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Her body was youthful
And her mind was wild,
But she was not free
The world did not share her
For there was
An air of mistrust
Too stagnant for her eyes
She could only dream

She would always dress in red
Sleeping next to a cherry tree
With its wavering
Just enough
But barely for survival
And she knew
Scrapping cherries until her last breath
Won't satisfy

From the cherry's vantage point
She took a glimpse of all her universe
She realized her world was no breath of satisfaction
Her eyelids, her only saving grace

In a fantastic land
A magical gem appeared upon her behind peridot clouds
"Fly to me and be my guide
I will show you passion
I will dress you in diamonds of red"

All these years,
Her heart was jaded with despair and confusion
But now post her dream,
A radiance of hope had followed
Amazed by the beauty of her dreams
Infused with glitters, rainbows and iridescent pearls
Her world became clear
She did not desire anything else
But a liberation
Of her heart and her soul
A desire of a cleansing, a pure resurrection
The magical gem in her dreams became
Her hope for air
Please check out and support my new poetry compilation, Cusp of Exposure: Big Bright Infinite Soul on the website,
The reason of life is for me to make
What is right, what is wrong
Only the ubiquitous gravity can regulate
My own assessment it cannot break
The outcome of choices is never in vain
These lessons, these trials that destine my fate
Define the greater demons I must burn behind the gate

I know my own treasures, I know my own thorns
There is little disparity among them
A treasure is never found, it's always made
And for a thorn, it’s just as the same
To assess them apart
I continue feeding my treasures and thorns
And discard the most malevolent of these ugly thorns
John Archievald Gotera
The Home of Carmine Red © 2013 - 2015
Sandwiched in blankets.
Snoozing to the morning news.
Run! Another tardy pass.
A daily routine of my grade school days. I loved school, but getting ready for school was not pleasant. Good times.

John Archievald Gotera  © 2015
(This poem will be included in my upcoming collective katauta poetry ebook, Bubble Bay 28, which comes out this spring.)
Let’s breathe every day
In hopes to truncate the
Unpleasantries of every single day,
Whimsical dramas that sprinkle
Dramatic petty bulls
Let’s close our eyes
And cool away from all the fools
And release the hidden tension
And give our minds a touch of yoga's cool

Yoga for a third eye
The invisible light only we can find
Stretch the spirit for clarity
And bring the yoga mind to a sheep animation
Like soft infinite clouds
To achieve the yoga dream
Align synchronicity with the body, heart and mind
Like long, curious roots to the deepest earth
Activate the yoga limbs
And bring ourselves to a spiritual world we haven't been

Hum in yoga silence
And dance as a pair with the yoga light
Let the yoga invigoration takeover
And allow ourselves to laugh at life
Let the yoga spirit rise
Tomorrow, we start clean and anew
Today, we can let light and clarity become our finest tool
John Archievald Gotera  © 2015
  Oct 2015 John Archievald Gotera
I have a basil plant
with some lovely, emerald leaves
crowning 3 strong, thick columns
in an off-white, ceramic ***.

Decorated with delicate foliage, hand-painted
in rust and green,
how it glows in the sunshine
on the tiled kitchen window sill.
Streaks of red and black strike within
To tangle dangerously around my fragile skin
So volatile and sweet
I can melt my surroundings in a blink
And all it would take
Is one disdainful look
To trigger a demise

I live in a home of carmine red
Rigged with thorns of regrets without fortitude
And the floor covered in ragged rugs
To hide the scars of my tragic misfortunes

Rants and screeches bring severe astringency
There is no mercy
As it always reaches deep inside my throat
And around my neck
Tightly coiled, hurtful words begin to suffocate

The boiling blood of relentless fury
I am left in a steam of silence
Without a vent to this clustered chaos
I have become a hidden rage within me
As I watch the icy, red glow
Eradicate my destructive home
John Archievald Gotera 
The Home of Carmine Red © 2013 - 2015
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