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Written by Tabata Young
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they say times were simpler
times were easier then
times were ... they say time is running out
slipping away
as if fleeing from ... they say better times have come
and gone, and they will
not return again but time,
time is an illusion
of the mind it is perception
of (in)sanity
apprehension you can give it away
you can scare it away
you can take it away but time
is a reality
of one's mind and it freezes
when tears drop
when smiles halt it turns away
it takes away
it gives way ...
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Written by Tabata Young
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The words, they teach of more
than definitions say; the drama
leads the plot, though creativity
has longed for more than theory Music and dance entice the eyes,
but the heart remains sunk into
desire, as a muse of tragedy
waiting to be rescued at once. But modern art has proved
to humanity it's not our savior,
and these words without a voice
will perpetually remain speechless.
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Written by Tabata Young
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Sadness is perpetual.
It is as fast growing as a Royal Empress
and roots as deeply as a Japanese Pagoda. In midsummer the flowers bloom
the creamy white essence of agony
even when the soil is restricted and poor. When the sun hides beyond the horizon
and the soil beneath becomes acidic,
room is created for invasion and expansion. Sadness flourishes.
It has its lay deep in the forest,
deserted by the sun and reason. It is a quick rising empress
budding only the bitter fruit
sorrow so generously yields. Sadness is evasive.
Its intense spiraling reaches far
into the radius of existence. And inside the flesh,
the seeds spread and mature,
shading the vision from within and suitably, coalescing into the soul.
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Written by Tabata Young
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I simply blinked; but my eyes closed for an eternity and in this voyage I visited a heaven that oozed of nostalgia. I traveled through those endless morning delights of joy found in your words and love etched in your name and I miss… I think of you and all you have instilled in my life, my heart, my breath. And then, only then in a cloud made up of your scent, do I understand that I have become – emerged in this endlessness of love, you. At first it seemed as there was an end to everything, but after a thousand deaths I still had not found that final path. I waved good-bye reluctantly and tried to forget. But here – now, swimming in these memories of love, I understand that nothing really ends. Perhaps it is an elliptical dimension that comes and goes, but there is a place where all remains still. There is more and in this somewhere we find there’s no beginning and no end. And there – protected from this flat reality we insist on living in lies the essence – the bit of that has become you and the bit of you that has become me. And all the dreams we shared. All the worlds we conceived and visions of a future which remained silenced, lost in air waves or fiber optics, but never, ever forgotten. I will not forget. There is that place, that uni-dimensional paradise that belongs to us, alone.
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Written by Tabata Young
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waterfalls flow down
hills whose beauty
deceitfully leads
to certain death but the ocean
has its depth and its currents
conceive once more
the flow of the river of life
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Written by Tabata Young
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just below now there's an
inherent sadness lurking
into unconscious reflection
he questions those thoughts
and the past with what ifs
and should haves while quiet
embraces thinking unreasonably - it was only in the womb – he
asks how could it leave such
permanency in existence but he forgets. oh he forgets
the view from the inside
where everything turns into
agony and leaves choking
scars to tell the story and just below the surface
of the air that poisons thinking
remains such sadness haunting
the ones trapped in breathing
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