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From bristly foliage
you fell
complete, polished wood, gleaming mahogany,
as perfect
as a violin newly
born of the treetops,
that falling
offers its sealed-in gifts,
the hidden sweetness
that grew in secret
amid birds and leaves,
a model of form,
kin to wood and flour,
an oval instrument
that holds within it
intact delight, an edible rose.
In the heights you abandoned
the sea-urchin burr
that parted its spines
in the light of the chestnut tree;
through that slit
you glimpsed the world,
birds
bursting with syllables,
starry
dew
below,
the heads of boys
and girls,
grasses stirring restlessly,
smoke rising, rising.
You made your decision,
chestnut, and leaped to earth,
burnished and ready,
firm and smooth
as the small *******
of the islands of America.
You fell,
you struck
the ground,
but
nothing happened,
the grass
still stirred, the old
chestnut sighed with the mouths
of a forest of trees,
a red leaf of autumn fell,
resolutely, the hours marched on
across the earth.
Because you are
only
a seed,
chestnut tree, autumn, earth,
water, heights, silence
prepared the germ,
the floury density,
the maternal eyelids
that buried will again
open toward the heights
the simple majesty of foliage,
the dark damp plan
of new roots,
the ancient but new dimensions
of another chestnut tree in the earth.
When the government does not lend a hand
To those who work and those who till their land
And they silence their own peoples voices
Making all the wrong federal choices
But maybe my voice is precious to me
Are my eyes the only ones that can see
They are herding us like a shepherds flock
simply running down the time on the clock
to lead us into a massive brainwash
Independence an enemy to squash
so open your eyes before they're sewn shut
Remove the  blindfold, it's time to wake up
 Dec 2013 Jacobo Raymundo
Dany
but I don't write about you anyless.
This is my invitational suicide,
My final coup de grace,
I can't handle this anymore,
I stand so close to the edge leaning over thinking about it,
My mind screams yes,
But my heart says no,
To wait...
The thought runs through my mind,
again,
It never fails to stop me at the last moment,
Just when I want to give up,
When self-Immolation and penance seem to be the only answer...
She runs through my mind,
Her deep brown eyes and soft brown hair catch me everytime,
No matter how fast I fall after I jump she catches me,
She tortures me,
She is the reason I live when I wish to die,
She is the reason I know my life is worth living.
 Sep 2013 Jacobo Raymundo
echo
.
More than
friends
and
Less than
sure

Of the future

.
08.09.2013
In a time before time,
The Morningstar shown bright,
Greatest of the seraphs he sang,
With a voice second only to God,
And he sang only in the name of God,
Lovingly glorifying his name,
And God was happy, for a time,
And for a time, all the angels gathered around the Morningstar,
and sang to his tune, even mighty Michael did too,
All spoke his praises, though they sang for God alone,
And he was happy with his purpose in the world.
But he was sneaky, and grew to have a will of his own,
And the Lord God knew what was in his heart and sorrowed,
He called the Morningstar into his throne,
The golden throne, seat of the God almighty,
Surrounded by the most beautiful and holiest of holies,
Beings beyond angels, naked and lovely,
Light made solid, Like God himself,
In what we would call a humanoid form,
And he spoke hath saying,
"My creation, Lucifer, why doth you sorrow and struggle on your own?
And thou hath not prostrated yourself before the Lord, your God,"
The Morningstar frowned but quickly humbled himself,
Bowing low before the God, saying,
"Nay, mighty Lord, I sorrow not, I am forever,
In your presence, filled with joy, singing your praises,
This alone makes me happy, for, after all, this is how you created me,"
But God, being in all places at once knew, so he said,
"So be it Lucifer, mightiest of all my angels, brightest light,
In the dew of the morning sky, let you only be happy, in this,
the presence of God,"
The Morningstar was sent away, full of God's love,
And he was very happy, but, a little part of him grew sick.
Still the day after, and every day since he sang louder,
and more beautiful, his wonderful angelic octaves,
reaching harmonies more and more awesome,
Full of the Holy Spirit, he was blessed most mightily,
And his fame and wonder grew, and all the beings of Heaven,
sung with him, melding their voices with his, until the praises,
of God, rang through the heavens unto the very throne of God,
And God was very pleased.
As the days went on, the Angels around the Morningstar started singing,
Not only of the praises of God but of Morningstar, most blessed among them,
And Morningstar was proud and vain and hapful,
And so he sang his own song now,
And created discord among the angels,
Until, even those that did not want to sing his songs,
Naturally followed along, so persuasive,
And beautiful was he,
Yes the Morningstar shown brightest that day,
And every day since,
Though when the Lord heard of this music,
He was wrathful and wrought,
The betrayal he knew was coming, came, will come,
and is coming,
So the Lord decided to create a new being,
One in his own image,
One which would not sing out of His volition,
Only to sing in their own names,
But rather beings to sing of free will,
And in so choosing,
Bathe the Lord,
In true and just glory,
The love of that which be freely given,
The God thought,
Is superior to that love made in heaven,
So there was light,
and six days later after man was created,
And God rested and listened to the singing,
and it was... good.
But then the Morningstar, feeling the God sleeping,
Looked down upon the freshness of creation,
Where before there was only the timelesness of Heaven,
And the void,
Now was Earth, and Human,
And all the birds and the beasts,
And the beautiful world, entrusted
To thee,
And he thought to himself,
They are unworthy,
To recieve such grace,
If anyone should be given life,
And free will,
it should be Me,
I am the greatest,
I love God the most,
This isn't fair,
This is unjust,
The grace of god has been broken,
This I just cant trust,
And full of wrath, and hunger,
And feelings of betrayal,
He went down to earth,
And took the form of a serpent,
And he walked over to Eve,
And he whispered so very sexily,
His beautiful voice rang to her saying,
"Lovely Eve, how beautiful though you be,
Truly you are Gods greatest creation,
Though don't you wonder why he hampers your elation?
It isn't fair that you can eat of all the animals,
of all the fruits, milks, and honeys,
All except this one, the golden fruit of the Tree,
of knowledge of good and evil,
but why oh why must this be Eve,
Surely, God doth jest with you,
Tricking you, making you fear him warily,
Surely you, who above all in beauty in wisdom,
Should be able to partake of all this world,
With nothing hidden from thee"
And Eve looked down then up bleating,
"But the Lord God specifically forbid this,
Saying we shall die if we eat,"
And the Serpent laughed such a happy warm laugh repeating,
"Nay, my fairest Eve, this was only a slight deception,
Surely you shall not perish, the grace of God doth protect thee,
God only, selfishly, wants to keep knowledge to him alone,
But you, of eating this tree, shall become closer to him,
and surely this will make him truly happy,"
And Eve looked down again, then brought her head up slowly once more,
And was decieved,
The Serpent handed her the fruit, with a smile adorned,
And she took of the fruit and ate it, and shook with feeling,
But when she looked up the Serpent was gone, and she was reeling,
Her way back to Adam and the fate that was in store.
My first take in epic poetry in quite a while so be easy on me! More will be coming shortly, till then, if you made it this far, be sure to write a reaction of what you thought, please :)
If you come as softly
As the wind within the trees
You may hear what I hear
See what sorrow sees.

If you come as lightly
As threading dew
I will take you gladly
Nor ask more of you.

You may sit beside me
Silent as a breath
Only those who stay dead
Shall remember death.

And if you come I will be silent
Nor speak harsh words to you.
I will not ask you why now.
Or how, or what you do.

We shall sit here, softly
Beneath two different years
And the rich between us
Shall drink our tears.
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