Perhaps Love

A taste of foreign saliva sticks
On these dry, parched lips
Unsatisfied by few more licks.

Vibrant heart drum for war
While the skin doth sweat spits
In a humid warmth of summer.

Muscles aches, pain and joy,
Legs threaten fall in their numb;
Mind goes blank: nature's ploy.

Frantic breathes out and in,
Satisfied self, head to shin.
Perhaps love is like a good run.

Wren

Fealty

Simple as its rhythm beats
Loyally it pulses heartbeats
Until its death it shall obey.
Yet its the heart that disobeys
When my brain says no,
Says yes; it pains me so.
It still does pain me so.
A memory long, long ago.

Wren

Opportunity

Is the train that you never took.
Is the hand you never grabbed.
Is the words you never spoke.
Is the jump that you never jumped.

Is saying the moment is now.
Is not telling you where it's going.
Is a life that is beyond ordinary.
Is come and gone like a wind.

One shot in the revolver and spin
Spin the barrel twice and shoot.
Succeed or fail, just enjoy the shot.
Of the life's opportune moments.

Because this is the life's roulette.
Failure here does not mean death.

-Wren

Belief, Thought, and Action

What is a belief?
A random thought without rationale?
A hypothesis to be tested?
Or a mere mismanagement of neural pulse?
A thought seems to be a development of belief.
Or so I think so.
Perhaps, maybe not, it needs to be tested with logic.
If not logic, empirical evidence.
But neither of these mean very little without action.
We were not meant to be Platos to think our thoughts shape
The very fabrics of reality.
But we were not meant to be Lockes to think all our realities
Originate from senses merely.
So we need to act upon our thoughts.
Make them into reality, yet within the bounds of reality.
Belief, thought and action are not incongrous
Nor are they exclusive.
Action in reality is the thread that weaves
Thought is the pattern or design of the quilt
Belief is the entire quilt that holds us together
A weave of connecting our minds
With the seen and the unseen.
So a believer without thought is a fanatic
A thinker without action is a hermit
A doer without belief is purposeless.
Enough of me weaving my thoughts and beliefs here.
Time to act upon it and make it a reality.

-Wren

Trim

Sharply edged down like a mower across the green lawn, the cumbersome mess of a pile of 

hay was indeed trimmed down today. With it goes my regrets, lies made of said regrets, pains 

and sin of sloth, all into the bin. Refreshed mind and a new motivation to live and succeed. 

Perhaps to successfully live or lively succeed. With a newly mowed lawn, comes sprouts of new 

seeds. I finally start to care about what a deep of a mess of opiated stupor I was in. Since so 

much time cannot be unlived, time to start living my life other than simply subsisting.

-Wren

Spring

Endless sky as azure as oceanic blue

With specks of cloudy whiteness hue,

Reaches to us all the rays of light

From the warmth of heavens delight.

May spring rain dances have delays

For another few shining new days?

Life grows anew upon the tree limbs

Death gone by Nature's victory claims.

Greenery burst and sprout verdently

And rekindle my heart's loving plea

For a new beginning, a brilliant one.

Under the glassy sky and radiant sun.

Once again, my tired soul doth sing

A serene song for this silky spring.

Wren

Candid

Achievements mean nothing without big failures
Relationship mean something when its loss hurts
Recognition is worthy when it is a joyous rarity
And victory is only sweet after sweat and tears.

Wren

Sip

I sip the midnight black, as always

Bitter as the graven death or the life.
I miss your sweetness by my side

It feels like decades since we met

Or since we exchanged disgruntled "hi"s.

I sip again, the darkness of deep ocean

Where memories fade away in ripples

Like the tears shed in the misty rain

So strangers don't stop to pity or stare.

I walk with the crowd, yet drift alone.

Next sip reminds me of where I am,

Where we used to meet and dream.

Even when mine were crushed and gone,

I wanted to keep yours alive and well,

But that never worked out did it?

I read some assignment before I sip,

Still bitter on tongue, but I'm used to it.

Mutualistic parasites killing each other

Blood for serum and joy for pain.

That's what we had, wasn't it?

I sip again. Cup is half-empty now.

You'd say it's half-full and cheer me up.
An active volcano with a hurricane

Eventual apocalypse. I knew it'd happen.

Covered my ears to my own voice.

Another sip. Don't even feel it now.

I want to be mad. I want to be sad.

I was the villain? It definitely looked so.

I was to play stereotypical evil 

While you got the role of the martyr.

To drown that thought, another sip.

Yet nothing but aromas of the past.

I'd say I'm sorry like I always used to.

But I know that'd solve nothing

And I have little left but my pride.

So I stare at my empty cup again.

Try to squeeze another drop off.

I guess it's done and gone forever.

Bitterest sting to the last single drop.

A toast with the empty mug to a goodbye.

Wren

Apple

A crunch that breaks the silence
Acid numbs the white enamel
Saccharine permeates the mouth
While the fragrance tangos,
And then another bite.

-Wren

Resuscitation

The beat is erratic
Rhythm too sporadic
A singer and an addict;
A man who just had it;
Filled with much death and shit;
Bruised in and out, those hits.
That stopped all pulse and beats.
Paused all of my heart's beats.

Grey blood stopped to run.
Veins left dried, well-done.
Blank eyes open and shun'd.
Red tears that were cried a ton.
Voice that's cut and gone.
Eyes forgot the light of sun.
The night was far too long.
Bereft dark, far too strong.

But today comes the dead
Rising from its earthy bed,
Pained dreams I do shed,
No more cold chains of lead,
Lose the words that were said,
Pull up the sun by its head,
For once, enjoy the morning red:
Glorious iridescent yellow-red.

No metal ties, just liberation.
That was my resuscitation
Of my heart's palpitation.

Wren

Dream and See

Sleep not my eyes for we have little time to see
The glorious world before us is no mere fantasy
Instead of an hour of the vista being shut and dead
Learn, live, and love in this dream-filled reality
And observe the light outside the realm of the bed.
Lasting light outside of mind, but a dream of clarity.

-Wren

Howling in the Rain

Glassy mirror shatter unto the sky
Tear the clouds, drain the rain
To the storm with a mad cry
Then a throat-lumped sad sigh
Wash away clear of the pain;
See shine of the sun once again.

-Wren

Spiced Apple Chai

On a dark, dreary, drizzling night,
By windows mirroring lamplight yellow
To heat again a cold lonely soul
Asked a spiced apple chai that night.

The tang permeates from the cup;
Remembrance of autumn harvest,
Warmth of herbal aromatics best
Comfort of a blanket in a cup.

With a spoon heap of sugar
And another, and another.
The resuscitation again completes
A heart that was tired and deplete.

-Wren