Honesty

We used to value the truth,
We always showed how we feel
Or who we are.
We know if someone cares.
We show pride, humility, friendship.
We know what happens when the picture was clear.
Now, we abuse.
We want funny names or none at all,
We get addicted at times when we should not.
And we do find out,
We act like riots.
We turn the truth not into facts,
But to editorials to support us.
It has to be a story,
It has to kiss ass.
It has to be anything,
But what it is.
Pretty soon, we will not believe anybody.
No honor,
No peace,
No love,
No facts.
Just a wonderland of a mess,
Where everything is topsy-turvy,
And we just do not give a damn.

Hero

A hero would stand on his own,
His morals,
His ideals,
His bravery.
He would do the impossible.
Move an army with two hands,
Is not addicted to his image.
He lived alone or together with no regrets.
Nowadays, image is everything,
What his boss says,
What his friends say,
What the media represents.
Everybody wants more than a piece of the pie.
I fear the word "hero" will soon be extinct,
If not, maybe a sin.
We can strive to be heroes,
And nothing to show we are,
All we need is to do dare the impossible,
And have a lot of heart.

To See Who I Am

To see my journey,

From babe, to child, to student, to man;

I see all I amassed and accomplished.

I know what I can do,

I know my limitations.

But yet they see the obstacle

Not my growth.

I yearn not for respect,

Not for pity.

I want my opportunity,

A moment to shine.

And I will prove my greatness then.

A Town Called Hell

In a town that is a prison,

No way to expand.

No one to talk to.

Nearly every friend is gone or conformed.

The closest to paradise is like a journey.

I can only shrink in my own box.

Long have I wish to reach that golden place.

But for now I wait for my haven.

A Belle So Far Away

I miss you my sweet.
Off on my native journey,
Your smile is always on my mind.
You wait for me at the hall.
As your girls remind you of me being there.
I keep a picture of our happiness
To keep me sane.
I look forward to our meet.
And to hug you once again.
Until then,
Remember our soft embrace of our hug.

The Victim in the School

A folk walking down the halls,
Vultures trying to pick on live meet.
The scurvier runs and runs,
But cannot escape.
Nothing to seen but cacti and ignorant chameleons.
If one picks off the bird, he is seen as a terror,
But asking is like communicating in a language unknown.
The wayward must think not of the perception of others,
But the survival of self.
As long as he does not act like an atom bomb.

The Gift-giver

A man came to village
All covered up in scarf, hat, and coat.
He came bringing bundles of joy to the people.
He was adored as hero,
A saint among men.
Kids behaved as angels,
To be given the gifts.
They showed their love.
They honored him,
And he felt like he was with family.
Then the requests got too much,
Too detailed,
Too elaborate,
Too big.
Then the people never cared,
And when they did,
They asked what side is he on?
Even when he said everyone,
It was not enough.
The stranger was scared,
Have they taken him for granted?
See him as a mascot, not a man.
Soon he left forever,
Asking if he gave the world,
Would the still want more
And drive him, then,
Into insanity and hatred.