the nature is at work today toiling in her green gown purple tip toe slippers amongst the mighty pillars made of timber underneath the carpet of it all with the millipedes and bumblebees across the shadows are the rays of light igniting warmth coming from the heavens as mother floats upon the ferns who reach up asking for a kiss of dew awaiting for her nurture
Poetry
mad house
in a mad house i shoo my heart away
i don’t know why i stay
in the hope that you will feel
or think in your head to
need me
the yellow of the walls
suffocates me; I get held
down against my will
but it is not yellow
it is dimness and fear
i see a tender brook out
of my third eye window
and the idea that i could
be free is unsettling
for letting you go
means being without
in my head i look into
my eyes and i see empty
inky dread such a quick sand terror
in the night where did you go
from me
madness at all hours
stuns me; soothes me; makes me weep
cruelty beyond all naturalness
of human spirit
the cell is silent
the day is come
the brook is muddy
mi naturaleza
llego
el
tiempo de
verme como soy
un humano de hueso estelar
caminando por los caminos indebidos con pasos tímidos
hasta el templo de la antigüedad donde todos los secretos mueren en silencio
y en la lucha yo contra yo no entiendo mi naturaleza deseo volar con halas de ángel pero solo soy hombre
y en la decisión de amar o odiar me tropiezo y con furia levanto mis manos para el rostro de la santidad golpear con puños destructivos que no me llevan al cielo más alto
no me sirven los pies para llegar al lugar bendito y mis pensamientos navego a lugares fríos donde no hay luz
este día suplico tener permiso de entrar a la casa de mis madres
y que mi espíritu sea nutrido por sus
consejos medicinales donde ya no
sufra mi alma
y descanse
en
paz
minha natureza
chego
o
tempo de
veja-me como eu sou
um humano de osso estelar
andando nas estradas erradas com passos tímidos
para o templo da antiguidade, onde todos os segredos morrem em silêncio
e na luta eu contra mim mesmo eu não entendo minha natureza Eu quero voar com halos de anjo mas eu sou apenas um homem
e na decisão de amar ou odiar Eu tropeço e com fúria eu levanto minhas mãos para a face da santidade atingida por punhos destrutivos que não me levam ao mais alto céu
meus pés não me servem para alcançar o lugar abençoado e meus pensamentos eu navego para lugares frios onde não há luz
hoje peço permissão para entrar na casa da minha mãe
e que meu espírito seja nutrido por sua
conselhos medicinais onde você não está mais
sofre minha alma
e descanse
em
paz
my nature
the
time
of seeing
me as i am
a human of stellar bone
walking on the wrong paths with timid steps
to the temple of antiquity where all secrets die in perfectly still silence
in the fight i against myself i do not understand my nature wanting to fly with angel wings i’m just man
and in the decision to love or hate i stumble and with fury raise my hands to the face of sanctity hitting with destructive fists that do not take me to the highest heaven
feet don’t serve me to reach the blessed place my thoughts I navigate to cold places where there is no light
this day begging to have permission to enter my mothers’ house
and may my spirit be nourished by their
medicinal advice where my soul
will not suffer
and rest
in
peace
jarhead
as a babe i was never the tender one in the infancy of the developing footsteps of the mind i was just a soldier trained and not raised for raising would mean a coup at some point i was rather just a little girl kid lost on the floor of Grand Central Market amongst the watch towers of produce foxholes of spices grenades of chow mein and old man coffee napalm Kurtz was at every corner and my bayonet still could never hook the salmon filets embalming in the smoky mist of downtown bus pollution of course not being an heir of Grant or Lee i fell back in the back of most everything but my duty was not to keep score but rather lead the budding anarchy of my Phoenixian heart
bar fight haiku
detachment
the thoughts i had of you
as the dark of the night nodded off
and the rays of the yellow dwarf
slid through softly open curtains
reminding me that there wasn’t any romance between us
but when your phantom fingers stroked my mind
the imagination of the woman you turned me to
thrusted me into an explosive fantasy
spaghetti western
running out of seasons
the hill is a mile away
the Brave is tired
as he looks over the plain
the hunger in the sky
falls like fire
on inaudible prophesies
Gehenna
i lived another day in you to drown
and what is here before me drowns again
your buildings fall under my feet and birds
flock in this eve of raging guideless light
i love you in my bones to beg for luck
and mercy from a god or anyone
who finds my deadly skin on the edges
of confusion upon the deserts of the found
Werdin Alley
cold
concrete
the walls
are brick and
yet have witnessed many things
the stains of age are in the page
of the city’s palm the angels speak and demons kick out in laughter
i walk on thorns the books are long and i can’t see anything that breaks the spell of misery’s iron grasp
the worried sunrise comes and shines a light that fades into the cracks of time in the monuments unto lethargic progress and flowers bloom in screens of doom and shots are too quickly taken
unlike Tokpella this alley way has finite space and we all walk in crippling slumber John Wayne won’t get me here
amongst this man made thunder the blood is thin and made of ashes
as i lay the east escapes from me
Pahana you are over due
canyons fell down
life out
of
balance
profundo
en las calles veo lo que pasa
los niños juegan y gritan
en cada cabezita una revolución
listo para nacer o seguir
en sus tiendas veo los rostros
de padres, hijos, tíos, primos, hermanos
ojos con desiertos
manos que construyen pirámides modernas
en sus manos veo lo que es sufrir
llorar sin hacer un ruido reír sin sentirse con gusto
sonar sin esperanza
y en su corazón perder su latido
nas ruas vejo o que acontece
as crianças brincam e gritam
em cada cabezita uma revolução
pronto para nascer ou seguir
em suas lojas eu vejo os rostos
de pais, filhos, tios, primos, irmãos
olhos com desertos
mãos que constroem pirâmides modernas
em suas mãos eu vejo o que é sofrer
chore sem fazer um barulho rir sem se sentir como
som sem esperança
e no seu coração perder o seu batimento
in the streets i see what happens
children play and shout
in each little mind a revolution
ready to be born or to follow
in your stores i see the faces
of fathers, sons, uncles, cousins, brothers
eyes with deserts
hands that build modern pyramids
in their hands i see what it is to suffer
cry without making a noise laugh without sound
dream without hope
and in your heart lose your heartbeat
words less spoken 