Stopgap.
emotional stocks wrapped with paper wings,
which burst'd into inferno at the first broken sight of spring.

Baseless transition into faceless thoughts,
Caught in webs of speechless dreams,
laced with poison's tasteless lessons taught.

Stop that.
Think back,
at the wasted scenes graced with cold embrace.
Winter's faces breathe,

Lies stand by your faithless eyes.
instead.
dream,
of flame-less skies.

Stop the gap in nature's lap,
and sit upon her shoulders.
See the skies that breathe your sighs of reprieve,
nigh your dreams seized with whisper'd echos breeze.
Set them free...

p.s.,
you may already be.
but beware.
hopeless eyes are doomed to live with lies, disguised by strife's hypnosis,
ensnared by defeatist blight.

Loneliness is a monotone tiger
When you want to destroy the world
It comes boiling down
To your courage
To resist
Or fit in
With all the other
Victims
We are bigger than our fears
When we quiver in the here and now
I have found the only way to speak
Loudly and truthfully
Is to always listen quietly
From some place deep enough within

Poems boiling
Inside vast cauldrons
Of space and time
Tethered to forms
And feelings
We are getting ready
For our healing
Hands are bound
To supple bodies
Loud as laughter
It echos above
And beyond
The night sky
We are triumphant mountains
Pounding tirelessly
On our stomping grounds
And telling stories
Of our ancestors
Birthing fiery dragons
Are we merely
Semi-articulate monkeys
Desperately climbing
Towards the tender treetops
Of imperceptible self-realization
Patiently awaiting
These situations
To change
For the better some day
Its eventually inevitable
What a lesson
These impressive
Digressions
And diversions
Distracting me unequivocally
Still I apologize
For all these unnecessary formalities
We are abstract beings
Often too quick to eradicate anomalies
And aliens were bad for business
So long ago we decided
To swim in our visions instead
Witnessing children
Being punished
For abruptly speaking
Truthful wisdom
We are innocent
And sedated
Medicated with hesitation
And frustrated desires
We are shirtless statues
Manifesting virtuous actions
Yet still saddled with guilt
And vituperative resilience
Tears and laughter fill the skies
Mindful of our highest desire
We share these sheets
Of Egyptian paper
Within the fiery chambers
You chase angels
And make shadows dance
Until there is no more
Room for roman candles
To burn lonely and triumphant
Upon the Colosseum
Of our bedroom floor

When your eyes burn
When your hands hurt
When your legs have given up

We are walking, making
Long strides over
Sentimental roads
So we turn inwards
Again
Maintaining distance
We face the failures
And dance on the graves
Of whatever has been forbidden

We are strings vibrating
We are the silent things, naming
Themselves in the dark
Gestating creatures with hearts
And minds, finding silence between the sparks
Carbon ceilings made out of cardboard
We are collecting rainwater and art
We endarken danger
And dance on holy ground
It sounds like fun
When you don’t have any more hope
To hold you back
So you attack the road by running
Yet come home to find yourself, alone again
You fold your hands and make life into living
Somehow, somewhere
We were all these powers and forms
And comfort held no remorse
Where no one had ever faulted you at all

We are writing timeless
Ceremonies of negligence
But you're still on the fence
And I am willing to jump over it
We wait for fate to take us
Naked in our beds
But our heads are descending
We are clever as the elves
Who have never found an end
To all of their remembrances

Heavy lifting is a burden
If we are stardust
Than our time to harvest is now
Or in a never ending morning
You jump into your glory
And form a story
Made from tired words
We drift like echoes from the woods
We are daring targets of timid darkness
Conscious that our nothingness is biased
So we rest in the finest linen
And cash on delivery is just how you like it
The dark night of the soul
Can also be a silent invocation
Or a subtle invitation
Aspiring you to wholeness

My words never come out exactly how i intend them
It's like i’m speaking simultaneously in another dimension
I can’t convey the feelings that are circulating
The sounds and images remain in constant fluctuation
I would love to recreate or make art out of vinegar and sangria
To turn these sounds into spiraling images and metaphors
More splendid than the Basílica de la Sagrada Família
But instead my words become islands of the Galapagos
With nothing tangible to bridge the empty spaces with