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*a black heart drowning in euphoria*

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Where Oh Where to Take the Stars

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Where oh where oh where to take the stars,
My dearest, sweetest whom I must guide away from liars…

Time stretches her arms to extend despondency
Autumn mirrors my melancholy….

Yet the world’s sourly wrought ages,
Wrinkle primitive inclinations…
Unembraces callously
Beings composed in disintegration…

A contained container with contents somewhere else…
The song of the wind in a planet Mars….
Ridiculous words that deceive the self-proclaimed
Astronauts who have never seen the stars…

We’ve ceased to understand what impediments are
As we merely speak of them from our inner gnomes…
Scattering ourselves without motion,
Feigning malfunctions in our chromosomes..

If tides and currents make good scours
We’ll be mistaking them for scars…

Maxims, Axioms, Dictums of who?
Unbuild my dreams and break my rhymes…
Meridians prime, where I can’t find
The over-stalked lover in Pacific’s crimes

Magnetic Storms cast me frozen
While I hold the burnings stars…
I must stretch Time’s arms even longer
For a diameter’s half that breaks seven bars…

My dearest child, kept in gray
I hope we both don’t ever go astray…

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Strained Epoch

Not Quite King But Still

Strained, stranded, strained epoch.
In my moors you were a monarch.
I chose my gardens
And wept for shoots scattered lost in unwilling population…
Magnificence was stripped off me.
I was skinned off my sweetness
My beautiful woes and sorrows, no longer succulent.
Devoid of sympathy
Sugar-coating with apathy.
I gave myself away to the world…
Their selfies and definitions (so sickening)
Based on owned technologies exalted in false worth.
Lost to genius…
Clouds transformed into mere storage
For our mental waste
Corpses from emotional tragedies…
Violence spreading
From keys without notes, beginning.
Blindly connoting,
While the real world and word go missing…
I choose you in another world and life.

Almost The Saddest Poem

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I wanna sing the saddest songs as if I would die…
Pre-death pre-burial requiems…
Lethal notes… Morose words and non-words…
I wanna sing the saddest songs as if I would live forever –
Forever in the dungeons of my benevolence.

And then, I wanna cry my soul out as if I’ve lost God…
But first, wish that I still have a soul for I no longer know…
I wanna run in circles within an untamed wilderness
to feel that I am not lost, in circles, running and wanting untamed…
after my tears have equalled the waves of all the world’s seas
including her… her tsunamis of centuries…

I want to find myself at the edge of a snow-capped mountain and never rest
then scream my frozen lungs out after expelling my guts,
scream until I hear only the sound of my recovered voice –
the one that could read and write sadder than almost the saddest poem…

Distorted and soul-starved,…

What did I say?

Straving for my soul,
I don’t ache to feel a little less alive…
Nor do I merely ache…
My madness does not represent a longing for joy.
Madness sways beyond the barbwires of longings.
Thus, not even a longing for death.
(You don’t need to die to be dead).
My loneliness is not soothed by company.
Loneliness is glory!
My burden blinds with the northern lights best in darnkess.
My passions severe the cosmos with their controlled nonexistence…
There is nothing more worse for me and ill
than the brooding mediocrity when I do not sing when I will.

—–
NOTES:

“Almost the Saddest Poem” is a remake of The Saddest Poem. But herein, the context changes somehow but the end-point remains. How can not being able to sing (no matter how you sound or don’t sound as silence can be music) be so sad? P.S. The titles have nothing to do with the levels of sadness in each of them.

Did You Know About Anchors?

(First Unfinished Draft and Middle Part)

Beautiful Souls

From a journey through layers from the ocean floor
We’ve smiled at its species, as we lovingly drawn close to their open doors…

Oh how man would give up his breaths,
To say hello to a clown in anemones…
And no matter how relentlessly expiring,
Life holds eternity in moments like these…

When I rose above the ocean water,
You were walking, satisfied, towards the shore.. .
My vision was still filtered and blurry
Yet I was magnificently seeing more…

Rain drizzled down enchantingly
On the calm and waveless sea…
It was bright and dim and dark all at the same time
In a moment of Life most sublime…

And as water kissed water
The sun couldn’t help but provide
A unique spotlight for every unique drop
And made the glow in your soul even more bright…
Suddenly, diamonds were dancing afloat,
Surrounding our humble family boat…
Their sparks froze such serene Settings in fleeting eternity
But the focus remained on the man Still walking slowly ahead of me…

Did you know,
That I see through your eyes and from my own?
It is a gift of gifts within me…
That you have sown and grown…

He Is A Song

Life At Its Fullest - Peewee

Reach the summit of a mountain
Kiss the floor of the sea
In all of Life’s adventures
There is a song in me

He is the love
And Epic reward
From God to all of us here
He’s lived a good life
Been giving good love
And on his 80th year
We thank the Lord
This man is a song
Who’ll live on…

So walk the gravel and cement
Of busy city streets
Convert the traffic into jazz
With this legend in your ears

He is the love
And Epic reward
From God to all of us here
He’s lived a good life
Been giving good love
And on his 80th year
We thank the Lord
This man is a song
Who’ll live on…

No Love That Can’t

No Love That Can't

I know no love apart from madness,
no love that can’t fear unspeakably and yet, still dare
I know no love without insurmountable woe,
No love that can’t hold exuberant eternity in a blink so mundane…

I know no love that can’t magically take last breaths for ages
just wanting so enthusiastically to be there…
I know no love not selfless;
No love that can’t meet death unshaken…

I know no love without phenomenal outcomes,
no love that actually ends…
I know no love that merely lasts
but love that creates instances of glorious eternity

I know no love that doesn’t hold Heaven.
I know no love that can’t.

* dedicated to my grandfather Pio Espineda
December 4, 1930 – September 11, 2013
and to all who love *

Of Time…

toddlers58

Sometimes,
good intentions without understanding result to worse things.
Sometimes,
it’s better to not understand things and simply respect feelings.

Ripples of thoughts
of wonders and sorrows
severe his mind gracefully
at the wrong time….

All in non-extremes
beg for attention
when the only Freedom starts with Detention…
Isolation
Seemingly Zombiefication
– A Liberation they know nothing of.

Pink and Green
Images of woe
Images of Joy
Disprove Slumber

-THE DEATH WAS REAL!

It was a nightmare that came before sleep
It was a dream that happened because he awakened…

But now he must awaken again….

There is a pool of woe in the Southeast,
and fish in the cold air up North to the West…
He knows no other waters but woe.

Time stops in this climax of suffering.

The LIFE was real…

Sometimes,
he gets swallowed up in a time machine…
and knows just about too many things…
Sometimes…
he only thought of time…

He cries to sleep,
wakes up the same,
blood flowing through his veins
and outside of them.

Splashes of blood
on this mundane floor
drown him gently
in sweet Sunday gloom.

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