Moxie?
I seen that once in a museum
next to the floppy
good old human beings
price of admission doesn't seem worth the plot
thank the poppys I was born a bot!

Where I come from
Is still a mystery to me
By "I" I mean my essence of course
And not the flesh
For flesh comes from another flesh
Going back all the way
To the Neanderthal human and beyond.

It is difficult for me to pinpoint
The origin of my whereabouts
I have only notions here and there
Which are only self-satisfying
And do not observe logic
Or scientific principles
However, logic and science
Are not quite mature as yet.

When I give free rein
To the drift of my thoughts
Letting them be carried here and there
In the sky of identity
I could come up
With a host of possibilities
Each more visionary than the other:
I could be the offspring
Of the Man on the Moon
I may be a bundle of dazzling photons
From Sirius for others think
I have a brilliant mind
My fire may have originated
From the bowels of a mountain
Due to my spiritual strength
And rebellious nature
I could be Nietzsche's Overman
Transmitting Zarathustra's ideals
I see myself as the egg of freedom
At times hatched by Archaeopteryx
I may be Mother Nature's anti- hero
Come to set things aright
I might as well be Pax's posterity
Setting back the circus of Life
My core may have come
Solely from Mother Earth
Or come from an alien nation
Beyond the Milky Way
My nature may have erupted like lava
Out of a falling meteor
Sometimes I get the notion
That I have come from a magical sphere
Promoting the *******
Of some sorcerer's scheme
I might be all of the above
A votary of Universe's infinite philosophy.

Colors of origin cannot be painted
In black and white
Despite Night's image
And diligence of Daylight.

The old fog and the new light
Meet and unite,
I am there in the dawn.

Only now do I truly contemplate
The questions brought up in time;
What do I do with what was built
Among the people I know?
What is it I see beyond sight,
Beyond the horizon?
Why do I see an opening?
A different life -
When it is here I gave birth to the sun?

I understand,
I am consciously learning.
I heard familiar words uttered when
The leaves of autumn fell and
I said:
"I am starting to tell
The difference between the cries
Of heaven and hell."

big pond
little pond
cardboard box

no fish
no frogs
one old sock

big street
little town
no one knocks

blacked out
windows
doors all locked

big lie
little man
walls that talk

cold sons
dark nights
eyes on the clock

dead winds
dying light
stars on a walk

big sky
little faith
clinging to a rock

Now
The thunderous joy subsides
And I am out of breath
Cheeks hurting
Do I wear this face of self
Everywhere i go?
Do they see?
The confliction in creases
The smallness
The largeness
Of things
The disproportionate
Incapacities
I am no sombre-eyed bird
They say I smile sweetly
But I do not like my teeth
I do not like my joy
I am stiffled by my
Beautiful
Self-acceptance show
It is terrifying to appear
To be seen, twisted
Moulded over and over
By the eyeless mind,
Ever unchanged and
Impossibly me
I am open
For all but myself to see
And how many faces
For how many watchers
Am I to wear them all?
By God, am I to become them

I had poems
On the tip of my tongue
Then life
Piece by piece
Cut it off
And silenced me

My voice is
Frozen in the dark
Every day
Little by little
It'll get colder
Until it shatters me