Kiss of life

The fiery kiss of life

has been kissed, blessed, given to the earth since the beginning of time

every seed was kissed to grow, every drop kissed into the mighty river, every muscle kissed into movement

but humans

although kissed into the same existence come with a new fire

lit deep in their hearts that pours out their eyes into the world

is the fire of distraction

the fire of greed

their fire burns slow and hot

flames devour the creations so humbly kissed into this world

green Amazonian cities of sky-scraping trees are at war with blackened cities of humans

life is in a panic

as the humans see nothing in this world as anything more than a means for their own personal gain

a once tender and loving kiss, that once had no obligations to kiss anything into existence because life was thriving perfectly on its own,

has turned into a panic of passionate lips trying to save what has been damaged

life is hopelessly trying to combat human decimation

kiss their shackled creatures into freedom, their cut and fallen cities into existence once more, kiss their oceans clean and air fresh


Pollution and over using natural resources will be our downfall. The kiss of life will keep creatures walking their earth, but will we completely destroy it before it is reborn.

Photo credit: Pinterest

Seaside

by the sea she sits

watching the waves crash over and over again

her blank stare collided with the violent ocean movements

her fragile body sank into the warmed sand as the water slinked up the beach

desperately trying to touch her

next to her a book that reads Gone With The Wind laid on a small quilt

the checkered baby pink and faded lime green quilt also held an old fashioned film camera and a what seemed to be a collection of shells

at that moment I knew nothing about her accept she may possibly be a romantic due to the book

she interested me because she looked so unbelievably in place

she seemed to simply exist, without disrupting any of the everyday inhabitants, very quietly and naturally

above her seagulls circled in a draft

their wings sat almost as still as she did

she wore a white silk dress and a large scarf that wrapped around her whole upper body

then I see her hand lift and point out into the wide plane of water

she soon retracted her hand, probably remembering that there was no one to show what she had spotted

the water stood still and glassy all the way out to the horizon

I followed in the general direction her finger pointed and saw a large explosion of water, soon after there was another much smaller spout

my best guess is a humpback whale and her calf because it was around the time for their migration

soon after seeing the whale I picked up my things and walked down the beach in the opposite direction of the mysterious woman

hopefully you enjoyed a short glimpse into my outside perspective on an interesting stranger

found on Adobe Stock

Pressure of Life

Life is hard. Life is not fair. Life has many ups and downs, especially growing up.

Once you reach a certain age, responsibilities pile up and you are expected to become more self-reliant. The teenage years are rough- balancing school, friendships, and family life. Then add the prospects of mental health and relationships.

Mental health is really important and life could take a toll on one’s mental health. Anxiety due to school and other things. Depression or sadness due to life and the tolls that life brings onto someone.

photo credit: Medical News Today

Relationships, friendships, and romantic relationships are really hard to navigate during the teenage years. Finding a connection that works is hard, and is really important to keep one sane.

School is very stressful. Teachers and parents put pressure on students and kids to do well in school, so they can do well in life. Students and kids also put pressure on themselves to get into great colleges.

Life is full of ups and downs, full of scary and fun moments.

Barnacles on the Boat

On the bottom of my ship,

Clumped and clustered the stiff beasts lie,

If I face them all I might just die,

They hide in the safety of the sea,

So they are not visible to anyone but me,

The razored tipped bumps gather as time goes on,

And I must keep sailing,

Though they will never be gone,

And ship I am,

Though it’s not for all,

Some stand proud and tall,

They are whales instead,

And they wear their barnacles on their head,

Barnacles make it hard to be,

But that is life a great captain once said to me,

You must accept the barnacles if you are going to sail the sea.

Image found on dreamstime.com

The Birth of a Mug

I picked up the large and awkward 25-pound bag of Laguna Specked Buff clay and set it on the canvas table with a thud. Getting my wire, I slice a piece of clay that measures out to be exactly 1.5 lbs. The thin silver wire attached to green handles slides and slices the clay so beautifully. The clay, not wanting to be sliced, holds some resistance which makes the process all the more satisfying. Once set up, I wedge the clay using my leverage along with the firm table top to push and elevate any air bubbles out of my freshly cut piece of clay. Once done, I take to the wheel. The centering is first, the specked buff clay, rough and sprinkled with sand turns round and round the wheel. The sandy texture rubs and grinds the blade of my hand, but at the same time moves and bends at my will. Finding the middle of the clay, I press my finger in with a strong and precise motion, bowing out slightly. The clay spins quickly but stays perfectly in the center, completely content on the wheel. Taking my fingers, I press into the right wall of the clay and start to form my walls. Squeezing and holding the wet clay between my two pointer fingers, I begin to elongate my piece. The walls become delicate and thin. I grab the metal rib, flexible, I bend the awkward, thin, metal oval around the wall of the clay to smooth out and nicely finish the mug. After I trim the bottom and smooth out the lip with a rectangular piece of leather, I take it off the wheel and it begins its’ drying process.

Image found on Dallas Morning News

On a Mountain, Under a Tree, Above the Clouds

A wise man once said to me that your trauma is not something that can be resolved. A person must take what has happened to them and learn how to survive alongside the pain, and instead of it consuming you, it becomes apart of you.

A wise man once said to me that I was meant to be great. I am not destined to do one monumental thing, he said, I am destined to be monumental.

A wise man once said to me that life was a seed that everyone is encouraged to plant. Some will plant their seed with the best of soil and it will still fail to grow. Some will grow in the crevice of two boulders, striped of all nurtience, and explode into an extraordinary tree.

A wise man once said to me that reading stories about the crystal blue sea or the towering mountains that forever reached to the heavens was not enough. He said to me that I must dive deep into salty water, and let the cold chill take over my body. He told me that I must drown in experiences, and that I must lay above the clouds.

A wise man once told me that my life is a piece of nothing in the scheme of infinity, a single electron in the sun’s ever-burning fire. He told me that beyond my sunken world there was a blackness that stretched out so far that if I were to walk the path of infinity for my entire life, I would not reach the starting line.

A wise man stared at me as I stared at him. The fogged mirror didn’t affect how clearly I saw the man looking back at me. As he gripped my eyes he said, don’t waist Oxygen trying to survive, use what you are given and try and live.

Photo Credit:Reddit

random thoughts

I brought an end to my last relationship two months ago, and that was the turning point I guess. After that, my life went like a roller coaster, everything just went up and down like crazy.

At first, I suddenly have tons of free time, I had nothing to do except resting in my room.

Till the time when some weird rumors about me were flying all over the place, I even heard my name mentioned with some words like “flirty” “player” “bitchy”. I was confused, I was being judged based on something that ain’t true.

I tried to stop it at first, but I had no idea who started the gossips in the first place. Nothing worked out well, except I made myself extremely exhausted.

Kind of lost control of myself those days. I have faced plenty of “first time” things: I almost failed my unit exam, I received some laps and did laps labors, I got kicked out of the classroom, I signed a contract with school…

I tried to let it go and calmed myself down. I brought several books to read during spare time.

On the bright side, there were some good “first-time” things: I talked to some people I haven’t talked to in a while, I hung out with several new friends, I went to some new places I never been to in the town before, I ordered Trenta size drink at Starbucks, my article got published on local newspaper…

To be honest, I had a thought about escaping, a break from reality, but I never expected this happened.

Something really big happened, all my difficulties were literally nothing compared with it. Coronavirus outbreak in the state, my school got closed off, my SAT got canceled, my AP exams became online. I thought I suddenly had nothing to do again, but I was totally wrong.

I needed to make a decision as soon as possible: should I stay or go home? I chose to go home after I went through lots of mental struggles.

Due to the limited airlines, I had to take connection flights. Due to the virus spread prevention, I had to take 14 days long quarantine. Due to the location I am, I had to access my learning materials through VPN. Due to the time differences, I will take my AP exams online at 2 am in the morning.

There are lots of unsatisfactory things that I can do nothing to make it better except deal with it, this is what I learned from this experience.

Just some words about my random thoughts…

pc: bdstatic.com

Sinister

On a train away we sailed,

slowly but at the speed of light,

we jumped into the cage called freedom.

oblivious but fully aware,

we jumped off of the cliff

and landed in a field of feathers.

soft and warm were the feathers

that were plucked off of the once flying birds.

and then came a hand,

and a voice

“come with me to The Good Place,” it said

so we took its hand and followed through the land on fire.

demons greeted us with open arms,

and we drank a sweet, red liquid.

“This doesn’t look like Heaven,” we said

A man with red horns smiled and replied

“oh trust me child, this is heaven for people like us.”

kwanumzen.org

Scars

scars never go away.

no matter how many dollars you spend on Mederma.

they fade, but their reminiscence will always remain.

cuts, bruises, scratches, and blisters hurt

but cuts will heal. bruises and scratches will vanish. blisters and sores go away,

scar takes a different type of hurt. a different type of stab. a scar is a much deeper pain.

happiness, anger, regret, remorse, and fear burn.

but anger will simmer down, regret will turn into acceptance, remorse will turn into forgiveness, and fear will be overcome.

but love is a different type of burn.

love is a different type of hurt. a different type of happiness. a different type of pain.

just like a scar, love fades.

just like a scar, love will never go away.

just like a scar, love is a weakness that can be cut open at any time.

for better or for worse…

photo credit: Pinterest 

Objectified

ob·ject
noun
/ˈäbjekt/
1.
a material thing that can be seen and touched.

                                    …

Dear strong, capable, powerful, being,

you are not an object.

Nowadays, many people are objectified. Not just for sex, but for money, popularity, and much more.

Dear strong, capable, powerful, being,

your purpose is not just to fulfill the wants of others.

You are beautiful. You are intelligent. You are unique.

And you are here on this earth to do much more than to satisfy someone’s wants or desires and then to be put on the shelf until they want you again.

No person is single-use. No person is only good for one thing. No person is an object.

And no person deserves to be treated like one.

Photo credit: artsyrose.com