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I orbit myself a
cyclical pattern
No Beginning No End
an elliptical motion
Enigma at Center
reflections of three....
me at the helm...
Space... time, gravity.  

A singular pluralism of exponential eternity as infinitesimal minutiae
govern the ******.
Not by lancing their eyes,
but insidiously
locking them in darkness,
like masses are meant to be.

But no... not me... as
my gift of perspective
has illuminated space ...
to spectate the rats
scrambling scrambling
to win the race.
It takes me to a place
I've been before
A land of giants, legends
gods and lore

Pulling me into
the darkest light
to guide my spirit
to Supernova bright

I shunned the hand
that's always spoken
for my soul...
to lead a so-called proper life

But now it screams
as I open my eyes:
to a meaning, a purpose,
a gift... my life
Art
Art is my salvation
a gift to cure my soul
Catharsis from creation
Pens and brushes
make me whole
Laughter lends its colors
to a dark and dreary Life
Light invades my spirit
and eases what was strife
2016 epiphany  about my creative side
silkEN KIng I know
It was you and not ANother
that first fashioned Adamu
and have championed our cause ever since.

Bochica Kukulkan Quetzalcóatl great healer, protector of man .....from the Spite of his Father's hand.

Who smites and annihilates,
sends plagues to his people
and demands their first born?
Who calls for war and blood and keeps man in the dark?

Compared to Yahweh your picture is saintly
yet you bear the blame
Of all evil in this world

The blind shall open their eyes once the truth unfurls.
Another hymn from Hems Heard in Heaven & Haws Heard in Hell
Spirit and matter
The light and the dark
left and right brained
the Ying and the Yang
an outspoken mute
a chaotic plan
mortal and eternal
a pacifist Warrior
ambidextrous hands
A foot on the ground
A head in the clouds
Silence and sound
A teacher a pupil
Reserved with no Scruples
A genius a fool
slave and the master
man I am God
feline and dog
reason and Insanity
A well planned Calamity
I am BALANCE
Grief is inspiration
pain the catalyst for art.
From loss of Love
Is Born creation;
poems songs
when torn apart.  

Tears become the colors
In the painting of my life, anguish is my partner.......
writing poetry my wife.
Written a long time ago
Ingrato nieto mío,
"ven a saludar"
la voz de abuelita
me empieza a gritar...
desde el cuarto donde duerme
y donde siempre está.

Ingrato si lo soy porque
no la voy a ver
tan pronto como llegó
a su casa a comer

Escarbo en la nevera
algo frío pa tomar
y me siento con mis primos a reírme y charlar.

Pero esta vez lo juro Dios,
voy a hacerlo bien ....
"Buenas tardes abuelita,
cómo está su Merce?"....
pero al tocarla no se mueve
y helada está también.

Ingrato siempre fui y siempre lo seré
Written for my living (at the time) paternal grandma on mother's day early 21st century.....she got a kick out of it.
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