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Understanding Is
(...) You (...)
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The Breathless Moon
03/02/03
I ask you to glance at the breathless moon |
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That in this blue veil of night
Might almost touch your very first eyes of morning
And this midnight of oak and ashes would disentrance
Like a too far road of leaves and scents to your dreams
I ask you to glance at the breathless moon
And feel my lungs lingering because of this smell of yours
These drops of sweet insanity that come down your cheeks
Warming your skin downward the lantern light in your heart
And maybe I do not want to feel it for you...
I ask you to glance at the breathless moon
Once she is the only one listening
And the only one able to translate what is forward
This ground of pure land and clay cannot reach me
On the sculptures of your capturing though I shall try again
I ask you to glance at the breathless moon
But the birds have sung their last
And the bells on these trees would call all the forest
To tumble that sweet waterfall I bath when missing you
As if I sensed the ocean breathing and exhaling upon the coast
All over this dense growth of trees, plants and fruits
I wrap up my missing within running of rainstorms
Fear of thunderbolts of memory and trips to nowhere
Only to stand here breathing free with the cypresses
Reckoning equities by staring into the eyes of this breathless moon in me...
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Conundrum Paradox
03/10/03
Don't try beginning to understand me
The answers are too deep within
I don't know the reasons yet
And I am the one walking in this skin. |
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My mind is full of pain and turmoil
My moods swing from petal to petal
I don't have the solution, I hold no answers for all
But you keep on holding my eyes with this crave.
Life is this road in the body of a young oaktree
That lies underneath this waterfall of consciences
You might see the potholes till you fall to your own roots
In the giant wheel of evolution of life
We are but a cog so weak and small
Revolutionising all laws of Universe.
The edge of the abyss gapes at my feet
And the temptation to fall has become immense
But you pull me back again with your ignorance
Your hold on me is so strong and empty.
The second chance of life stares me in the face
But your hand grips tight to a shred of reality
The chaos slows down its constant swirl
My mind clears smoothly, you regain from my sanity.
Sometimes the disorder tears my eyes apart
Solid ground seem just too hard to find
A bloody paradox in a conundrum
Inconsistencies over dilemmas of their minds.
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These Lines Of Me
03/16/03 |
These are the lines of the ancient, the lines of me, of desert, of the truth
These lines are much older than my eyes could ever feel
And the taste of those days of unborn nature
Were like perspiring tears upon skins of these souls
A thin plead of ignorant tissue spread over morphologically similar cells of nothing
An alone bio-individual divided into small pieces of condolences.
These lines are the savor of blanked poetry blood
Underlying this pungency of doing nothing but to contemplate
This pungent chimera of ruminate and reflect, theorise and cogitate
A daydream before the day I was born...
I am not here
You are not there
Although you feel a body living inside you
This is sorrily a distateful "I'd very much like to, but..."
And this is you living inside of what you believe is a body
Because your spirit is lost inbetween emptynesses of us and us.
These lines ought to weave into your bowels and twist out
All over your wishes of tenderness and care
But your meat is rising underneath a waterfall of regretfulness.
I am only able to visualise the empty of mine
The mistaken asserts of yours, the lost awarenesses of ours...
These lines shall stand for the unknown, the untasted, the unseen.
These are running-mouth lines of very much pleasured lowdowns experiments...
Yes! The lowdowns of the truth and all its redundancies.
You claim to be up to you but, this is not really a decision of yours.
You seem to feel being above all, but these questions are up to us. |
We are not here
You are definetely not there.
These are the lines of the ancient.
These are the lines of the real... |
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What Makes Me Feel Like This
03/24/03 |
What makes me feel like this, is this taste
This taste of nothing ever tasted before
This very one that happens to be the most
Decent, disgraceful and forthcoming savour
The essence of untangled colours
Of mild texture and thick form
The very heart of all accountable explications
The driving forces of nothingness
Into the inner of myself and under it
When is only myself bending and crossing ahead
Lying the lies of being lied on that floor
Telling the truths of being mischievously played
Human nature, natural nature
All natures instead of this meaning
The spirit of ours does not permit or empower
These questions about to be done all over again
To thou, my dear cloud of the night
I address all the pain from this cold night
And this winter in my heart shall perpetuate
Till the next dawn when we shall probably meet
Meet each other warm and sat atop the candlelight
Chat simultaneously mouthing the air around
Crying tears of joy and happening the to be verb
So to chew away this foetid scent of absence...
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Hypno...Understanding
04/02/03 |
What is your most vivid memory
Down the dungeon of yesterday night?
Look into the depth of this honest woven floor
And try your feet in the coldest of your soul...
Now look down and try your eyes
Running you up from the heel 'till your dreams
Where is your Achilles' heel now you do not discern
Among those differences of just a few seconds ago?
Between iron and silver are the most stable elements
Which I believe it convenient to you, dear mine
Holding my sight and being as tangible as a component could be
Could ever be you under the tree? Flying down enough to touch me?
Or would you only beg for a piece of floor to land your murmurs
While I would struggle to survive upon your smiles and amongst?
I would rather be back to that secret place of yours
And I would expose yourself to contemplate who the real you is like...
I remembered you telling me to come on in
Asking me to harvest all your rainbows down and then imprison them
To conceal each part of it in the most secret place of mine
And I welcomed you to the real world with a whisper and a sigh
I am coming to conceal your dream case now
And I am tangling and lingering...
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Lost Lands
04/08/03 |
To you I shall have pronounced all words inferred
For what I could not have pronounced all deferred
The lands of expectancy are gone now
And my land lands
Was it yours, bellowing the sound of the cure
Has it been the thud well of your departure
The lands of forgiveness are gone now
And my land lands
What for and why should we wait until tomorrow
To presence the candour of your eyes of sorrow
The lands of querying are gone now
And my land lands
Underneath your waterfall of relief and white lying
We plead ignorant and cry for maps for beguiling
The lands of lands are gone now
And my land lands
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Seven Thirty-Five
04/16/03 |
as I walked out of the evening
all I felt was anticipation air surround
the ground cold under my feet
holding my body in warmth and hope
finding balance by reaping from the heat
of wishing to have her sight within instants
to embrace tightly a smile in the inside
to distort all shapes of remembrances
to fall into her world and again
having her eyes sheltered in the intimate
of this secret scenery where we live on
missing the seconds in isolation, feeding from touching
but I have seen a sunlight flare
waving its sentiments within a singing
vaguely to my hearing, old to my memories
in the most intense flushing for my eyes
and in such bliss I have been living these endless mementos
thither, from where I might not envision the very right moment
although I shall distinguish whence my will is always calling
for that is ever and overmore seven thirty-five...
to Isis - my most beautiful surprise.
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Myself Of Us
04/22/03 |
Do not hold so tight on your nerves
Because I tell you, all you have is a system
Do not look so deep inside of you
Because I tell you, You might see me.
This light inside you, this one that shines
Keeps banging deep, moving on twisting eyes
What you see it is not, but a shadow of your own
Turning you into peace, then falling to pieces
The spirit that is climbing does not go so high
You reach for breath or reach for sigh
There shall be no mistake
For that is too much at stake
You are my God or my Ode
My rare nature, my innermost unborn
the very essence of me
But please...
Don't hold so tight on your nerves
Because I tell you, all you have is a system
Do not look so deep inside of you
Because I tell you, I might see me.
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Within
05/11/03 |
There is an eye waiting for the perfect again ambuscade
Flickering lies, smelling around from your tastes in the air
Sensing the leaves of fears released now, breathing you
Evilly rejoicing from the music of your heartbeats to be gone
Palming your backs with an imaginary warm blowing
Stale breath rhythmically on and on down your philosophy
Growing downward from your stem of conscience, pushing and
Weave-rooting into the dungeon of your make-believes
Feeding from your eyes, should it see through your dreams?
For what all we believe in are nothing but beliefs and chimeras
And once more, every time your hold a beat down for a tic
And what you want to think is air runs upward your malice
Who is this one that stings rear ends back at all retinas of yours?
The very one that cries out loud at night when you veil all your excuses out
Those well-stoned sores kept thickly down on the ground of your certainties
Who is that very one that inwardly knows about that?
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Tookaway
08/15/03 |
A light is prostrated in the scope of my malignancy
And that doubtlessly recalls me of my plans to have you once more
Thither back in the dark, as I remembered having a first bite
Upon your flesh, almost candid and quite impartial in the night.
And early at the corners of those warm black alleys of ours
In that garden filled with reason, air all-around
Whence I usually shy my lames and shy my farewells from the crowd
And for what I shall wait and again until the next black Sunday.
What could be worst in this degrading laugh of love?
Would this be the much we have been waiting for or just
The desperado pronto within tears of joy and scrutiny?
Up at the utmost of me, of us, I shall cry tonight on your absence...
And this lethargic permanence should probably twist in my pain
So much lesser than yours and this sweet perfume left after your non-appearance.
And I wish I could be there with you now but my screams
Poor and weak, should so full of certitude not reach your whereabouts
And my flowers are overweening poison, overwhelmed with anger
And the seeds we planted, still there. Awaiting...
If I could just tell you a second I would kill the clock and remain
your legs, head poised upon your dream-temperate ventral
Bellowing the sound of life, listening to the rare theft nature of you
Dear always mine.
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