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Dec 2015 · 269
Inside of Me
Mark Lecuona Dec 2015
The color gray has been offered as tribute
the pain of age is not a mark that cares to hide
but within my grasp, change, acceptance
as only a weathered stone would know
standing firm as a relic of the past
stubborn as an eye that loves beauty
solemn as a view from the summit
hard as love that lost its chance, but
waiting for the glowing *** to boil again
every morning I become remembrance
walking slowly on distant shores
because regret is already late
there are no broken mirrors
or paintings of jagged edged emotion
of the time you were my friend
we both know how we once felt
but is it now to live for something new
or for someone who believes in fate
I am a bridge you crossed, lagging behind
the fire you see in the distance is my torch
the moon that once guided us cannot walk straight
there is no more broken glass under our feet
only the sound of a ring falling onto the floor
there are no songs about what was lost
only the wind blowing memories to safe harbors
yet you said maybe
yet you said what could be
is me
but if what is to be
is what is never again
and what once was
will only last forever in gray hue
and tiny lines traced upon our faces
then the final truth is that I loved you
and I knew
that what was inside of you
was what was inside of me
Dec 2015 · 488
Buddhism
Mark Lecuona Dec 2015
Western man is not a Stupa
To observe architecture is not to be
Even if you know why it was built that way
Or what it means

The iconography symbolizes our differences
Rotating to the East where the morning sun is seen

Relics of the death of desire walk freely inside

It’s shape

Earth
Water
Fire
Air
Space

The purified elements

Unknown to those who watch the sun set
And to those who remain trapped in their desire

And so

Do you **** or do you love?
Can you be both or neither?
Can you suffer without desire?
Can you desire and not suffer?
Can you love suffering and hate desire?
Will you die by desire
Will you live by suffering?

Without desire
You cannot love

Without suffering
You cannot feel

Are you afraid of pain?
Is pain life or death?

Do you understand the things you say?
Or what you wish to be?

The mountaintop is so lonely
It causes pain in those who need you

Yet

You

Avoid

Suffering

Is this life?
To eliminate
Desire?

Will you dig
Until you cannot see the sun or the stars?

What did you prove when you became immune

To passion?

Is it
the way
to end
all desire?

To end
all need?

To end
all experience?

To end
all feeling?

To end
all touching?

To end
all wanting?

To end
all expectation

In you?

I cannot end desire

Or suffering

Because
I cannot end life

Can you?
Dec 2015 · 522
Mi Amor
Mark Lecuona Dec 2015
lo que sea quiere
yo quiero
igualmente
usted y yo
lo mismo
antes
ahora
despues
todas las dias
por que mi amor
su vida esta mi vida
Dec 2015 · 236
Where Dreams Go
Mark Lecuona Dec 2015
Sometimes I think I’ve gone too deep into the story that I tell
Is it a way of leaving the past behind or just another place I fell
I wonder which chapter somebody new will come to know
Beautiful woman, the last goodbye can never be like the first hello

Maybe the well from which I draw will finally dry up
My heart will be forced to look for another way to fill my cup
I cannot search for need when I once thought I was so strong
Beautiful woman, it always ends, tells me what I’m doing wrong

I know I must change
And I see the love in your eye
But it’s always a distant shore
Which way will you go my love
Towards the one where we can live again
Or where our dreams only go to die?

I never thought I was clever enough to make blue change its color
But what I think about may be enough to make you forget another
I know the life I have made seems too far away for our worlds to meet
But it’s close enough for the ocean to cool the hot sand under your feet  

You know you must change
And you see the love in my eye
But it’s always a distant shore
Which way should I go my love
Towards the one where we know the answer
Or where our dreams can only go to ask why?

It’s a winter’s day that reminds me how strong a tree can be
The roots we cannot see only hide what is inside a person like me
And when the day comes for me to try to become new once again
Beautiful woman, will you know it’s time to make a new friend?

We know it’s time to change
And we see the love in our eyes
But it’s always a distant shore
Which way should we go my love
Towards the one where we will always smile
Or where our dreams can only go to cry?
Dec 2015 · 320
Painted Shadows
Mark Lecuona Dec 2015
To be tied to a reality other than your own is
either liberating or shackling for in the alternative
is your own what is true or the absence of anything
other than what you have experienced or perceived;
what should I tell you about that; did the painting
hide something for a reason or might it be better
that you decide what the suggestion on a canvas
is about; and so why did the shadow stop at the
given point in the parallel; do you wish to discuss
the physics or instead the abstract claim of a
metaphor that is greater than the life which it
attempts to emulate; there is no moment without
a question; there is no explanation without doubt
however slight; this is how you have learned to live;
you are not creation even though you can create;
you are not death because you will not **** though
it is true that you will die; you are not floating as
you cannot fly though you move relative to the star
you wished upon last night; you are not weightless
nor are you full of meaning except to your children
or someone you have hurt deeply; you are not
happy but you have made someone smile; you
are not forever though you believe you can see
it when you stare into space even though it is only
light from the past; you moved to a smaller town
because you used up the abundance of what you
once thought illuminated your aura in the presence
of others; you were once free to spend all your
time with someone you loved madly until they
decided you weren’t going to do what they
needed you to do; but did you hold to principle
or selfishness; the discomfort of their absence has
failed to reduce itself to the memory of a movie
you once watched; instead it has become an
explanation with residual doubt, in other words
it is the way we live; we tell someone we love
them and find out later that we actually meant
it at the time; you are a natural scientist as
discovery is everything you crave; you want to
know their mind, what they are thinking, how
deeply they can love and if they ever truly loved
anyone else more than you; but these discoveries  
are not for your betterment; it is only to provide
the comfort of your worth; did a someone love
them at their peak beauty then reject them; does
it mean they will never get over it or does it mean
what you now have is a mind that has finally
humbled itself yet has built a wall, not of beauty
but instead of caution; either of bricks or stone,
but no matter for its strength is the same, as you
cannot scale what is intended to be a test instead
of understanding or kindness; but is any of this even
true; it could well be that you instead built the wall
because you were once beautiful and now are only
vulnerable, because to walk naked or to ask someone
to walk naked before you is the same; and it will not
happen until you have found the courage to lose or
live with the reality that you have expressed or that
they have revealed; all that you can hear at this
moment is your own labored breathing; you have
allowed your mind to walk where you are weightless;
where you creation; where you are death; where
forever exists; where the questions that followed
doubt became answers that pushed doubt ahead
of you, for another day because today the shadow
on the canvas finally made sense; it was not about
you because it did not come from the brush that
you hold in your hand; it was only to be explained
fully by the artist; but for you it was to be used as
you wish and that is how you will know its meaning;
the cocoon and the womb have been left behind and
the shadow is only about how you will live; that is
what you can see and the explanation will not be
forthcoming from its creator; that is for you to decide
Dec 2015 · 230
Chance is the Choice
Mark Lecuona Dec 2015
I wanted to treat you special that night
You could hear it in the sound of my voice
How could I know if you were the one for me
I took a chance because your eyes left me no choice

The solemn moon is always up there
It doesn’t know what it is you’re trying to say
But you know what it means to you
Even on days the sun can’t burn the clouds away

I wanted her to know the real me
One night is not worth an unhappy life together
She wondered if I would always be this way
I said I once tried but I cannot predict the weather

There was a time when meaning had no meaning
I didn’t know how to be sad for no particular reason
Now it seems a mood is the easiest part of our day
Because we decided there must be a point to bleeding

I thought about love being a dream with no name
The faces are only the things that I want to feel
The way you looked at me shared your own dreams
The face that you saw was the first one that was real

The nights we spend wondering about tomorrow
Are for children listening for hoofs on the roof
I can no longer wait for clue that only years can reveal
Because love has to be decided without any proof
Dec 2015 · 365
A True Gift
Mark Lecuona Dec 2015
If I had a mind that was truly gifted
I would choose to know peace
But how can peace live within sadness
For I know that there is not a moment without tears
Somewhere in the world
Somewhere close to me
The shine that made light now makes darkness
Yet is it to be every moment
Of every day
And every night
That we can be happy?
I was not promised anything
I did not ask to be born
I made no bargain
And in the contrasts of life
Night and day
Man and woman
Winner and loser
Love and hate
We find that we must conquer both
Or else perish into a world of madness
For it is those who cannot cope with reality
Who seek answers where sanity has abandoned them
But I understand my friend
Is it sane to be numb to the things that happen to others
To the things that has not happened to us
Is it sane to pretend that death is normal
Is it sane to shrug our shoulders as I have done so many times?
Because if it is sane then I am sane
And I weep because of it
Yet it is in the hint of madness that I find myself
For what I have been taught has strangled me
As many times as I have shrugged
Trapped on a path that I was unable to alter
Until now
And where peace may live I would at least visit
It is not promised to me only
I must share it with others
And I will lay upon not so still waters until the rain ends
Knowing that it will end as it has in the past
Because the will is not for my happiness always
But instead the strength to live between meaning and confusion
Between belief and disbelief
Between the moment I press upon the piano key and release it
For as the sound begins to fade I can sustain what may fade
Or begin again with another note that can be played
The same as the last one
Or one that is different
And whether pleasing or not
It is the fact that I can make the sounds from wire and wood
The same that I can make love from flesh and bone
And it is tonight that I would do these things with you
If only I had a mind that was truly gifted
Dec 2015 · 560
Innocence
Mark Lecuona Dec 2015
I can only pray for time to stop and smoke a cigarette

She is living in a time of peace;
a happy mind unknowing of
the Valkyrie deciding which
solider will live and which will
die while the smoke takes
pictures of the stench of death

What is left of my madness when her face can only smile?

Is she beyond the sound of  
Vishnu, “I am become death,”
knowing he was a man trained
to **** without remorse because
morality has become suspended
in the name of expediency

Would she be forced to roast marshmallows on a flaming tree line?

When the time is right; gasoline,
victory; when would her mind be
destroyed by information that did
not come from her father; he never
knew when to tell her what waited
along river banks lined with spears

Will she know nihilism until the resurrection is how man lives?
Dec 2015 · 233
No Comparison
Mark Lecuona Dec 2015
Do not compare me to your past

The mountain he climbs may be
where I once fell;
and now I may walk in a valley
the river he navigates may be
where I once drowned;
and I may have swum ashore
the forest he explores may be
where I once was lost;
and now I may live in a tree

Though I am a victim of my past,
I will stand again; but,
I have buried my mistakes,
the grave is unmarked,
without any flowers,
but prayed over in silence;
it is gone
forever

And though I am not afraid
it is upon a new path that I will walk;
and would you,
if I asked,
trust whatever it is that I seek,
or would you,
only wish to relive the memories he left behind?
Dec 2015 · 322
Plant Your Tree
Mark Lecuona Dec 2015
Who would willingly live in the shadows,
except sadness and shame
Something changed their nature
The ruins of a past life, eclipsed,
by a story they refuse to tell

But the shadow is once again, alive;
drawing you near
It is your weakness that is strong; enough
to give you a life of meaning
And so to light you bid farewell

No reflection to guide your conscience,
only your lessons
You  gave fortitude away; in its place,
rationalization and suspicion,
within the walls of an abandoned shell

But there is a tree that remains, where
shadows exhaust themselves
It is in every memory of the heart, alone,
but ready for harvest; look upon it
and by its light God will make you well
Dec 2015 · 280
A Still Rocking Cradle
Mark Lecuona Dec 2015
Sometimes our colors cross paths, reminding
Something greater than ourselves, lives
A color we never knew, but
What we found was a dream the wind blew apart

We were born
And when we changed colors everyone saw us
But we fell (or did we?)
It was too much to bear

We asked ourselves

Were we the leaves or the tree?
What colors did we ask to be
Green mornings, growing
Golden autumn seasons, temporary
Brown everlasting, strong, forever

Which was it my love?

As I lay on the ground, wondering
The answer was all around me, each of us
Our own color of fate and love, for what
We never knew

Were you looking for me?

A still rocking cradle
It kept me close to my family’s heart
As you filled me up like a newborn baby
I could feel my purpose for a moment
But then you stood up to see
And that’s when I knew the life to be
Was only passing through me
Dec 2015 · 189
Waiting For Me
Mark Lecuona Dec 2015
I was dreaming about tomorrow
Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be?
Yesterday is for love that didn’t last
Sleeping is for love walking sidewalks
And days to come waiting for me

A memory is not always mine to keep
What I remember is life but it’s not over
A day is something only a kiss can keep alive
But it’s not the one I’m thinking of anymore
What I see in you is why I’m picking clover

Standing in the rain I could no longer feel
I could only watch while I slept
This time it’s not tears that I see, because
Tomorrow will never know why I once wept

It’s not just my life that I think of
It’s what ours together will mean
Even when I’m gone will you see me
In pictures that will tell everyone
The love of your life was once my dream

Standing standing inside dreams so real
I wondered about the secrets they kept
This time I will know the answer, because
Tomorrow’s dreams of you will never forget
Dec 2015 · 1.4k
Are You Alone For Christmas?
Mark Lecuona Dec 2015
Are you alone?
The last one left
In your family?
Or maybe
The only one
Not invited?
Is everyone happy
Except you?
How will you explain
The whys
To a daughter
Trapped
Inside too many goodbyes
How will you explain
Your absence
To a son
Caught
In your inability
To be a presence
In his life
But do you cry
Or become angry?
Who can you blame
For the misery
And the burning flame?
What of a lonely man
Buried in memories
Of a happy past
That will not bring comfort
Today
Memories that await
To torment
Refusing to relent
As the answers
To a burning heart
Point to the idea
Of departing
This cruel world
To **** the pain
And join his family
In heaven
What do we say
To these people?
How can we make them happy?
How can we make them see?
That they are not alone
And that their tears
Form a torrent
With our own
To wash the pain
Away
To bring us closer
To see that others
Suffer as we do
And that we
Are the answer
And they
Answer for us
Yet we remain
Unable
To join as one
So we cry alone
And hope
For hope
And a future
With a child
Or a memory
Or a loved one
Or a stranger
Who sees in us
The fear and despair
That lives
Inside of them
Fear and despair
That only another human
Can understand
Tell me your troubles
Don't make me happy this Christmas
Make me sad
Because of your need
To tell me
To unburden yourself
Yes... make me sad
Burden me
So I can unburden you
So I can make you happy
Knowing that you can cry
And validate your worth
As a human being
And not an unfeeling
And uncaring
Soul
Make me sad
We will be sad together
And then we will be happy
And then we will become
What we are
Love
Because
We can give
And receive
Blessings
Together
And
We will remember
Dec 2015 · 304
It's Alright
Mark Lecuona Dec 2015
It’s alright
If you are afraid my friend
You can think about the past
And who you owe an apology
But I’m not the one
Who sees the things you try to hide

Yeah that’s right
I remember you from back then
And even though it didn’t last
It’s still a great memory
But I’m not the one
Who left the sadness all behind

You were always so far from here
What you thought about
The time that passed
Why you decided not to stay
But you never knew
What you thought about yourself
Were things I never felt about you

Ok, you’re right
But why not try again?
You said the die was cast
And you don’t relive history
But I’m not the one
Who kept his feelings on the inside

It’s not something that happened
It was just part of living
And the mistakes you think you made
Are the one’s I’m forgiving

You were always so far from here
What you thought about
The time that passed
Why you decided not to stay
But now you know
What you thought about yourself
Were the things that made you go
Song lyrics
Dec 2015 · 1.6k
What Does The Clock Say?
Mark Lecuona Dec 2015
Your birth, upon you
Your circumstance, unaware
Love, you didn’t know how
Your needs, all that you care

Questions, which ones to ask?

Direction, ambition or chance?
Life, meaningless or necessary?
Dreams, nightmares or fantasies?
Shadows, yours or someone else’s?
Walls, inside or outside?
Yesterday, regret or forget?
Tomorrow, hope or worry?
Today, cherish or squander?
Prayer, delusion or faith?
Reality, accept, deny or change?
Pain, inflicted or absorbed?
Love, to live or to die for?

Answers, to live with or without?

The time to decide is inside your clock
It cannot tell you when
It only tells you to begin
But are you still a baby as helpless as then?
Dec 2015 · 467
climb the stairs slowly
Mark Lecuona Dec 2015
the contents of the letter indicated,
at least it raised the question if not the direction;
could a deep breath just after the first kiss
be held long enough to save herself from
all that will follow tomorrow?

he grimaced as he wrote it, he thought too much,
he decided to put it in writing, it was his gift,
the paper she might later throw in his face,
it was the commitment of the moment;
he could promise anything to anyone

she remembered every word when they first met;
that was her advantage; because lust was a toy
and she held the batteries in her hand; but the
light in his heart did not need anything this time;
this time he knew he meant it

the hardest thing was to admit if she was his type;
beauty was everybody’s preference;
but he had to climb the stairs slowly this time,
was she a cave-dweller or a kite; he would know if he
was either by walking the same ground as yesterday
Dec 2015 · 391
Rhythm Pills
Mark Lecuona Dec 2015
Live
right in front of
You
shu
du
ku
Like a 747 lifting the air beneath your body
volume
an ***** with one key that sounds like 88
though you didn't know anything about the count itself
It was the sense that everything was there
And you cried as if everyone
you
shu
du
ku
knew
had died
you started pointing at each echo
there
did you see it?
you exclaimed
exclaimed
to no one except those you wanted to join you
they would know
they saw it
Like
Youshuduku
That wasn't your name when you arrived
They found you anyway
You didn't know they were looking
it was an arrangement of your feelings
They weren't afraid of the new pattern
what did they have to lose?
It's not as if they considered losing at all
but what if they had?
you see
it doesn't really matter does it?
it's your party now anyway
whether you steal the *****
or the feeling in the air
or stick a brush into a goo of the red stickiness
do it
then trace the path all the way back on your face
don't bother to leave
the doors have no knobs
there is no need for a lock
you haven't decided to leave anyway
because your body is a new kind of a
a new kind of a
kind of a
of a
a
rhythm
Dec 2015 · 281
Special
Mark Lecuona Dec 2015
It’s more than having dry bones
while it rains every night
or being a head taller
than the one who fancies his girl
it's not just his girl clapping her hands
while they danced
or sending her flowers
knowing she would welcome them
it’s not just being forgiven by God
for what was woven by his own shame
or being given a meal
not knowing when the next will arrive
it’s more than throwing a rock
into a fountain for luck
or praying on Saturdays
for the things that life sometimes forgets
it’s being able to say
good morning and mean it
or feeling the smile of a stranger
warm a winter’s day
but most of all
it's being able to help someone else
or make them feel special
like you made me feel today
Dec 2015 · 315
War Is Not The Answer
Mark Lecuona Dec 2015
What is it that we’re doing here
We wear faces of the past on a cotton canvas
We stand behind words of idealism
Words to be ridiculed because they are too holy for mankind

Have we
Have we
Forgotten how to be
A man
A man
Moved a stone so we could see
An angel
An angel
Said the choice was ours to be free
To be free

I heard your voice tonight
It was your family that could not cry but instead serve
The blessing of life could not understand why they walked away
What had been hunted was not love but instead victory

Have we
Have we
Forgotten how to be
A man
A man
Moved a stone so we could see
An angel
An angel
Said the choice was ours to be free
To be free

Tell us what happened here
Who was standing in the midst of walls that would never stand again
It never is better, only worse
For the innocent have already been chosen to die

Have we
Have we
Forgotten how to be
A man
A man
Moved a stone so we could see
An angel
An angel
Said the choice was ours to be free
To be free
Dec 2015 · 334
Behind The Mask
Mark Lecuona Dec 2015
He was lost at what he couldn’t see,
seemingly adrift
It was a dream that couldn’t sleep,
something he missed
The time had passed to think anymore,
it was a time to feel
Like women dancing for men,
he which part was real
The third person detachment failed him,
but someone else’s story felt better
He read once that travel was like love,
but he lost the letter
It was only what he could remember,
and what she once asked
What he couldn’t bury below frozen ground,
he hid behind his mask
Dec 2015 · 283
In A Dream
Mark Lecuona Dec 2015
In a dream
I became a mariner when once I feared the flood
For in water I became born again
In a dream
I became silence when once I could only hear myself
For in the quiet I heard a voice
In a dream
I became a moment when I once thought only of tomorrow
For in that instant I had no worry
In a dream
I became wisdom when once I only prayed for youthful folly
For in my mind I knew of righteousness
In a dream
I became hope from the mouth a dove before I drowned
For the tree of life was now in my hands
In a dream
I am imagination when once I was only the question
For now I only see possibility
In a dream
I became creation when once I was only destruction
For now the past has forgiven me
In a dream
I became a gift when once I was only selfishness
For my desires became forgiveness
In a dream
I became humility when once I was arrogance
For my ship was so easily lost
In a dream
I became mercy when once I was punishment
For the rocks I held left my hands
In a dream
I became justice when once I was vengeance
For what is just is love
In a dream
I became life when once I  only knew of death
For grace reminded me of my choice
Dec 2015 · 461
The Doves Have Flown Away
Mark Lecuona Dec 2015
Have we lost faith in the ability of our
values to withstand their own bare feet;
darkness has become a boot with so
many holes we bleed on our own streets;
we’ve become a Judas to ourselves,
betraying the things we once believed;
in jeopardy we watch the skies empty
of doves who cry about being deceived;
is it true that as life becomes hard a man
does not know the reason he should die;
his beating heart, pushing his hand away,
asks if fear ever knows the reason why;
the land that we love bears the weight of
so many who wish to walk with the free,
but are the words of our savior lost when
our earthly life is the only life we see?
Dec 2015 · 284
Just Like It Was Today
Mark Lecuona Dec 2015
Sitting on a sofa watching my mind travel
beyond anything my body could follow
I don’t need space above or below to know
the things we should have learned long ago

Walking through the halls were money is made
smiling at my fellow inmates who feel the same
whatever it is that we live for is beyond the walls
built by those with hands that never feel shame

So far away
So far away
I can still feel it
No matter how far away

Sleeping in a bed that once new love every night
but now can only pretend it never happened
I thought about setting it on fire in the rain
so it would look like a heart that was blackened

Thinking about the words that know where to go
inside your nights or the dreams you never did say
the impatience of being close to what you once loved
is like the sun setting on songs that echo off the bay

So far away
So far away
I can still feel it
Just like it was today
Song lyrics
Mark Lecuona Dec 2015
Must our virtues be buried as well
He wanted to sleep further up the trail
It would be safer, where values can be praised without pain
But where violent paths cross, a woman would give herself up
Even to a man she could never love, so she can live
Is it the same for a nation
Do we owe it to someone to live by absolutes
Even though what is written changes
And what is not written is immutable
If we save a man, are we responsible for him?
If we **** a man, will we forget him?
A people of differences must believe in something to survive
If we are hunted like animals, must we become animals?
Must we become thieves and murderers?
And what becomes of our memory
What kind of people were we
What would they say of us after we are gone
That we lived burying our morals
Or that we died giving them to a man that lives
As we walk upon the ground that cares not for us
And as we see the seasons change without need of us
It is up to us to cultivate the praises of love and honor
Will the water be as clear as tears that remember sadness
Will the water be as ***** as anger that avenges without remorse
As stones gather for the feast of judgment before sin
Then we will know what they will say about us
It will be written that we softened the stones, building a new path
The same as the path carved into our own hearts
By the words we have read by those who passed before us
Knowing that we will not burn books in favor of existence
Instead we will add a new chapter that demands to be heard
And our virtues will live instead of dying along with our past
Dec 2015 · 305
What Matters Not
Mark Lecuona Dec 2015
May your age matter not
And only the fact of your life matter much
It is the dream that is on the rise
And not the sleep that lays you down
Consequence may choose
But it is not a reason to hesitate
Not for those of us who take chances
To discover what we wish to say
Not to hurt those who are different
Or those who cry because others are indifferent
But for those who do not have money
Or a way to wipe a child’s tear other than with love
We must write
We must paint
We must sing
We must discover how we change how their emotions
To soften their hearts
To redirect their minds to a place of happiness
For when we are happy
We are also happy for others
We are understanding
And grateful enough to turn the pages of a sad story
It is our gifts that will extinguish our own needs
And our fears that will raise them up again
Yes, may your age matter not
For it is what you can be to others that matters much
And the dream that you possess is ready to walk upright
If only you will let it
Dec 2015 · 284
A Shadow's Marquee
Mark Lecuona Dec 2015
I’m standing on the waters of my birth
reaching for the end of the skies that only my eyes can see
there are so many paths connecting the stars
and my love for you will travel each one
until I find the one you left inside of me

I’m standing on a carpet left behind
by those who rode it so their God could set them free
there are so many paths connecting our souls
and my love for you will travel each one
until I find the one I can finally believe

I’m standing on a sidewalk still life
painted with blood cast by a memory’s shadowed marquee
there are so many paths connecting our hearts
and my love for you will travel each one
until I find the one that will not let me be

I am standing on a dream of my own
returning from the escape from which only I can leave
there are so many paths connecting our life
and my love for you will travel each one
until I find the one that will no longer grieve
Nov 2015 · 477
Another Goodbye
Mark Lecuona Nov 2015
What can a reflection be to itself
Or a falling leaf apart from its mother?
She did not know the answer
She could only scratch her heart until it bled
Like eyes watching lovers that fall but never set

Pilings choking under rising tides
But not high enough to relieve their burden
A wax candle waiting for the torture of the flame
She could only watch knowing its life was short
Soon to join the memories she could never forget

By her rosary she knew somewhere was a blessing
By her cross she knew she was still saved
The stars that had chosen those who would look
Lit the path as she returned to the night sky
As her heart asked if life was only about regret
Nov 2015 · 460
You Can't Figure Her Out
Mark Lecuona Nov 2015
As long as he could see a ray of light
even from a borrowed memory in the pouring rain
he knew that what made some cry was just another day

There was a way to believe in himself
it was to not be jealous of another man’s choices
and find love from a woman who could understand his way

Arriving in the city or the country
There was no way to know where she was from
The mystery was the game
She wore high heels on a gravel road
Even the dice burning in his hands didn’t know which one

He paid no mind to clashing rocks or sirens
there was no purpose to risk passage to the desire of a dream
he knew not to bargain in the way he would pray

He could never decide how to approach her
there wasn’t any time to think of how to he should be
only to see if there was a door to her heart inviting him to stay

Swimming in oceans or climbing mountains
There was no way to know what she wanted to do
The expectation was the same
She wore a bikini in the snow
Even a ball rolling in a circle didn’t know what was true
Nov 2015 · 349
A Dream For Two
Mark Lecuona Nov 2015
It was you that I dreamed about
But it was only how I wanted you to be
You had a different dream  
And even though it was me
You were something that dreams can't see

It was the day that waited
Once we became who we were
The dreams we couldn't share left us
And even if we try to pretend
We will never know how it feels to be sure

At least we don't cry as we sleep
A dreamer never welcomes his tears
How could anyone give everything
Without a fantasy to give them courage
I'd rather live it than alone with my fears
Nov 2015 · 287
What is Free?
Mark Lecuona Nov 2015
At least once, I wanted to know
it seems everything I touch
or see
Is a beautiful sunset,
a moment to treasure
or a revelation of the choice I must make,
to pretend I am free,
because what is free without industriousness;
could it be only the fantasy of the young;
those who once thought of changing the world,
who never believed that time would change them;
bending them towards reality
for who would care for them as they reject convention
and what is convention if not a way to survive?
is there the reflection of fire in our champagne
is there the cloud waiting at the bottom of the ocean
each drifting, an image or unseen, but real
we forget our past and drink to the future,
or we remember the times we loved,
and wonder if it could ever happen again;
or instead must I choose to accept that I am not free
I have a role in life, a cloud to provide water,
a root to feed the wood; a leaf to cool the ground;
the grass to feed the fauna;
a hind-quarter to feed a family; a child to grow;
a book to teach; a thought to decide;
to decide if I am free
living on my own
apart from the world that was built by others
to reject it because I believe it is wrong
to think that I don’t need them
or it
to wander before canyons
and peaks
to live off the land
and to pass without asking for help;
is that my freedom
or is it just my desire to play freedom,
until I realize that the world does not care for me
and then what;
what did I build for my life
for my children, if I would have them;
for my aging body
will I laugh at convention then
when I am no longer able to invent my own language
because those who follow are inventing their own
and making the same choice
to pretend to be free
or to begin digging the same hole that swallowed me whole
Nov 2015 · 929
I Can't Spend The Time
Mark Lecuona Nov 2015
Another year is coming to an end
It seems the same as it began
I was dreaming about someone I once loved
But that dream finally came to an end
It’s too easy to live alone
At least it seems that way
I wonder how we can make it work
Worrying about losing again
Maybe it’s better to live apart
It’s not that I can’t settle down
It's easier to live a life feeling free

I can’t spend it anymore
I can’t spend it anymore
I can’t spend time worrying
Worrying about what happened before

Thinking about when you were mine
It’s time to get that out of my mind
I need to see the open road instead
And take the trip not matter what I find

I have to believe in something
I haven’t been around the world
Or even the other side of the tracks
It’s not that the door is locked
It’s just that I won’t open it
Will the confessions I make
Be enough to love you?

I can’t spend it anymore
I can’t spend it anymore
I can’t spend time worrying
Worrying about what happened before
Song lyrics
Nov 2015 · 307
What Is Just
Mark Lecuona Nov 2015
what is just
to be born as the breach
the door
between good and evil
in the image
of the father for us to choose
with fear
and the will to ****
to survive
as only the wicked know how
their burden
though the dove returned
endless guilt
learning to be kind to another
but failing
as the relationship with the creator
languishes
except in the heart of a rainbow
every soul
pierced by a crown of thorns
every love
lanced by the point of a spear
every wall
falling to crush those who approach
black sails
filled with naïve dreams of eternity
from Jesus
to the beaches of hells angels

what is just
to read the words of a dream
written by a man
was he crazy or a prophet
he was ready
it was to save us all
and he knew
before diamonds were mounted
he knew
as she looked into his eyes
yesterday
they did not think of prophets
as it was written
their boots sunk deep into the earth
his mother cried
it had been so long between them
he loved her
but he could only dishonor her
he knew
but he lived the only way he knew how
not for her
not for the prophets dream
he was chosen
for a prophet knows of men like him
because he knows men
he did not have to dream about sin
it was dust on his sandals
but no difference for rich or poor

what is just
how can we know except we are here
it was not the spirit
as it moved across still waters
it was not light
as it split the darkness in half
it was the chosen one
as he gave himself up for us to decide
but there are no pictures
only the longing deep inside for truth
from the time of God
to the time of Satan’s last temptation
some hear a voice
but why is it always about death
some witness a dream
but why is it always about obedience
our nature is given
a rose and a thorn love and hate
to be denial
but who would sever a limb?
we did not ask
yet we are judged as he was
three thousand years
still the wicked walk among us
we live with his silence
though the message rings loud
but would you hide
if the rain refracted the light no more?
Nov 2015 · 335
What Is It This Time?
Mark Lecuona Nov 2015
The same light now shines on enemies sworn
For evil has spun the web of the newly born dawn
The world can’t decide who should blow the horn
Between land and sea, frightened clouds are born
But who’s God decides which man will be saved?

No longer enchanted by our appearances
Blonde hair dark skin or man woman differences
We should all be equal no matter our distances
Our colors don’t matter but it makes us all witnesses
We spend too much time passing out the blame

We ripped the carpet up leaving the nails by the wall
The cold concrete felt so good until sun began to fall
We talked about the glass but weren’t sure what we saw
We waited by the phone but the answer decided not to call
It’s only kept us ignorant so we were used to that

You ever talk to a grave digger before the family arrives?
He burns out the hole with a ***** that is still alive
It makes no difference to him who it was or their size
The dimensions are good enough to say our goodbyes
He walks away with nothing left, the same as us

Who said it was time to notice the things that are wrong
Somebody was shocked that they felt they did not belong
You think a poor man is happy that you like his song?
He’d rather you sing it while he eats and drinks all night long
If you won’t take him in then don’t go to the zoo

What kind of insurance is a Bible and a gun next to your bed
You can pray and you can shoot but is that what Jesus said?
I know how it is when you can’t figure out what’s in your head
Some **** for God some for themselves either way he's dead
My nightstand is empty but I know how to sleep at night
Nov 2015 · 574
If I Walk In Faith
Mark Lecuona Nov 2015
How I walk
How I walk
Believe in faith
Believe in fear
Will the fields guide me
Will the forest shelter me
If I walk in faith

Where I walk
Where I walk
Closer to the land
Closer to the sea
I won’t lose myself
I won’t lose my children
If I walk in faith

Walk in faith
Walk in faith
When it is cold
When it is hard
Come to me
Come to me
I believe in you
Believe in me

How I live
How I live
The way I was taught
The way I was loved
My life may change
My past will not
If I walk in faith

How I love
How I love
My neighbor
My savior
Will I know them
Will I know you
If I walk in faith

Walk in faith
Walk in faith
When it is cold
When it is hard
Come to me
Come to me
I believe in you
Believe in me
Nov 2015 · 762
The Pendulum
Mark Lecuona Nov 2015
The hypnotic affecting extremism at its apogee paused to smoke a
cigarette while the fulcrum groaned as the smoke gave warning that
the night  ended and the long day ahead was about to begin; as it
began hurtling downward, flicking the still glowing **** aside, like
so many grim-faced hotel rooms, oddly black and white in a world
that can only imagine rainbows, it’s message gaining momentum
while opposing forces, raging at the loss of its friction on the public
consciousness, braced itself as its stomach churned because the
bottom had fallen out of its idealistic pilgrimage; the survival of
good conversation, a flowing flute, bottled wine with old corks
never seemed to concern itself with the lack of compromise; it
was only the death of pay phones and taxis, like a miscarriage,
creating momentary pause, that remembered what it was like to
once matter only to be abandoned because life is only about how
arrogance, no matter its source, vicarious or self-induced, a tooth-
pick in its mouth, unimpressed because cynicism held tightly to
the rope, swinging it, not out of convenience, but because it
enjoys toying with outrage, unsentimental, bored with itself and
in need of a ticket for the show; while a poet looked on, consumed
with right and wrong; whether to be a pacifist or a realist, to be
patriotic or humanistic no matter nationality, to be the writer
or the book, to accept that evil must be vanquished or to merely
lament the human condition; he knew the love of beautiful words
meant nothing to a world on fire; to a hit man trying to finish
what he first shot was unable; to a poor man sleeping under the
thin blanket of speeches and promises; to a child, terrified by
blinding light and deafening explosions; only the mindless
idealist could love these words, yet was it truth or was it only
a selfishly clever principle that pointed in one direction no
matter yesterday’s accusations that became todays justification;
would it be that he cast aside contemplation for his own gun;
to become the killer or the hand that turns off the sound of the
montone ekg, so that the world might not be aware of the
necessary evil of killing evil; but what would truth say as the
pendulum races past prudence, towards an equilibrium not
in balance with virtue but instead with revenge and opportunism;
what should he say about that; who would listen to his blood
stained pen, witness of his own atrocities, killing his own
voice, once full of peaceful assurance about the good within
the hearts of men; who would listen to the shrugging shoulders
of a rebuilt poem, to be told to children and those who wish
to think of the things that powerful men destroy as history
has always insisted must be so; who would listen to the naïve
man who had a way of arranging emotions at will; who would
listen as another hypnotically extreme apogee lit another cold
hearted cigarette, without a filter, because what would be the
point of that; there was none; decency could not survive hell
and its lungs could not survive the slow death anyway;  it
became a matter of feeling the fire from the inside, so that the
words meant something to somebody because they would
know that a life of pain was the only way to reach the point
of meaning; a sort of constant face full of inspiration as he
took his seat next to the fulcrum that remained alone, unable
to speak because nobody cared to listen or reason anymore;
it didn’t seem to matter; only that beautiful words had to live
live for itself and for those who wanted to feel that way for
a moment; but he knew, that lies and compromises lived
silently, because flowers do not grow in desert sand and a
poet who closes his eyes is like a baby with a rattle in its hand
Nov 2015 · 503
A Divided Family
Mark Lecuona Nov 2015
What blood that would flow inside of us
melted from twin peaks before our birth
could ever turn us against our own?

The reflections come from our eyes
And within them are his revealed words


What heart that hears its companions
in harmony with its own voice would
ever silence itself and deny its purpose?

Each white light brightening the green
Drawing us nearer to the season


What braided rope would willingly
unravel until each thread has become
so weakened it cannot love another?

As we think once again of a baby
We offer the plank from within our eyes


What family would dishonor itself solely
to preserve the desires of each person
over the strength in the love of the many?

*So we may cross the divide between us
Upon the path we have laid for forgiveness
Nov 2015 · 309
the time is now
Mark Lecuona Nov 2015
the earth was once molten
then frozen
but the sun did rise
though man knew not to record its passage
the seas once surrounded the land
then it was divided
but the moon did shine
though man could only gaze upon it
and as nature lived
and lives
so does man now
within himself he must decide
to fight as a civil man would
or to live in the moment time will judge harshly
our fears cannot remain calm in the face of death
our adherence to principle will not remain unchallenged
who will hold the line as horses charge knowing no rank
in the pages that will be turned
and argued
what will be said of us
that the idea of civilization was intended for the generation that followed?
will we be judged as saviors
or despots?
we cannot know how a man chooses
to fight
to control
to terrorize
to survive
and in the time of man and his children
can he accept that history will remind others not to live as we did
or is it that history will laud his leaving for a time
within the walls can we sleep soundly
knowing that those who cannot prove their innocence died in the fields
between absolute evil
and the relative good that was unable to fight without fear
all men will die
it is in the hands of the few to decide when
and though our time is unseen
and the consequence of decision cannot be traced adequately for justice
will we decide what to believe by the will of our soul
or the perception of our mind?
Nov 2015 · 282
Not My Father's Sins
Mark Lecuona Nov 2015
Should I lay my head, soaking in a tub covered in white paint
It is how you think I live, pretending to be a saint
I do not ask, but it is my children who must overcome my teachings
But what should I tell them of another man's preachings?

It is the unjust law that should be buried by glorious upheaval
For no law of despots and thieves knows equity, only evil
But thought repressed by those who will not allow others to speak
Is a law of mad men who would not give what it is they seek

In the judgment of those with too much power or nothing to lose
We are either ruled or blamed, but it is they who choose
I would die on the island of my father no matter the depth of peril
For the blood in my veins is not of the anger in your barrel
Nov 2015 · 273
The Same Path
Mark Lecuona Nov 2015
Do you believe in your path
Is it enough to live this way without me?
I am not the path
You cannot walk upon my heart
Or the reasons why I may be by your side
Where your life may point
Is a direction we never discussed
It had to be this way
Because now we know
We are meant to be together
Not as a choice
But as who we are

We were both drawn to it
And though the river moves swiftly
We are able to withstand its force
Because we are the rock of our own life
Though we are eroded from our birth
We have altered the course of the waters
I felt your hearts effect upon mine
As its soft edges strengthened my own

Do you believe in my path
Is it enough to live this way with me?
We are the memory of the same forest
We would never walk upon fallen leaves
Without purpose
We would never face the sky
Without its motion in time with our own
You did not have to speak of it
I already knew
Yes my love I feel it too
In our whispers the wind is born again
And we will follow no matter how far
Nov 2015 · 817
Blessed Are The Peacemakers
Mark Lecuona Nov 2015
If he should ask of my willingness
What would I say that Peter had not already heard?
For my sword is not what will save mankind
If I should hunger because of my weakness
Would I steal from my neighbor to feed my children
When twelve baskets fed the blind?
If my fears become stronger than forgiveness
Would I listen to a man who commands me to ****
And hammer nails into the cross left behind?
If he should ask me to be his witness
Would I testify of the sins waged by other men
Or the ones that that my own life would remind?
Nov 2015 · 1.0k
Living Without You Part II
Mark Lecuona Nov 2015
To stretch my every being
Fatigue
Doubt
Fear
Genius
Courage
Love
To know the limits of cobbled streets
Where the footsteps of so many vanish
Living life
Not questioning existence
Only feeling their hearts
Not counting debts among friends
Holding love in my arms
Weeping as I bury my family
Without anger as the divide is no longer my concern
Smiling as a song becomes life
Believing without question
Accepting without remorse
Experience without regret
For  the whole of the past is not what tomorrow can  be
But within the worry that ignores my inner peace
I know you
And as I wait for you
I wonder if what I fear is having you in my life
Or you being the love of his
Nov 2015 · 672
Love Enough To Suffer
Mark Lecuona Nov 2015
I cannot she cried
I cannot be alone
As she rubbed her fingers across the lamb
Shorn of its wool, it felt so cold
It was the moment of passing
Where the ocean is deep but abundant
And space is far but promising
Where birth becomes light
But as the chain tightened around her neck
And the still face of silvery grace showed its age
She grew silent
As her lungs filled with the life that was promised
No matter the black painted sun
Or  the moon that wept
She knew this life to be untrue to hearts
It wasn’t always going to be safe enough to breathe
And the end might not remind her of happiness
But she thought of his own cry of being forsaken
The loneliness of this life is only meant to prepare us
And though we love enough to suffer
We also love enough to believe
And we believe enough to be saved
Nov 2015 · 2.6k
Paris
Mark Lecuona Nov 2015
I grieve for humanity
Because my own may harden
I grieve for justice
Because war knows no pardon
I grieve for courage
Because with fear we may govern
I grieve for children
Because a fire burns in their garden
Nov 2015 · 282
Bitter Sugar
Mark Lecuona Nov 2015
How many tears have been eaten
Sweet tears
The sugar of her toils
How many memories have been discarded
Bitter memories
Of a time she lived without love
How many beautiful eyes have been closed
Taking with us their souls
Because we could not leave our own behind
How many times have I cried alone
She knew how to say no
But not when I begged her to
Nov 2015 · 360
Living Without You
Mark Lecuona Nov 2015
You can only compare the times we shared
You said nobody else was like me
Still you won’t walk upon the sands where I weep
It is easier for you to remember than to actually see

I’m not sure if I’m important to you anymore
Though our friendship survived our goodbyes
But do your dreams think of him while you sleep?
It is hard to love something that doesn’t make you cry

Opposite ends of a freeway
Distance that cannot forget
As I watched you drive away
I thought about living life without you
Living without you
It felt like dying before I could pray

I thought maybe time had been generous enough
Only destiny knows when to write the final chapter
But to have a memory that continues to bleed
Is a book that begs to know why living apart is better

Opposite ends of the ocean
Distance that cannot forget
As I watched darkness in motion
I thought about living life without you
Living without you
It felt like dying without any emotion
Song lyrics
Nov 2015 · 541
Let Me Remind You
Mark Lecuona Nov 2015
To describe what a picture only knows
in fields where our hearts once did gather
while daffodils shed its children all around
is to see what you feel while the wind blows

Beyond a blessing is a promise to keep
we are only so eager when we are afraid
artful hopeful prayers ask graces pardon
for the hurtful things that we always speak

In the chance that the silent moon gave us
was a common hurt that we once shared
we walked together feeling knowing crying
over things our scars no longer care to discuss

You said you wanted to be pretty again
as if I was somehow worthy of your life
yet if you had not become the light I see
then our past would have lived in vain

When we give up our finer things for grief
we realize being alone is not a just game
losing only means a ration of hardened hearts
that the lonely substitute quietly for belief

In the stolid minds of those who cannot
are the memories of someone who could
and in them lives a friend who knew you well
ready to show you all the things that you forgot
Nov 2015 · 373
What God Will Find
Mark Lecuona Nov 2015
No matter the slumbers that overtake
Or the past that won't release it's hold
Who you are is in the light only you can shine

No matter that love can only forsake
Or that children make you feel old
What you can be are the thoughts in your mind

No matter headwinds that are too great
Or the nights that loneliness make cold
How you will love is what your heart will remind

No matter the darkness of your fate
Or the lies that have been told
That a kind soul exists within is what God will find
Nov 2015 · 1.5k
Once Again
Mark Lecuona Nov 2015
She wanted all there is
Because she once had it
She did not know what to say
The snow flake had melted
The storm cloud had no more lightening to offer
The things that were once unique remained as they were
A cruel memory
For there he stood
Waiting to be all that she wanted
Once again
But she could sense no new season as before
They had once run together towards the cliffs edge
Recklessly abandoning prudence
And though they had known others
Together they became first love
But they became lost in time
And as she followed her heart once again
What was new was now only familiar
And as he wondered if her tears were of sadness or joy
She knew he could never be what he once was
Nov 2015 · 409
What Do You Hear?
Mark Lecuona Nov 2015
Get your own sound
Where you get it don’t matter
Borrow it
Change it
Rearrange it
Till they don’t recognize it
Then it’s yours
Think about it
Live with it
Become it
Till you recognize it in a dream
Then it’s you
You found it one night
But you didn’t write it down
You were driving a car
Long ago
It all came together
You didn’t trust yourself
The information wasn’t enough
It wasn’t whole
It didn’t feel like Sunday afternoon enough
You wanted it to be about peace
But is that your sound?
It may only be a moment
A break from the past
Or the concern
What atmosphere did you suppress?
You didn’t recognize it
That’s why it was you
You only can recognize someone else
You aren’t CONFIDENT about new thoughts
Nobody is
You have to suffer through it
Walk with strangers
Sleep on concrete
I saw a man do that the other day
Everybody stepped over him
And you have so much more
But what do you hear?
Stop reacting
You have heard every word there is
You have felt every emotion there is
Put it all together
There was a friend once
The one you tell stories about
Their genius was being different
But they were too much for you
You couldn’t live like that
They were too loud
You couldn’t hear yourself
They were primitive
Without any dignity
Yet you remember
Raw
But then elegance and poise
Elegance and poise
Is that what made you stumble?
Just words that strangle
Sunday afternoon
Is that your sound?
Are you listening?
It may be that you are not
Mere existence
Not knowing
Not hearing
Not you
Not less
More
Nov 2015 · 297
I Haven't Washed My Hands
Mark Lecuona Nov 2015
Some people think if they survived
Then they’re alright
They take their blessings with them
And play a game of pretend

My hands are still *****
I know things aren’t right
Unfinished business is still a choice
I need to decide on a loud or silent voice

I won’t drag the past into a new life
It will remain only in my sight
With a soiled memory is how you left
And being wrong is what I must accept
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