Cursed is the Desert Snake, hiding from sunlight, a matter of life and death, while hungering for youth as it foolishly parades by, unspooked, with a most patient and understanding look in its eye.
The Mongoose states:
"Come Snake!
Come! Make me,
Come make me kill you!
You'll burn before you bite!
Show me your wisdom,
Or are you unwise?"
The Snake replies:
"Young Mongoose,
Later tonight,
When the sun and moon trade,
And you rest your eyes,
You'll lose your life.
Patient am I,
Ancient and unafraid."
The Mongoose runs away.
Swiftly relocating his things,
Hiding in the most silent of ways.
Dusk.
The Snake leaves his familiar place,
And heads for the nearest hill.
A slow, but certain pace,
Thinking of the evening,
And how not to get killed.
Moon.
The Mongoose starts driving himself mad.
Relocating over and over,
Watching every direction,
Turning sticks into snakes,
And everything looks like fangs.
The Mongoose missed the rain.
With such grace,
The Snake sits in the most composed, peaceful way.
The Desert Snake has tasted the rains for days,
And now watches his beloved desert plains,
Get flooded with wave after wave of an instant and deadly lake.
The Ancient Snake told the Mongoose the truth,
But it was a matter of wording that set the 'Goose's mind loose in fear and false loops,
Now becoming the lake's loot.
Merciless? Merciful? is the Snake who didn't mention the rain,
Foolish is the Mongoose who mocked the Snake.
Who's to blame?
The Snake, the Mongoose, or the rain?
February 8, 2012
October 13, 2011
Went for a Walk
O, little brook,
Your champagne bubbles intoxicate the land you cut your S's through.
Slurring the speech of the grass,
Making the trees tip over your hairy banks,
Giving and stealing, including thanks,
As you make your way to the ocean at last!
The unknown bird greets me with a nasally, "'ello,"
And then starts the croak-to-whistle show.
All this time the leaf has been hanging,
Did it ever think it would hit me as it became?
The sun chose a few patches today,
A few tomorrow,
And some will be forgotten,
Changing their values and role in this game of survival.
But falling leaves have no rival.
There's no competition in being an autumn-stricken being,
You fall happily.
You have friends on the wings,
And they, too, float in the utmost of glee,
For they have done their part for the tree.
What was the fisherman trying to catch,
Before he lost his pole and left?
What family outings or priceless trips,
Did this fine pole attend?
What waters has it lurked in?
Tricking the unsuspecting fish,
Even when it knows where not to swim.
The most gorgeous blue hue my shoes ever walked me to.
Two little chimneys with a front door to match,
Big white fence,
Rusty cars out back,
Surrounded by a painting,
No stencil,
No map,
Just taste.
Only She could paint that.
Your champagne bubbles intoxicate the land you cut your S's through.
Slurring the speech of the grass,
Making the trees tip over your hairy banks,
Giving and stealing, including thanks,
As you make your way to the ocean at last!
The unknown bird greets me with a nasally, "'ello,"
And then starts the croak-to-whistle show.
All this time the leaf has been hanging,
Did it ever think it would hit me as it became?
The sun chose a few patches today,
A few tomorrow,
And some will be forgotten,
Changing their values and role in this game of survival.
But falling leaves have no rival.
There's no competition in being an autumn-stricken being,
You fall happily.
You have friends on the wings,
And they, too, float in the utmost of glee,
For they have done their part for the tree.
What was the fisherman trying to catch,
Before he lost his pole and left?
What family outings or priceless trips,
Did this fine pole attend?
What waters has it lurked in?
Tricking the unsuspecting fish,
Even when it knows where not to swim.
The most gorgeous blue hue my shoes ever walked me to.
Two little chimneys with a front door to match,
Big white fence,
Rusty cars out back,
Surrounded by a painting,
No stencil,
No map,
Just taste.
Only She could paint that.
September 21, 2011
There's a line on the page.
It seems to have finally found a home,
And next to its home are some new neighbors.
They, too, have finally found a home.
What does it feel like?
To have a home?
And what splendid things come along with it?
I hope the first line doesn't mind the company,
Seems as if it started a trend.
So tell me, line, where did you come from?
And how did you find the page?
Which muse did you convince to make your way?
Into the mind, down the nerves,
Falling into the hand, you began to stir,
The tar-colored ink, as it started to pour,
Out the muse's wishes, all the more.
So gentle page, how do you feel?
Do you remember when blank was real?
Do recall when you were made?
Innocent, hopeful, and unafraid?
What do these lines do to your dreams?
Perhaps a paper airplane would be a more prestigious thing,
But here we are, with you on your back,
Tattooed with delusions of a muse that knows that,
No matter how many lines flow from this pen,
The final word will never be written.
Gentle hands, I see how you work,
Involved in all of life's perks.
These fingertips long for her again,
O! How life has had its way with them.
O! How life has had its way with me,
Asking for everything for a ticket to see,
O! How life has had its way with me,
Taking me to places I never dreamed.
And with the kindest of flips,
The petals proudly present their lips.
Showing their worth through their radiant hues,
Making my simple eyes pick and choose.
Sitting just inches away, and loudly green,
I just took notice of this beautiful thing.
August 7, 2011
Le Fils du Ponce de León
My boy,
Where have you gone?
Why the face so long?
Where was it when you lost that feeling?
How long has it been since you've hit the ceiling?
Where's that lion hiding its paws?
How long since you broke the law?
Who's stalking you, fiction or not?
Where's that lady you like a lot?
"Just notice the look in his eye.
A thief of comfort, and a keeper of light.
See his swagger tonight?
He stepped in, leaned to the right,
Looked me dead in the eye and said:
'I've done something. The earth stood still, and the year grew
long. My senses disappeared as my vision grew strong, and I saw
something I've never seen! Somewhere in between the wind and a wing.
Have you seen the bird that the whole world has heard of because of
the lovely name Isis? Wisdom in crisis, she led me to Apollo, whom I
followed to the benevolent Hermes. Then these timeless three led me to
peace only deities perceive! I don't know if I died, or if I'm free,
but I wanted to tell you this before I leave. I need to find something
the three have made for me, and I'm going immediately. I love you,
I'll see you, and don't try to find me, because I'll be past all the
stars that our eyes can see!'
And just like that, he's gone.
This was only a few hours ago.
He couldn't have made it far.
Should we follow him?
Give him what he wants?
Nevermind me, I've been worrying a lot."
Good man,
You're fast on the trail.
To no avail, you keep trudging.
Lugging everything you've learned,
While you may take some wrong turns,
You will blossom into a being that is respected by all ages and creeds.
Stand for something.
Lift your chin to the day's sweet breeze,
And change the world with the flap of your wings.
You are able,
So enable other members of society.
It's what the circle needs.
"He's been gone for weeks at this point, and I'm worried sick. No sign
of him. Nobody's heard, nobody's seen, nobody even bothered to tell me
he left without money! How does a young man with no shoes on his feet
live in this world and eat? I hope he comes back safely. O my son!
Please return to your family!"
Off he goes,
Transcendentally free.
Sailing winds no man has seen,
While traveling a sea of immortality.
Returning only when the dream is complete,
And when he finds what he set out to see.
Finally becoming the man he was meant to be.
Where have you gone?
Why the face so long?
Where was it when you lost that feeling?
How long has it been since you've hit the ceiling?
Where's that lion hiding its paws?
How long since you broke the law?
Who's stalking you, fiction or not?
Where's that lady you like a lot?
"Just notice the look in his eye.
A thief of comfort, and a keeper of light.
See his swagger tonight?
He stepped in, leaned to the right,
Looked me dead in the eye and said:
'I've done something. The earth stood still, and the year grew
long. My senses disappeared as my vision grew strong, and I saw
something I've never seen! Somewhere in between the wind and a wing.
Have you seen the bird that the whole world has heard of because of
the lovely name Isis? Wisdom in crisis, she led me to Apollo, whom I
followed to the benevolent Hermes. Then these timeless three led me to
peace only deities perceive! I don't know if I died, or if I'm free,
but I wanted to tell you this before I leave. I need to find something
the three have made for me, and I'm going immediately. I love you,
I'll see you, and don't try to find me, because I'll be past all the
stars that our eyes can see!'
And just like that, he's gone.
This was only a few hours ago.
He couldn't have made it far.
Should we follow him?
Give him what he wants?
Nevermind me, I've been worrying a lot."
Good man,
You're fast on the trail.
To no avail, you keep trudging.
Lugging everything you've learned,
While you may take some wrong turns,
You will blossom into a being that is respected by all ages and creeds.
Stand for something.
Lift your chin to the day's sweet breeze,
And change the world with the flap of your wings.
You are able,
So enable other members of society.
It's what the circle needs.
"He's been gone for weeks at this point, and I'm worried sick. No sign
of him. Nobody's heard, nobody's seen, nobody even bothered to tell me
he left without money! How does a young man with no shoes on his feet
live in this world and eat? I hope he comes back safely. O my son!
Please return to your family!"
Off he goes,
Transcendentally free.
Sailing winds no man has seen,
While traveling a sea of immortality.
Returning only when the dream is complete,
And when he finds what he set out to see.
Finally becoming the man he was meant to be.
July 28, 2011
Why Do My Eyes Seek Sunlight At Night?
Why do my eyes seek sunlight at night?
Why can't I sleep a night's sleep alright?
What drives me to write at 5:19,
When I should be quietly sleeping?
Who else is awake with me?
Getting up to write a little at 5:15.
Are there more of me around the city?
Or am I just a lone-poet sitting?
When 5:10 rolls around,
Not much more than that.
Throwing myself around in sheets,
Making the cold spots last.
But what is it about this complete silence?
This beautiful, unaltered, beckoning silence?
Is there beauty in it?
Or is it the lack of beauty?
Is there peace in it?
Or is peace what noise was given?
Sailing around at 5:25, the earth almost stands still.
Moving hundreds of miles an hour, the earth stands still.
The way we perceive is so perfectly ancient,
Our hooded senses, like myself in this blanket.
Muffled tones and warm toes,
A lover and some pillows.
Traces of luck and water cups,
Line my bedroom window.
Familiar smells and change that fell,
Reminds me where to sleep.
Fallen locks and flashing clocks,
Reminds me that I'm me.
5:37, no change in the heavens,
And my body is screaming "Sleep!"
I simply ignore, although I've been warned,
and I go on inventing things.
As I lose my capacity of tenacity to rapidly be,
I think of my lovers, my brothers, my family, and me.
I helplessly try to sum up what I've seen,
But I continue to be baffled by what the world brings.
The magical number is zero, you see?
Ask the earth, and she will agree.
This balancing act that includes you and me,
Is the most fragile equation ever conceived.
Upon witnessing 5:48,
I must go to sleep.
I hope I lead a fruitful day,
Have to wait and see.
As I compromise myself into slumber,
I'll be pondering all these things.
When I finally pass out and under,
I'll escape into my dreams.
Why can't I sleep a night's sleep alright?
What drives me to write at 5:19,
When I should be quietly sleeping?
Who else is awake with me?
Getting up to write a little at 5:15.
Are there more of me around the city?
Or am I just a lone-poet sitting?
When 5:10 rolls around,
Not much more than that.
Throwing myself around in sheets,
Making the cold spots last.
But what is it about this complete silence?
This beautiful, unaltered, beckoning silence?
Is there beauty in it?
Or is it the lack of beauty?
Is there peace in it?
Or is peace what noise was given?
Sailing around at 5:25, the earth almost stands still.
Moving hundreds of miles an hour, the earth stands still.
The way we perceive is so perfectly ancient,
Our hooded senses, like myself in this blanket.
Muffled tones and warm toes,
A lover and some pillows.
Traces of luck and water cups,
Line my bedroom window.
Familiar smells and change that fell,
Reminds me where to sleep.
Fallen locks and flashing clocks,
Reminds me that I'm me.
5:37, no change in the heavens,
And my body is screaming "Sleep!"
I simply ignore, although I've been warned,
and I go on inventing things.
As I lose my capacity of tenacity to rapidly be,
I think of my lovers, my brothers, my family, and me.
I helplessly try to sum up what I've seen,
But I continue to be baffled by what the world brings.
The magical number is zero, you see?
Ask the earth, and she will agree.
This balancing act that includes you and me,
Is the most fragile equation ever conceived.
Upon witnessing 5:48,
I must go to sleep.
I hope I lead a fruitful day,
Have to wait and see.
As I compromise myself into slumber,
I'll be pondering all these things.
When I finally pass out and under,
I'll escape into my dreams.
July 18, 2011
Then She Comes Stumbling In
In this moment I realize this:
This world is a balanced magic trick.
It never equals zero, it wavers a bit,
And then she comes stumbling in.
This room of red is so gently lit,
And on her bed I so soundly sit.
Finally, my eyes see color again,
And then she comes stumbling in.
I sit and think of what's happening.
I don't believe my thoughts or where I've been.
The other side of zero is where I live,
And then she comes stumbling in.
Will I ever see this girl again?
A jewel in a sea of gems.
I wonder if she sits and thinks of him,
And then she comes stumbling in.
This world is a balanced magic trick.
It never equals zero, it wavers a bit,
And then she comes stumbling in.
This room of red is so gently lit,
And on her bed I so soundly sit.
Finally, my eyes see color again,
And then she comes stumbling in.
I sit and think of what's happening.
I don't believe my thoughts or where I've been.
The other side of zero is where I live,
And then she comes stumbling in.
Will I ever see this girl again?
A jewel in a sea of gems.
I wonder if she sits and thinks of him,
And then she comes stumbling in.
July 14, 2011
Sunshining The Night
O! I glide and glide and glide,
With these tired eyes of mine.
Sunshining in the night.
Cloudy sometimes.
Whatever wave feels right,
Is yours to ride.
Just swim before you lose the tide.
And sometimes eyes can't lie.
Some people try to hide their minds.
Which face are you wearing tonight?
Just slide and slide and slide.
Whatever feels right.
Is love a feeling?
Or just a word on your mind?
With these tired eyes of mine.
Sunshining in the night.
Cloudy sometimes.
Whatever wave feels right,
Is yours to ride.
Just swim before you lose the tide.
And sometimes eyes can't lie.
Some people try to hide their minds.
Which face are you wearing tonight?
Just slide and slide and slide.
Whatever feels right.
Is love a feeling?
Or just a word on your mind?
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