Lines That Breathe When My Heart Speaks
My sweet young love,
What bitter fruit you’ve tasted
Along your journey of life-
Brief, stunted, mired in self-hate
To make you blind, oblivious
To the silence at dawn.
I dreamt of the moment the sky opened,
Pouring so gently the soothing light.
Awakened in you the tender desires;
Without them there’s no feast nor famine,
No fire of any kind.
But you chose the dark clouds
Spinning round the hopeful vision
Of so many worlds; yet your fear,
Your eyes becloud the rage.
At dusk, a sense of meaning made true,
The sounds of wheels turning,
Hammers banging, heat rising
Inside the earth, the sky, and soulful voices.
But silence can only be marked
By hearts beating and breathing
If only life could be there –
Underneath all that trembles, shatters, and dies.
We looked out the gray mirror
Spilling out with remnants
Of life that awaken the
Sweet smell, the savory mouth,
The steady tapping of your
The flowers floating elegance
Whisper their white,
Red, yellow hues
Like the winged-airbrush
Of seagulls in flight.
You said we would love.
My heart listened.
As our faces melted,
The light’s reflection rested
On the crystal night.
A Woman Shrouded in Loneliness
Tell me everything you know
And I will tell you what I don’t know.
Truth is like a stubborn vine;
No matter the obstacle,
A subliminal seedling makes its way
From my bosom to where I am;
Truth to form, but not its matter
When its defining moment
Reaches out to cry so deeply;
It surfaces from sleep and into
My darkest moment.
There, we are one.
Until the sun sets in my eyes,
After a long arduous confrontation,
The restlessness becomes
Who I am.
Every turn, every simple thought
And the complication fires up the
And, her I am – again.
Can’t you see your drunken spirit
That has betrothed me with you.
The loneliness of me
And you, crying out for help.
Screaming for a simple yes or no;
That’s ALL I know right now.
Every day is a drowning;
Tormenting sounds all around
When the baby arrives
I will finally see you again.
And you will touch me.
Life is a touch.
Crying becomes who I am.
The Hour Glass Escape
After squeezing through the hour glass
Past time zones and space,
I stand before the mighty ocean,
My body slowly sinking into the soft sand,
The overly-powerful ocean,
With every heave a rolling wave
Lapping at my feet.
An enticing challenge of unfettered strength-
Who is master? The supreme
Ecology of life that holds the secrets of
Our birth and death, or
The human compassion
With magical, mystical synergy
That can turn hearts into gold and
The universe into a peace offering.
Between the two worlds, underneath
My feet, a mountain of sand rests
Like a sleeping giant preparing to
Burst open the wounds of our pain.
Each grain of sand coughed up by
A single sentiment from unknown peoples
Now present in each of us.
In every grain, a loss of self as compassion;
In every grain, a loss of hope for the future;
In every grain, a loss of vision as an organic whole.
The sands of doubt feed the voracious hunger
Of the infinite sea.
Retrieving my spirit I fly back into the hour glass,
Flipped over for yet another life, another chance
For a new beginning.
I gently took her tiny hand and
placed it into mine; then, her slight
arms, and soon I felt her hug bigger
than life itself. We went up to the
top of the highest concrete debris pile
and screamed so loud; it worked
because the world heard us and came
to our help, gave us something to eat
and drink. We foraged the concrete
jungle for anything, and we learned the
lesson to be careful when you’re lonely,
hungry, or thirsty for you’re bound to
grab at anything that you don’t want to,
just to keep from falling apart. The next
day a huge truck came by loaded with boxes
and people dressed in nice, clean, bright
clothes, and they gave us something to eat
and drink. One man said that people on
the other side of the world envy us because
at least we have something to eat. Just
‘cause we got the earthquake we got
something to eat. Then, the fires started
raging, burning off corpses that no one
claimed or maybe whole families that died. That’s
better, you know. In this hell, only the
living suffer. My friend and I are family now.
We keep asking ourselves, when are we waking
up? When will the food stop coming? When will
our screams fall on deaf ears just like
before the earthquake?
*Earthquake in Haiti, 2010, that killed over 220,000 people.
Exuberance is the color of the red sky,
Bubbling over with hues of insatiable,
Incurable joy and happiness.
Exuberance is the river running wildly,
Dragging its abundance and selfish pride;
Everything in its path becomes its oneness.
Exuberance is the bright side of the moon,
Hiding behind dark clouds; making fools of
Each of us for life is just an illusion.
Exuberance is laughter ravishing the ego
While devouring the soul.
Step 1. Exhale
Fabric torn, walls cracked,
Like your words splintered in my thoughts,
An opening, a door unlocked,
Signs that soothe us when our heart aches,
Loneliness and despair suffocate.
When the seal finally explodes,
Our vision contemplates honesty and truth;
The imprint we left behind – the shape of our body
On the bed, the pillow, the smell of our skin,
Our thoughts scattered around.
Now, the breathing begins, for each breath –
A living will, an overwhelming feel of sentiment
For those we love, but an inescapable thought
Of guilt for those we blame.
Step 2. Inhale
Tenderness is the bird rummaging
Through the backyard twig debris,
Infatuated with a withered leaf
Its beak-action shredding pieces for a lovely nest.
A nature’s vignette to filter out our thoughts,
From imploding violence – words, images, thoughts,
Each one too familiar to let go;
Memory serves us badly, sometimes deadly.
But harnessing peace is what we do best,
To calm our fears and wake-up each day;
Our heart and mind at rest finally;
Then, the phone rings, the heart pounds,
Oxygen deprived, anxiety locks you up for good.
Step 3. Free-Fall
You don’t know when you’ll hit bottom,
But you know it’s there,
Even after you hit the ground,
You’re still falling,
But at last, you grasp the center and
You start to feel the unbalance of balance.
The one smile in a million, the
Unfettered speak of love for
The smallest sound of peace
Emanating from the heart.
Rescuers abound, invisible angels;
Human spirits dancing around us;
The bond is real, the hand reaching out
To caress your face is not an illusion.
When everything is gone,
Every living thing shriveled up and buried;
Our hearts will live forever;
You, me, and the river that runs between us.
Half Moon Bliss
A walk under the full moon
Leaves my heart breathless;
Tired of resiliency, my life
Turns the worn-out pages
Parched with tear spots;
Now the new sounds
Resonate from every corner,
As a new sentiment readies
In the horizon,
And so much love waiting
For its rising.
So many half moons but never
One quite like this one;
The other half vanished into the
Darkness, leaving me half-naked.
The streets of Old Town feel like
An abandoned un-spirited house
Perched on a hill not too far
From the wasteland.
A half-cup of tea rebounds with
Instant refills that serve as pauses
Throughout the lengthy string of words,
Like a clothesline with yesterday’s wash
Ruminating on all the reasons why
My heart is no longer full
But half empty.
Remembering John Ross
Your poems are inspirational,
There isn’t one I don’t like,
Not one that doesn’t make me
Think of you….
Standing, head-strong, barking like thunder,
Or, quietly thinking through your playful ideas,
Words, that seem to jump right out of thin air.
Each one is a tempestuous moment ….
A whimper turned rainstorm,
A sigh turned violent,
Each one has sent your head floating
To the next dimension, the next door–opened.
I see your hands waving, your head turning, your eyes rolling,
Your shadow following.
You walk so quickly, where on earth are you going?
And as for Arminda’s laughter….
How rich it resonates through the rolling hills,
Reminding me of the glow of one afternoon in her patio.
I Can Think of You Forever
The circle broken, but in tact –
Like words, fall on deaf ears but
Until they reach the exact spot
Where the sunrays sparkle
The moonbeams glow
In your eyes, and
Your spirit rises like a
Tsunami about to devour
Frantic, the dying bird and
The wilted flower
Like seeds grow and
The entire world becomes
The blinking eyes can see
The image far off in the
Of a red rider against the sky
On a cloud of dreams
Sounds of winged whistling ghosts
Quiet my heart as I taste your
Warm spices and herbs.
The red-throated bird
Singing daybreak right
Outside my open window;
The yellow flame floating
On top of Jesus in a jar;
Blurring spirit waves long
Forgotten in my prayer book.
The memory man
Taking snapshots of me and you;
Cruising down the road
Never paying attention to its
For as long as we made it
Through the day, and then night
Wasn’t so bad.
We were hungry, though;
For more than the cotton balls
They dished out at the school cafeteria;
Drowning in WORDS that meant too much
Or not enough but left us thinking
More, even if the sounds just might
There was only one memory road,
And your hand took me there –
Your thought coin for mine,
Your gold for my silver,
Your street for my road,
Your path for my tree top,
And a view to kill for, from
The giant papalote,
The sea of mesquite
Wandering through the vines of
Sweet and sour days, and nights,
And the taste of long afternoons that
Stay on your eyebrows like the pastel colors
Of youth, and the vibrant color of love.
The Wicked Laughter of a Parrot’s Squawk
It’s not wicked, nor is it laughter;
That persistent squawk of a parrot
Shrieking at me and the world;
Its voice piercing the plumed sky;
How far its resonance you can argue rests
Deep in one’s soul;
And there, the parrots’ presence anchored,
All too familiar to those of us who live in their midst;
Each trilled squawk marks a time of day, a certain
Feeling, an axe striking a pivotal illusion, a visual diary,
A scathing thought, a memory or two;
Tantalizing, perhaps, or disgusting, or perturbing, or nothing;
Nothing that seems like nothing, but there’s always
A gnawing sense that what is gone
Will come back to fill our lives, and complete the circle.
The parrots’ squawk
Pealed around our meditating thoughts,
Lift our burden each time they take flight
From tree to tree;
Even when we’re not listening.
If you could turn into a hummingbird
You could fly and disappear,
Zip lining from branch to branch,
Showing off the majestic color
And then, the hidden thoughts that
Delight you can come alive,
YOU would come alive.
And only your cherished memories
Would flutter amongst leaves, and
Glimmer in the sun’s reflection.
Ride to Enlightenment (Nowhere)
Parallel lives could or could not describe
How we often play tag,
Except I’m “it” more than you,
Instead you decide to sit by the view window
That I glance over every once in a while,
Just to see if by chance our
Destination is anywhere nearby.
If we can’t find the love we’re
Looking for in each other,
We will just end up hating one another.
I drink my sweet tea from the orange peel
You left on the table,
Pondering whether love even existed at all.
The smell of sweet orange permeated the fresh air
As I drank my second cup of wine just to
Prolong the rich glow of an early afternoon.
We exchanged words to quiet our souls and
Distract the passion that rushed in an instant;
Everything we wanted to say through our
Touch, we spoke sometimes in communion
With our bodies that filled our senses
Wordless, mindless, spirits dancing;
Until you found the flower
That you wanted to keep for yourself
And, I would run circles around you,
While your eyes were glued to the window;
We live in two worlds,
You with the flower, and I
With the scent of strong orange.
Red brown tree
Swaying from east to west,
North to South;
I pray and guess –
The clearing up;
The hope, salvation,
Or taking back?
Is right lies somewhere
Between life and me-
The conscious over and
Beyond the top;
Like a seagull’s flight
Resisting wind shear
With all its might,
The same sing-song
Of gilded traps like broken
Moon pieces that don’t fit
Together anymore; like
Dreams erased in a split second
When I stood outside in front of
A locked door and only
A dim light splashed through
The window casting a lonely shadow;
Dreams erased in a split second
When my spirit died and left me
Empty, mindless, dead even to myself;
A sobering moment of the
Bittersweet taste of love and hate and
The missteps that took us
From heaven to hell in a split second.
I want to be free, to fly away –
Feathers and all, and you, and you by my side.
Heart of a Hunter
I have the heart of a hunter;
It’s stone cold silent one moment
Then, leaps explosively at a crackling,
While I sleep it becomes a lioness
Stalking its prey, or a warning siren
Blasting in desperation.
My serenity is breached as readily
As I attain it; suddenly, I hear
The shrill noise of a thousand bees
Escaping for their lives.
Is there a conspiracy?
My own heart betraying my peace;
The heart of a fierce hunter is far
Too wretched to convince it sensibly and
The battle scars are starting to bleed again.
When Angels Come Rushing In
Not the everyday guardian that keeps the
Shoelace from tripping you over;
But thousands marching in silence
And truth; each one meticulous:
The angel-brigade call to action,
A duty for love-saving beyond saving lives;
Like flags flapping furiously, they will not surrender –
Without love there is no life.
The stampede overwhelms our senses;
You’d think justice has been deprived,
Or despair is helplessly teetering between you and me;
Perhaps, the suffering has become too deadening;
Or, a wish for life has all but diminished;
But, there, in the Garden of Eden, a flower,
A flower dying, and barely holding on.
Not the flower of life, or of evil,
Or, sanctimonious goodness;
Not the heart beat of a living pulse;
Not the earth, the sky, or water falling endlessly;
But the love that holds us together, like the force
Between heaven and earth.
What will save us now?
A million stars?
Fire from the living candles
Of angels rushing in?
Or, hearts beating inconsolably
For want to be in love?
What Can Always be (to Quetzil on the day of mourning)
You’ve entered a room where I once
Casted a bottomless strain of
Human heroism and poetic injustice.
In a black humorless bed lay the remains
Of someone you shared your dreams, your life, and secrets;
Your river of blood has suddenly dried;
And your aching tears seem as stark as your emptiness.
The world is empty; and the flesh is weak.
I can’t imagine life as it was;
I cast shadows among trees and clouds;
I listen to words that erupt from my being;
My vision pierces matter like knives;
I walk like a solid spirit in a dungeon of earth.
It’s a window of light I seek;
A breath of incense, so pure and pristine;
The warmth of a gentle touch, a pillow of something
Whereupon I can rest my weariness.
When life is empty I think of the corpse;
One day I’ll find my restful sleep and leave
What was toward, and what can always be.
I often look for a place of calmness to rest
My weary head.
The dream-state you imposed upon me
Has drifted me further into a white sphere;
I can’t think of roses without living in
Their satin glow;
Every burst of color swoons inside my echoes;
My body, a giant ear to melodious streams of
Music that carry me far above;
And my thoughts, my thoughts are filled
With emotions of being next to you, inside of you.
I awoke once from the dream;
Like an angel wing-wounded I lay broken;
The drug had wilted away, leaving my bones
Cold, my heart stiff.
This place I call real is without you;
Void of your warmth, your breath, your
Eyes upon mine.
The sensual state of life in a dream
Buries my grief, my pain,
My only one thing to live for.