The Doctor ‘was’ In

The Doctor ‘was’ In

Looming Stranger

Knock!
Knock!
Knock!
“Let me in!”
Peep

I can’t
I can’t touch the cold hard knob
Refuse to unhook the latch
Just close your eyes
It will go away

Breathe
In and Out

Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
“Open the door!”

Leap
I won’t
I won’t leap to the mountains
Refuse to take a step

Block the noise
Clear your mind
Relax
An illusion
That is all
Voices of your imagination

Steady your breath
One
Two
Three

“I’m coming back!”
Boom!

Compose yourself
It is over
Gone
For now

Remnants Resurface

I do not want to know
But somehow
Time
Has its way
Through accidental glimpses

Are they accidents?
Are accidents even real?
I try
To cover my eyes
Hide my mind

Still
Remnants of you resurface

Your presence
Lingers
As they creep up
Silently
Too late to stop

Making its way carelessly
Stepping through cracks
Visiting facts
Replaying such acts

Will I ever get away?
From your shadows of relay
and
Accidental display

Mediocre Be Bold

 

Mediocrity
Tell me
How I can write away with thee
Ordinarily
Blandly
Simply
Tell Me
How I can write extraordinarily

Scribbles
Doodles
Loopholes
Will I hit my goals
Touch souls

Teach
Reach
Preach
Will hearts be stitched

Attentions lured
Brokenness cured
Intentions pured
Fill a void

Whose heart will I hold?
Mind forever fold
Silence told

 

Mediocre be bold

 

He Believes He Never Leaves

God says,
“I believe in you”
It whispers into my soul
Soul full of doubt
His voice I cannot live without

Jesus says,
“I will not leave you”
It speaks into my heart
Heart full of hurt
His presence I want to be part

He believes
For He knows who I am
He never leaves
For He understands
He whispers
For He wants silence
He speaks
For He loves to be heard

My soul
Weak
My heart
Sick
His touch
Meek

He Never Leaves

Whisper

Whisper
Truth
Into my mind
Thoughts
Never left my side

Whisper
Lies
Into my soul
Facts
Never made me whole

Whisper
Love
Into my heart
Emotions
Never took my part

Whisper
Beauty
Into my body
Imperfections
Never kept me steady

Art in Anger

So when you are angry
Make it beautiful
Craft
The Art of Madness
Poetry of Fury
Anthem of Revenge
The Beautiful Disaster

Write it
Sing it
Scream it
Pound on it
Indulge in the madness

For in those times
In those delicate times
You are vulnerable
And everything you do
They show authenticity
Pieces of humanity

Who Cares?

You write who cares if nobody reads it?
You read who cares if they hear it?
You listen who cares if you only hear silence?
You are silent who cares if everybody’s talking?
It is loud who cares if your head is pounding?
Who cares?
Do they notice?
Do they know?
Do they care?
Yes and No
But does it matter?
Will it make a difference?
Change your perspective
To know your audience
Who cares?
Everybody?
Nobody?
Somebody?
Do you care?

Yes and No
Yes
I do
Promising
No
I do not
Heartbreaking
Does it matter?
You write
For applause or for a cause
You read
Books to learn or burn
You listen
For silence or an audience
Who cares?
If nobody is listening
Will you stop writing?
If nobody cares
Will you start crying?
No
Because you
You also do not care
You just write
Read
Listen
For nothing
Or
Yes
Because you
You care
About everything

 

Random Thoughts…

Hey wordpressers,

I finished reading “The Moon and More” by Sarah Dessen 10 minutes ago, and now I am in the midst of debating which books to read. I have 5 audio books waiting for my attention, and lots of books waiting on iBooks. However, I cannot seem to figure what to read next.

Maybe I am just indecisive. It is only 12:08 am in the morning. I know too early to bed right? So I wanted to read something new, now that I just finished the book that I have been reading for a month now, but cannot seem to make up my mind on what to read.

Tomorrow will decide for me. Now though, I am writing. I read/finished a book today, so I guess it is just right to write. Ha! Did not even know that would rhyme. Hehe! So for now, I am writing, a thought or something random.

My mind is always wide awake at night. I am a night person, and so are my parents. My father would stay up past midnight, because he has readings to do (sometimes thick books from Robert Ludlum and mostly of his work). I remember those times when I was still young. All the lights are down; while a crack shines beneath the closed door he is in.

As for my mother, she too is a night person. She works as a night nurse, and is usually up before the dawn breaks during her off times. I guess that makes me and my siblings night people too.

For now, I guess I have to wrap up and write some poetry.

This is jasminedelacerna, signing off ❤