The worlds will never know about it.

The cries I cry go unheard no doubt about it.

The feeling is normal for me now.

The sting of the razor sharp edge piercing my skin.

I’ve become aware of my surroundings.

The dark room swallows me whole.

I stare into the nothingness of the wall.

This feeling is foreign to me.

Wanting to not exist, to be gone.

The thing that keeps me alive feels warm as it cascades down my forearm slowly as

water would in a tranquil stream.

Undoubtedly my wrist goes numb.

I feel nothing.

I am nothing.

I slowly fade away into the darkness becoming another case filed into this unjust world.

By: Dasia Jackson

The man who went where none should go and saw what none should see,

Had his knowledge wrapped around an eternal mystery.

He witnessed many glorious things, and many heinous too,

Yet ev’n his stores of knowledge failed to reveal something of the truth.

Then one day the man encountered a knocking at the door,

And he who swayed in spirit failed to do so anymore.

‘Find rest old man’, it whispered, defying all he knew.

‘Find rest and you shall find’, it said, ‘your soul has been renewed!’

The man was filled with joy as the shackles vanished from his mind;

He had unintentionally discovered the true eternal kind.

“Never again!” he proclaimed to all, in regards to past pursuits.

“Never again!” he called again, so that some would hear the news.

Yet none desired to listen to what the old man said.

“Fool!” they called him, unaware

Of their own inflicted heads.

First, the man was troubled, unsure of what to do.

But soon enough he found the Way, earning interest for the truth.

Rather than preach a message, he began to act the part.

Instead of looking for the end, he rested at the start.

The people marveled at him, not comprehending why.

“How can you live this way?” they asked the passerby.

“Now you see the truth,” he said, “what I had tried to tell.

But because you did not listen, you’ve found yourselves in hell.”

“What is this that you speak of?” the people asked, astounded,

Refusing to comprehend knowledge so unfounded.

“I will tell you once again,” he said, hoping for the best.

“Never again should you or I seek to leave His rest.”

Finally they understood from witnessing his ways,

This man had found a secret which brightened up his days.

But still he tried to tell them: “My secret’s free for all!

The light is all around you

Waiting for your call…”

 On the outside, she is brightness, radiance, beauty, and kindness.

On the inside, her light has gone out.

The darkness that lies there is emptiness, loneliness, hopelessness.

There is nowhere she can hide from the darkness that lives inside.

She puts on a smile to try to hide the darkness from others, but there’s no hiding it from herself.

She does not want to be a burden, so she conceals.

She lies to her friends when they ask how she is.

She tells herself that it’s just easier that way.

There’s no reason to bother anyone with her problems.

There’s no reason for anyone to have to look at her differently or treat her as a fragile being.

She doesn’t want to be known as too weak or too broken or emotional.

So she doesn’t let anyone have those thoughts about her.

It’s just easier that way.

She is kind to everyone.

She strives to help others in any way she can.

Because she knows what it’s like to feel empty and hopeless and she doesn’t want anyone else to feel that way.

She has a big heart and enjoys showering others with love and compassion.

 She could probably use some love and compassion herself, but that would be a sign of weakness and vulnerability.

So she denies herself the love she needs and instead sends all of her love to the world.

It’s just easier that way.

But the truth is, it’s not easier that way.

She struggles alone because she believes it’s easier for others, when in fact it is the hardest thing to do it alone.

Reaching out for help feels like a cry for attention.

So she doesn’t reach out.

She struggles alone and stays out of the spotlight.

It feels easier this way, but it’s not.

(Poetry by Naveed Noordin)

In my free time, I just love to become a philosopher in my own zone and think and reflect on different things, such as life, good and evil, humanity, worldly conditions and suffering etc and anything that comes to my free wandering mind. Here’s a piece I wrote in one of those free time reflection moments on life. Hope you enjoy it!

What is life

• What is life, you ask me
It is a journey, I tell you

• It is a venue to learn, to grow and to spread your wings
and in the midst of it to make mistakes yet to persist

• It is a medium to seek, to learn and to impart knowledge and wisdom
and to use it to ponder upon God’s Universe

• It is an avenue to mingle, to form bonds and to serve
and to stand beside each other and to learn to live in harmony

• It is an occasion to celebrate oneself as well as others
and to learn to appreciate and to offer gratitude

• It is not as straight as the edge of a ruler but rather full of calamities
but it is often these trials that help us grow and nurture

• Alas, what is life, you ask me again
again I tell you, it is a journey
not easy, but definitely a worthwhile one

(Poetry by Rochelle Foles)

head banging

ballet slippers in the mosh pit

tutu and princess tights
palest pink

plea. aye?

behind the façade
beneath
palest pink princess costumes

cowers
a fighter
too fearful to tape on her gloves least her

fury
fully
unfurl

as tutu is forgotten

and all that lies within

ungirly
rough

ANGRY

INFURIATed BEYOND Mental Capacity
emotional containment

be
l
e
t

l

o

o

s

e

on those unbelieving that a pink tutued, pink tight wearing
chignoned
lithe
longlegged

fearful-
tooterrified 2 speak her mind for repercussion. for loss. for abandonment.

OH SOOOO GUNSHY OF EVERY LITTLE thing

could still be

(underneathitallhidingsomeonestronersomeonewithnotonefearsomeone)
[gun toting
dead aim
no fooling]
that dainty pointy toed pink ballerina

undreaming she, tho not she,could wield

a
right hook

nearly
quite
ever so nearly there
yes quite nearly

worthy

of an unbridled
untrained
enraged

Out Of His Constrained Belittled Unrecognized
Dazzling Intelligence

ignored

and
taken that one step beyond bearing

Cassius Clay.

the princess knows that mind
that bound mind
those presumptions
are all too familiar
Tho
buried
beyond
connection
she can. touch. stretch for. tap into.
they are hers
part of the soul she is blind to
as the eclipse is a part of the moon unseen by itself

nevertheless
theyareoneinthesameunchangingneverending
from

time
immemorial
to

time

as

a. black. whole.

one.

only one thing remains to be seen
which mirror will it be?

which comment slip from
a slovenly tongue unguarded?

what

straw

lain on

that

camel’s back

will put the first run in those pale pink tights

and
begin
the
unraveling of the

oh. so. carefully.

constructed. reality.

which pulled pin will cause
the chignon
to tumble

and thus begin

an

Ava
l
an
c
h
e

that
despite what the
long legged pink tutu costumed
one
t. t. e. m. p. t. s. to find those gloves and tapethemonfasterthanlightening
she

still has only that inkling of her connection to the

Greatest Fighter That Ever Was.

frightened and worn and self doubting
at. this. moment. as . the ballerina is

is
there

any possiblewayforhertotapin?

to
s
u
cc
e
s
s
f
u
l
l
y

CONQUER

or
at least to
postpone this

ARMAGEDDON?!!

or after all these years of belief?
of surviving
battle after battle

just to reclaim her sunny disposition
pull on those palest pink tights
step back into her pink tutuofpower

will this be the hour of her vanquishing?

do those pale pink princess accoutrements
still hold for her their promises?

is it time

to strap on the gloves and tap into
her
twin.
t
o
r
t
u
r
e
d

butohsostrongsounabletobebeatendownsoul.

always
the
lone
one

how
can a proper
chignoned
tutued
pinklegged
brokenhearted
princess

a
l
o
n
e

in
the

universe

know

when it’s the right time to strike

and
who would she now-
if
there
ever
was

a
n
y
o
n
e

who would she

call. upon.
to help her now.

[as if in this fairy tale there ever was anyone

alone
is alone
is as alone as a dead man in the ground]

and still
she
finds
a way

to
see
tomorrow

will
not

be

today.
daydreams:
when do u think
if ever
they quit
being nightmares
and
leak
full
force
REALITY

into
waking
daylight

(Poem written by Christian Bowman)

Yet little can

Tomorrow’s sunshine give

To one who will not live. –Langston Hughes

How did your body look in the sunshine
when your room was bombed with stinking dope?
I imagine you lifeless, floating in a perfect high-
a thin line between passing, and peace.
I really wish you fell from that dream,
But what do I know? We are only friends.

I went to your funeral with all of our friends.
Our black contrasted with the yellow sun,
illuminating death like a life-like dream
and the casket they buried you in was dope,
but I still don’t think your father has found peace-
He speaks of the dangers of getting high,

and how you struggled with addiction in high-school
when he writes posts to your Facebook friends.
I think he sees fragments of you in pieces
of us. Like Jesus on that Sunday,
you rose from us with clouds of dope
crowning your head with blue, blissful dream.

The night after your service, I dreamt
of our mischief when we were high.
It never occurred to us to try dope.
We would, instead, drink with our friends
until we passed out or until sunrise.
High-school had never seemed that peaceful.

But here I am, stoned and writing. A piece
of you lingers here like a lucid dream,
and there is still a father missing his son.
Yet, even as you watch us at your height
from which you smile down toward your friends,
some still look down toward their arms for dope.

You left your friends like memories of dreams,
but I hope the dope at least gave you some peace.
Still, they get high, higher than a summer sunrise.