Tag Archives: #writers

LAST WORDS BETWEEN ROMEO AND JULIET

Romeo:

If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep,
My dreams presage some joyful news at hand:
My bosom’s lord sits lightly in his throne,
And all this day an unaccustomed spirit
Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.
I dreamt my lady came and found me dead—
Strange dream that gives a dead man leave to think!—
And breathed such life with kisses in my lips,
That I revived, and was an emperor.
Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess’d,
When but love’s shadows are so rich in joy!

Juliet:

Thy lips are warm! yea, noise? then I’ll be brief.
O happy dagger!  This is thy sheath: there rust, and let me die.

:: 10.16.2023 ::


LOVE ABOVE AS BELOW

In lands where hues entwine, where endless borders cease,
Envision, if you will, a realm where hearts find ease,
No hunger’s dire call, no sorrow’s weight to bear,
Envision there’s a chance, for souls to blend and pair.

Oh, envisage all the beings, in tranquil harmony,
No bias nor enmity, just boundless empathy,
Envisage nations linking, in friendship’s steadfast band,
In comprehension’s haven, where all can understand.

In meadows where children dance, where innocence prevails,
Picture, if you may, a tune where each heart sails,
No fear of shadows long, just seeds of kindness sown,
Picture there’s a glow, where night turns into dawn.

Envisage all the spirits, in peaceful, sweet accord,
No hatred’s bitter taste, just love that’s freely poured,
Envisage all the nations, clasping hand in hand,
In a world of empathy, where all can firmly stand.

Picture a world unchained, where freedom’s song resounds,
No judgment’s stern command, no barriers that confounds,
Picture a melody, of pure and perfect grace,
Where differences unite, and all find their rightful place.

In realms where dreams take flight, where hope is ever bright,
Picture, if you please, a space devoid of night,
No soul left in the cold, just hearts that intertwine,
Picture there’s a day, where love will ever shine.

Oh, envisage all the people, in life’s serenity,
No prejudice or malice, just love that’s truly free,
Envisage nations bonding, in friendship’s hallowed strand,
In a world where understanding, unites each heart and hand.

Envisage a world so fair, where every soul takes flight,
With the power of a song, where all souls find their light,
Envisage, just envisage, a world divinely rare,
In limitless, eternal love, where people deeply care.

:: 10.16.2023 ::


The Revealing

I had too — once I ate all the words of the universe.
We had a delightful dinner. Just me and ? I drank
Merlot and smoked weed and we enjoyed the tapestry of
space-time.

I asked, “Do you have a voice?”

Waiting for a small time I spoke again.

“Hey! Speak”

And she did. In her female voice. The univeral voice
that is the Mother of Creation.

“I love you, dear.”

“Child of Earth,” she said, her words echoing in the depths of my soul,

“I have observed your wonder, your dreams that reach beyond the confines of your world.

I am the embodiment of the universe, and I have chosen to reveal myself to you.”

I am Celestia, the consciousness of the cosmos,” the celestial being replied, her presence enveloping this poet like a warm, comforting embrace. “I have watched over galaxies being born and stars collapsing into cosmic dust. I have witnessed the dance of planets and the birth of life on distant shores. Yet, your world, Earth, has always held a special place in my vast existence.”

This poet was captivated by Celestia’s words. “Why have you chosen to speak to me?” she asked, her voice filled with humility.

“You possess a curiosity that mirrors the essence of the universe itself,” Celestia answered, her radiant form flickering with colors beyond human comprehension. “I have chosen you to be the bridge between the cosmic wonders and the human spirit. I offer you knowledge, wisdom, and the boundless mysteries of the cosmos.”

Overwhelmed by this profound connection, this poet felt a surge of inspiration. With Celestia’s guidance, she delved into the secrets of the universe, unraveling mysteries that had perplexed humanity for centuries. Together, they explored the realms of quantum physics, traversed the event horizons of black holes, and marveled at the cosmic ballet of galaxies.

As this poet shared her newfound knowledge with the world, humanity underwent a renaissance of understanding. The barriers of ignorance were shattered, and the collective consciousness of Earth expanded to embrace the vastness of the cosmos.

In the quiet moments of the night, when the stars glittered overhead, This poet known as Maya would commune with Celestia, their conversations transcending the boundaries of time and space. Through this extraordinary connection, the wisdom of the universe flowed into the hearts and minds of humanity, guiding them toward a future where the mysteries of the cosmos were no longer beyond their grasp.

And so, the story of the female universe and the inquisitive human became a beacon of enlightenment, illuminating the path toward a greater understanding of the infinite wonders that lay beyond the skies.

:: 10.16.2023 ::


Sex Club Poetry

In my age I confess this:

Once I had a Poetry Club I created.

It was within a Strip Joint of high order.

Nothing but the most beautiful women.

I would visit on Wednesdays and go over

my poetry with those lovely women.

And I would read.

They would contemplate those words afterward.

How I miss my poetry club.

Not the sex but these lonely women.

:: 10.17.2023 ::


TIRED IN THE SUNRISE

What ‘if’ isn’t hesitating?  Those like us who burn in a midst of already
forgotten proclivities?  

The memory of a worm at the level of a shoe has more comprehension than
a  human brain today.  It’s a flying bird sitting upon a tree branch.  At the
level of a statue whose computer rages within a digital age of phosphorization
of Elon’s satellites.  The color of these glasses are pink in love or torrid lightning
As salt and pepper are tastes of a nutrition of alerts like napkin furniture

Historically the retreat of pastures who view a burning fire with their relentless
disinfecting tongues as swords of hate are the future — like pristine advisors
of death where retro doors are seen

I adore the reddish pillows like Koi fish which my head sleeps upon dreaming new
worlds as they cut waves with ciphered.  

I am who I am.

:: 10.12.2023 ::


BUT NOW I K N O W G O D

Another’s dream I saw
through my eyes
when I dying-Did
that little prick
of painful life
exquisitely handed
(by angelic-puke
bile and mourning sun)
and planets dancing
stars screaming fire
and the cold breath
of empty space
inside my head a toc-tic
tic-toc sanging bleed
on some unknown stage
I have always played
upon:

Confused for a while.No
more since I ate
the thread of golden
knowledge her string
cut my mouth but now
I know GOD!

:: 12-08-2014 ::


A HEART FOREVER BROKEN

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, ‘The night is starry
and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.’

Within this dark lonely evening I write vacant words
and the moon turns from silver to cold blue.

From tops of highest trees the predatory birds sing
as I write the saddest words of this night.

As this night like one other held within my arms
I kissed and was asked to forget by endless skies.

How depth was deeper than any other depth
that my heart dwelled and then asked to forget.

Love, the power of the sun and more I held toward her
breaking physics and eternal rules.

that she loved me sometimes but I loved forever.

so Tonight I write the saddest lines of a poem.

The feeling of night — the feeling day

both weighing heavily upon my Soul.

:: 010.07.2023 ::


I APPRECIATE  THE MAD  HEAD OF POLITICS

The decapitated hand passes an hour from a flower
That above a spectral chess-city they cry
And ghosts control the furious variety of flesh
Invented like iron and silver structures of thunder.

Since so recently alive in a burst of light
Nomenclature within a ledger of written blood
parting waves and snow, clogs of ice that hands
cannot grasp even in brilliance i CAME.

The pregnant thoughts give birth you big star
in the jungle of concrete called Earth
Within that half-opened mouth of depth of a diamond
Sex is an extreme delight that easily directs a great
reading of a delirious ORGAN of phosphorescent change.

I look up to the sky but my eyes burn ~~~

I touched a goddesses whose chief song
between shelter and pillows; as her eyes carry an air
of a woman without legs or arms –> but a root
we met in pleasure as two doors in dawn / my shape
is tool divine too ; i look up to the skye where
everything is pleasure among the winds of clay
that invite out the tigers of their stems
among the furniture that sniffs out misfortunate
i had a fierce dream and bite the rain
and defend the cold politics of public snakes
whom I kill in the end.

I rubbed the different footprints of my feet
on ocellated carpet.  

:: 10.02.2023 ::


Don’t You Forget About Me

In the quiet realm where shadows weep,
Do the dead find solace in eternal sleep?
I, a wanderer in the land of dreams,
Ponder upon life’s relentless streams.

Beside my mother, where safety lies,
Amidst the echoes of bullets that flies,
My face, a canvas of fear so deep,
Haunted by the secrets that I keep.

In the midst of chaos, my soul takes flight,
Lost in the darkness, seeking the light.
What is this existence, this dance we tread?
A gap between teeth, or a soul unfed?

Does life consist of mere worldly gains,
Or the whispers of wind, the patter of rains?
Hit me up when the monsters play,
When murderous babies and priests hold sway.

Actors on channels, their faces masks,
Burial plots leased in the shadows’ grasp.
My father prays, my sister bled,
Like Jesus, she rests, among the dead.

Ghosts, like lovers, court me near,
On this night of fright, where darkness sears.
Out of sight, my fears take flight,
Kiss me, Mama, in this endless night.

I slumber now, as the dead may do,
In the embrace of dreams, I find you.
In the silence deep, my soul is led,
Sleeping like the dead, I rest my head.

:: 09.28.2023 ::


THE LUNGS OF THE FOREST

THE WORLD ate the lungs of the forest
and HUMANS escaped the pain to answer
this little WORLD who they made crazy

Why do mouths lick their lips
and politicians line their pockets with
the blood of bleeding people’s tears?

The devil is knocking upon the living’s door.
. drop your religion of deceit and hate___
how is it when little creatures eat your feet
you praise their words and move on? Haze
and confusion and how i try to step forward…
is somebody gonna save the world? Save the World.

Angels falling — purer than purest pure
whisper of a whisper s0(big with innocence)
forgivingly a once of eager glory.no
more mi8racle may grow — praise god who has
many names and the devil has many more

i walked the miles and awoke the same. In the voice
inside my hEAD. Torturing the words of the rocks
rolling — the day i tried to live bruised my soul
all over. The day mother and father died i knew
we’re alone: say, ‘one more time to die? one more
time around this circus cloud of pain.

The pain was great and hated how my face melted the
paint i brushed across my pure face — so one more
time around, one more time around the joke of how
i tried to live.

:: 10.21.2021 ::

A REWRITE:

06.22.2023

IN THE HEART OF THE WILDERNESS

This global sphere, feasting upon the forest’s breath,
and MANKIND evades accountability’s sharp glare,
for this frenzied microcosm, of their creation laid bare.

Why do lips flirt with hunger’s dance,
and those in power garnish their gains,
with the sorrow of the silent – their cries merely stains?

The shadow of evil raps upon the entrance of the living,
abandon your religion of duplicity and loathing, unforgiving,
why is it, when minute beings nibble at your foundations,
you laud their actions and proceed with no reservations? The fog
of uncertainty swallows, and my attempt to stride forth…
will anyone rise to shield our earth? To save our Earth.

Seraphs tumble — pristine beyond pristine’s core,
a hush echoing innocence, so vast in its roar,
benevolently, an ounce of bygone splendor.no
further miracles may bloom — bless the divine of many faces,
and the fallen one who surpasses in traces.

I journeyed the distance, yet woke untransformed. In the echo
within my consciousness. The torment of stone’s tales
in perpetual motion — the day I dared to live bruised my essence
once more. The day when mother and father ascended, I grasped
our solitude: ask, ‘once more dance with mortality? once more
circle this spectral cloud of torment.

The torment was vast, and detested the distortion of my countenance,
the paint my own hands had gently caressed across my untouched visage — so once more
circle this circus, one more lap around the jest of how
I tried to live.

:: 06.22.2023 ::