I know a place away from home.
Moment of inner dawn.
To recall the last words of a man
who saw beauty in the air
and never had work a single day:

“I’ll cut the wood
Tomorrow,
First thing in the morning,
Promise.”

And dawn came with new age.
I saw love outside my cage
and had the key for a long time.

She was another midnight soul
dancing in the streets of fire.
She called me in the middle of the storm
and my arms, wrapped in denial,
felt free from the chain of dreams.

Real or unreal, what’s it worth to you,
the ride in the wind?

“If I pass out, call the shots.
I will drop you a line on the shore
when I fade in Morgana’s arms -
Another sun souled celebrating
a love that touched
the sea of possibilities.

And all the vanilla skies of our dreams
will rain youth
on the river of what we were,
but those waters will never be lost to the sea.

Do prefer love
over the complicated questions.
A blindfold is
the only truth you should care to know.

Desire for my body to warm your soul
& reach out for a fire that won't burn.
I'll wander our souls to places
where rock rolls all day long.

Unplug my cruel heart
and leave the good side
to rule over my deeds,

and all I'll ask of you in the between
is a fair song
& the sound of your laughter
blowing in the wind.

But if it gets hazy & distant,
I'll do what I do best:
I'll rewind the road
& walk over the old one.

I have the soul of a drunk.

Her legs spread out,
all silence and no heart.

Sometimes home comes to mind.

the old heavy sinking sun rised
and all dawn's doubts were gone
with the morning star.

highway without cars,
but condensated dreams
scattered all over the road.

past is the future,
ahead the unknown,
the road is neverendless.

if I could
rule your days,
I'd craft a sun
just to measure
the shadows
of your dreams.

we live to see forever
and watch it unfold;
we live to die
just for one day.

The spontaneous momentums of my wild laughter
try to keep up
with all these insane rides of life.

I know me well and I lack discipline.
But that won't mean a thing tomorrow,
because I will live more, and I'll know better.

When we talked for endless hours about
the people that made us who we are,
we found shelter in each other's hopes & dreams
and promised to never fear crossroads in our journey.

We let go of that strange need for constant affection,
because where there is friendship, there is trust -
there is constant love and a place to sleep by the fire.

The music was loud, but we listened.
And I guaranteed to you that happiness could never be found
outside your kind soul.

That all that you needed was already yours
and many good people failed to see that
simple truth.

That the universe was a given
from the get-go,
and that from then on we could become anything
we ever wished upon.

That you and I and the whole world
are flowers that can choose to grow, each day.

And maybe the sun will never know our names,
but he will always be here
to guide us in our every road.

To stare an eclipse
from the shore;
lines begin to draw
an horizon in the mist.

I can touch the ship
with my own eyes;
I can move it to another channel
& break the couirse of the wind.

And I am myself, again -
wishing away, killing the day
waiting for dawn to light my way.

But I'm on my own, now.
Worlds will collide and windows will shatter,
and doors will open, dreams will come true.

And the stars and the moon and the world -
They will grow fond of me.

I just wanted to come
and wish you well.

Farewell.

Sometimes it just doesn’t happen,
the kiss I had for you.

There’s no crime
in writing.

It has always been here:
the thrill of choosing the words
that benefit other words the most.

There’s a simple rule in writing
(maybe the only 1):
A thought comes out
and hopefully, when written down,
turned into strings of words,
the idea it provides may
provoke
an exciting way of
seeing the world.

Sometimes it happens.
Sometimes, it never does.

To some, words are enough.
Others need music or imagery.

I guess to each his own
and that might serve the truth
that we, each of us, are
Unique
and that in our
Differences
we get excited by our own
Differences,
which in turn provide us of our own
Uniquenesses.

But whatever:
I say what I say, at the end of the day.
And your judgement
is your own.

Still, truth be told,
no harm done
in letting it all out,
all at once.

travelling down the highway
around mountains and walls of stone,
watching that beautiful spanish sun go down

another moment that goes on
to fulfill its nature
and become object of nostalgia.

travelling in this life,
gathering nothing but
beautiful sunsets.

night gave us a chance
of another sunrise.

everything I see, I want, I love.
she does too, in some weird way
of existence.

smile and gazing,
we're two, but never forget the world.
we miss the sunlight if we keep the door shut.

now you have a day to live
and you can make that day
the best day of your life.

I'll be waiting for you on the other side of the night;
All my days are the best days of my life.

I composed w/
body & soul,
but it wasn't enough.

I touched perfection
and burned my finger.
I'll never do it again.

I am Love. I am enough.
Waiting for the rainbow,
no, I'll bow the rain on my own.

the endless run began at the age of 18.

he was sitting on the rooftop of his infancy
wondering if he was still the same -
he was.

once the sun rises, it will rise again -
only the wise know this.

The entire sky collapsed in its clouds,
as if life were a dream never to be reckon with.

In all fairness, I have been shown what love can do:
it can do more than anything you can ever imagine.

And I did, I did. And I done it again.
After all, the universe wasn't programmed.
So I did what I could: I grabbed love & loved myself.

she got her blue eyes
from a dream.
she never is, she always was,
she seldom is anywhere.

jumping out of the fryin' pan,
my girl knows where I'm coming from.
I hope her fire will last

and her raw soul will open to me
secrets & musings & reveries,
but I'll never burn out. I'll always be free.

Autumn again,
as expected.

The old are gone,
and now their hubris burns
on our youthful years.

The weight of spring is light.
One day, we'll remember it
and share a laugh.

Woman, you are my poetry
and my poetry is yours forever,

since that green distant summer
when all else was set to remain
untouched & preserved

by the flower of
youth.

I write to you again, friend.
Before the end of winter,
I hope we can look back
to the sweet recollections
of another season.

I learned that
there is a place called home
which brings me great comfort
by the fireplace, where hearth is endless.

But now that
the heady days of spring are near,
I must say I'm relieved from chopping wood
and throw salt into the fires.

I'm confident that
every season is a blessing and a curse,
that the music is loud or low according to our dancing feet
and everyday is a painting of many true colors.

So it does not mean more than a second of a minute
that we are here again, at the edge of ourselves, of life.
I'm in love with all that I can love,
and making love last is all that matters to me.

I'll always near you with a soft smile and eternal grace,
because I have a light that shines around me
and you have it too, if you believe that
life is as fair as you let it be,
and the world will become yours in your own way,
because all you see is yours, for that beautiful
precise moment in space and time
where your eyes touch the light,
and that same light is born again, out of darkness.

Scattered all over the floor,
I secretly picked up pieces of your infancy.

Gentle the rain
Gentle.

Don’t hide your smile
If you don’t like when
The sun hides in the clouds.

Your smile warms my days,
Just like the sun of a blue sky.

sunset pressed against a window.
In a city so full of goodbyes
an Hello must rise
and give birth to a revolution.

The El Dorado lies at the
gates of Eternal Bliss,

but that also lies on the other side
of morning,

and the white horizon seems so distant
and uncertain in the fog.

Ah. Well...

Some other time, maybe.
If they do stick around forever,
sooner or later, we'll get there.

open your window and let autumn come in.
then, prepare a cup of coffee and let him
scatter your books all over the floor.

sleep under the tree
like children lost
in the wild summer
of infancy.

there’s a moon out there
that shines in the sun.

o the musing philosophies
I’m so infinite
and I didn’t know what I could
but I can Oh I will Someday.

only I can stir her soul.
only she can move my pen.
she says it’s her scent
I think it’s her touch.

step inside the abyss -
there’s a labyrinth there
where you can free yourself
& lose everything else.

you’re so infinite
you really didn’t know.

the most beautiful of all
lives as if childhood was today -

and the sun would still rise in the morning
even in her death.

god is in the people.

if you don't believe in god,
believe in the people.

as if one's soul was already dark
from the light of dawn.

Standing in marble awe,
contemplating this winter night,
my soul searching continues,
ruining the age of another wine.

Walk with me, in the maze park.
The north will settle,
we'll light another cigar.

Here lies, optional,
my emotional litter -
the tiredness of
walking over water
and taking over the sins.

Paying no mind to this finite state -
the gone moment of our walk
lingering on the shoulders
of my solitude.

See, these are simple equations,
and they are my solace -
the exciting unknown
divided by knowledge.

This is dawn setting on someones window,
yet to bloom, yet to rise.

Sat down and watched the sunset.
My soul laughed. I never want
to be any other way.

Imperfections everywhere,
I still love them.

Perfection? It doesn't exist.
You have to craft it
with your imperfect ways.

It happens
when you learn to love a broken toy
or a rainy season;
It comes when
you dance to your favorite song
alone with your mind;
It triggers
kisses your lips never felt.

I sat down to watch the sunset,
knowing that that was all.
Anything else would be too much.

sometimes you will find that
love and hate can be found
in the same place

and that, sometimes, the hardest thing to do
is to love and carry on.

chemical elevation.
we discussed myth entourage -
my father’s idea of myth is halted
when his own legacy comes into play -
she says it’s out the door,
I say it just walked out bigger,
maybe, but it’s just
good car conversation,
no greek allowed.

seek the chemical elevation.
the sky cog burning wheels
howling in the night with the meek.
Dreams become blisters,
beacons become road signs,
we skip leg days,
AI skips darwinism
and peer-reviews poems.

We’re building a boat
against the sea,
the wood from the old one has age rot
and lost its heart
to the bucolics of the captain.

In his reluctant gaze
life is given so arbitrarily,
with dreams laced in shoes untied.