To My Mystery Girl

To the girl that couldn’t wait to get introduced to my family.
Do you realize that you left before that happened but,
Just in time for me to find a brother in depression,
A sister in heartbreak, a father in abandonment
And a mother in loneliness.
So did you know that you could put a spin on the term family?
Or was it just the right time wrong guy?

Did it make sense that I would try to make a move on your best friend?
But let’s paint your friend’s picture with my words.
So maybe you can see her picture clearer.
When you realize that she said I flirted with her, not to her.
Know that this dance with the devil you befriended on the first day of high school.
Was to the sound of her erotic words and took place on my phone screen.
So I kept all this from you because I knew if we had a falling out you wouldn’t have someone to go cry to.
So I kept the skeletons in the closest,
Because you couldn’t stand tall without her as your backbone.
I couldn’t let your best friend break your heart.
So I let her let you break mine so she could heal your cracked.

Does it hurt you knowing that when I had you my words hadn’t developed,
So I would use lines out of movies,
Want to create couple goals like bloopers,
Give you love like scenes where the director had to shout action once,
No cut scenes, no retakes.
Just you and me.
Cheesy I know.
But do you realize that I tried to top all of your ex-boyfriends?
Heard your cries when you were with them,
And promised to give you more nights were your pillow went to bed drier,
And your eyes only cried because you were holding back too much joy.
I wanted to cut through all your layers and go through your insecurities like the slices on your favorite pizza.
Burn the doubts of a future with me.
Introduce you to the movie that was and still could be us.
And maybe you too could see that the sun is also a star.

So to the girl that chose my friend over me but did it behind my back.
I knew all along, what I didn’t do was fight.
Because if you were worth it, you wouldn’t have had to choose between him and me.
I didn’t fight because he was family and you were merely a guest in our lives clinging to WhatsApp calls
And the village walks.
So to the girl that let communications die out,
I hope you’re dying to talk to me, so I get a chance to tell you.
Tell you that I wasn’t hurt, nor was I angry.
I just expected better from you,
You told me girls matured faster than boys.
So tell me, why were the roles reversed,
When it came to you and me.

Puppet Master

You mechanically digested people’s insecurities,
Had your horns and serpent tongue piercing every single one.
You knew exactly what you wanted,
And you knew exactly how to get it.
You made swallowing a truth that was comprised of white lies look so easy,
Had them becoming butterflies that swept anyone off their feet.

You created a system that was so perfectly flawed,
It served you and your every need.
An oxymoron that baffled the intellects,
For not even, they dared to question,
The penmanship in your words.

Had jaws falling and heartrates raising at the sound of you,
You redefined love so that it would tailor fit any girl you said it to.
Made forever a private getaway in your heart,
Filled minds with false hope of eternity.
Where they stood facing you and said “I do”
But the only thing they did do,
Was exchange a beating heart for your broken.

The death of a soul almost filled your empty,
You created a chain of strings,
And you were the only one controlling the cute dolls on the other end.
A sadistic puppet master,
You pulled and tugged and toyed with them,
And when they were about to sever the ties.
You would whisper your undying love for them,
To the extent that you almost believed you loved someone,
Other than yourself.

~Baker

I write

I write,
I write because it is an extension of my being.
I give pieces of me to the world,
And in return, the world gives me a page to write on.
So that my words can reflect my emotions,
And the pages can voice my thoughts.

In the past, I wrote for healing,
As my emotions and tears found synchrony on my pages,
There I could be vulnerable and speak the truth,
The truth I could never say in the open.
I wrote to heal the broken,
To shatter their silence and show that,
Amongst the million broken shards, there was beauty,
Waiting to be reassembled

Now I write for identity.
I crave to know who I am and what I stand for,
And that answer can only be found as my words write over the tear stains.
So I search these pages that contain my words,
In hope that they may also contain my soul,
Finding myself searching each piece for an answer.
And not just raw emotions,
But refined words and emotions.

As I bleed through my pen and use the words,
That course through my veins as ink.
I create art only I can truly admire,
And criticize.
And in that blend of love and hate,
I remind myself that the world is not a fairytale,
Rather it is a story,
Used as teaching to guide yourself to your goal,
The rising of tides and falling of empires.
It is what you leave behind,
The echoes of your legacy and the labors of your journey
It is beauty personified, it is,
Leaving my words as footsteps,
Etched in the minds of my readers.

Opening myself up to a larger ocean of views,
Perspectives and knowledge,
I become a voice for the voiceless.
And pave my own journey,
Through my characters.

Heritage

To the civilization that is slowly losing its culture,
This message is for you.
To the parents that have spared the rod and spoiled the child,
This message is for you.
To the children that use a greeting for elders, to please each other,
This message is for you.

You have become unrooted from the culture that brought up your forefathers,
You have lost yourselves in the upbringings of others,
Become experiments for cultures that never had a home in your house.
You have found yourselves where our ancestors lost themselves,
Trying to get back to their heritage.

Have you forgotten how your hair grows and holds heaven,
As it curls,
But you would rather have it straightened so that it can be the roots,
You lost when you gave your heritage up for an acceptance card into society.
So instead of being braided by the angels themselves,
It trails behind collecting dust like a elder’s proverb,
The adolescent teen believes they have outgrown.

And indeed instead of continuing this progressive culture,
You have created a hybrid that excludes your own backbone.
This uncommon dynamic builds a foundation on soil,
As your identity is lost,
You believe you are found.
So do not be angered when outsiders enter your home,
And steal what should have been yours

MazeRunner

Welcome to the labyrinth that is my mind,
An ever-changing maze that has walls of doubt,
Ceilings of regret and doors of reflection.
Welcome, dear maze runner,
Welcome to a place I have never been to,
But I wish I could go to.

A place that had pandora’s box modeled after it,
Constantly has suffering, anger, and sin
Pouring through and out of my mouth.
With Joy locked away like a skeleton in a closet,
In fear that unlocking that door would mean losing her completely.

The streets are paved with memories,
The boulevard of my broken dreams,
Two roads down memory lane,
You can find a lover’s bay and there a broken-hearted boy will be your guide.
This place has a new system installed for security purposes.
So these insecurities will not believe a word anyone says,
Even if I look in the mirror the man in it,
Will never accept what’s inside.

As you go deeper,
You will find a sunset of dreams,
Kissing the skyline of opportunities,
As it sets to rise on a new day.
Fall in love with the moon.
As it gives you hope that you can escape this labyrinth.

And unlike Greek mythology,
The longer you wind the rope,
The deeper you venture and the more lost you become.
So string it around your neck,
It looks better there.

So welcome to the inescapable labyrinth that is my mind,
Tell me what you see,
Because that is the one place I would love to go,
But have never been.

Moonshadow

Have you ever heard the story of the moon?
How when the world was born so were the three brothers.
The Sun, the Moon, and the Moon Shadow.

As time went on the Moon shadow failed to have a cemented role,
So he was cursed to always be the shadow of his older brother.
Till an angel fell when the clouds broke free,
And when she did the skies went dark.
The Moon Shadow curious to know,
Battled his brother to see what had happened.
He draped the world in his cloak of darkness,
And all the angel could see was the dark side of the moon.

In that very moment, she became a nyctophiliac,
And wed the Moon Shadow.
But alas he had to return to his brother’s back,
But not before he promised his angel he would return.

So each night there is an eclipse,
The angel has fallen out of the sky,
And awaits the arrival of her bethrothed.
Till he has to retreat,
And wait for the next eclipse.
When he will see his beloved

Firelfy

To the future that is distant,
But fast approaching, Hi.
I hope I can catch my dreams like fireflies,
Bottle them in a jar labeled mine and hope.
Hope that my future will be as bright as the jar with fireflies.

Hope to find love that builds,
Like a wooden cottage hidden underneath the treeline.
Take my son on boat rides on the river in the morning.
To the future that is distant,
But fast approaching, Hi.

I hope you illuminate the rest of my life,
Casting a shadow on the not so bright moments.
Having me seated around a bonfire with my family and friends,
Sharing memories like old war stories.
Feel your presence even when you are not around,
And create a future where we are finally united.

So to the future that is distant,
But fast approaching,
I hope our ending is like that Avicci song,
Where that boy releases the fireflies and the music drowns the words.

Identity Crisis

Have you ever lost yourself?
Searched for yourself in so many people,
Hoped that in the heartbreaks the pieces of you,
Stayed with them.
And now you want to play a Humpty dumpty.
But even that cannot put you back together again.

Flood yourself with questions,
That only drown you in more questions than answers.
When falling deeper into the rabbit hole,
Feels right but it is everything but.

Have you ever put a hand on your chest and felt,
Felt the heart beating feel like someone else’s.
Every road has a another intertwining with it,
Find yourself at crossroads and you can’t move.
You lack the direction, the purpose, and inspiration.

Who are you? The world asked
Another character in this book called life, he responded.
Is that life if you can leave a name to it? The world asked.
As silence fell upon the earth,
And day was replaced by night.
The boy wondered the ends of the earth searching
Searching for a an answer that was inside him.
Rather than around him

Season Of Machinery

As man and machine tear up the earth we once called home,
I cannot help but see the sadistic nature of it all.
The machines groan as they try to tie mother nature’s arms,
Have her spread her body so they can freely roam and travel her.
Like pirates blessed by an unarmed ship on the open waters,
They pillage and plunder,
Unearth her secrets and rob her of her beauty.

To try to show his people, that beauty is not skin deep,
The man continues to drill beneath the earth’s surface,
And he uncovers more beauty underneath her,
Than he does on top of her.
But as time goes o he continues his actions.
Never giving her time to rest.

So as man, machine, and earth become whole,
The former continues to choke the latter in hopes that she enjoys this.
But her suffocation leads to her annihilation,
The death of a woman but the changes of seasons
And to the Man and Machine,
The arrival of the season of Machinery

Words

Staring up at the ceiling,
And listening to the silence as the words spiral down into me,
Like an episode after an evening smoke.
These words have become a part of you,
To the point where you bleed syllables and utter metaphors.
Inject a needle into your veins and withdraw poetry.

You survived,
You survived the harsh words thrown at you in middle school,
Became a martyr as you were stoned by the same words you loved.
Felt each sentence slice your skin and have your mind bleed endless characters.
So much so that when you do it with your razor it almost feels euphoric.
I guess what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

Getting lost in pages of vowels and adjectives,
Falling for characters,
Because you failed to fall for human beings,
As their speech patterns are flawed
They do not speak the language of these words that have embedded themselves in your system.
So as perfection courses through your veins,
Imperfection seeps from your pores and lies above your skin.

So you will stare at your ceiling,
Watch the words create the loudest of sounds in the silence,
As they spiral all around your room.
And finally, rest in your mind.
As you fall asleep.