Elena, My Friend: What if life were a game?

How to Be Yourself POWER Poem

It starts with love. . .

Stay at least 30 seconds, have some green tea, enjoy the cool weather of the mind, and tell me how big my butter butt is, clap 5000 times, highlight and comment: Thank you so much!

“Beauty is something that burns the hand when you touch it.”
― Yukio Mishima, Samurai Writer>

The Gamification of Learning to Live in Peace

growing up, hating myself, wanting to die,
living in the hood of hell, a city without angels, . . .
being recruited by gang members, having a reputation, .
deciding not to join, never being fearful,
maintaining a smile,
walking with my chin high, not fighting the battles, . .
winning in street dance battles, with a luminous rhythm,
knowing that creativity is not easy, just being oneself,
letting the flow, freestyle, . . .

meeting Eliana, becoming my bestie,
using rhythms, alliterations, rhymes, she
thinking, I’m being her new boyfriend,
shocking me, just wanting her friendship,
explaining, that is how I being me, street culture
reading, reading, reading, loving poetry, loving philosophers, . . .
loving St. John of the Cross, in Spanish
being not Catholic, teaching me:

“The endurance of darkness is the preparation for great light,” loving the floating world of the poet, --Matsuo Bashō ,

knowing the dark night of the soul,
preparing for my permanent departure,
waiting for my death, seeing angels, seeing auras,
talking to ghosts,
burying friends, dying of boredom,
finding a way in my diaries to grow,
glowing and knowing, street wisdom,
entering a Buddhist temples, at times,

chanting, praying, and hoping for miracles,
maintaining positivity,
glowing with luminosity, and
developing my greatest power of creativity,
loving poets as revolutionary fighters,
imagining inner peace,

fighting demons of the damned,
loving, respecting , and honoring, my friends, family members and foes, ,. . .

Thank you, the levels of violence many kids experience growing up in the ghettos is unbearable, for like a samurai, I believed myself to be dead, for you cannot kill a dead person, so it is miracle:

Writing is protest art, and anti-art: Enough of lies, time to wake up!

It starts with love. . . Writing is reading and Re-Vision, seeing what others miss: Originality.

Thank you so much!