“It’s all smoke and mirrors”, the illusionist said.
“What lives in the heart also lives in the head”.
“There is no magic to make you stay,
In one place, or just one way.
You are everything you love and hate.
You are the thoughts you contemplate.
You are young and you are old.
You are meek and you are bold.”
“It’s all smoke and mirrors”, the illusionist said.
“What’s true for the heart, is true for the head;
For just ’cause you are living,
Does not mean you aren’t dead.”
K. Aldaya, 12/30/18
Society wants to throw us away.
“You do not matter”, that’s what they say.
If you ask for some help to get by.
Everyone questions: “What?”…”But why?”.
Society wants to throw us away.
“You are a burden”, that’s what they say.
If you can not hold down a job,
“You are a terrible, lazy, fat-slob!”.
Society wants to throw us away,
“You are worth nothing”, that’s what they say.
Well, you know what? Who cares what they say!
Why should their words matter anyway?
Were they there when you cried on your bed.
Would they care at all if you lost your head?
If you said you couldn’t live anymore,
Would any of them come to your door?
Society wants to throw us away.
“You do not matter”, that’s what they say.
Well, guess what? Who cares what they say!
Whose life is this anyway?
No, not theirs…today’s your day!
“Your life matters!”,…
That’s what I say!
K. Aldaya, 11/12/18
Picture: https://sexandrelationshiphealing.com/blog/sexual-abuse-sexual-shame-and-sexual-addiction/
The leaves, they always danced for me,
Like ghosts at a haunted ball;
Maybe that’s why I always went,
For walks more in the Fall.
The ghosts seemed almost happy then,
As they drifted to and fro;
And I wondered if it was all for me,
Or they had some place to go?
Either way, it made me smile,
As they pranced across the ground;
Spinning the leaves in circles ,
As I lightly skipped around.
I liked to think they knew that I,
Thought about them often;
And perhaps they were smiling too,
To know not all of the world had forgotten.
For there they were, and there I was,
And although we could not touch.
I felt them, and they felt me,
And though it may not account for much…
The leaves, they always danced for me,
Like ghosts at a haunted ball,
And I’ve always been invited,
To attend each festive fall.
And dance, and smile, not just for me,…
….but for us all.
K. Aldaya, 11/5/18
Picture: http://wallpaperswide.com/autumn_walk-wallpapers.html
If I am but a beggar,
And no one will grant me coin,
Am I lost?
Is living, much too high a cost?
If I don’t have the answers,
And no one else does either,
Am I lost?
Is living, much too high a cost?
If I can not find the way,
And there are no directions,
Am I lost?
Is living, much too high a cost?
If I can not find myself,
And no one else will seek me,
Am I lost?
Is living, much too high a cost?
If I can not save myself,
And no one else can save me,
Am I lost?
Tell me do some lives, have much too high a cost?
K. Aldaya, 6/27/18
Picture: By Banksy; https://www.boredpanda.com/social-issues-street-art-bansky-london/
Once upon a time there were two men born out at sea,
And though began on different ships; Each stared down their destiny.
As sailors are want to do, by time, or just sore luck,
They fell into the churning sea when a raging storm had struck.
They both knew of the Isle nearby. All the sailors knew it well.
The Isle where they were headed, ‘fore their ships sank ‘neath the swell.
The Isle was where wealthy men built mansions out of gold,
And lived in luxury and peace; Ah, truly a sight to behold!
If only they could reach that place. They knew life would be grand.
They looked at the stars that night, and oriented themselves toward land.
One man had a mile to swim. The other: nine miles more;
Though both set off with conviction, to live and reach that shore.
The first man soon made it there, and lived until old age.
He wrote books, and sculpted art; And his story is now ‘all the rage’.
The second man: he drowned at sea, less than a mile from shore.
He’d fought hard and long for those nine miles,…likely harder then any man before.
Yet sailors tell his morose tale over drinks and platitudes;
Laughing at his misfortune with disparaging attitudes.
“What’s the meaning of success? What does it mean to fail?”,
One man asked as he sat down to converse o’er another round of ale.
“You may say the first man is clearly the success.
For he made it to the Isle, and lived in grandeur and excess.
Yet, the first man only swam one mile….so is success really the case?
Is success the result of outcomes, or is it more about the race?
For I wonder why the second man, who swam for eight miles more,
And didn’t give up for those nine miles, is a failure for not reaching shore?
He may have never reached the Isle. He may have died too young.
Howe’er he lived and fought far longer, then that man on societies’ tongue.
The man who swam the further…who fought until his last,…
Is he not the man who succeeded the most?
For in the end, all men’s ‘die are cast’…
Into the sea.”
K. Aldaya, 6/9/18
Picture: Artist:? http://picturefordesktop.com/stormy-sea-images-desktop-wallpaper/
My Soul is a Lock Without a Key 