up - well.
This well of promises and wellness.
Me on this end and you on the other.
Sun scorching my back,
the cold wind of the night slapping against it.
I'll bend it all down for you, my back,
just to talk to you.,
actually, with..
just to talk with you.
And it's beautiful, it's just amazing!
Because, everytime
I say something,
you say something.
You even hear my whispers,
and whisper back to me,
the pebbles I drop down there,
I hope, really, that none ever hits you,
it's the echoes I fish for,
to know you still care,
to know you're still there.
The voices that come back.

I have had nights I cried down to you,
hoping my tears would rise,
the levels, for me, to see your eyes,
but only the sobs keep coming back.
Does it mean you cry when I cry?
Laugh when I laugh?
See, I just smiled.
Did you smile as well?
Did your lips curve, not upwards,
but downwards, just as mine did?
Tell me you did, am listening.
The voices that come back.

I know you listen,
because you answer.
I know you feel almost the same as I do.
Because every single time,
I say "I love you",
the voice that comes back says
"I love you" too.
- "I miss you"
- "I miss you" too.
The voices that come back.

And when it rains, I hope, it pours.
I hope the water will fill up the well,
and you will rise to the surface..
and hug me, hug me tight and everything,
everything will be alright.
I have your towel ready,
to dry you up immediately you come through.
I have a change of clothes too,
all ready, and fitted for you.
I promise you,
I won't mind the rain,
I'll let the drops sooth my back,
from the sun-scorching and wind-slapping,
I'll soak and it won't be enough,
to pay back for the soaking you have.
I want to be your hero,
when the waters reach a hundred from zero.
I long to see you, and am excited!
Why?
Because the clouds are forming.
The voices that come back.

The first drop from the sky, and into the well..
and am here waiting to hear its sound come back,
among all these other
echoes from the deep.

Sitting on the pavement

Sitting on the pavement,

and it's like 3 a.m., in the morning.

The party is over, the one with the reduced cover.

Dude still sober, but dude won't budge.

He's been outchea, sitting on the pavement.

Clean-shaven, and clothes well adorned,

browsing through his phone,

while thinking to himself.

Too many books on his shelf,

too many movies on his Netflix.

He thinks to fix,

he seeks to clarify.

Nothing to glorify.

The dots he joins,

the paths he chose,

led him to this pavement,

he is sitting on,

he is thinking on,

he is thriving on.

The cars speed by, 

occasionally stopping for the lights.

It's dark, he reckons,

the street lamp above flickers.

Then, the occasional hiccup,

like the path he treads on has had.

Hiccups.. His cup wouldn't be any fuller.

At least, it's not half-empty,

it's half-full.

For being her fool.

Her run-to tool.

But still manages sanity.

He stays sane insane,

all in vain.

See the blood flow in his veins?

It's anger he can live with,

and excitement he's been deceived with.

Drunk couples walk out from the clubs,

passing by him, staggering.

Some say hi, others say bye.

Hand in hand, if they're done puking,

on each other, he hopes.

Pleasures he sees but can't feel,

leisure he stumbles upon but can't enjoy.

The world is crooked and twisted,

in his own opinion.

He's entitled to it, so to fit in straight,

he must, 

to live with his decisions,

would be just.

And fair.. That the friends he made,

20 years ago in high school,

live the life of their dreams,

with the spouse of their dreams.

Him? Haha 2nd divorce, and counting,

2 litres of alcohol in his system,

plus the 2 he had the night before.

It's true, 2 wrongs do not make a right,

but it's wrong to say, 

2 lies do not make the truth..

less what it is.

He needs two lives.

The one with the mistakes and,

the one he would be careful with.

His bus arrives. The doors swing open.

He raises up from the pavement,

a little bit of stagger in his stance,

glad he didn't have to drink and drive,

no, not tonight,

dusts off his new pants,

reaches for the token he'd saved for the ride,

in his pocket,

it's torn. It fell off somewhere. He groans.

And goes back to his earlier position;

Sitting on the pavement.

That bright flower

That bright flower, you are.

You are, that bright flower, just,
that bright flower in the middle of a desert,
that bright flower floating on the surface of the ocean,
that bright flower in the middle of a snowstorm,
that bright flower floating in air, in the middle of a hurricane.

You're far from an oasis in the desert you live in,
your roots so short to anchor you to the bottom of the ocean,
your endurance to cold is wanting, to storms, inexistent,
your weight cannot hold you down, you're helpless in the air..

Yet no petals dry and fall off of you,
yet no wave comes and tears you apart,
yet no cold shrivels your existence,
yet no wind blows any pollen from your anthers.

You are that bright flower!
That bright flower that gives moisture to that which is dry,
that bright flower that calms the waves and slows the currents,
that bright flower that melts the snow and stills the storms,
that bright flower that makes the winds weak by its attractiveness.

You brighten up your environs and illuminate that which is dark,
you are that bright flower.
You irradiate beauty and magnify perfection,
appeasing all the aesthetic senses,
you are that bright flower.

& as the dust in the desert worships your beauty,
& as the waves of the ocean shower you with praises,
& as the flakes of snow kiss you with admiration,
& as the winds embrace you with love and affection,
so does my heart beat for your attention.

You are, after all, that bright flower.

Sirens in her head

Even when there was silence around her,
each and every single night..
there were sirens in her head.
Sirens. Loud sirens. That kept going.
On and on, on and off, off and off.
There were noises in the backyard,
there were voices in the front yard.
The screaming and shouting,
was awakening the demons,
her dark and ugly inner demons.
The police cars were chasing,
the ambulances were racing,
the firefighters' trucks were pacing
her peace away,
piece by piece, draining her energy,
her zeal to live.
Her dreams for the future,
getting ripped off from the picture,
the camera shutter sounds,
turning into stutter sounds,
of loud annoying music,
that the DJ wouldn't stop playing.
The party was at its peak,
and the crowd that she had picked,
kept jumping and dancing,
and bumping into her,
kept screaming the lyrics,
she didn't know to her favorite songs,
her favorite dress was sparkling blue,
the makeup she had on was sparkling too,
this night as she had dreamt was a dream come true,
Déjà vu.
It was fun she wanted that she wasn't having.
It was a crime she was committing that she hadn't planned.
It was a trip down memory lane that she couldn't remember.
Uncalled for drama.. was she living her dream?
No. Because she woke up screaming,
and the sirens were gone;
the sirens in her head.

Cry me a river

Cry me a river.
Your problems are absolutely worth more tears,
trust me.
Cry me a river, I'm listening...

Cry me a river about the many times,
you have fallen, you have failed.
The many times you have fallen
sick, weak, tired and disgusted of life.
The many times you have fallen
and couldn't get back up on your feet.
The many times you have fallen
for someone who broke your heart.
The many times you have fallen
by yielding to temptation.
The many times you have fallen
face in the face of trial,
the face of trouble,
the face of sudden betrayal.
Those many times.

Cry me a river about that fever,
about that sickness that gives you the shivers,
the baby you conceived you're not ready to deliver,
the hangover at work, & your boss, not being a forgiver,
the accidents you've caused your life for being a reckless driver,
eating leftovers, whining and dining as an underachiever,
giving up hope thinking it's all over,
allover around you, failure hovers.
Moreover, the odds never having been in your favor.

You could be much more, so cry it all out.
Dry your well of tears on my shoulder,
Wet my shirt and soak my ears.
Cry me a river, friend.
Sob to sleep, if you have to,
Scream and shout, if you want to,
Lose your voice, if you can't help to,
I'll be right here, cry me a river.

It only gets better.
The wars you fight today are victories you'll live with for a lifetime.
The battles you lose today are opportunities to fight harder.
Opportunities to live for another day,
a better tomorrow.
I'll allow you to cry me a river for now,
only if you'll build a bridge and get over it.
Only if you'll realize that you are meant
for so much more.
So much more happiness,
So much more potential,
So much more ambition,
So much more success.

So, cry me a river.

Take a selfie

Take, take, take all you want,
Bite, bite, bite all you can chew,
Be, be, be all you can be,
But first and foremost, take a selfie.

Take a selfie;

Take a selfie of your life,

of your past and present,

and of the future you desire.

Take a selfie of your ambition to succeed,

and of your fear to fail.

Take a selfie of your highs,

and of your lows,

your YESs and your NOs.

Take a selfie of your has-been,

and of your could-have-beens,

of your accomplishments and your regrets.

Take a selfie of your perfect imperfections,

and of your imperfect perfections.

Take a selfie when you are in the moment,

and when you snap out of it,

in your zone and out of it.

Take a selfie.

It is not until we take a selfie that we realize,

how beautiful an ugly can be,

how pretty disgusting can be,

how adorable despicable can be,

how amazing boring can get,

how extrospective introspection can get.

They say: "You never know until you try"

and I'm sure you'll never fully spread your wings until you fly.

Take a selfie and fly,

take a selfie and touch the sky.

You are your own drive,

your own ambition. 

The further you can see, the closer you will get there.

You are your own vision.

You design your destiny. 

You will know how to build it by knowing who you are.

Go stand in front of a mirror and, wait for it,

take a selfie.

Take a selfie at your weakest point and you will determine your strongest.

Take a selfie at your lowest point and you will rise to the highest.

A selfie a day keeps the doctor away,

the doctor that would remind you how much you hate yourself,

the doctor who will prescribe doses of insecurities on insecurities,

the doctor who will show your bad side to the world,

the doctor who will wreck your self esteem to fix something else,

not broken.

I repeat, you are your own doctor.

Treat yourself to a selfie,

examine your life in this sense,

broaden your knowledge,

and cure your issues,

cry if you have to,

and while at it, take a selfie with the tissues.

Healing comes from within,

if only we'd look back, pose, smile,

and take a selfie.

I'll wind this up with this corrupted new saying,

"When life gives you lemons, take a selfie;

then make lemonade and take a selfie, another selfie"

Never Again

A tear is shed, a prayer is shared,
of a fear smeared into our hearts,
of a spear pierced deep into our souls.
Cheers gone, drowning in beers,
ears unclosed, eyes wide open.
It's clear there's care,
as everyone stares into space,
but still, nothing appears,
save for the glare of doom,
and shreds of terror,
the music of gunshots,
and screams, loud screams, pleading for mercy,
broken and wounded, beyond repair,
shattered and wrecked, into despair..
The sores on the scores of people that are here,
the people I endear, are terrible,
very painful.
For flashback's sake, 20 years into the future:
2 years back then, 2 decades wiser.
Wiser enough to know never again,
never again.
Lessons from the past,
first, because, once bitten,
second, because, twice shy.

Third, because, why not?
Why not learn from the wounds,
the scars and the trauma?
and save the drama.
The pain, the regrets?
Never again.
Different paths were created then,
over a thousand hills and into the world,
the rest of it.
My prayer now,
is that these paths converge,
and intentions merge,
towards peace,
towards forgiveness,
towards reconciliation,
and towards healing.
Onto a higher level,
the "onto the future" level.
Never again.


In remembrance of the Rwandan Genocide, 1994.