untitled

the irony of the day makes me drift into space.
as if these days on earth weren't complicated enough.
daily complications beginning to fall back into place.
with the counteraction sitting behind it on the rough.
but i sit on realities edge while others argue if it's still round.
just stuffing things into book bags as i sound off the alert of my departure
no need for the clumsiness though
im only signing off to daydream a little.
ill leave my head just in the clouds jus for you.
as if availability wasn't sitting on the curb already
look for it there tho, just in case u need to send up a bat signal or two
time off is is time to be on the system.
ride astro belts and visit satellites just to take a look back.
stupid as i may be,
im still looking out here for signs of life.
leave behind the last act in the last chapter that ceased to exist.
Alpha Centauri never looked this great from a patch of grass.

"unknown random doors to randomness"

insert
turn
click
remove..

its now unlocked.
but i question the reason to open it.
now blocked by irrelevant emotion
i stand before this wall with clocks attached to my shoulders.
cuz every time i look back,
I'm re informed of how much time is being wasted.
brush off my shoulder only to leave a small hand there.
constantly nagging and pointing
showing what hours of the day is spent lost in thought.
ill ignore it for now.
this white door still stands before me.
and i cant peek through cuz the peephole is facing the wrong direction.
all i see is a blurred figure on the opposite side.
the figure moves...and i only squint more.
the hint of new tears leaks as i strain one eye too long.
three minutes later I'm waiting for a knock from 5 fingers on the other side
six Sakura petals fall before me
seven flowers blossom at my feet
eight pieces of fruit fall from trees unknown
nine butterflies emerge from their cocoon.
like a summer haiku,
the beauty of the door radiates as it now sits amidst a garden patch.
ten has been ascended on
ten is Japanese for heaven
and
ten is a number that exist only because nothing sits right beside it
and nothing else ever can.

mr. james

[just a freewrite written to mr. james - a beat by jon reyes]

i heard the bass reverberate
and my eardrums were amused
finally.

and i wish
i were the one who had created it.

sound finally
music had so swiftly taken advantage
of the silence i thought i enjoyed
it was a wonder if silence was merely a canvas
for music's outbursts of rage
and melody's chance to paint
unwoven masks of flats
uncovered to really be sharps

it was such a natural progression.
i should have known.

no wonder she was able to give more definition
and it all made so much more sense
to such a sloppy image of silence i had
she was merely the open book i wanted to read
each note a page i almost skipped

in carelessness
i had forgotten that silence was just the mistake
music fell asleep and avoided her awakening at times
because then
she would be obliged to create my new day
the song of my reopened days
and my eyes blinked to the metronome
as the bass reverberated
to amuse my eardrums again

...finally.

paint

paint on plywood; a million colors thick. layer upon layer stacking to create a new colour never before seen by the transverse eye of an artist. no paintbrushes or turpentine or water. all love. love sprayed onto an easel from the metaphorically slit jugular vein. life emptied out in an act of adoration for a simple straight-toothed smile with the sounds of a third wave guitar strumming lazily in the eardrums of this poet. the keffiyeh wrapped around the neck as a tourniquet for the wound that was never inflicted. spilling life forever for a friend, maybe an enemy, and always a lover. the carpet stained black and the sorrow is released. eclecticism of colour is all it takes to twist the heart into submission and manipulate the mind to feel emotionally unstable. living for the one day left before the apocalypse in the form of cupid riding on wolf-back. the red clouds slip above the blackened eyes of a woman, crying. the tears of white purity lift my soul into eternal sunset.

off the top poetry

i am..a victim of memories..
memories..of what could've been
or how i should've turned out
instead of being happy with where i am
i think about hypotheticals

i live my life killing time
while at the same instant
time is killing me
this constant battle between me and time
where i try to outrun time
i work hard to outlast this endless being
while i try to understand the meaning of life

Is life..defined by success..or happiness..
or do they go hand in hand?
in the end..i will look back..and evaluate
complete the evaluation of my evolution as a person
i try to pinpoint events that lead me to this place
this mere moment in the cycle known as time

one question we all have..is

DID I MAKE A DIFFERENCE?

DO I EVEN MATTER?

Well..i think..we all matter...
It is always that paradox of what if's
but who knows those outcomes?
i'd rather live my life living those present moments

AND i ran out of things to say..i got distracted by Hakuna Matata and started singing..haha..

But yes...sorry about not posting..

worth it.

i've tread through the sunsets
only to find that rain was more appealing
i've dampened my spirits
just to see that you were the only thing worth reviving

and i could be so proud
to realize it was all so much more
...worth it.

i've lived through the rivers
just to fall into oceans of you
drowned in deep serenade
wishing i could be your melodies
and it'd be all so much more
...worth it

if you could take me sliding down those rivers
of high notes you string from rainbow to rainbow
connecting the stars
to paint pictures of sunsets
silhouettes of ending days
spelling out goodbye
in the dried out evening

i've used all of your rainbows
swallowed all your rivers
and sunk all your sunsets
selfishly in hopes of makin it all so much more
...worth it

finally i can tell you stories
wafting along the lakeside
shores ready to float on away
departure ferries
awaiting our arrival
finally i can make you smile
like the sunset you painted at dawn
even while you tried to duck away from dusk
and picture me perfect radiantly next to

you.

First timer to the site

Hey guys, lynne was kind enough to let me contribute to the page. This is something I wrote one day, didn't really have time to edit it, so please excuse the grammatical shortcomings, which I'm sure there are plenty of. Happy readings

It’s ironic to find beauty
In the most perverse ways,
In things that most find ugly
I find it something to make my day
The typical question of
What are 3 things you look for in a girl?
If I were to answer
Some will raise a brow, maybe even gag
Smile, big eyes… and pretty toes
Most have, but beauty many do lack
Why such appeal for something that lacks
Such usefulness and purpose?
Why such a fetish for something that
Sweats and aches at the end of the day
But nay I say, in this I find beauty
For there is a deeper meaning in my eye.
Back in Ancient times,
When the queen would hither
To declare your love and obedience
The servant would kiss her feet
And for this I would say I would
Show such similar admiration
For this trait of mine is not easily won
For they must strike me with elegance,
Cleanliness, initiative in keeping them pure
I do not bow at any site of any foot
But I do use it as complementary evidence
That her beauty is more than skin deep
Many weep, at such a site
But it brings my attraction to such life.
This treasure is hidden everyday,
Concealed from many, so whats the use to maintain beauty?
Look beyond what’s written on the surface
For if they are hidden, and still glimmer like gold
Then she is a gem that should be treasured

onset

the onset of summer has seemed to bring a dryspell to this blogspot...

heat wave, sweet liquid, hot leather, burning rubber, cracking plastic, seering metal. my aluminum grave, my automatic slave. miles and miles and miles more to go before the onset of summer dissapears into a vapor of misty rains, again. sunlight on the skin creating a disproportionate tone. sweatdrops setting atop the brow and within the cotton layer of skin. a friendly grin with the forced shift of the gear and scream of the street. assaulting the mind with lack of water, headache and slurred speech. drymouth when the timing is right. straight teeth and almond eyes in the mind as blackness overtakes the vision. awake in the morning to turntables scratching and a dream slipping. a gentle breeze from a fan to soothe the skin under the sheets and a blink for disbelief. back to sleep...summer's still haunting the streets.

as the world turns

as the world turns,
a revolution in the distance repeats itself.
the old cliche record skips once again.
just sitting through midnight breezes,
i stare at these blank pages.
a white canvas becomes too intimidating,
so i retreat to this shell of music in which i seek slumber in
i search for the realization amidst the echoes.
the music plays on and bounces off the walls of this conch,
and drowns out the noise of the ocean.
because the songs meaning is just too deep compared to the sea.
just stuck in a trance,
i just happened to end up this way.
sitting for too long, listening to carefully,
got too used to the day
got too comfortable with these ways.
but ill break free.
ill break this glass ceiling,
and transcend this emotion,
redefining the meaning of the greenhouse effect.
to breathe in and be able to exhale as freely as the earth once did.
but for now, ill sit in this dark room
and develop these life lessons in each thought-process-stop-bath,
only to create good habits.
so i speak once again in cliche
so i sit once again under moonlit rays
i sit as the world turns...



get up...

my memory

my memories form fingers
so they may touch your hand one last time
brush lightly against your neck before a kiss
my memories refine their sight
so they may see your smile accurately
noticing the crinkle in your left cheek
and i remember you in almost everything i do
constantly retracing my steps back
to moments with you
to moments in love
...so you may know
that even in your passing even in your absence
i love you so deeply
that even death cannot persuade me otherwise