Tag Archives: #thoughts

PETRARCH

QUIET murmurs where we sat
and spoke about it

How the world is losing love
and kindness

You told me you loved me
and now there are tears.

I may not always see you
and sometimes we doubt it

Angels above will surely show it
and a single touch shows me
what I’d be without you

How through life we sing sometimes
bravely and at times out of tune
but together we get through it all
with the help of my lovely friend

Picnics, bills, mornings raining

Nighttime freezing is the season
of living and loving carefree by
hearts binded and entwined in love.

:: 03.28.2023 ::


HOLLWOOD ZOMBIE (01 -1963)

Jason had this penthouse apartment that was centrally located in Beverly Hills. He was incredibly clean, but in an overwhelming kind of way. The carpet and stuff were spotless, the cabinets were plastic, and the paint was not chipping. I felt like I was in a Doctor’s office waiting room.

He was snoring loudly, and just at the right moment he opened his eyes.

“Ha! You are dead! This is a dream, right?”

I felt a bit offended, as I was obviously the one snoring.
“No, no!” He pointed at the clock. “It’s 4AM!” (Lucky number 8!).

“You’re a zombie! You’re dead and you’re dreaming!”

“I’m a zombie, alright!” I yawned and started to hack up zombie gore.
“Watch out!” He screamed and jumped out of the bed.
“All right, you monster! I’m dead and I’m dreaming! I’m dead and I’m dreaming!”

He chased me around the room.

“You’re not dead, you’re a zombie! You’re a zombie, that’s just what you are, a zombie, so it’s a dream!” He threw up his hands. “You can’t win!”

“I can’t win, yeah? That’s right, I can’t win. That’s my luck, ha-ha!”
I hope you like midnight horror flicks.” His face crinkled with confusion; the zombies smile that I was always afraid of flashing on.

“Well I didn’t say I was a horror movie person. Oh, that’s right, but you said, I’m dead and I’m dreaming, so that’s a horror movie, right?”

I thought about it.

“Okay, I guess it’s more like…like if a zombie comes to my door…”

As the sun began to rise, we finally settled down and drifted off to sleep. I dreamed of zombies and horror movies, but when I woke up, I found myself in Jason’s sterile penthouse once again.

As I gathered my things and prepared to leave, Jason suddenly appeared, looking a bit sheepish. “Sorry about last night,” he said. “I can get a bit carried away sometimes.”

I smiled and shook my head. “No need to apologize. It was actually kind of fun.”

Jason’s face brightened. “Really? You’re not just saying that?”

I chuckled. “No, I’m serious. It was a unique experience, to say the least.”

We said our goodbyes, and I left Jason’s apartment feeling a bit dazed. As I walked down the street, I couldn’t help but wonder what other strange and wonderful experiences awaited me in this crazy city of dreams.

Maybe I’d even run into some real zombies along the way. Who knew? Anything was possible in a place like Beverly Hills.

As I walked down the street, a shiver ran down my spine. The streets of Beverly Hills, usually bustling with life and activity, were strangely empty. There was an eerie silence that hung over the entire city, broken only by the occasional sound of a car passing by.

As I turned a corner, I saw a group of people huddled together in front of a nearby building. They were all looking up at something, their faces twisted in fear and disbelief.

Curiosity getting the better of me, I walked closer to see what had caught their attention. As I got closer, I realized that they were all staring up at Jason’s penthouse apartment.

I felt a sense of dread wash over me. What had happened? Had something terrible befallen Jason in the night?

Without thinking, I pushed my way through the crowd and ran towards the building. The front door was unlocked, and I made my way up to the top floor, my heart pounding in my chest.

As I approached Jason’s apartment, I could hear strange noises coming from inside. It sounded like something was scratching at the door, trying to claw its way through.

I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I should turn back and call for help. But then I remembered Jason’s zombie antics from the night before and wondered if this was all just some elaborate prank.

Summoning up my courage, I slowly pushed open the door and stepped inside.

What I saw next made my blood run cold.

Jason was lying on the ground, his eyes rolled back in his head. His skin was cold to the touch, and there were deep scratch marks all over his body.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

Standing over Jason was a figure unlike anything I had ever seen before. It was tall and gaunt, with eyes that glowed a sickly green. Its skin was a sickly grey, and its teeth were long and sharp like knives.

It turned to face me, and I realized with a start that it was a zombie.

I tried to run, but it was too fast. With a sickening crunch, it sank its teeth into my neck, and everything went dark.

Just as I thought I was going to die, I heard a voice in my head. It was a voice I had never heard before, but it was clear and strong.

“Stay calm,” the voice said. “I am here to help you.”

I opened my eyes, and to my surprise, I saw two figures standing in front of me. One was dressed in white, with shining wings and a peaceful expression. The other was dressed in black, with black wings and a menacing glare.

The white figure spoke again. “I am an angel of good. This is an angel of evil. We are here to help you in your time of need.”

The evil angel snarled. “Don’t listen to him. He’s lying. I’m the one who can help you. Together, we can take down this zombie and save your friend.”

I was torn. Part of me wanted to trust the good angel, but another part of me was drawn to the promise of power that the evil angel offered.

But then I looked back at Jason, lying on the ground with blood pooling around him. I knew that I had to do something, and fast.

Without thinking, I closed my eyes and reached out to the good angel. I felt a warm, comforting presence surround me, and suddenly, I felt stronger and more powerful than I ever had before.

Together, the good angel and I charged at the zombie. With a fierce battle cry, we attacked it with all our might, using every ounce of strength we had.

After what felt like an eternity, we finally emerged victorious. The zombie lay dead at our feet, and I felt a sense of relief wash over me.

But then the evil angel appeared once again, his eyes filled with anger and resentment. “You should have listened to me,” he said. “I could have given you so much more power.”

The good angel stepped forward. “Power isn’t everything,” he said. “Sometimes, it’s better to do what’s right, even if it’s not easy.”

I nodded in agreement, feeling a newfound sense of clarity and purpose. As the two angels disappeared into the ether, I knew that I had been changed forever. From now on, I would always strive to do what was right, no matter what challenges lay ahead.

As the dust settled and the danger passed, a new sound filled the air. It was the unmistakable voice of Kurt Cobain, singing a haunting melody that echoed through the halls of Jason’s penthouse.

“I’m a soul lost in tarpit traps, sinking deeper every day,” he sang. “The weight of the world is crushing me, but I can’t seem to break away.”

I looked around, trying to find the source of the voice, but there was no one in sight. It was as if the music was coming from another dimension, a world beyond our own.

As the song continued, I felt a sense of sadness and despair wash over me. Kurt’s voice was so full of emotion, so raw and real, that it was impossible not to feel the pain and anguish he was expressing.

But then, as the chorus came around, something changed. Kurt’s voice grew stronger, more determined, and I realized that this wasn’t just a song of despair. It was a song of hope, a call to rise up against the darkness and find the light.

“I’ll keep on fighting, though my heart may break,” he sang. “I’ll keep on searching, for a better way.”

As the song came to a close, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. It was as if Kurt’s music had given me the strength and courage to face whatever lay ahead, to overcome any obstacle and find my way home.

And with that, I turned and walked out of Jason’s penthouse, ready to face the world once again.

|| 09.24.2020 ||


A Marriage of True Minds

Love, a pure and steadfast force,
Has not within its heart remorse,
Nor does it sway with changing tide
Or bend when sorrows do abide.

Love is the compass of the soul,
That guides us through life’s endless shoal,
A star that shines both bright and clear
Even when storms and tempests near.

Though Time may wither youth and grace,
Love endures, a constant trace,
And bears all things to the very end,
Beyond the realm where earth does blend.

If my words are false and unwise,
Then let my tongue be silenced, and my pen despised.

:: 03.21.2023 ::


Drowning in Fear

HOW faces smile how they frown
how they find treasures in life.

Being dead living life
in disguises
crying shouting destroyed Souls
Within Hell on Earth,
Living and dying each day
listening to mortal words
i scream Within my circle is a box
unopened and angels pray
to keep it closed
So give me a cold hand
won’t you come closer
inside me : fire mouth
tear me apart thinking love

Mimics call my name again
destroying time space
within all i knew were friends
were others not of Earth

No one changes like you
feigning death to make me cry
flesh like static sand
come

supernovae come
burn solar systems
Nephlim come challenge me
i have no fear bequeath
spiritual technology
destroys your black hole sun
so come so come so come
won’t you come

:: 03.19.2023 ::


A PECK OF KISSmOuth

Just a peck of you
smudge kissMouth
I ate a rose roughTO-
Night — and hunger
for that pink tongueWish
tied to the knot of my
ManHeart deeplyNeeds
wounded bleeding —
sillyMe drama loves
romantic scenes —
stay here UP on the
wooden lit stage —
when the curtain falls
falls Falling below
your knees — I
should say this…
“…………….”

:: 03.15.2023 ::


I – LOVE

Oh blood, the life force that doth flow,
Invisible rivers that run below,
A crimson tide that feeds the heart,
A surreal canvas, a work of art.

The essence of life, the essence of death,
Bound together in a surrealistic breath,
A dance of light and shadow in the veins,
A surreal world where love and loss reigns.

In this surreal realm, where beauty lies,
And reality is often disguised,
Blood becomes a symbol of love and strife,
A dreamlike essence that gives us life.

For in the flow of every heart,
Is a surreal beauty that sets us apart,
A crimson thread that connects us all,
And leads us through this surrealistic ball.

So let us embrace this surrealistic flow,
And the beauty of the blood that we know,
For in its rhythm, we find our beat,
And the surrealistic dance that makes us complete.

:: 03.09.2023 ::


Eternal Echoes

I

Toward dark blue skies, endlessly,
Where topaz seas shimmer bright,
In your evening, blooms ecstasy –
The lilies, pills of pure delight.

In our age where plants must toil,
Lilies drink blue distaste divine,
From your religious prose, they’ll coil,
Fleur-de-lys, for bards to twine.

Lilies, lilies, none in view,
Yet in your verse, sleeves of sin,
Soft-footed women, pure as dew,
White flowers shiver within.

Always, dear man, when you bathe,
Your shirt with yellow ‘neath your arm,
Swelling in the breeze, and wave,
Above forget-me-nots, the harm.

Love comes to you in lilac’s guise,
Wild violets too, nymphs’ delight,
Sugary spittle on lips, belies,
Dark passions on a moonlit night.

II

Oh, Poets, imagine you possessed
Roses, crimson Roses, blooming bright,
Adorning laurel stems, at their best,
With thousand octaves swelling in delight!

If Banville could make them snow,
Tainted red, swirling, in a frenzy,
Blackening the eyes of those who show
Ill-disposed interpretations, not friendly!

In your forests and in meadows so calm,
Oh, peaceful photographers, Flora thrives,
Decanters’ stoppers no different in charm,
Than varied veggies with cross-grained lives!

Phthisical and absurd, they seem to be,
Navigated by basset-hounds at dusk,
After frightening drawings we see,
Of lotuses or sunflowers blue, so brusque!

Pink prints and holy pictures we behold,
For young girls making their communion,
Asoka Ode agrees with Loretto’s window old,
Heavy vivid butterflies dung on daisy’s union!

Old greenery and galloons, fancy-flowers,
Vegetable biscuits of yore’s drawing-rooms,
For cockchafers, not rattlesnakes, like powers,
Pulling vegetable dolls with colors, like in cartoons!

Grandville would have put them round the margins,
To suck in colors from ill-natured stars,
Drooling from your shepherd’s pipes, in wondrous fashions,
Creating priceless glucoses, like fried eggs in hold hats, so bizarre!

Lilies, Asokas, lilacs, and roses, in a pile,
Inspirations for poets, like me, all the while!

III

white Hunter, running sockingless
Across the panic Pastures,
Can you not, ought you not
To know your botany a little?
I’m afraid you’d make succeed,
To russet Crickets, Cantharides,
And Rio golds to blues of Rhine, –
In short, to Norways, Floridas:
But, My dear Chap, Art does not consist now,

  • it’s the truth, – in allowing
    To the astonishing Eucalyptus
    boa-constrictors a hexameter long;
    There now!… As if Mahogany
    Served only, even in our Guianas,
    As helter-skelters for monkeys,
    Among the heavy vertigo of the lianas!
  • In short, is a Flower, Rosemary
    Or Lily, dead or alive, worth
    The excrement of one sea-bird?
    Is it worth a solitary candle-drip?
  • And I mean what I say!
    You, even sitting over there, in a
    Bamboo hut, – with the shutters
    Closed, and brown Persian rugs for hangings, –
    You would scrawl blossoms
    Worthy of extravagant Oise!…
  • Poet ! these are reasonnings
    No less absurd than arrogant!…

IV

Speak not of pampas in the spring,
Black with terrible revolts and strife,
But of tobacco, cotton trees that sing,
Exotic harvests, a fruitful life.

Say, white face, tanned by Phoebus’ rays,
How many dollars Pedro Velasquez earns,
Of Habana, a city that displays,
Excrement covering Sorrento’s seas in turns.

Where swans go in thousands to roam,
Let your lines campaign, oh poet bold,
For clearing mangrove swamps, a home
To pools and water-snakes so cold.

Your quatrain plunges into bloody thickets,
And returns with subjects great and grand,
White sugar, bronchial lozenges, and rubbers, tickets
To the land of plenty, a fruitful land.

Tell us, oh hunter, if the yellownesses
Of snow peaks near the tropics, hide
Insects that lay many eggs or microscopic lichens,
And scented madder plants, two or three, provide.

Nature in trousers may cause them to bloom,
For our armies, strong and brave,
On the outskirts of the Sleeping Wood, assume
Flowers, with snouts, drip golden pomades on buffaloes’ cave.

Find in wild meadows, where the bluegrass shivers,
The silver of downy growths,
Calyxes full of fiery eggs, livers
Cooking among the essential oils.

Find downy thistles whose wool,
Ten asses with glaring eyes, labor to spin,
Flowers that are chairs, a beautiful tool,
And gem-like tonsils close to pale ovaries within.

Find flowers in coal-black seams,
Almost like stones, so marvelous and bright,
Close to their hard pale ovaries in dreams,
Bearing gemlike tonsils, shining in light.

Serve us, oh stuffer, on a vermilion plate,
Stews of syrupy lilies, a delicacy divine,
To corrode our German-silver spoons, a fate
Worthy of kings, in a color so fine.

:: 03.06.2023 ::


I am Vast as Expansive

Vast as the rolling waves, I am
With the sea’s droplet approaching me, tender and calm
The siren’s song echoes, “I love you” through time
My soul depleted, eternally confined

Far I have traveled, across the seas and land,
Through tumultuous storms and barren sands.
To glimpse your form, to feel the warmth of your skin,
To bask in the radiance of your beauty, without and within.

For I cannot depart, without laying my eyes,
On the one I cherish, my heart’s true prize.
I fear the thought of goodbyes, of losing you forevermore,
Of being cast adrift, on the lonely sea’s endless shore.

So I wait here, vast and rolling,
With the sea’s droplet, my heart’s longing.
For the day when you will come to me,
And I will finally be complete, eternally free.

:: 03.04.2023 ::


Math Without Numbers

Math without numbers, a curious thought,
An abstract realm where the mind is caught,
A world of patterns, of shapes and of space,
A place where logic and reason find their place.

From geometry’s lines to topology’s twists,
Mathematics without numbers still persists,
Fractals and graphs, with beauty and grace,
A visual language, in which the mind can trace.

The rhythm of patterns, in nature abound,
Fibonacci’s sequence, in petals found,
The golden ratio, in spirals displayed,
A hidden order, in chaos arrayed.

Set theory, with its empty sets and more,
Logic and proofs, that the mind does explore,
Algebraic structures, with symbols and rules,
Abstract equations, that the mind can’t refuse.

Math without numbers, a world so vast,
A universe of ideas, that the mind can grasp,
A language of abstraction, of pure thought,
A treasure of knowledge, that cannot be bought.

:: 03.01.2023 ::


As the Heart Sings, It Sings for Love

Oh, how sweet the sound of love,
Like music from the skies above,
A symphony that fills the heart,
And sets the world ablaze with art.

With every beat, with every breath,
Love conquers fear, and conquers death.
It lifts us up, it sets us free,
And fills our souls with harmony.

It’s a song that echoes through the ages,
A melody that lasts for all the stages,
Of life and love and everything in between,
A timeless tune that’s always seen.

Love is the light that shines within,
The hope that guides us through the din.
It’s the spark that starts the flame,
And the bond that keeps us all the same.

So let us sing this ode to love,
And let it lift us up above,
The troubles of the world below,
And let its joy and beauty show.

For love is the key that opens all doors,
The treasure that all of us adore,
And when we sing its sweet refrain,
We find that joy and peace remain.

:: 02.28.2023 ::