At six in the morning, On the bus, The only sound the thrumming of the engine, And the informing of the automated voice. Rolling down Kendall Drive, The passengers sparse this early on a Sunday. Lost in thought, Or a fleeting dream, Trying to catch elusive sleep. I get off at Dadeland, The exhaust and roar of the diesel the only farewell. Well, the man waved. The one with the
The bright rays of imagination Kiss my face As I lay adrift On the waves of my mind, The winds of my thoughts Caressing my skin. Beneath the surface, The sea of my creativity churns, Frothing white-capped waves cradling me Before I am tossed towards the sun, Only to plunge into the depths of my subconscious. Time becomes a memory Right beside the laws of gravity. No reference of the
My dear friend Alejandra posted this on my Facebook time line: “When shall we see each other?” This is my reply: “When the sun and the moon meld in the sky to form a land of bliss where milk and honey flows into cups of ebony and gold from trees of jade and alabaster. Only then, in a reality of nostalgic happiness reminiscent of days past, of uncomplicated joy at
To create a thing Is to express Yourself. And in a manner, Seek temporal immortality. Words, sounds, and colors. Vivid representations Of the human condition. A multi-layered message, An outstretched hand. “We are here, Together. We came separately, We will leave separately. But we are here, Together. And this is what I see.” Creation, The power of the gods, Is not a power, but privilege. It is an honor to
I am Not of her blood. No physical resemblance, No physical ties. But for those of affection And warmth. Strange paths Brought us to this. I am Her son. Her light guides me, For it defines me. Her flaming demeanor Gave me An impulsive tongue And a mind adrift Through wildfire clouds. I was given Love of life and experience Love of people and connection Love of the world
Distant and soft. A touch of starlight Illuminating my path, With ethereal glow. A tender presence, Of feminine confidence. Significant. Hidden within, Underneath the veil. Through the gate Of temporal fluidity, Soft colors of the earth, Filling my vision With Life and Love. Vibrant experiences Vibrating at the frequency of A flitting hummingbird, Carrying me through The seven gates of existence.
I stand before the colors The sounds The sensation of life. I bask in it The glorious saturation Deep within. Reaching forth towards Myself The perception of the mirror. Skittering the darkness Floating the dreams Climbing. The star that is Existing At the center Radiating Lighting the path to Climb through the eye Into the Cosmic Dream.
Unable to speak But not silent, My voice is heard. For through the Logos I communicate. The truth of it is that I use words as my method to be transparent. On paper is where I am most honest. There is a certain permanence with this ink that brings my unconscious alive in Technicolor. For life is absurd. Inside my own sanity, I delve in and out of the portals