Wednesday, 28 September 2011

And they blew it all on telegrams,
and photograms.

They tore apart the suits,
gave up the green paper drug,
corrected their perspective,
and gave enlightenment a chance.

They thought they were reborn,
blessed the lightbulb in their head,
harnessed the power of peace,
embarked on their journey to nowhere.

I was them and they were me.
I do not know what they could see.
In the road of life they joined me,
but am not sure that we could all see,
the mountain,
the wind,
the stream,
or the bee...the life-pollinating bee!

They became preachers of harmony,
told me stories of the effigy;
the Buddha, the Allah,
the Gaia and Sidhartha.

I listened to them with my third eye open,
for my mind, their logic could not follow.
Their vision, for me too broad,
their love, out of scope.

I tried to listen to their beggings,
but my heart could not handle their wailings,
so I took my green paper drug and suits and left,
and opted for my materialistic cleft.

And in the way back I found,
the mare and the hound,
and all love that is bound,
for nothing is better,
than the beautifully realistic ground.

Wednesday, 21 September 2011

Albums discovered today

Yusef Lateef - "Eastern Sounds"

Gil Fuller, Dizzy Gillespie & Chano Poz - "Afro"

Various Artists - "Electric Jazz Lounge"

Friday, 16 September 2011

Let it be,
let it be,
for she won't come to me.
The voice,
the drum,
the beating and the hum.

In the light she rests,
the clouds are her dress,
the sun her companion,
the moon her lover.

I'm seeing the edges breaking,
can see her floating,
for she is always there,
to make us bare.

I found her in the water,
I found her in the air,
I found her lost,
but she seemed not to care.

I told her to come over,
I wanted more of her,
she refused to see me,
accused me of being greedy.

Oh love,
why do you always escape me so?
Let me go, let me go...
my desire for you has burnt so...

Tuesday, 13 September 2011

Her or me...

In her arms I fell,
In her chest I broke,
In her ears I spoke.

In her mouth I breathed,
In her soul I tilled,
In her mind I chilled,
In her voice I screamed.

In her life I found,
the mare and the hound,
the lover on the ground,
the tree and the sound,
the cheeks all browned.

She heard me say,
that my lover is May,
that my heart is in disarray,
that I know only how to betray,
that I will go away,
and leave her in peace, I say.

I don't know what will be,
but she might as well just leave me,
for I know that in the present,
the past will forever be.

My lover,
my dream.
Oh, my angry stream!


I am my mother's only one
It's enough

I wear my garment so it shows
Now you know

Only love is all maroon
Gluey feathers on a flume
Sky is womb and she's the moon

I am my mother on the wall, with us all
I move in water, shore to shore
Nothing's more

Only love is all maroon
Lapping lakes like leary loons
Leaving rope burns
Reddish ruse

Only love is all maroon
Gluey feathers on a flume
Sky is womb and she's the moon

Monday, 12 September 2011



“Someway, baby, it’s part of me, apart from me.”
you’re laying waste to Halloween
you fucked it friend, it’s on it’s head, it struck the street
you’re in Milwaukee, off your feet

…and at once I knew I was not magnificent
strayed above the highway aisle
(jagged vacance, thick with ice)
I could see for miles, miles, miles

3rd and Lake it burnt away, the hallway
was where we learned to celebrate
automatic bought the years you’d talk for me
that night you played me ╩╗Lip Parade╩╝
not the needle, nor the thread, the lost decree
saying nothing, that’s enough for me

…and at once I knew I was not magnificent
hulled far from the highway aisle
(jagged, vacance, thick with ice)
I could see for miles, miles, miles

Christmas night, it clutched the light, the hallow bright
above my brother, I and tangled spines
we smoked the screen to make it what it was to be
now to know it in my memory:

…and at once I knew I was not magnificent
high above the highway aisle
(jagged vacance, thick with ice)
I could see for miles, miles, miles
I was teased by your inquiries,
I was spit out by your words,
your assertions of me and my bones,
my translucent weaknesses,
and transcendent desires.

When your eyes are pain,
and your sounds are in vain,
I find I wonder about what could be lost,
and what is currently found.

When the water has boiled,
and the heart become ash,
I find that you are still rain,
whose moisture I crave.

And now in my bed,
while thinking of my pain,
Someday perhaps,
you will make it rain...
And perhaps,
the flowers in my rock,
can bloom again.

Thursday, 8 September 2011

Hungover state...

Another day staring at a computer screen, all hungover and dried up from the alcohol, your skin burning, your eyes itching, your stomach churning. Days at the office while hungover can be fun, mostly in the form of comatose zero productivity and news browsings, music-listenings, paperclip-filings, and all other various forms of mindless laziness. Then lunch time arrives and you fly off your chair like a hyena ready to attack the food court for your choice of prey, all in the attempt to fill in the hole left over by the insane amount of alcohol consumed the night before. Ah, the beauty of abusing one's body.

Nothing better than some good skull-splitting headache, heavenly body tremors and some delish serious stomach pains. Wait, the beauty doesn't end there either. Then you get to deal with people telling you that you look as if you have been dead for the past two weeks, all day!!!! On top of that, you get to deal with the many mistakes that you will make during your day at work which adds to your work, your misery and your hard-earned misfortune. Ah dear, dear, old, partying soul!

During all this, you tell yourself never again...only to do it again come 6pm. The life of a young professional is hard, my friends. You got debts to deal with, dreams to crush, debts to attempt paying, bodies trying to connect and failing miserably, and oh- yes, the constant struggle at trying to achieve your so-said potential and your bosses' demands. All of this while trying to look like you're the shit....'cause in the end, they all tell you that you are, it is the politically correct thing to do. However, whether you are or not, am afraid, it all ends up being categorically determined by your spiritualistic, emotional, mental and most importantly, materialistic achievements.

The chance to do well is high, but the chance to fuck up is higher. And fate would have it, that hungover or not, you just happen to increase your chances of mindless and hopeless fuckupery by continuing your lifestyle of self-abuse. I for one, am the best example. And believe me, self-abuse kind of consists of everything and anything...Bite your nails? Self-abuse! Look at the guy you like but got no guts to ask out? Self-abuse! So, you see, self-abuse is all-encompassing in the web of life. Hence, do not be afraid of it. Embrace it! Love it like it's your unborn baby (cause it comes with just about the same pains) and cherish it and feed it and let it be because in the end, you got no say in the matter. Well, perhaps a bit. But us losers and lazy bums, prefer to blame it all on the universe.

So....don't be afraid to sin, you will need it to make it in this life.

Wednesday, 7 September 2011


I fell into me, quite unexpectedly, and it was hard...a hard fall. I fell and crashed into my insecurities, I saw them for what they were, the brightness of truth hurting my eyes, my heart, my ego. I saw there the debris of my emotional baggage, the hording of my failures, the blurriness of my dreams and the shards of the pain I once felt, its edges still cutting into me.

I knew that this ugliness of truth would only do me good, but I could not accept it, so I looked away and I continued in my adventure of ignore-your-problems party. I drank and got high, I ignored the tears that would sneak out from time to time and told myself I was fine, I kept on going and still do and wonder when the ignoring will stop. Perhaps when life will have slapped me raw and will have left no more room for avoiding things I got to deal with...perhaps! I knew though, that sooner or later, I would come to you, dear me. This is all a journey to get to you, my id! This is my coming-of-age story, my moment, my dream, my climax...when I have finally found myself.