Lies becoming truths

I know
that truths can be to
lies, but is the same true
the other way around?

If I lie to myself
about how I really feel
about someone I know
will it catch up with me
turning itself into the truth
in the end?

That’s how it is with lies
rolling around, causing distress
never being able to call themselves
worthy, of being trusted again

If my lie becomes a truth
could I ever trust myself again?
would I be able to convince myself
that the feelings that I harbor
really are real?

Accepting the truth
is almost as hard as stomaching
a lie,
They are both sides of the same
coin, you see

Flip it, and wish!

I wish, I had told her the truth
in the first place….

Instead of lying to myself,
thinking that it would never be…

Growing Colder

My cup of coffee
growing colder as I write
listening to Pink Floyd, Coming Back to Life,
I don’t know why discovering a song
from 1994, genuinely pleasing and relaxing
should have hidden itself from me, all these years?
What could have distracted me, 23 years ago
to make me wait, until now to enjoy something so much?
My coffee grows incessantly colder
as time skips a beat, cheating me out of that moment,
being distracted by another,
Sometimes too much coffee wasted
on other things that more important seemed,
at that time, when I was out loving someone else
than her,
She didn’t know me back then, all those years ago
but perhaps a part of her, projected herself
into my future space, telling me that she really did exist
and waited for me to hear that song, distracting me,
taking me into her virtual arms,
Thinking not necessarily of 1994, but the coffee exists
as does she, while I listen to the music fade away….

Looking Back

Looking back
along the way
from where
I came from
ending here
along the wayside
not being the final
Never really knowing
just where that place
is going to be,
or who,
my chance companions
on the road
are going to be?
The things, we do
places, we’ve seen
people, we’ve met
known, loved,
interacted with,
scorned, fought with,
chased after, run away from,
hated and loved,
cherished and missed,
The people, who along
this stretch of road, having
just as many suitcases, baggage
filling their lives and needs, wanting
not less, nor more
than I,
Looking back
and looking forward,
those to the sides
filling in the spaces
telling me stories
the ones in my head
spilling out
upon my virtual paper
and others
reading, what I
am thinking
right now….

Lying to Ourselves

Lying to ourselves
is much easier
and safer
than lying to others,
Making believe
that what we think
do, imagine, dream
gives us the impression
that things will get better
and life easier
win the love of our lives
and prosper without stop,
The only condition
of thinking, believing, dreaming
in that way is,
If only we could
convince ourselves
that all of it was true….

My New Cellphone, Shiny and Such

My new cellphone,
wanted too much of me
this and that
what I did not remember
not having that password
nor that android device
which I still could admire
and brag about from afar,

My friends, oohed and aahed
and wished they were me,
but all of my incantations
my lips blowing upon its glass,
couldn’t bring it to life,
without having the proper
ways and means,
my mother’s maiden name
and Bill Gates Uncle,
or, an Apple to chew,

I put it on the shelf
and told myself
how lucky, I was
over and over until
I convinced myself,
to leave it alone
and wait until, it decided
to wake up again,

My new cellphone, shiny and such
was way too advanced
for the likes of me
born, it seems
in the wrong Millennia
and on the wrong planet

-not being an Android,
as well….

When I Was Younger

I wish, somebody had told me
when I was younger, what it was like
to be older,
They probably did, but who would listen to some
old person, who wasted their whole life,
not accomplishing anything to teach others about?

Now that I am older, but not a bit wiser, why should I
think that I would be able to tell some young person
what it is like being older?

I’m not even sure if the young me and the old me could see
eye to eye on things, because both of us would not believe
the other, or would waste time on telling me, him things
that we didn’t think about doing, or haven’t done yet,
because we were too stubborn to listen to each other!

And those things are only visible to me now, being old, young
that I am….

The Younger Me

The younger me

met the older me

somewhere in California


Familiar, yet

unfamiliar we looked

at each other, sizing up the changes

and the time gone by,


Funny how, the older me

can more easily recognize

what and who, I used to be

and why the road has led

me here,


The younger me would never

imagine living other places

and meeting foreign influences,

becoming, a foreigner



Here is to you, my younger self

and your undreamed, dreams

that have become

me, myself