Of old wars.

shift

Sitting cobwebbed in 2013s dairy,

my resolutions mock me. 

I see them, smirking, daring me, coaxing,

wishing i’d make another eager attempt at self deceit…

self deceit is a brand of death.

 

Auras of clean slates or freshness elude me,

Still, my heart leaps for the unknown…

peace is paramount, happiness is violently impending…

I stay open to closing in on all I need for the next 365….

this is not poetry,

just ramblings and old wars….

…..

 

 

 

 

 

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Reaper.

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I must tell you a secret.

I have been dining with death,

an old friend he is. Resourceful one.

I like the way he gives me ideas..

so much peace in having options…

 

you must tell no one.

Facile à vivre

 

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They say I am easy going,

easy to go…in..

easy to go,

like easy to leave.

I always wondered why they never stayed.

#how easy

 

 

vilag ii.

I have told a lie,

a tale so white it blurred truth.

bring me darkness, I crave it.

leave me be,

let it wrap me in familiar bands,

I have made allies with its silence, learnt to work its curves.

let me walk the streets of murk, just for a moment,

I need to see clearer.

how can dawn come if dusk hovers not?

leave me in gloomy pools,

I have swarm long enough to learn to float.

 

 

vilag.

I’m attracted to light.

in skin,cities and teas too.

I have swam in too much darkness to let my self drown there.

Sinners thoughts.

thoughts

I wonder,

does he grow weary of dirty hosannas and wilful sins?

does he choke on smoke from burnt offerings?

does he forgive himself for all the forgiveness he gives?

does he grow tired from looking down?

 

I wonder,

maybe he wishes for friends not worshippers?

with knowledge so vast, does he walk on crazy streets?

does he grow bored of his magic?

does his miracles excite his soul?

 

 

It must be lonely to be God.

Balcony.

Sitting frog legged,

mind pregnant, sweet nothings. 

look, how the sky changes hue.

feel the wind loose its warmth.

my skin quivers from colds kisses.

A plane lands, too many leave.

 

how familiar,

the changes, the cold, the take offs…

how you…

 

 

 

 

Storm.

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I have learnt sometimes,

silence is the easiest way to build your chaos,

smile, make a weak attempt at a dead joke.

if you try hard enough, your troubles might translate into laughter.

forget it, let it go, make an excuse, then another.

Tell yourself all you need to drop ice in your volcano.

Do not erupt, make peace with your pieces, chew your words.

Float like paper in the wind when they push you,

gather your storm.

 

now, rain!

bring brimstones and ice,

birth magma and burn bridges,

spew your undigested words, quit choking yourself.

serve them their cowardice on a platter.

 

finally, ask for the masters forgiveness,

lick your wounds and remember,

they do not think like you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am nothing.

.a descansar, buenas noches mañana más fiestas www.fiestastempranito.com

 

I know,

Something came up,

like at Christmas and first grade.

oh, like on my birthdays too?

that’s fine.

I hope some day I’m something.

maybe, then I’ll come up.

 

deadbeat.

The pool

 

I am standing in a pool of my fathers blood.

mother always said all rapist must be shot.

still, she looks like she is drowning.