Never Forget the Past

I. On Rejection of History, Fallible Geniuses:

Do not seek present fault in past greatness
Condemning yesterday men with morrow crimes
The sift of time works in unfathomable wonder
Leaving only truth grains of real substance
Do not discard these foods for thoughts
For being misshapen and the occasional spots
For they were gold among ashes and dust
And the learnt, and healed is never without scars

II. On the Embellishing of Poetry

Don't dread or torment yourself if you fear
Your words aren't decorated enough
For one day only truth will remain
And truth never hides, but bares itself plain
If you dress your poetry overabundant, shimmer and gleam
It might just be overlooked, the soul underneath
And be discarded as earthly things
Obscured by the camouflage of timely beings

III. On the Timelessness of Simple Words

Gaze from below, the tomes of giant
How plainly they walk in the clouds
At most a dress or cling shimmering humbly
And never so full of jewels and gold lest they
Fall from the heavens
Bearing the weight of earthly greed.

Learn from your scars, lest you envy flesh unmarked.

Soot on LA highway signs. Billboard of you,
a real estate agent. All endeavor slides
toward inertia, extinction, forgetfulness.

It’s very tropical. Vegetation invades
the house unless constant inputs of joy
apply. The scientist in you feels the

great ape in you. The great ape feels
death growing wide. What about work?
I devote my present to my future existence.

In what way, in what sense
does one continue to resist. As
a dessicated cell, a mole of elements,

an ancient’s aura, a daguerreotype-like
shadow on a sidewalk, persistent headache,
paleolithic herbivore, potential energy, will.

Some wake up and pray, say thanks for
another day. Others curse their luck, stale breath,
the very thought of the rosy dawn makes them ill.

Lonely as leaf fall.
Nature knows no pity or self-pity
according to antiquity, the roof soot of the city.

I admire fire, tools and ore. Agriculture.
Cities, empire. Trading and taking (war).
Numbers, counting, writing. Libraries, discoveries, zero.

And the single-minded universe
that’s only a paper moon
without your love.

I sinned today
A sinner I am
Then I went to work
And forgot
All together
Every issue
Every problem
For just a second
And it was nice
Just to forget
When you looked at me
And called me an *******
In a kidding way

what we become in
    rejection to the templates
        we succumb to
a positive negation of what
we once believed to be our
being
cast aside even the idea
of a revelatory rebirth
silence and space do not
    describe it
emptiness, void - they too fail
the more i write about it,
the less i say about it

Caught in the landslide of memories,
feels like this spiral never ends.
Even the pain it hates me!
It creeps under and pulls me out along.

This thing inside me
can't forget, can't relate.
Never lies, never betrays,
yet I'm dying to forget!

Anything
I will take anything to get this feeling out of my chest
This headache out of my head
I can't take it.
I want it out
with blood
with a pill
with cancer in a stick.
Anything please
Just make me forget I exist.
I just wish
I loved life a little less.

I’m not writing to externalize my weeping or to release my pain, on the contrary, I just want to remember you and materialise my thoughts in a way that our love seems alive.

Because you’ve kind of vanished these past months, and I’m really starting to believe that I’m on my own, but don’t blame me if I still feel your presence, even though I don’t share it with anyone, not even with you. But my Love, your presence has a much greater value than to be shared and my heart is much too delicate to be opened. I’m working on rebuilding it; it’s just taking a little more than expected.

I don’t talk about you as much as I should, I guess I don’t want to share you, I just want to keep you in that sacred place of yours, where there’s only you, where no one can disrupt us, no force is the universe could be strong enough to disunite us.
Just know that my silence isn’t a proof of my indifference, my deepest sorrows are my silent ones.

But baby I do try once in a while, to let someone know you’re still on my mind. Sometimes it’s all want to say. Very often it’s all I think about, that I don’t feel alive except when you’re here, that you make me feel greater than I actually am.
You’re the glut of the Love I hold, the overflow of my feelings and the scarcity of my joy.
But how can I even speak of joy when you’re away?
And how could I ever be happy when you’re the one that redefined happiness?
You may say that I lost myself when you went away, but I’d rather get lost in you than to ever lose you.