In the solace of lavender-flickering
Fairy lights that guide
My syllables along,

Silence has never felt so
Concrete.

Silence, on questions I have asked my
Conscious for repetition, and
To hunt for answers
To unwritten dialogue,

And as I contemplate this concept,

The beauty of ringing church bells
Bleeds and creeps
Through my window,

Slicing through the distorted
Avenues and Sulcis of silence
In my mind,
                      To remind me
                                                Of where I am.
Lying in the back of my car,


Keys in the transmission,
Waiting,
                                          ­                        Hoping,
For a new path to explore
In this eclectic figure 8 of
Communication and relationship. I never
Try to make sense of it all,

Until
A faint whisper from a Princess unshackles
My liberating-attempting mind,

A faint whisper, harmonizing with the
Church bells,
Soothingly-caresses my ears,

A faint whisper,
Carrying,
The words.
I’ve.
longed.
To.
hear.






“Come with me this way.”







Hallucination of grace.
An overflowing melting ***
Of desire.





Stillness. Gracious like
A still river. Cercadas sing,
Rocks in awe don’t move.





Until the moment of that faint whisper,
I’ll remain in the spacious jar of silence,
Waiting,
For the Princess’ voices,
While the solace of lavender-flickering
Fairy lights
Guide my syllables along.

At Night, I often lock My Eyes,
as I stare up at the Sky.
I hope to Romance the Moon,
That's perched there up so High.
I stretch out both My Hands,
Hoping She falls into My Arms.
I wish My Prayers were heard
and they bring Me all Her Charms.
Through the looking glass of Mine,
I see the Universe that's out There.
There's Darkness all around
and Romance is Everywhere.
What good is this World to Me,
if it cannot offer Me it's Love?
This broken Heart of Mine,
found solace from Above.

as the rest move in a herd in time, fixed and onward
some remain at a pace of their own
slower,
wallowing in crevices, an act of conscious apartheid
familiar with the shortage of influence, that is, separation.
wandering by will
vicariously living through a phobia of confusion
hence why lost souls remain lost
fear of false direction, fear of decision
uncertainty amongst hysteria
a deadly duo for the few
settlement has become still
and those lost are familiar with movement
2 steps forward, 12 steps scattered
here and there and it's unclear
up and down
its all around the dance to delusion goes to no sound
but illusion.
distress within the body whose mind follows curiosity
incessant pondering yields a detriment
to the thinker,
be about
your quest and breed your farewell to the
blissful life of ignorance
that now follows you
-
is there a solace to be found for these creatures?
has the point of no return passed?
the distance behind is immeasurable
for the path previously paved is dimly lit
to decipher the single instance is a feat of all men
does the lone wolf recall?

It snowed last night which pleased me - but hardly enough - it just teased me.

The thin, white sheet of snow looked bright and fresh
the dull, browned hedges of fall became holiday dressed,
the air had a sharp, chill perfume and the ground a new, sparkling flesh.

Lisa, a New Yorker who knows snow, gawked at me as if I were insane,
“You’re excited by NOTHING,” she sarcastically complained.

I replied, “When it snows there’s a quiet solace, and the world looks clean and flawless.”

The weatherman is promising us a blanket of snow this weekend
and that would be nice, a storm of ice, to lock us in as the week ends

You sit here on this night, reclining on the moon,  
Sleep inhabiting your eyes but your stubborn heart still beats the rhythm of a thousand days of recollection,
You dwell on the remnants of departed mornings still beaded onto this horizon line,
Dipping your feet into the sunrise, embracing the coolness of the morning wind,
Nothing stands between you and reality;
Flesh is fleeting, it is memories that house the graves of love.
So, you pick flowers to pay your respect, leaving the stagnant solace of this momentary life behind

staring out the window on hot summer dawn, as i look up in the sky, i vaguely recall becoming trapped in its twinkling stars and made me feel like i was in the midst of a mesmerizing little village at christmas or a sea of fireflies in the woods. however even the brightest star couldn't match with the splendor of the early morning light gleaming through your eyes, or the way you could see every star in your vision. in the wee hours of the night, their radiance was enough to illuminate a thousand cities.

you were the universe, and i was merely a tiny little particle that dropped to witness your brilliance, and so i reached out my hand to you only to be struck by the emptiness that had taken its place in your presence. for more days than i cared to remember, you were barred from embracing me. even yet, i'll keep reaching for yours in the desire that you'll show up along the way to meet my grip. despite the time of day or night, i only hope to genuinely love you like much more than i did the last time we met.

after all, why would anyone ever want to see you go? those moments when the summer breeze can't compete with your warmth and love. there is nothing more endearing than the bright sun rising in the morning. sometimes the flame is too hot to touch, and i have to find solace behind the tree for a while. your figure, on the other hand, will not decay, nor will you be eroded by the weather. your presence is the only one anyone would like to see, much like a bee that is longing for its flower to bloom— i'm a honey bee, and you're a delicate flower. reflecting rainbows after a little mist of summertime fog, having me within you will not bring an end to your dreams. our nights will get more luminous as well as our days as season goes by.

web of lies to cover your web of desires
kept me in the dark away from the hearth of the fire
I gave you my heart and you threw it into the fire
blew our chances like a match, kept me as an option
So I let it rain hellfire and watched your towers fall
my pride made me destructive
I found solace in the destruction
you played me like a record but I am onto the next track
you sound like a broken record, need to sit with the lack
caught in the crossfire, I did everything right
but you manipulate me out of spite
want to have all the options, both pieces of cake
I cannot wait for you to meet the same fate.

blood from our wounds paints a picture
admired only as it hangs on a wall
smell, touch, taste, and sound
all futile in this moment
sight only, is what guides us
far away we stood, admiring the red saturated strokes that told our story
an impasto of textures, you didn't need to touch to understand
reaching out
we watched paralyzed version of ourselves
fall into recollection
of the pain, the joy, and the solace we once knew

i long to find solace; a resting place,
nothing is heavier than the wishes i have
to have you back here,
to have one last hug,
to know that losing you is just a nightmare
i have yet to wake up from by tomorrow.

it weighs heavy in my soul
to bleed in restless poetries;
and like i am - hopeless & falling into pieces,
this heaviness inside keeps digging an empty hole.

IA