you can’t do this when you do this for that
I said

she was Folding

oh so hurriedly!
all the time
in that
Eraserhead style

brr!

only to be replaced
for the next

only to be replaced
for the next

which is not here yet
and will never be

you can’t do this when you do this for that
I said

like a chorus to her verse
of each of these layers
she blindly holds
as if in her hands

with a duh! and a ****!
my layers against hers’
finally she hears!

and at once
transforms
to
her dress
socks
shirt
*******
blouse

one by one

by
my song

such a hard hit
only once
tinkles
now as a mantra
in her head

unfolding

all her
hidden
layers
slowly
and  patiently

I am fine you know
having just one
everyday still is a different day
by the light
I shine

takes a bit of courage maybe
but she will  learn
someday
and
on that
heartfelt day

she will
be
an  earnest
puppet
like me

and sing
just as I say

you can’t do this when you do this for that

as the long coated tall man digressed
a spinning coin became her translucent globe
permitting a time stretch until a decision was made

the rhythm of spinning
arched her doubts
to a half smiling one armed body
that could pick it up remotely but promptly
in public space

an alluring method of an actress knowing the stage
unhearing unseeing her spectators
while permeating the act through their matter

this last adorably nonchalant grin
hanging the mouth half up and half down
spilled the words: ‘so this one is for me then!’

when the long coated man loomed
she was already holding it firm in her right palm
extraneous blushing thoughts with a long narrative
of giving it back
raised thousand  rehearsals as polluted air
in shorter than a minute of turning the head to fixate
and dissipated

before the  trash could handle the reforming flush
I reached out for her help
with my puppetheadedness
come on I said what is 20 cents
preserve it to recycle for my lucky star at least
she, relieved  nodded
and placed the coin in a front section of her whistling memory
which finally today tinkled and jingled a street musician’s ultroneous hat!
:)

I know a man
in my heart
Oh so near
Oh so far

There lives a man
in my heart
Oh so near
Oh so far

I pray all the vowels
that I am
he sheds light on

I pray all the vowels
that I am
he sheds light on

to illuminate
this narrow path
made of
made of
breath

One day I will find my way
and be his
sweetheart

One day I will be the
play and  
fly

as one Light
as one Sound
as one Heart

I love a man
in my heart
Oh so near
Oh so far

There lives a man
in my heart
Oh so near
Oh so far

at dawn your eyes shine
along the waters that I cross
I am flattered to be a particle of your gaze
the blue flower brings healing
touching my fingers
only  lovingly

in the afternoon
a miraculous cat jumps
from nowhere
to play just
I am captured by your joy
forgetting what’s all around me
I am the red dressed wise girl with a cat under a tree
all  in your company

late afternoon sun shines tranquility  
you cover the sky by seven -
dashes of light manifesting the truth
when eyes shut
through the dancing traces I fade
in the red
adorning  the blue of you

the seeds of these flowers
which I thought died a year ago
were conceived  in the pure soul of a winter vase
made of air
growing now wild and free -as I would prefer-
all along the corners
bringing me your tuning colors anew

in the mist of early morning a bird wakes me up
insistently
until I will get up to receive the gift of yoga
I pray with my body

when stars shine you hold both of my hands
issuing me a torch that belong to both of us
you say
but I let us go
receiving the promise
giving the promise
of only eternity

I let us go
connecting my posture to a posture
by this breath

I let us go by taking the shape of the wind
so that you can be with me in all the evolving
shapes of matter

I celebrate you as one
fully
in the blessing of your presence

I carry you at a holy spot
of feeling and knowing and seeing
I am made of your light

I respect the wisdom you sprinkle that makes me surpass
mundane desire and expectation
I respect the wisdom you sprinkle that makes me surpass
temptation of words and
that which serves as a barrier to our onness

I am born to choose this cave to contemplate alone
receiving the grace of your signs
knowing you are the light on my silent path
until I be love

There is a number that knows itself
Logic has predicted its numberness at most
but logic does not know to what it matches

Within its coordinateless space
beyond the mind
the number has formed itself
at the expense of fixing
a masterpiece about a lover
made of the shape of one’s desire
becoming that one pure desire
of and to and for  All

or simply invisible
known to none
matterless
formless
filling
temporary silhouettes
until
silhouettes collapse
unknowingly
about their
barbapapaic nature
to the unknowing

so
what you call

‘grand’  
‘poetry’

the combination of chosen words
made of letters
presenting duality
between me and me
made of the sound of the form of one’s
ever changing body in one’s mind
Vibrates

in such frequency that
when one reads
one connects one to one
( like in maths –
and a bit more complex than that
considering sensual feedbacks etc :))
and transforms
almost vectorial  to

some resulting frequency
of an irreversible altered state
and a doses of future changes
but such occurrence cannot take place
when once known

OOPS!

such occurrence takes place
if it is irrevocable of the finite shells
of time

a true joker
has a pure skin as such
through a veil of pores
nothingness floats
towards its knowing
keeps oneself as is
unknown to all the separateness there is
Thus the program forgets
(:D = thankfully)
or runs infinitely  at a place :
‘this could be heaven and this could be hell’
as in Hotel California

so
you should know for yourself
if you wanna make it love  
because

If you not
It’s then someone else
because
It is always someone
as reasoning goes

it is a manifestation of the self
a contextualization of a narrative
as story requires
as story unfolds

I always remind myself to
keep up to one reason just
which eventually are no words
but sound or silence of
a reflection on an expanding
surface of a bubble in pure
unfixable color

Oh
words of preconditioned unoriginals
manifestations of self adorations
what is there to be said or heard or grasped?

when All stories are the same?

Shaped extensions of one source
sticking out repeatedly to tell one thing just
expanding the bubble
within the bubble and the bubble

just
to be heard
once
as big as a
Hum

en route exit as scriptures call it
but am I gonna be able to hear it?
(or you or us … )

A little stone
found me on my way
she took me in her hands
using my hands
and she whispered
using the sound of the wind:

My gift to you
she said
is the moment
that makes you be
these endless landscapes
I’ve crossed
until our ways met
to touch this way

We exchange to purify
without being attached
no thoughts – no visions –
no appreciation of time –
no expectations from the past –
no intention of the next and after
shall trespass

This is a message to be delivered to you
that shall come in handy sometime
because it’s no mystery that
there really is no one out there
but a technology of
‘when you are not
the will suffers having not
initiated my mud
to sculpt ‘
then
the following is a swamp

Come lets walk hand in hand
stand on that hill and watch
while the wind blows us through the blue
rounding red yellow curly hue
of high rocks

look inside
and sing now
one as I
*
then you will see
then you will be
you do not need to touch
pick a stone just
call it mystery
call it technology
all the same
when all there is
is is
not the eyes
but my presence
that which illuminates
sees
sees to dance
and correct postures
sees to be  
the very object
as clarity
eyes gets better
if it were blurred
posture straightens
if it were crimpled
you become the sweetest
shape  of the wind to a bumblebee
an ever expanding
harmonics of a
song unknowingly
for a moment just
for a moment maybe
but such a moment of
a celebration is
comparable to a
lifetime only