Rain falls softly on the purple flower as it swings to and fro
in a field where everything blooms according to nature's will
Steadfast and strong the morning sun rises in the East  
upon a lush carpet of grass soft as the ancient winds of time

Light piano keys caress my mind as I close my eyes and enter
into a reverie as bright as the orange tulips that seize me
Ferns and chanterelles bathed in beams of pure light  
I am part of and whole of, this amazing greenish forest ...

Rivulets of quiet waters glide through the sun kissed earth
aerial slides from eagles and other winglet creatures of sky
Loyal and faithful mother earth is constant with her affection
in this solitary paradise made of homosapiens of every kind

Stunned into silence I inhale the chirp of the dancing bird
exhaling into the pinery the offspring of my very soul
I cup my  hands and drink from the river, a thirsty fish
longing to finish the journey I begun, ...centuries ago.

That girl in my dream
She has no face - it seems.
No, it's not like that.
Wearing a beautiful dress,
Neither is she faceless,
Nor is she voiceless.
But as soon as I wake up
Her face escapes the walls of my brain,
And her voice flows out like a flowing river,
Every second getting dimmer.
Yet I remember
How beautiful she is,
And how her voice lingers in my heart
Like a true piece of art.
It's like something I know,
But at the same time - don't know.

Don't be afraid, my love.

Feel the breeze that beats the heart,
for a moment, let the soul's breeze float.
Put the bad things away and forget the bad times past.
Come to Paradise, that of kind words.
Let's leave the war far from everything,
perfume everything with peace and love.
Feel all the happiness,
That's it, it comes and goes.
Caresses of life,
sweet sensitivity.
With a glass of water,
immerse yourself in the freshness,
of a never-ending party.
In the world, the one that flourishes,
wonders sprout everywhere.
Let the softness of life love you,
feel the sun surround you in warm caresses.
Feel the message of love in the songs of the birds.
Moments for the soul's rest, in the sea of days.
Melodies of words to lull you sweetly,
my soft song, that which resonates in your soul,
an intimate song that hearts treasure.
Fold away the sorrows and bring out the happiness,
make life dawn,
make the days delicious.

Songs so that everything goes well,
love letters that are just kisses from the heart.
Bits of happiness that fly straight to the souls,
omens of good days, where everything flourishes until the end.
Whispering in your ears, messages in bottles of good wishes,
forget the tears, and make laughter contagious every day.
No matter what happens, feel that there are always drops of happiness floating,
that perfume that anoints us when we least expect it.
Create an aura where everything shines golden around you,
listen to the gentle melody of well-being.

Don't be afraid, everything will be fine if there is love,
that pure love that floods souls.
Bubbles of happiness in bottles,
uncorked bottles,
that spill,
good days.
With love,
bubbles of pleasure,
happiness that spills over.
Poems from one heart to others,
sickly sweet happiness to stick to everyone.
Creating an epidemic of happiness,
don't be afraid that you might get infected,
happiness is always good.
Contagious love in bottles,
bottles of bubbles,
uncorked
with love for you.
Caresses of love,
to kiss you,
pure kisses,
of endless love,
are my bubbles,
those poems of love.
Tears that turn,
into the perfume of spilled love,
where the heart receives the essence of happiness.
Words of love for hearts to dance in an embrace.
A balm of love to nourish your heart with bubbles of happiness.

I came back to the willow tree after the amputation of the branch that was split in a square.
I thought it would be thankful that I filed for it to be cut off by the authorities who could.
I thought the tree would embrace me again.

Cause we both had to let go of things.
I thought it understood.
But I felt resentment when I came to see the tree.
It didn’t embrace me.
In fact, it didn’t even want to acknowledge me there.

Did I do the wrong thing?
I don’t think so because I read about rotting when dead branches keep hanging.
I feel that rotting every day inside of me.
I hold onto thoughts and coping too much.
And I have to try to bend or break them somehow.  

Some are most difficult to break completely.
So maybe it fell forced for the tree as well.
But I think the letting go was necessary and the tree should understand that too.

Trees like that are wise enough, you’d think.
But today I realized something different.
It was probably the way I came along this time.

I didn’t come humble.
I came with a feeling that I did something good.
And maybe that was not the best way because I should also have recognized the pain of the tree.
And I did in a way, but maybe I moved too fast towards the letting go.
Maybe I should have come with care.

With tenderness, empathy and understanding.
I shouldn’t have smiled like everything was fine. Cause I should probably know too well that it’s not just fine just because it has to happen.
It’s not easy to let go.
It takes time and great pain.

And I should have been more thoughtful about that.
So next time I see the tree, I would see the pain and hopefully then it will embrace me like it used to.
Because we both understand that life comes with letting go but that does not mean that it’s easy.
And it feels forced sometimes.
Unnatural.
This world feels unnatural to me too.
Whatever natural may be.
It feels forced.
Forced upon me.

But maybe it’s what I need.
I will need it to move on.
But when?
And why?
I’m not sure.
That makes it extra hard to trust in the process. But that’s all I can do.

I got no other choice in a matter.
I’m not happy about my impatience.
I wish I could just close my eyes and take a long time.
Drink my beer in meditation with small sips.

I try.
It’s the best I can do in this moment.
Just trying to take it really slow.
Some things can wait.
And somethings keep trying to alert me.

And sometimes when I find peace in waiting, then there’s also distracting noise.
Always something.
To do, to deal with.
Or not to deal with if I could only let go.

"It's quite a pretty hell,
quite a pretty hell,"

said the wilting woman
to her plastic window self,

a half-tint fetch, etched
in the eye of the weevil

threading the black dough
of the crosstown bus route.

The nightclubbers behind her
exchange glances and hold hands

as she begins to hum to herself,
but the unvarnished melody

lodges in an angle of odd brain
& soon I'm humming it too

as I step into 18th Street's maw,
already bristling neon sweet

with milkmaid dress hems
threshing ruptured doorsteps -

turning up my street I catch
a last sight of the shushed bus husk

crawling away northwards
with only a scratching hum inside

for its heartbeat, and a face lost
in the catacomb of its reflection.

that’s how you like your poetry,
That’s how you would like everything,
No stress, no test, easy on the breast,
but short and sweet has no protein,
won’t build your bones, quite contrary,
the poem that doesn’t make you think,
it’s just a cavity, a precurse to self~decay
a drip dripping in just another day of you evaporating

Conservation of energy
Conservation of thought
Conservation of my ******* self
When the real battles get fought
Contemplation of the future
Contemplation of the void
Contemplation of the furnace
Where atoms get destroyed.

In miracles,
You don't know what will
happen in the next second,
Just swim in the sea of belief and faith,
And you will float on waves of miracles,
In life's illusion.
3/8/2025

I cuddled up with
a metaphor that was
caught in the corner of
my room.
I dressed it in the
silk of kings, and fed
it from the fractured
trees of innocence.
Low-hanging fruit of
despair gets us
every time.