Dada Conda

Its late. I’m tired. I want to go home. I squeeze through the door No seat to be found. We be bumpin’ and grindin’ total strangers smashed together lives colliding sharing sweat swaying to the rhythm of potholes and missing shocks Half-asleep, I stand one eye open to not miss my stop Then I see…

Live Beautifully 

Once small children we scribbled and scrawled, we colored grass orange and painted skies green, then ran to proclaim that proud artists we were. But then as we grew, everything changed. Ashamed and secretive our art became And some of us stopped creating at all Forgotten colors bled and words dried up And inside, our…