As the world crumbles,
So do we.
We are but victims of gravity…
Held down by outside forces.
We try our utmost,
And fight on,
Through each dark night, to get to the dawn…
Despite our insignificance.
As the planet turns,
So do we.
We are but victims of gravity…
Bound by corporeal law.
Digging tunnels leading nowhere…
Circling back in futile despair.
K. Aldaya, 5/29/21
Picture: By Joanna Grace on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/AteF4SIV_Uo
Monkey swing across the bars.
Monkey see. Monkey do.
You are but one tiny speck,
Inside a cosmic zoo.
Play the part and socialize.
Be the best you can be;
As long as you don’t mope ’bout,
Or wish that you were free.
Entertain. Live and fit-in.
Walk in rounds ’til you’re sick.
Don’t wonder ’bout breaking out.
Fighting instinct’s tragic!
Monkey swing across the bars.
Monkey blind. Monkey sad.
If you’re mere biology,
Existing should make you glad.
Monkey swing…
…Monkey fall.
K. Aldaya, 9/11/19
Picture: By: Chris Yang on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/4CZ4lZGX53g
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
I climb onto the highest branch,
As the winds caress the leaves.
All about the forest,
The fairies sit on eaves,…
Humming, as they rest.
The sky is filled up to the brim,
With loose clouds swimming about,
That with delighted care,
Will soften themselves out,
To drift into the air.
I sit on the branch as the wind,
Soothes and permeates beneath,
The hard shell carried ’bout,
As a protective sheath,
From other forms about.
They do not understand me wind.
They don’t discern you either.
Why you love to wander:
To feel, and to occur,…
Within life…and yonder.
To the very ends of the world,
And to the depths of the soul.
To feel more than mere words,
Could e’er hope to extol,
In the aria’s of birds.
I am not afraid of the wind,
Which penetrates through the skin.
Yet, I fear humankind,
For what they do to skin,
To rape the soul and mind.
I climb onto the highest branch,
As the winds pass through with ease.
Close my eyes and breathe-in,
That gentle summer breeze,
Which embraces within…
For a moment……………………and forever.
K. Aldaya, 6/16/18
Picture: https://wallpaperstock.net/woman-red-hair-dress-rose-tree-wallpapers_w41750.html
We work in the shadows with an air of civility,
Dropping the pants of a world undisclosed;
Where eyes vilify the skirted and clothed,
For breeding the sins of the overexposed.
We move softly in the shadows eclipsed by “the unsaid”.
With the weight of morality on our backs.
We amend with checks and our very souls,
As we drift namelessly, and fall through the cracks.
We’re the shame and mortification of being alive.
Our breasts, and sex, are man’s nature denied.
Shunned from the sun and logical discourse;
The raw…the real…the gospel lost inside…
Mirrors heedless of reflection.
K. Aldaya, 4/13/18
My Soul is a Lock Without a Key 