Looking back
is a turning point
to remembering,
almost glancing
past the light that already passed.

An internal discourse
that had it measures
harmoniusly in concert
of leads and follows.

These days require inspiration
for revelation to follow elation.
An adaptation solely for the
consciousness.

When you criticize
the recesses of your mind,
you come to realize
the limitations
that remind your fears.

Simple acceptance,
suppression
or worse a change
in direction
isnt the resolve
but rather continue.
Let hope adhere.

Mesmerized by this hazel sun
That circles an image

Clouded once enclosed
When released from the sun
Ice begins to collect on this road
And before long all streams will be done

This is what we cannot remember,
Only whose souls are deep
Will, allowing snow to not remind us of Decembers
Contained by our hours of sleep

I would be lying if I said
i couldn’t read
what is on the back of my hand
because what is on my mind
describes the inscription
on the palm of my hand

That’s why I can’t help
but look down and prepare
the roles in my eyes
every time I hear
your familiar tone
trying to play by ear
on keys I’m still trying
to find to hold.

then i strike a chord
you search the sound
to imitate, we both smile
and create a look so similar
so familiar
because you have music
in thought to my lyric

I think we can commit
to memory this piece
of harmony we started
to play and lend
a melody to
but if not i’ll try to play
without notes
and hopefully
you’ll follow too

High tension awakened to nothing
But the serene twilight of a cascading dawn
Reserved in this constant position
With water to Ice and its brisk measure martyred

Against the radiance despite falling lunar rays
Here all drunken sunken minds reside
Having clear vision, despite misfortune’s distortions

The emotion of nature and imitations thereof
Evident in just cause and no coincidence from above
Gaze along the window and listen to these streams
For vigilance, clouds pass no longer in our dreams

I can't help but be concerned with your every move
with my mind developed in solitude
You move with out care with drunken eyes
Over mornings with an aching sighs

You speak with conviction
A smile with devious intention
But with a fire of daemonious concerns,
An Attention for fallen angels, you learn.

That the reality is not complete
Disconnected from you, and discontented
You elicit change in others providing
Romantic praise in libations of initiations

You gather lives, pressing a piece of yourself
In each intimate encounter – satisfied
That you have made light of their candle
A blue flame of resolving promises

You have kept yourself well
Free, intangible from the intrinsic
Drawing from your own ambiversive nature
Clearing your own torture of monotonous conjecture  

I almost lost your reflection
From the diversion of an incidence

Realizing your beauty surpassed superficiality
Through your eyes I see aesthetic sensuality

Water take no cleansing action to his detention
That has felt no remorse for the notion of vindication

Foolish mentality, child without maturity
Lead by impulse, and lulled by a narcissist

Sitting there like gravity has given you control
Ignorant individual entrapped with your own soul

Take one moment, talk, not to her but for her
Exactly what was your discourse, are you her

Did you act on juvenile inclination or fortification  
Subconsciously lost to wicked temptation

Sincerely do you have a mental hindrance
I’m subjecting to name-calling because of this dance

Who are you following what are you allowing
Your letting the past mold your thinking

Don’t get defensive you made the offensive
Your know the history, yet you let lust be submissive

“Go back” that is what you lack, the thought to review
And guide your way through and accept you’re flawed

i'll keep this narrative short
light to pass to make less
haste to what i seemed
to be hindering to chase,

you with your facades
me with my cascades
wavering from faltered
planks, decked
to be closer
to your horizons.

i have taken these
mornings, facing away
from sunrises
to bask in rays
behind new days

only because
of the concrete
that holds this feet
from falling

it's past that now
i have reached
in confidence
the middle again
an episode of a series
ending with a cliff hanger
you as a guest appearance
for my character development

Escaped, is that truly the objective adjective
A feeling perhaps everyone has projected
Or are we seeking within filling to feel secure
Are we affixing words for our selfish cures

Let us take our thought and dissect its pieces
Fit the jigsaws, does it compliment with ease
Photographs stuck on milk cartons like cement
The directive is the fleeting human element

Living in ones past, shadowed assurance from last
Foibles of human inquiry questioning with haste
Lapsing the collective logic of the inner sage
Soul bombarded, thwarted, strengthening with age

Examine not observe nor merely think your being
Vignettes to films are you truly sure your seeing

i'll keep this narrative short
light to pass to make less
haste to what i seemed
to be hindering to chase,

you with your facades
me with my cascades
wavering from faltered
planks, decked
to be closer
to your horizons.

i have taken these
mornings, facing away
from sunrises
to bask in rays
behind new days

only because
of the concrete
that holds this feet
from falling

it's past that now
i have reached
in confidence
the middle again
an episode of a series
ending with a cliff hanger
you as a guest appearance
for my character development

Overcast evening mixed with air and rain
Foreboding hairs rising, thoughts in vein
Words a loss at most to the gloss of this face
Strikingly beautiful to the beholder to trace

And it comes to this,
To care once more
With armor and all,
Flocking feathers fallen a more

There heeds no guide
No aide
To why we do
What our mind forbade

Discipline furthers its stretch
This man and his juvenile mind a mesh
Simply a child seeking a maternal figure
In every woman, a trigger

Trickling on the sides of faces
Are theses outlines for lost graces
Mixed ways in dismays from everyday
Departure to fool into rapture today

This is how it revolves to the middle
Month where a year comes,
To so little
A refreshment course to the choices
Taken hold by desirable answers

Trying to figure not to procure
An imminent ache to secure

evening cooled the air
before school.
a solemn thought
and what was felt,
challenged
the feats of futbol
to traversed
hop-scotches

the teacher calls:

child why have you ran there ?

"looking through
the crevices"

"playing hide and seek"

trembling with elation
- where the light
shines through
your smile

signal,
your limber hands
hope through your words
a tone of resilience
your mother once spoke.

Prince,
you are found
return now
along the port line's
seas
she sees you now

Lessening my steps, walking in the breath of my own soul
Faded, guided by her voice a midst the night’s artic scowl

Absence of calming pulses to divert my alert listening
But Weakened, cold, yet continuing
All that follows is, being glad to see you smiling

Forgetting about you, why can’t I just be your friend
There is too much to account, too much to loose by this trend

I don’t’ know where this may end before I come to mind
That someone, elsewhere by serendipity will be my godsend

Inside you know, and though that maybe so
I cannot say nor imply because you are not clear also

Being beside another is enough to relate to another
But being at their side in there time of need, and somber
Is enough to consign emotion in wanting to be their significant other

Dreaming seems to be a cycled reality,
dueling matters of vague interpretation
almost holding on to a fugue
state of delieverance,
that returns to dreaming.

A wakefulness that pardons our stressors,
exploring how sureness of changing tides
have arrived to wash the shore’s footprints;
turning salutations to a once cumbersom
slumber to keeping these eyes closed.

The mind never rests,
it continues to timely act.
Despite the character of one’s gait
submissive to extrinsic. We dream the same.
A neutrality in recognition,
the deepest desire,
the social matter,
and the human acceptance.

We rise to sleep
to deeply wake
the harden reality we failed,
to accept throughout our day,
removing our knighly armor and face
our dragons which have their own vices,
yet our devices hinder. Our true dreams,
blur between eyes closed
changing to dreaming with eyes open.

Realizing all true negatives are true
positives differing only from accepting
that I can vertically add difference;
we can all equate to change
if you keep dreaming in mind.

Can not distinguish my breaths
Why I take in these threats
That takes grasp
Of my fair air
That clears my internal affairs

And though it seems my anguish
Is lost to the polished scheme
I have ingrained within my eyes
I am reminded again and again

In abstract I contract a line
That fools the absolute
To the Fin
Only finding the rules dilute
To a drinker of truth
Facing the sky

With the clouded justification
To find association
In the tone
Of the polarities
Sincerities
To merge into
Middle linear ties

Overtaken by java sages
Virally programmed by ages
Of systematic impulses,
All false
The need, strength, and balance
Is a mediator
That is an open instigator

Over and moved closer
Holding on
I might lose her
Not in my own right,
Of emotional plight
But a fight fought long
Within each song
Fused for this muse
Doing wrong to my mind
All along, is this poet wrong?

Have I exposed it all?
That there is nothing left
To transpose to proses
Or is this a step
I have yet to step on to

These words these mere
Entendres in parallel to
My daily tears for fears
Vice viscerally seared

Repeatedly, incessantly
To attempt to understand
That Socratic it is, to withstand
The frantic resolve, to accept
That there is something
In nothing

All through the afternoon,
among these drinkers
to their tables to java cups
all from a bird’s-eye view.

Blended individuals,
of varying hues
too much sugar, no need to stir
hot, no ice - “a language of their own”
adding “cream to this crop”
like fraternity’s rushing thought
to seemingly **** out the weak.

Textbook before my face, coffee to my right
surrounded by chatter, and apparent debacles
behind the rearing of my ear lobes
set the seem from my shirt and cut
play the motion picture, film, pan out.

360 crossover,
these eyes wander, merely to ponder
conscious parenting to the mind; reminded
yes I did complete that -
atoning to what could be done,
view now from my eyes
around clouded peripherals
(zooming into this page)
trying to read to figure
a Venn diagram of the temporal lobe;
committing to memory ironically
it’s long-term function to maintain
the conception of this thought.

Distracted, back to this drink
re-calling coffee mythically impedes growth
or so they say to stray from focus -
the holder is the cup, to handle is abrupt
but we drink it, to straighten our view
so much as this morning vice stimulation
branded by a jaded graphic mermaid,
or possibly a siren, or to some a muse.

But, it’s the afternoon; no need to rush,
just here and there, casually taking sips
temporary jolts of caffeine
a temple of thought,
temporarily fading,
due to lacking the day-to-day rest.

Same perspective,
but this time curious, calm, and collected
like a child looking above an ant-farm - proud
gazing at moving points like synapses
of our coffee cups as opening our wakefulness.

Can we just remember to understand
that everyday is different.
Our mornings may start mundane
but we find joy in the day
for afternoon connections
no matter what they may be, just to remember,
so that we can have lasting memories,
and not the caffeinated ones.

speaking only
through moves;
we are playing games
of chosen mad-libs
and retracing Uno steps
to find ourselves,
to return back looking
for multiple axes
so you or maybe I can
call bingo!

but I move, without you seeing
you return to reprise tension
lessening these enveloped expectations

rolling single digits
i'll fall behind, though you follow
this trend we seem to allow

hoping to land
on the same space
so that piece of you
may continue

Glaring through the window,
Focusing on circling flies,
While having laid an impression with this body,
Have my hours promised this past,
and all before,
Blocking these eyes from thinking at all.

These closets with stacked belongings kept for certain,
The lights remain on even throughout the night,

they flicker at times !

these blinds almost shield this daylight,
allowing reflections to emit,

do my words have substance ?
does my soul care to admit

You sit there
devout in your intentions,
Deeply sure
that the path laid
is the path surely taken.

Frozen in my views
merely
kneeling
before alters of instituted obstacles,
feeling, pleading with myself
that what is set before me
is a fork with a middle way
taking my own trident
to absolve into paganistic
views of this world
where each objective
has a celestial voice

my comforts are
within knowing
and not what I try to understand

This is my mind thwarting fear
but repeatedly left in complacency.
Giving answers to my own questions
While my self interrogation
Never has been set in this time.

But always focused on the future
With a pessimistic view of the world

So that I can be secure
not be shocked, and surprised

To prevent myself to be mechanized
To form thoughts away from obscurity
So that I will not compulsively lie to sleep

I need to be difficult, and serious.

I need to be a person that gives them self
Hardships, days that put others to quickly raised flags
Because for some unexplainable reason, easiness, failure, and simply being stationary
Never has kept me defeated, but has provided me success.

I know myself but not well, but enough to realize my faults, and actions

My mind is always thinking, moving, caring, reasoning, and limiting itself
Because I am still simply a human trying to use sense in this world

We forget we are human;
We lay frozen in these carnal desires
We need to melt away
And be mindful of our winters

True criticism
Whether constructed or impulses for the moment;
Taken or not, to be offended by it
Is to be aware of an interjected potency.

A toxin of a so-called realization to drive towards sin
Or perhaps self-actualization, to whom we are within

Mind differs from soul, on the division of what is human.
The thought conveyed is lacking in being, rather than seeing.

Applying logic as a constant is grounds for ill confidence.
In a quality that droughts in tears from a cyclic existence

The thoughtful thrive on selfless striving
to be heard, immortally by their reviving words

The self-centered gravitate to absent causes
assisting no one, and becoming less heard

But sincerely who is right to judge you and me
Bias surrounds us, traps us to filter what we see and believe

Faith is lost to a logical world, where action is questioned
And the metaphysical will soon be poisoned by what is known

There are lights
Not meant to succumb to blight
Of the true dissension of Adam’s apple bite

some people have no regard for privacy
i joke with other people
because they admit to their foibles and follies
in public domains and by doing so
i respect them
that is how comedy persists to exist

but to make falsehood, lie,
and most importantly not admit to such;
i cannot accept this from people despite the nature of human beings
some individuals are simply insolent
because they themselves
have not had a single piece
of gratification in their lives

A Full dose of chemotherapy symptoms:
Hair loss, loss of appetite, and pale completion

Antibiotics, Steroids,
And intravenous fluids
I may get sick in addition to this

Cancer.

The doctor I ask
What interests you in this specialty?
“The research of a cell that believes
In the fictional concept of immortality”

Yet my mortality is in question here:

And yet here, I sleep, rest and lay down
Almost stationary to this ever moving world
That supposedly when I stop
I can then move again to rise or fall
An almost witty comparative analysis
If I even dared to displace myself
From this bed

So I continue this rigor of treatment
Despite the horrid regurgitations that follow
And I grow continually weaker when supposedly

A cell divided is a sign of being alive

Where is this immortality this doctor speaks of?

Because I am afraid
For I do not understand

Life breathing life everlasting,

A soporific effect

Matters we do not understand
Are eternally received by preserving
Ourselves in words

We wish that all our troubles would subside,
And let the wind change the wave of the tide.
But there, our thoughts glamour in sun rays
Falling reflections and crashing these bays.

Listening attentively, a whistling screech
The clamoring tuning to this breech;
That caused the waterfalls from these caverns
Sheltered crevices of depth and humility

Falling all so effortless to answer these calls,
That wants nothing less than it all.
A request not even a personal petition
That lay waste to all conditions.

Here at last, this night and every time
I cannot fall to slumber here
Where days of summer pass time
Insomniac to tomorrow’s fears.

I just want peace in all of our minds
Without the helix of the progressive bind
A want less satisfaction with no expectation
But to see one another with no deviation  

Duality perpetuates in our eyes’ receptivity
To transcend from it is to venture away from this reality.

He manages to free his thoughts
as he gazes the television
for news from a distance,
while continuing to sample
his supper of rice,
and sauteed vegetables
on a aluminum serving plate.

The restaurant he owns
dimly lit this mid-afternoon
with ghostly lanterns,
and artistic impressions
of times past on the wall,
while customers
walk and gingerly pass
ordering from an eclectic
menu of indo-latin-euro-oriental cuisine.

A neapolitan of condiments
dancing among garlic chili sauce,
and mayonnaise.

Mahogany grained panel walls,
and formica woven
seats, uniformly
scattered among
porcelain white
plates; traditional.

Engraved Jade pieces
hung with colors of luck
on each entrance.

I approach the counter.
A sepia toned
picture of his family
hanging by his register
no first dollar bill
or recognitions.
Just family held,
through time,
as he hands me a check.

Conscious how below self awareness motives can be.
Subconscious no matter the state.

The density remains linear; all drawn in pen
to attend to these feuding desciples
of being “super” and the instinctive relliance on idioms,
of actions portrayed further than words,
finding balance on this epicenter
of egocentric dreams coined all along the same metaphor.

Sides- to what ever shape of form of the matter ,
linear at point we all eventually
dive/urge finding another
point above or below
convergence in light
to change focus in volume/mass
equaling (1)ndividuality / decreasing the density of situations

Supine and enamored in cotton sheets.
Motionless, with vessels dilated at the time.

The filtered light makes it’s journey.
Warmed by the hour, warned by the noise.

A voiceless yawn, a reflex, and then stretch.
A conscious gasp followed by flaccidity.

Yet the day before, perpetuates
the morning after.

Evenings always seem to foretell
the prior hours of our working days.

If the day moves, without faults
we speak in a elated way.

When a hinderance appears
and untimely tragedy commits.

The liquid labor may be your vice
to secure then admit vulnerability.

Nothing more are the stumbles
that only gather footing
and stand against
the door opening

to traffic, streets garnered
with endless glows
within our restless minds
finding exits to resetting the past
and just returning home

open before, lines have peaked
after falling archaically then to resume;

only to find normal rhythm
while finding dancing wings, in tune

attesting to this chest’s bounty
beneath these dubious lullabies,

finding resonance in this romance,
to see you again not good-bye.



2011©AGDP

He plays a tune hand calloused and all.
Face against the blue filled with malice
Flashing a florescent blissful green
Changing all so lightly still

Leave him alone, sunset to sunrise
Pondering birth to death.

Crimes of our very own human dignity
Imprisoned, for our clawing entity.
Plays shadows beside this fluttering sail.
A pale veil that will bring us no avail to bail;

Light hearted the human soul is not.
Weight within ignorance and defiance
the mind is consumed by all reflection
bland or complex, life has no attention.

Stained glass windows, black widows
Rainless mornings, and frivolous sermons
Taken to the tortured girth of human doubt.
We are lightless and stationary only to run.

Along the shoreline, faith is not receding
Only seldom visited.
Replaced by the capture and rapture
Of virtually tangible lights;

News no longer plays homage to heart
Rather lies rampaging the feeble apart.
Pessimism parallels reality.
Rendering sin’s originality.

Our causes parallel pauses
Making these changes in duality
Deafening intrinsic viability,
only to expunge identity.

Looking back at the advertisements
Across the widely boarded stilts
Lit to view by admitting at will
Driving forward looking back still

These Nights with lights, Lightened from cigarette filled clouds to rainstorms.
We are drowning our Inhibition to exhibitions, of a shallow madness.

Within a matter of clearance
Of transverse sunrays:
We call this morning
A day past,
A night ruled with dreams.
Flooded with traffic afflicted
Souls searching beneath empty vessels of libations
Only to unearth realizations from lost sensations.

Vagabonds patrolling streets
apparently policing their worries,
from failed inquiries of maternally adopted creeds.

Divided vision escalated arrhythmic palpitation
Deviation from a gradual calm away from calamity
Expel, Exhort-Excise, the deep-veil

A rising dawn, polluted skies reflected in these eyes,
I stare at this street lamp, flickering at-us-all.

With your presence, I simply am
Free to speak, and sure of being
Corner view, because of who I am
But with one night a flowing rain of a voice,
I slowly came to view away, from a choice undone

You know I care for you
But I’m the one that is cursed with patience
Working through the day, stressed and tired
With a single memory of alleviation, of the day’s strain
I cannot speak I cannot speak for this enough speaks

You repeat matters of hope
That causes me to cope with this virtue
Doves fly a pattern through clouds
That I too take passing by the crowds

Your time spent upon your descent
To cities of histories past
I wish allowed me to move along
But with one night a flowing rain of a voice,
I slowly came to view away from a choice undone

I’m so lost, unable to find the reasons,
I cannot heed my sight
With every night pass you’re on my mind
In my thoughts, sounds, and my rounds

Why must the chemicals that control
Leave us on a road waiting for a light
There are no words but an inner release
That seems to never cease
Until we feel deceased

I’m the sole thought, behind
I smile but I frown within
I seemingly talk with no change in tone
But with the night my sadness is shown

The irony of my thoughts
In my pursuits of being a healer
For the bruises of how I fought
Seem to naturally become clearer

Frigid winds whistling pass my ears
While every path stepped on a stone
Unsure, unfamiliar have I found closure
Or does my mind finally feel alone
Beneath it all, under the umbrella shown

The days grow longer
And there is sleeping somber
Happiness in hearing your voice
Has no chain reaction and has lost its poise.

Even with my own troubles, then hearing yours
Drought became springs of offerings.
Unknowingly you mended my soul to follow detours,
In spite of ironical sufferings.

But despite that claim, and the ground untold
Paths have laid stones away from the bend.
Unheard, unsure the view of the fenced abode
This remains forever unanswered at this end

I tried to get to you; I left all I can mark
Assurance, regret but admire; my last true remark
I once felt, like I was trapped within a cell
But I seem to no longer hear your name,

familiar waters
flow like a wave,
trickle a rhythmic down poor
grasping solace spaces
within conducive centers

signs-other wise noted
of alternating views,
bundled for impulsive branches

so that we may realize
what we lack at times

a pull upon the contrary
system

without a bias past

time dwindles,
like the whistling
annoyance of the morning
alarm clock
upon the now perturbed
ear drum.

a thumping sound
now sums up these tones and hands
us passing sands again.

hopefully gaining
through the contours
of this mind,

a broad to narrow
perspective of what reminds
me of these times.

i cannot rest towards sleep,
not insomnia nature,
but this mind's consistency
to intensively be critical
of cared units to measure.

continuing as each
tactile, contractile, dactyl pressing
against this chest contesting
examination against my inclination
to worry a hurried
yet impede succession
to assess these abscesses
within
weaving teaming thoughts
defensive to the x and o drawn
so that i may anticipate
tomorrow's entailed
beauty

wait, a change in tone
a drop in breath
rest, retired, and displaced
movement of consciousness
no longer anxious

gravity has provided
a pillowed valley
to allow this face
to rest this monocle
towards the dimly lit
neon green
pass the hour 4
am I divulging
my emotions
to conceived
mirror
dramatic animated images

alas spirits
lifted
time
remains
cycling
pedaling
from
unneeded
wakes
of waves
so
I may
dream

Our preconceived notions
can’t seem to be left at the door
as we all seem to meet each other
for the first time, hand shake in check
psychiatrist inspecting psychologist
who to take, what to take, can we partake
in this guessing game of assumptions;
all because we are deeply insecure.

Yes, perhaps the writer even the reader
can take heed even implore the words
from abstracts, to ideas set forth to type
font, confront abound the reflective recollections,
as I form sentences and you figure the syntax.

Seeping through the membranes that we have solely
constructed from the libations and gluttony from opposite
heads to tails; phobic forming channels flipping
ratios of eyes on you, and yourself so to be social
concentrates every weekend, only to dissipate.

What has been lacking is simple genuine
conversation of good morning, how are you ?
exchanging information so to know
one another - that is being social.

The microcosms we place ourselves into are nothing more
than are fathom facades we trace as perimeters so to measure
how much we can let people into our already egocentric lives.

Don’t contest that statement, to some level we all have absolved
in our own thoughts everyday, that we lose sight perhaps
what we see with our eyes should be understood logically
with conscious from the back of our minds.

Tip this scale for which we wait, taking to memory
that we heal as we initiate, and take ourselves
into each others weight, so we can carry on.

Come by tonight i'll share this time
a while we'll stare, my words will exile your eyes
no more unspoken defined soft talking
I hope this alone will change the tone
to remix reminisce this melody

I'm always beside you here
These thoughts for you I keep
So you don't hear though, my whisper
through this night, it will be clear

hesitating this mind stating in keeping safe
I had to reflect so to take a step back
Making sure my step forward
Wasn't someone beside me
Aside from this heart
Getting hurt by all this Inside
Dwelling I''ve been there
Stayed there, and you don't know it
but I just realized it
you brought me out of misshaped
beats that I always kept tracking back
because I could follow your beat.

I'm always beside you here
These thoughts for you I keep
So you don't hear though, my whisper
through this night, it will be clear

Conjure belief where assurance
is easily tempted from doubt.

The physical world acts on
a point to point basis
of action, reaction.

Where the genesis of relativity
as the golden rule
mediates the knowledge
that is perpetuated by irony
through circumstance
and the accidental
incidental coincidences
that bend time.

Symmetry is a natural motion of
consistency, extending from an apex
or midlines, transverses, logarithmic expressions
all from some single origin.

The palms of our hands
are textual markings
of our need for symbolic understanding
in the variances
we create for scientific observation.

Juxtaposed to the stars we created
circular pieces to a wheel in the sky
we hypochondriacs believe
to superimpose as vaccines,
to our inconsistencies we host
as symbiotes
for inverse proportionality.

From the signal, beat, tone,
and definitive sounds
is the pulse of our momentum,
a return to equilibrium.

Lamps beside ourselves
Light at night past twelve
Allowing spoken word
To be felt then heard
No matter the cause
Nor the time to pause
Our thoughts cease
For our heart to release
Contemplation through the hour
Concerns begin to tower
Through our rest to attest To confide and then access
Question your meaning
Why you speak by leaning
Taking your drain to rain
That what we lack we attain
Instances of guidance upon decadence through internal persistence
Training of the mind it is not, but rather caring for deliverance

Reviewing has been the perpetual answer.
To the unclear inquisition
that befalls the people
I have not seen
or spoken to for some time.
But there’s a progress
to the studies
which have accompanied
my mind to see beyond even me.

Thorough repetition
of factual information
in a mundane fashion.
The passion for acquiring
the necessary knowledge
has found it’s self
incorporated
in the daily conversation.

In the morning
a discrete young woman
fashioned with a “salmon”
bandana, leaving the cafe
with green tea in hand.
Followed by the waddling
footing of a child holding
a mother’s hand.
In passing, an adult
repetitively cursing
on the undertones
of their words.

The following day
a man in a tailored suit
talking to himself
with an ear-piece
unseen to some.
A young man
holding his father’s hand
hauling an oxygen
tank behind him.
A young lady with
white complexion,
studying. As she faces
my way her cheeks appear
with patching tones of black.

Reminded daily,
I return to these books,
the flow charts of
pathologies and treatments.

Humbled,
that the view and discourse
of our conditions
are not all the same.

Cease the peace.
We tease ourselves
with every crease on this paper;
we call our lives.
Folding in ourselves
to make better
when we can do better.

Decrease the least pleasant day
from your mind, only this time
you’ll find a piece of paper, within you.
Written with words.

Not monosyllabic expressions
Of yes, no, and may-be, so

There will now be phrases that erase the seclusion.
Creating, and not copying
Leading, not following

And finally realizing
Humanity is at a loss
A loss from this paper
That is not glossy
Cause it should reflect
Who we are

Write me a line or two
A progressive tone from you
Why holding my head down
I am no longer wound around you

I swear I was sulking it in all
A pseudo reality to rise and fall
And despite my sublime awakenings
I find myself again human and waiting

Patiently in line with elevator music
Filling once sincere responses
With empty ad-libs. Blank
A thought has just sank

The dawn now has its essence
Talking now with others has substance
Walking in the rain now has its claim
I don’t know, what or whether to blame

And if I wake and no longer see
Its just because i have not been me

Keep looking back,
when I can’t move forward, I keep looking back.

The connection with how I speak
and how the words that follow
seem to not catch the dancing
and listeners that follow.

The crowd around this tribal
semi-circle hasn’t taken
the feathered trials
fitted on their fathers minds.

Whether they choose
not to embrace or to me disgrace
by forgetting their past
it familiarizes my identity.

But familiar curvatures
form complete circles,
overlapping or simply touching
we are all siblings of each other’s hold.

Whether the sun provides
more warmth here
or my skin appears pure, we still remain
within the same wars of existence.

I echo respect, you understand
because it simply translates.
Continue on, remember re-verse.
Keeping shades.

Positions block the light,
rather corner views of the night.

Keep looking back,
when I can’t move forward, I keep looking back.

mellow tune, speed up now
i'm falling asleep so slow
the memory has as no woah !
but the sound still flows

the words change their view
and now I review,
all my ways
all today
as I lay, to sing to sleep
the child in my mind
runs over me
playing tag to hide
and seeking why, oh why

i'm singing to a tune
crooning to my own lulaby

hit the play button, unwind
and all a of sudden laughter
matches pitches and tones
switching expression, from
last ditches and groans
that displaced the day.

break out the bottles
taking out messages
to mess and address
the irony to humor;

a winding tide
to what is seen
to eventually forget
ourselves through
a musing, as we delve
our attraction to fill
the missing tiles
all the while
not keeping score
yet presenting
the core of who we are
in each encore
laugh, and coupled smile
paused, satisfied
that the day has ended
in the company of understanding.

God sent spirit
Born out of love
Place by fate
o understand the whole
Lonely though
But a phoenix among his friends
Inquisitive, mature, wise
One’s defined assets in the end
Put through all but small scrapes show
However what makes them deep are
His ability to endowed realizations from a far:
Though eventual our life here is made and taken
The true gift of life is to be mindful that we can be mistaken
And that arrogance and ignorance are the downfall of the best of us.
We are only human in a world that is superficial to the eyes that god gave us.

to the thought of you
that motif of you
was like a latent infection
like hives to my face
making me red but breathless

made me realize
got me sensitized
when a new face,
recalled called before
these eyes that came into focus
instead of my eyes clear to you

that was once too far before
repetitive inhibited i’ve become
playing mute like an idiot
like a puppet on the a string
couple with a hand up the rear
faking every smile with a cheer

this isn’t a hate a poem
not lyrics to tic away
the times of regret to rhyme

no, not at all
not seemingly at all
not even partial, somewhat

i needed to make peace
with myself, and my mother
a tangible door that i left
through with the window
wide open, tired, and confused
through a flow that obstructed
with only beams from high school
no foundation to be constructed
I upset her and it was not you
it was the person that gave
the very thought of me to even
conceive to help you, be there for you
i repressed that, i suppressed that
but finally I’m relieved of you
now closer to my parents
that you’ll ever be to yours
it’s the truth, not an insult

i spent all these years
psychoanalyzing a psyche
undirected, ironically
you gave me direction
away, no contention
just signs, and many exits
but i continued to drive
passing opportunities
friends and happy moments

i have internalize this too long
reading into nothing, yes it could have been
but I focused on changing you,
because of you, what you have seen

i’m done, fully relinquished
you probably won’t know, or ever care
or even read this, never took interest
anyways on this craft of mine
only on witchcraft because you never
cared too much on your own faith
again the truth

as I observed, you’ll only come around
from getting broken and surely that was it
but in the end, there was only so much
we can mend the people around us
they have to realize, and yes you made me realize

if the world wasn’t the way it is
the only women i’d call my best friend
wouldn’t have to contend with the contents
of this poetic discourse, because frankly
all this could have been averted
but it was because I’m too good of a person
too nice of a guy, never wanted to play the game
now i’ve mastered it, just been holding on this space

but that was it, it was just space
you dragged the offensive of me
a defensive I have known all along
and kept pensive
it’s just we try to keep
what we can not have

Let your eyes adjust
Are you sure, you truly understanding what your seeing
I’m a human being captured by the ignorance of darkness before you
Has this cave sincerely shackled you to your seat?
And only shadows on the wall
Is what we only believe exists
Is there more to life
Question and answer answer and question
Life is filled with opposites
Take me, as a messenger telling you
That the world we live in is a pseudo-reality
Tell me do you know what really happened during nine eleven?
Do you know that you are able to bend a spoon?
Do you truly believe that America is the ambassador for democracy?
Or ironically terrorism in itself
We believe what we want to believe, that is the human condition
Curiosity fueled by suggestion
The problem, is understanding that our curiosity can be lead into fallacy

Have you seen the light, the light of the red pill?
That will no longer make you ill
To this ignorance of illusions, that the media has communicably gave to us
I stand before you with a light of my own
Not completely enlightened but enough to tell you
To question your surroundings and not preach
But rather hopefully teach you
To do just as Socrates did. To keep on questioning
Because we don’t have all the answers
Hopefully we may one day completely have the courage
To leave this Omelas of American thought
And find that natural drive within us to seek the truth
The world isn’t this tangible sugar coated honest reality
Individuals lie, deceive, and make the world what it doesn’t seem to be
Please have an open mind
For what the world needs is growth in intellect
And not in economy for to understand that legitimately
We may then begin to solve the problems of humanity

sino ba nag kinakita sa imo
ikaw sa akin ko mata
kasi nag mamata ako
dito para sa imo lang

sa oras hasta sa langhit
o sa akin ko otak
a’yun aking ko inisipon
ang trabajo nang carabao
diri sa dupa nito

ang isda nag lumipad sa tubig
a’yun pispis na malapit sa cahoy
kasi ang dahon nag tuktuk

sa kamut ko nag pabalhasan
sa sarap nang kabuhi
ang kawi mo nag pula
kasi mayong adlaw
ang tini-tikman mo

dugay naman ang hapon
karon lang, pagtulog ako

held up legitimate excuses
fully executing unfocused choices
returning, backspacing this type
same sentences, of looking back
from rough drafts, rewriting
keeping words behind images
spoken actions restricted glances

still looking to find my essence
as repeated waves came tides
contrived to dissolve so to solve
all secured within tiers of a castle,
granulations formed from memory

write so to form, a type of sand
tangible untangled tactility
measured through these hands
we can only grasp these times

i have got a focus
one that causes these eyes to be elated
elevated, so to dilate all that is my being

yet I stutter in seeing
as you capture these snapshots
slowing my shutter speed
to lead these negativities
from undeveloped to developed
colored pictures

images that were once black and white
gradient mediums
of grayscale tones
followed by forgetting loans
that were reeled matinees
that i paid with patient
polaroid instances of being

too much of a gentlemen
counting 1-2-3
cheese - ready smile
but these cheeses
are too aged
long forgotten

It's been one of those long travels
where reaching point B
has no words but to allow
smiling instinctively now
even before you raise that camera
to eye, my eye level
focusing on taking this picture

there is a reason
a smile is worth a thousand words
that we share the moment
and share the life
because we take pictures
with people we want to remember
preserving past our memories
because in a flash
we loose sight for an instance
all those, worries, and concerns
reflecting happiness to ourselves

so when you open that envelope
of pictures for the first time
at the one hour photo place
or dust off that old album
remember time and again
you have brought out the best in me

i need to write directly now a days
my mind no longer puts a facade
these words are all sincere
thoughts once in disarray
are now focused

it has been too long
that i have ever cared
on every action
that pursues reaction
in the presence of a muse

played too many battles
carried across many hands
receiving only one side
when I should see both

and here again,
not looking but finding
straddling away
from something potential

it's ironic
we can help so many
but become limited
when we focus on ourselves
through acceptance

well dear reader
forget all the what may
what could be
or has not been

take a chance,
we have been
playing games
all our lives

we can only fall back
to advance forward