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 *
good intentions without understanding result to worse things.
it’s better to not understand beings 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…
– A Liberation they know nothing of.
Pink and Green
Images of woe
Images of Joy
-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…
he gets swallowed up in a time machine…
and knows just about too many things…
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.
Defenses are set
Maneuvers are heavy
But nevertheless, ready
Human nature orchestrates
The way a person waltzes away…
And you can never face it whole
While in preparation for your doom
It’s the coldest place you’ll ever live in…
The Chambers of the Obsolete
I am strained by this explosive rest
From world and woe but of pure
Celestialness- Inauspicious breathing
When I found I was unwhole before you;
That I, without you, am a flame grand enough
But can not burn nor brighten as I should
And strained by this explosive rest am I
Conditions untoward nurture in one, a pitiful soul
Whose protected coverings plagued with heightened sensations
Swiftly augmenting vastitude in clockwork mentality
Growing awareness to disintegrate control
How does one lose one’s self to another’s existence made known?
Unnerving, upsetting, detesting it all!
Inauspicious breathing… left unreversed and reserved.
I am strained by this explosive rest.
His melancholic spontaneity won’t release me.
There’s more of gloom coming,
I am overwhelmed but this smile hurts my face.
Now he sings like a leprechaun
Brewing MADNESS in his pot of false hope.
Oh why am I here
peeping and weeping
grieving for his real name
While he dances in a humid hell of deceits
It is his home…..
He sings it like a DIRGE –
…is his name!
Also published in xyldrae.deviantart.com