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Damian Acosta Aug 2010
Everything that is going to happen, has happened.

You are here and there and now and then even everywhen in everyhow, and of course if that is so then everywhere!

Thought!
The Then that thinks is Now, is then a Now that sees no There,
while a There without a Then is then impossible; Nowhere.
Now,  the Now that is here-- not Then or There-- stands closer to the truth;  Ever-presence, crystal clear.

Thesis!
All Objects are experiencing a unified long-term consciousness.

Experiment:
- Where are you? A room? A tube? A chair?
- Lift your eyes, become aware.
- Touch.  Smell. Smear. Stare.
- Choose an Object (heavy/light, your delight)
- Now raise. Then drop. Place There.

Result-
Object experienced brief consciousness, albeit unaware (?).  And YOU, an object in despair, with your Then and here and There-- your distance till this instance touted with fanfare!? The Distance!!

HA!!  
Hoooomme...  
Never ceasing...
Hoooomme...  
Eternity...

Fact!
Nothing is Eternal.

Longevity, not brevity, captivates... more so, resonates. ..

Proof!
Time : Movement
God : Man

Time is infinite;
Movement a finite measure.
God, eternal subtle formless of form;
Man, a measure.
2010
Damian Acosta Aug 2010
There's a bug on my windshield.
Staring.
Tearing.
... glimpse of beauty.

Wipers on.
... such is life
Wipers off.
... such a pity.

There's a smudge on my windshield.
Green.
Serene.
... shade of envy.
Damian Acosta Aug 2010
Your back against the hardwood floorthrustingharderthanbefore--
it's our scent that is now rising,
every inhale energizing
giving Life to our tantalizing dance of ancient lore

GraspSoothScratch
Your challenge is my match--
Walls of fear, fade, crumble then disapp

GropeSqueezeHold
Let me break your mold
GrabPullKiss

The taste of Belgian beer still lingers on your lips;
a hint of you on my finger's tip
enough to savor in your flavor,
not in gulp but in sips

SuckSlipLick
Moans with every flick--

✦❉◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡✦❉
✦❉◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠­◡◠◡◠◡◠◡✦❉
✦❉◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡✦❉
✦❉◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡­◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡✦❉
✦❉◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡✦❉
All my senses lose their tenses,
past and future have no fences
gone now all of our pretenses
5 connectors
5 receptors
1 pathway
to the nectar of your essence.
2010
Damian Acosta Aug 2010
The Girl with the Tree Earrings stood motionless before the fire. Seething tongues craving-- grazing-- for a taste of her, never easing their desire. "Arrogant." she simply stated. But her eyes spoke more than hatred. And the Flames licked with more arrogance; every whip a louder whisper of a deeper elegance. Yet the Girl with the Tree Earrings and the contagious hidden smile, did nothing more than stare for an even longer while...

The echo of millions of actions manifest through the flickering of a Flame, so it is no mystery that the essence of all of history, can be seen in the dance of an elemental game.

Still, she waited.

For a word.
For an insult.
For a slap of reality--
waiting for the flaming lips to speak! To speak more than mere causality!






















































­























Silence filled the sound.
















































Gravity held her bound.



The Fire, motionless, searched The Mind-- the Past, the Future-- all of Time. It asked the Earthy ground, but it nothing found. Then it asked the kind and playful wind... and there it was...

A lonely phrase hidden just within

"La Mer." was all it whispered in a cool embracing breeze, molding the Fire to its own desire-- into a cresting wave crashing down-- with ease...

The Girl's Tree Earrings shone. Each branch caught in a golden glimmer as her eyes softly simmered the simple beauty of this vision... Her glazed strawberry lips then repeated, words unheard yet somehow needed...

"La Mer"
2010
Damian Acosta Jul 2010
It's budding intensely. A waking flower in the mist that you are.

That's all.

But it's not your prose, it's not your rhyme, it's not the melodies you sing or the wrongs you right...
















There you are again... You Penetrate me, Dominate me, intoxicate me infuriate me elate meholdmeandleavemeobsessmeandthrillmeasifall d e e per a n d d e e p e r into that ever familiar loop of how to reach you again, but it's not your prose, it's not your rhyme, it's not the melodies you sing or the wrongs you right. It's your infinite presence. A taste of eternity always drips from your lips. Your silky hands upon my hips; you, always at my fingertips.

The future is filled with loud dreams and bright sounds, the past with silent screams and thorny bounds-- but you






















.



...




!




?




,




The **** subtlety which you exude; A raw glimpse of infinity in the ****.
2010
Damian Acosta Apr 2010
I wanted to call you, but my voice just wouldn't speak.
The more I fight with gravity, the more it makes me weak.
In spite of all the trouble, Outside of all the shame
I'm bursting my own bubble, And questioning my name.
Cause is an effect That has no definition.
The loss of self-respect, Creates insane ambitions.

Are you there? Do you hear me?
Are you blind enough to see?
Did you fall enough into my own vanity,
To let me in, to throw you out, to show us that it's really we?
Nothing changes as we change, and change is nothing but hypocrisy.

You point your finger as I do mine,
We run in circles throughout time.
Creating chaos out of nothing,
Demanding truth instead of loving
Destroying trust with aimless worry.

Are you there? Do you hear me?
Are you blind enough to see?
Did you fall enough into my own vanity,
To let me in, to throw you out, to show us that it's really we?
Nothing changes as we change, and change is nothing but hypocrisy.

On your way to the sky, You don't have to teach me how to fly,
Just tell me if it's worth not ever been so high.
I wont resent or curse your name, cuz in my heart you are still the same.
And one last thing that's on my chest;
War is not about who is right, but what is left.
2008
Damian Acosta Apr 2010
I see God in my garden, but I don't know what He said...
... perhaps a whisper of a warning; just a murmur in my head.
As I open up the back door and come rushing to His aid,
I'm tripping over fallacies-- cursing the attention I know I should have paid.
But no time for theory, no time for pain.
For God lay in my garden quite possibly slain.

Technicolor eyes and watercolor skin,
Just being this close redeems most of my sins.
Lips begin to part-- a breath escapes with a melody of rasping.
Holding His own heart, He is impotently grasping.
The **** is far too deep and the world is far too cold,
It's His life I want to keep, as His blood drips gold...

Should I pray? Should I weep? Where is God in times like these?
A father, broken... A dream, awoken... I fall on to my knees.

His gaze meets mine... He seems pleasantly surprised... He smiles...

And this is how the world ends. Not with a bang, not with a whimper-- not with a fall from grace;
But with the weight of humanity, the universe and existence, lifting from His face...
2009
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