Bellezza Caotica

Oracle

2012-01-05T23:16:00.002-05:00

aura chronicles image clear, still oracles from the iris peer. sometimes the mind divides in halves. yet thoughts crisscross on wave-like paths. one part is torrent. the other withstands. one sound electric. one fading fast. ardor discovers, while logic distracts. one indulges as one retracts. what breathes within, when glancing back? the poetess. the seeker. the fire. the keeper. the shape of her eyes. the quiet retriever. words from her mouth. soft raging appear. whispering voices lingering near. the thinker. forbearer. the vision. the dreamer. the wayward. the prayer. the reflection. the mirror. like distant song, you seem to hear her. she comes this close, then disappears…

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]

Witness

2011-12-30T00:07:00.000-05:00

witness the way you're standing strong. with weapon pulled out. pacing with urgent prowl. determined to devour. succumb to vengeance. permeate with dual edged sword. sweet blade once swept against your mouth. now you wish to inflict back ravage mark. so come forth. carve her senses out. back against wall, she's fought you before in thoughts. so with intentions drawn, here you are. colliding like warrior. witness the way she's falling down.

Escape

2011-12-25T00:02:00.003-05:00

Take a flight south.
Toast to golden brown.
Then throw a pair of mega-sized Armani's on ;)

::Beautiful day in the sunshine state::

Blue

2011-12-16T00:51:00.003-05:00

was it in my thoughts. were you torn. was it just words. was it my fault. to be seated. in front of it. was it my wrong. was it your song. what triggered you. to write this. was it for me. was it for you. I come. as you leave. your letters. in blue. did you need. to kneel. or did you want. to remind. me to?

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]

Camouflage

2011-11-25T00:08:00.000-05:00

One step taken backwards, with golden yellow leaves crackling beneath your feet, you walked up the staircase yesterday, holding her, sighing. Sometimes, the glint in these eyes goes brighter. Dew like honey drops bursting on temples, mind glowing, thrust between hallucination and veracity. In reverse you move, your words turning to symbols, and she regresses into catharsis. Seasons switching like heartbeats, you see the green return to the wreath around her head. Tilting delicate fortress onto careful hand, your ambrosia rejuvenates wilting lips to blushing pink. Lightning bolts inside the iris sparkling, lashes broadening across globes of sight, sinking back to gentle thoughts. Captured sweetly betwixt both infirmity and remedy, is where empress lives, in the committed arms of raw dreams. Time repealed then seized while your expedience surges thoroughly, never realizing that this allegory was indeed a camouflaged reality. Sometimes, the thunder in these eyes goes quiet. One step taken onwards, with crimson red leaves crackling beneath your feet, you walked down the staircase today, holding her, crying.

Fahrenheit

2011-11-17T00:06:00.002-05:00

motorbike mounted with fahrenheit rising. cogent thrust while engine grinding. maximum throttle, gripped handle tightly. turbo shift tempts rapture climbing. spiking pulse as ignition turning. burning ambition when fervor driving. inhaling swift the night’s vibration. aphrodisiac induces vivication. momentum pure intoxicating, releases brakes for acceleration. stimulates flight simulation, as speeding breeds exhilaration. adrenalin ignites ecstasy, till destination comes breathlessly. surrender senses yieldingly, from riding yen so recklessly. thus rebel hazy vision seized, with twisted mystic lens intrigued. conceiving almost roguishly, your wish to fly again with me.

[[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]]

Iris

2011-10-18T00:42:00.004-04:00

There was a beautiful dream inside each strand. But did you see my dark locks cut, laid upon the floor sprawled, the other night? I held them preciously as they cascaded gracefully with diamond encrusted ends. But unknowing, you stepped over them, when I camouflaged beneath your way. Everything is not what it seems, this careful placing of themes and distractions, to divert from the unseen. You turned to ream the jasmine scent, but couldn’t recognize from whence the fragrance came, because you were blinded by a masquerade of wrongful thoughts and judicial eyes whilst passing by. Still, your fingerprints as they trace against the universe will make you more intuitive with the expressions igniting within my iris. And with time, you will remember my face, and understand why amid deepest forests are windows of light...

Embrace

2011-10-15T00:15:00.001-04:00

this burning. in my eyes is you. collapsed in two. nothing hurts more. than seeing you bruised. if I could. I would repair. with my own life. pieces of me. I would spare. till I was nothing. just to see you. out of despair. cannot bear to behold. these tears. in your pupils. barreling down. wear and tear of your heart. breaking into a thousand shards of glass. your existence is part of who I am. I the core of you the same. I will absorb what I can. so vent your rage. till you are spent. transmit ache in embrace. I will take. if you remain emaciated. I too will restrain. but on knee bent. will keep praying. I’m holding your face. consoling with gentle hand. I didn’t know this. how it feels. helplessness. I am love deep. but only human. sometimes I cannot reach. am dying for being weak. crying if I cannot heal. you. still will give everything. in the world. in my breath. to try to.

Synchronize

2011-10-11T23:25:00.004-04:00

It starts in the core of me and rises. I felt it today under my feet. The ground was quaking, and reverberations scaling from raw earth through my incumbent fatality. Have you ever tasted an elixir, incandescent and provoking —an awakening potion of blood, sweat, tears, and fury? Then you too shall feel the tremor of renaissance despite an asphyxiation of universal casualties occurring in the warring hearts of mankind as you were caught between. Behind the context, beneath the lucidity, below the healing patch of scalded skin, betwixt the scar from recent stunting feats, beyond the injured knee throbbing words of defeat-- she was still in there, breathing. I saw her in the mirror lingering— her arms wrought with rope and eyes ridden with hope but focused like a stealth bullet in turbulence, spelunking daring waves of her inner terrain, leading to discovery of the ingrained world of whims and outer faces of nebulas liberated. The bane of existence is to let one’s true self be mutilated by a tornado of creeping realities or daunting omens, of self-created monsters or whispering Jinns. And so it is time to synthesize within, to synchronize the ever rapturous spirit with the body again...

Harmonies

2011-10-06T00:01:00.002-04:00

You think you know. You think you know. You think you understand these words. But you don’t. What you hear is the song that overwhelms the true harmonies below. What feasts stir in your stomach is not what I feed, for in my cupped hands were mere crumbs and seeds of your fantasies. This tremble you feel in your heart is not the tremor of defeat, but the rumble of the running of my feet across crumbling concrete on slanted rooftop retreats. But you wouldn’t ever believe. So digest the façade as this is what benefits your nurture, and leave the deciphering of mysteries as a humbling blur. The cascading hair seen are not tresses, but a cloak to stop the obscene from entering me-- for the helter-skelter spider I saw in my dreams was drawn away with Surah Yaseen. Wander astray from shadowing trees after sunset, my mother told me, and when possible keep words divine escaping from lips like a holy rhyme of protection in the dark. And you couldn’t imagine how the sky in the day looks to me. Where I say I knew blue, I saw sheer white ecstasy. But when rays decreased, I have faded into me, to avoid the night's entities. And when you think I am speaking of someone else, it was a fleeting mention of you inaudibly, covered under plundering plays of poetics and racing words sprung beneath steaming sheets of thought and reality. And what affects me, and how I have rooted, bleeding sympathies, for those who assumed I never think of them, but instead they circle in my head constantly. Beautiful people, in my blood, in my world, and your faces in my heart twirling daily, deeply setting into me. How warm my soul becomes from your haunt—but I bet you never knew that I swallow love as each of you continually circulate through the veins of my destiny. You are sparks bouncing off my lunar beams. And when this midnight crosses, I rise quietly from my room, and take myself somewhere that you cannot go. But you think you understand these words. You think you know. How much I adore you. You think you know. But you don’t.

Rose

2011-09-29T00:06:00.002-04:00

There is a burden, blessing, and responsibility that comes with acknowledging the sadness that surrounds you, the blessing only ignited when united to console their tormenting ache. Being hypersensitive to expressions, reflections, and memories painted on communal faces, sometimes leaves this uneasiness in my stomach, defenseless I feel, yet somehow their moments of catapulting distant, intangible messages become strangely touching and real, but alludes to great difficulties interacting back. Why is this little girl’s mouth drooped astray, or why one man stared blankly with hypnotic sway, and that kid cornered roughly, whimpering away? What do their auras secretly say, and how was I oblivious yesterday? It’s like that tattered woman they told me existed running frantic on concrete floor in battered sandals, eyes forlorn. She stands at the corner, sore, waiting for someone she lost, perhaps longing for one who would never return. Why do I see her now, when I did not before, in her despair, pacing until she goes back home, returning to ritualistically complacent breakdowns? And what about those who share common love, wandering aimlessly within their hearts for a possibility to divulge passion’s word, but unknowingly murdering the one they fought to repair? Half orphaned, they stood themselves bearing their wounds that required more healing than I do. And what about this wall, that slowly becomes vulnerable, as their emotions push through like the tribes of Gog and Magog? They were helpless, but their sensibilities brutal on my outer shell, now steadily cracking, from wear and tear. And where there was light across the neural hemisphere, is intuitive gray matter and one shot of brilliance moving upwards to air. And then, there are the people who were collapsed at the names on black stone, falling north and south. Do you know you make me weep and tender inside? As tiny white ribbons swayed against blue sky, no one would share the truth with you, one more shocking than what you could conceive, turning you a believer through subconscious whims indeed. Still, from now until then, I shall cradle remains with you, against pavement shivering, because I knew your sorrow was true. Then sometimes, we find ourselves resurrected by powers of faith, and even through small things of great mercy, like the pitter patter of raindrops against my skin, that camouflages beautifully the well within. But if tears do continue to profusely accrue, will I drown when obliviously infusing myself with melancholy from each of you-- the woman who paces, that broken girl on the train, the man who sways, the boy bullied on his way, and those who yearn love, breaking her in two? And so, please know--- I scale back again, further, running in the other direction, just for a minute if I can, to shelter from dark shadow’s coax, and believing that good erases sin. Still—I promise, I promise, after sixty seconds the most, I will compose, and post restoration will wear you close—as each of you is a rarest desert rose. For whether withered, or perfuming my soul, your thorns summon blood to flow-- and in my heart's garden you shall always grow...

Celestial

2011-09-25T23:20:00.001-04:00

Sometimes your eyes take the most intimate shade of hazel brown, the outer limits misted with this haze of forest green rims, that expose your obsessions and whims of love, soaked with competitive phases that make you this creature of infatuation and acumen, yet oblivious to poetic architecture sculpted from celestial perceptions of you, unaware of your soul syncing in cosmic flames coming through to the other side of my galactic dreams, provoking heat that melts away with vengeance. Sometimes your eyes watch and take in like eclipses, full of angry craving, then lighting up like stars dancing on dim nights, grabbing hold with mad grip, and culminating in ways invading but beautiful, like a tamed flame simmering in softest hand…

Door

2011-09-22T00:53:00.001-04:00

purely by prudence, have not been known. deviant by nature, or inspired so? spiritual malfunction and scandal prone. thrust by whispers of subconscious tone. willing for deliverance, but transgression honed. knees in forgiveness, heart out the door. shackled with permission from hedonistic call. need for submission, if midnight burns. will you step in as virtue, or irreverent turn? hard to configure, when she's all you yearn.

Strung

2011-09-19T23:39:00.000-04:00

sometimes im colliding. smashing into pavement. but did you know? which way is up. undeterminable. when the storm has strewn you so far. the road lay below me once. now clashing flood. strung vulnerable. im hooked on the high. the string of life. upside down. pacified by hidden stars. in the gray flashes. embraced tight. by another impassioned crashing sky.

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]

Siren

2011-09-13T23:42:00.005-04:00

pyrotechnic pink fingertips grip linen under hypnotics slipping defenseless. head jilted back vicious with charcoal dipped hair flipped over eyes uninhibited. like waves defiant whipped in beats slithering as python against silk sipping adonis’s drink. tenderly tilted wrists sinking this effervescent siren melting. mystic feline exhales listless whence from enchanting defeat lips lilted.

Trigger

2011-08-13T03:20:00.007-04:00

Rigged like a trend, the sense’s trigger pulled back-- at attention standing with cryptic diligence. Staged with patience, but if pushed to the end, the internal atom will morph again. Like half screen lit, or illusive science with contrived mix, blended two parts ignition and one portion saccharine. Felt the flood rise as tolerance spent, and this torrent rain pouring acids of a new name. Brushing away idealic identity from skin, until uproaring countenance spins consciousness from wrist. Another twist of emotions, like voices gathered at spindle, weaving electric conversation. If you think you know, begin assessing-- then find you are wrong. Kindness is fortitude, but yearning vindication a mortal truth. Beneath humility’s cloak, often subtle retribution grows. Crossing humanity unrighteously evokes the strangled throat, so that prejudicial tonality never brooding spoke, till awoke the waiting wisdom from under sweetest choke. And pours from mouth the nectar, your ears find contentment to know, with a taste of honey laced, on finger lingering so. And infinitely are you granted, the ambrosia of delectable things, but remain intensely zealous against movements threatening. Even on beautiful days, landscape is rigged like a trend, with sword rendering outward by peaked confession--- that your annihilation by the hands of love or reserve--- was warranted by what your heart had solicited first…

Tryst

2011-07-31T03:04:00.004-04:00

this twist you got me in. tryst you bind me in. resistance wearing thin, in this fit you got me in. spinster conquering, from vast rebellion. killer shot roulette, wrought so scandalous. notoriously mischievous. slightest timid grin. girl surrendering. no matter what I think, with one hit you got me pinned.

Gracious

2011-07-17T02:34:00.007-04:00

In His Graciousness, He heals. And even in most somber times, He reveals to us compassionate sights. Emerging from even the grayest of clouds there is merciful light. Bestowing benevolent hope, via radiant skies, that through any darkness we have the wisdom to rise...

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]

Dagger

2011-07-09T01:48:00.000-04:00

Enigmas cross through precious dreams, and venture mind quite furtively. Delusional and most obscene, those stages causing thoughts to bleed-- still filled the reservoir beneath with jasmine scent and rosaries. Crushing fortress graciously has fractures from where beauty beams. For vicious times that wrought between, did sculpt eclectic warrior queen. And doubtless stand depleting trees, whose seeds were built from true belief. You covet love in harbored sleep, and carry visions up your sleeve-- like dagger kept by wanton thief, but pierce oneself aggressively. They pause and glare, yet can't perceive, your pieces make the whole of me. Though maze of thunder runs so deep, in lightning eyes you sought retreat. And promised lay at guillotine, as heart did fall to weary knee. In crescent moon her honor keep, but heard you weep with hallowed tears…

Ignited

2011-07-04T00:00:00.005-04:00

Don’t think that I don’t see. I do. From the side lines I may act subdued, but nothing could be further from the truth. I am ignited by one look whether beheld or felt in reverie by you. I was quietly aware hearing the music in your eyes. Then one night, I saw you in a dream with visions flowing from your mouth. You were walking circles around me. I was standing hypnotic looking at the stars. And you grabbed my hand trying to break me from the trance. You whispered in my ears to bring my dancing eyelashes back to your direction. Even as the world crowds me in, I can feel adoration pumping through your skin. Still, was it self doubt or your innocence that prohibited you wisdom of your worth? When all the while your presence stroked softly my avid earth? Know your stance engraves beautifully in softest spaces secretly, and these stars infinite reminders of how you implode in me…

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]

Breathing

2011-06-21T15:30:00.000-04:00

I can’t believe I’m here. Just feeling. I can’t believe it’s real. So freeing. Soft bursting like the sun. Soul searing. No ground beneath my feet. Careening. Wrapped in utter warmth. I'm Breathing. Escaped your knowing world. Still dreaming.

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]

Charlatan

2011-06-04T02:23:00.001-04:00

You are my veil. Discreet haven from the world. Unrevealed, I feel safe in you. Inhaling ecstasy as you hover me. Like chaste hands discovering. But do you deceive, wrapping in arms concealed? Are you covertly covering me, even from myself? Knelt in twilight prayer then indulged in debauchery. Pinned amid aqua horizon and jagged shadowing. Precious cloak of night, charmed charlatan you be-- both devout lover and adversary…

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]

Portrait

2011-05-27T00:00:00.000-04:00

Why carve a partial portrait? Why disclose just image half? Because we conceal shadows, when with transient light are blessed. Can you behold secrets, revealed in blushing laugh? Can you define emotions, through my looking glass? Bright spectrums pierce in solstice, when frost does come to pass. For earth is partly torrent, but some days heaven clad.

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]

Persephone

2011-05-21T00:00:00.000-04:00

come. here. yes. I am talking to you. bring the flame in your eyes. and I will burn a thought into your illusive side. you will tremble. can you handle what am I? watch my mouth move. but are you ready for the words inside? like molten lava against your skin. can you take the pain that comes with one taste? will you covet to have Persephone again? the feel of subtle breathing. yours grow stronger with every heart beat. what it would feel like? to come close enough. to touch a candle when she moves soft and slow. to know the sensation. when she simmers. like a melting dance in the moonlight. can your mind dominate her beautiful rise? can your pride tolerate the yearning that follows the climb? dark tresses caressing your shoulder blade as you fall back down? do you wish to surrender like this? the way the sky collapses under rumbling thunder? tumultuous in torrential waters spreading. do you want to drench in what is foreign to you? this tingling down your spine like droplets on steamed windows. bring your vigor here. yes. I am talking to you. come. near.

Pandora's Box

2011-05-16T03:00:00.000-04:00

Do you perceive persuasive strokes? Do fingers brush as letters cross? Do senses swerve from dusk to dawn, when intertwined with verbal rush? Do subliminal thrusts the thought provoke like ignited match an arson does? Do incensing spaces make faces blush, and push you onto craving words? Glass bangles dangle precocious spots, and coax you towards Pandora’s box. Though slightly open, chaos rocks-- you fiercely shake this fragile lock. Was I perpetrator who sparked the fuse? Or was inferno launched by you? Since addict habit cannot refuse-- inject night in veins to yen induce. And whilst my resistance quiet brews, carpe diem to make your move...

[Photograph by Bellezza Caotica]

Portal

2011-05-14T13:49:00.003-04:00

Do you know what I see, when I look at you with these eyes? When I am caught vulnerable beneath your open skies? I see bluest streaks breaking through like loving arms around shadowy thoughts. I see mercy’s warm hand as it tears melancholy apart. I see portals of hope bursting, like splashes of silent stars. Do you know what I see, when I look at you with my dark? I see light exploding from out your heart...

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]

Melting

2011-05-11T23:44:00.003-04:00

In gentle way. Filling colors. Iris devouring. Mesmerized. Melting meadows. Between green glories. Amid your adoring shade. Quaking softly. You held my voice. With tender hand. They beheld only bracelets ringing. Hush you said. They walked away. While you thrilled flowers with potent sway.

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]

Electrified

2011-05-09T00:14:00.000-04:00

Once wilting and jaded, like pathway serpentine. Flat lined I laid here, post traumatic drive by. Somehow resuscitated with mouth to mouth supplied. Were you surveying movements of a ferocious mind, or witnessing the wiring from oft cathartic side? Emerald green injected on aqua blue reprieve, alleviation granted through secret chemistry. This fusion turns apocalypse to ardent prophesy, chasing catatonic with bionic ecstasy-- leaving speeding gunshot burns, on love's deep bleeding sleeve. Body flexing messages, you cannot capture me, so keep on breathing harder than harsh infinity. With one zealous motion, gravity defied, and found mesmeric haven for when our veins collide. Your voyeuristic tendency, I dare not you deny, but bolt I will bodacious through effervescent sky. Did you envision me a ghost, against the night time swept? Or streaming like a steaming sound, turned whisper on your neck? Illumination’s nucleus in shadow’s eyes is kept, and tonight, I am lightning so take in every breath. Induce a rhythmic pumping to bring me back to life— quenching sweetest fetish to be electrified. For just as I was flickering, I stand now galvanized-- plunging backwards beautifully off your blazing high...

Surrender

2011-05-05T23:58:00.000-04:00

to be unconscious. but thinking. was walking. undisclosed location. silent. across unknown plains. amid dark terrain. inside me. in narrow places. constrained. arranging ways. escape. to slight delay. mayhem awaits. tight rope my existence. away. set a float candles. in shallow water lay. a flight of phoenix burning. hallowed ground churning. slow suffocate by plight created. fire smolders inward to fight crowned peril. still kneel to surrender. crippled. then sudden saw. the vision. at the end of the tunnel. an unusual sight. the light my eyes could not accept. but it beckoned. inside me. amid dark terrain. across unknown plains. silent. undisclosed location. was walking. but thinking. to be awakened.

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]

Windows

2011-05-01T23:39:00.000-04:00

I know. You want to break it. You want to come through places where only your imagination has taken you before this. Permeating mind frames and cryptic anomalies to reach it, but then find yourself at windows peeking deep with a sense of defiance against a half open door, for you are either too hesitant or obstinate to climb in. Do you quietly strive to uncover these contrivances, to feel the pressure of your penchant turning you turbo potent on my presence, engaging in thrust against subtle resistances? You considered it, and then relieved yourself on small details before that infatuation grabbed you again, leaving you with only seconds to refrain or spill. Yet you are too scared to ask, so you never will.

Listen. I used to scale walls to retrieve justice, and then plummeted off cliffs after prolonged racing with precarious liaisons, so I understand your need to explore compulsion and implore discipline, often one overpowering the other with competence. Still soon with time I transformed into something different, brought ingénue down with corporeal predilection, taking eternities to regain a sense of quaint reparation, a one-sided bliss with absolute obliteration.

Look carefully, my scars are still simmering, so I know what you feel, as you stagger struggling like I once did, but I fell in, and at moments revived, am still chained to it. So if persuaded by evasive allurements, resist those beautiful intensities, curvaceous calling, that uplifted and lure with voices of wisdom injected when you least expect it, then you find yourself fed but eternally captivated. The universe is titillated by those who encompass both sacred and sacrilegious tendencies. But observant, I cannot unveil my propensity for transgression has a way of desecrating consecrated things-- though the ecstasy of being broken by one’s own sadistic hand is a dangerous but delectable prescriptive. Hence, a part of me impels you to do it, because I would. And a part of me says run as far as you can make it, because you should. Some rushes entice like no others, and they never decrease in fervor. This one is like going full speed but then crashing into something soft and sweet. Exhilarating, but what is the price of penetration? And tongues are more enigmatic than mind conceives, interpretations warrant perceptions in between.

Sometimes we become hallucinogens, somehow the addicts find us, and we find them. It is a partnership in pain and relief, like breathing hard running on the street, then jumping the fence, against luring heat, to feel sweat beads fall from you to me. Do you remember this? Do you want to recreate it? What it feels like to smell my hair, the intensity of jasmine wrapped in something warm when I am held boldly, and then quickly let go before you accept me? Was it the way I break metal bracelets when I talk, or the way my eyes dart up and down, then across your face, and how you got caught tracing your vision around me, from eyes to mouth, then to my arm, until you glanced the other way, unarmed against what was disclosed. With my head titled back in my chair, did you want to reciprocate in ways only the raving dare? I watched you while my hands were at utter unrest, spoke with smokiness in my breath, where nicotine was never the culprit, but chasing my conscience causes breathlessness. Have you listened to the slightest lisp when I am nervous, a remnant of the child I am, and a sense of whom I became, and how my eyes under dark eyelashes flash you when you try to penetrate my intentions, but were reluctant to subjugate?

Perhaps expectations are part met, when we come pre-consumed with a cloth of a different thread, to drape my naked head. Still, you will reflect upon one day, and then press strong with a wish to have tasted your craving away. Perhaps the facade of the half-open window is just that, a betrayal, for you may never come in. Or maybe, just maybe, the thirsty are too blind to see concupiscence streams that flow before them, and have missed tenderly quenching obsession’s need. Whatever the case may be, revealed or composed-- you want to break in. This I know.

Renegade

2011-04-25T01:53:00.000-04:00

This roadway paved gray, I climbed on the back ebony and blue to feel the wind burst through my black, hair swept away until it creates a mask against face. Least do I wish to release what was in my eyes, yet somehow, it peers extensively back. Holding on, twisting with you like fragile trysting, I feel the ground burning beneath, the skyline dipping deep, infringing upon me as heavens fall at feet. I will grab onto more than conviction allots, but somehow left heedless as irony plots against me. How you deal, merged in between, and they were unknowing of your presence-- my apologies for this acquiescence, I was blindfolded and decreed silent for the time being. But did your discreet nature break you when you beseeched to me, and I turned away unrecognizing? I know you felt my palm sliced from contritely withholding sacrificial dice, boots gripped concrete as it cracked, but somehow dragged us bleeding in alleys. Celestial merciful bandage keeping cut dressed- Oh, if I hide in the dead of night, should forgiveness shelter the same way as covenants once did? With dualities heard, your pleading revealed at the red lights on junctions unreached, each wanting their promise to succeed. And I sink sink sink with each tortured appeal, supplications of whom He grants He will. Metamorphosis ceased, and melt did we into pavement, a fire sparked, movements becoming religious defeat. Silver bangles wrangled at wrists, chained by self-reprieve, but never more liberated again, and mourn for what could have been of me. I see her standing sometimes, but I blink and think it is imagination speaking. She is draped crimson, and knelt with hands spread, eyes graciously drowned in faithfulness. Still I cannot finish this testament; lest it eats me inside, depleting a cell at a time-- I can grieve later with witness divine. Behind the transitioned cloak lies someone who reaches out to endless horizon and rides furiously-- wretched, beautiful darkness with pangs of enlightenment unraveled beneath. Hold on while I am here, for I do not know what tomorrow brings when traveling by renegade wing…

Manifestation

2011-04-21T00:40:00.005-04:00

"I don’t see your name on her," he tauntingly yelled in your face while you bulldozed through him like a rebel with a noble cause defined, pushing aside all who counter attacked or even tried. Little did perpetrator know that your name was already branded upon her with vivid sights of expressive eyes that she knew danced deep inside your thought and wounds behind the corridors of childhood scarred dreams, running free with blue and white complexities. You already made her flinch, one that does not bend. What were you thinking inside she could not decipher, though watching mouth move intently contrived a tale of who you are, and how valiance has always been engulfed by you. Chivalry cannot fade so long as you drape those righteous robes, traits that sparked pride for her, held back tears as you spoke. You did not notice her smudging eyes as she hid behind glass when possible, and diverted glance at times when senses strongly held tight, seen sorrow or when perceive your greatness coming forth a prince of persia finding his valor so authentic to swallow. Honor being your crowning glory, do you even realize how highly you were held though she didn’t alert? It was at first sight that she became absolutely drenched in admiration. But even from upon her throne, how could she knight the already gallant? Striding tall, strong, face blessed with countenance. And when you said you stand for goodness, did you know you have always held elite heritage? You were born divulging promises, and feeding others even when hungry with words of wisdom, royalty, and a rare invincibility. Her moments of vulnerable silence did you grasp? Forgave you a subterranean stare, as she was there entranced, listened, absorbing with intent unimaginable, and trying to take in the time ticking away with stoic reverence? She is far more manifest than what you think- for this was penned in deepest emotion, and you more beautifully intricate than what she could have fathomed...

Masquerades

2011-04-10T02:35:00.000-04:00

A consciousness exists as such that oft times we can hear magnitudes and spectrums without single touch. Voices crest a thousand words each full with meaning and carried abruptly across an urban landscape. From white smoked jasmine scents moving through Gotham's crypt into sobered hamlets uphill nestled in still places against turbulent winds blurred-- the sounds of the world are your backdrop to a dialect fully recalled, a mix of many universes bundled into what is heard. And whilst experienced auditory stimulants-- listen not only to words but to inflictions, reflections, and inflections, but even the minor intonations that send chills bejeweled with a tenderness beneath. The passing of day has truly been something strange-- began driven and aggressive, like forced against a wall by predator’s mouth heaving, rendering me a meditative livewire wandering the wet streets electric-- and then, unexpected culminating with something transcendent to the ear, chronicles deposited as if rare gems decorated across heart, held closely till it is heard again-- voices transfused into inspiring masquerades of being.

Vigilante

2011-04-01T00:27:00.004-04:00

Instinctual elements could not be contained as seen in countless minutes of today’s passing. Will not tolerate the winds touch you, so wings spread I scooped under when I saw you shiver tonight. And you asked, but what about you? And they didn’t understand that we are shields meant for protection and no sacrifice too inordinate in our blueprints of defensiveness towards you. A flame flourishes from touches that only God is privy to. A power takes over, adrenalin pumping, and the body transforms into a magnum force unexplainable even by your fulcrums and scientific theory of relativities, for some potency inspires from heart and connections that only heaven can fathom. What it feels like to sense their breathing, warm face holding charm of a million treasures rolled up into blue diamonds in the rough. Crossing over places I haven’t seen for myriads of space and time, the incendiaries tried to confiscate with our identities mistaken, but could not because I mutated into walls impermeable, when I had to. For if you have coursed through my veins, deepest proclivities kicking in, then you are mine. Be whomever assailant or delinquent, no one can touch you if lioness was laid against tracks, and will take hunter’s sword without question. And seeing the fire in my eyes, they heard me firmly say, do you not know who I am? And the red herrings retreated with apologetic shame, and stepped backwards into their invisible stances against walls incognito. Turning back, I watched, and you laid your head on my back, and my hair fell on your shoulders— and your hands soft like I remember them to be forever from the day I first laid eyes on you, bright moons recognizing me for a billion lifetimes. Across the seventh refrains and twenty endings of corridors that seemed caressed as waiting gale in my tresses-- they glance at me knowing like vigilante will be derivable till blessed with final breath.

Drenched

2011-03-15T01:54:00.005-04:00

Northern lights show iris spectacular like lit flame when in moonbeams you gleam phenomenal. Without warning, melting reluctantly into evening’s arms under coveted retreat, after hours of grazing me with engaging heat. Concentration of blazing eyes set to raze my resistance could not deflect an insistence to devour piece by piece, until you fully consummate the enraged defiance and utter infatuation created within. How could one restrain or deny, when in inclusive submission we wish to lie. Inviolably sipped quietly from me, you subdue with sweet strangled grip. Yet femme fatale has most compelling stretch. Her sound leaving tainted violations upon your way in, and a request to be smeared across restricted spaces by potions simmered in intuition’s beating chest. For if you know the camouflage, you may infiltrate the rest. Still taking away her countenance was only half the test, the other his tortured yearning for with drenching night she's swept…

Notte Vista

2011-03-01T00:00:00.006-05:00

I sometimes peek from rooftops when no one is looking. I sneak to ledges at the edge of the night. To glance across the jungle that is my half lit city entranced. To sit upon a lingering cloud after the sun sleeps and mystery prances. I step quietly up the stairs to where it is empty. To climb out as fog cascades over sky when finding my footing. Hand gripping the ends for life is always slipping. I dip into the moonlight with my fingertips, and it is delicious. Dark beauty captivates and leaves the mind lingering. Breathless draw kisses while nighttime adoring. I sometimes peek from rooftops when no one is looking.

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]

Déjà vous

2011-02-15T00:00:00.000-05:00

How warmly seduces the zephyr, like a charmed ember infused raspberry stained mouth, induced by amrita left beneath velvet hair, the secret jugular bruise. Bent on knee, caressing passion’s hue, sought at the hemming of my déjà vous. Was it your providence to melt with unconscious testaments felt where skin’s sublime perfumes rise, or was your zealous demise redefined, when existence was embroidered with my design? For one moment lay subdued, while zephyr wanton strokes the muse, and raspberry mouth is sweet transfused, with nectar’s fervency abused. Wipe tender lips as exit you, for world knows those who savored fruit.

Urban Vision

2011-02-01T12:25:00.003-05:00

Waters tiptoe slowly across urban threshold in tickling ripples to meet cold pebbled shore. I am drawn to where horizon and steel beams roar, grown devoted and distracted by sounds of winds howling against grayed concrete walls, lifted by searing visions soaring above. Bestilled by both nature's rousing pull and sky riding forms cutting into nebulas bent- I greet grass and dirt barefoot jean cuffed as hair flirts with incumbent season's mirth. Indulgent but a day, for all its worth-I have a snowflake in one hand, but sense lilies as they lurk..

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]

Hallucinate

2011-01-01T16:00:00.002-05:00

Are we the avid sun? Thrashing shifting. Scalding reloading. Revealing exploding. Beckoning beholding in enigmatic ways? Are we the half eclipse? Deceitfully glowing. Vagrant unknowing. Exposing withholding. Departing transposing in most exotic ways? Stays the sky silent as heaven breaks away. Was this a luring vision, or did we hallucinate? For we were caught translucent, amidst both night and day.

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]

Warrior

2010-12-28T00:00:00.002-05:00

A scathing scar or pounding heart, relinquish as they bleed apart. Where eyes revealed and union made, confession duly stimulates. These enlightenments deep intrigue; electrifies the soul indeed. Memories too swift erased, with valiant warrior now replaced. But crashing in these dreams discreet, nightmares often thrash beneath. Devotion premature I see, consent to raw dichotomy. Impassioned mouths concurrent breathe fusions of angst and ecstasy. So I devour what you feed, your vision inseminates aggressively.

Lethal

2010-12-01T00:00:00.000-05:00

Those who are cloaked in infatuations and deviations-- who have savored eves simmered in illumination and delectations: Are ill fated the addicted who fall fragile to irreverent sublime—or tortured are intoxicators from whom thirsty relish wine? Censure not the devoted that lie at beauty’s step to die, for his obsessions are oft inebriated by delectable ambrosial delight-- and truly the more iniquitous is Aphrodite with lethal eyes...

Debris

2010-11-28T00:00:00.000-05:00

If you gazed into my eyes, would you see-- the cyclones spinning with things once beautiful, now mutilated debris? If you listened quietly, would you hear-- the nightly gasping for air, where anomalies asphyxiate soul belligerently? If you held my hands, would you feel-- trembling, as I walked the edge of runaway trains, whilst tumbling down track one came? Acquainted with implications, wild inviolable compulsions-- would you save me, before I fell through the cracks of obsessive traps, laid by oneself so brazenly?

Vortex

2010-11-01T02:00:00.001-04:00

When the sun slumbers, the eye of the night thunders open— leaving some ferocious and others encumbered. Perhaps these skies stay broken to expose glimpses of heaven, like half closed sills spill candle lit splashes through the cracks of the drawn curtains. Fragile like the lashes of dazed rebel, or wayfarers chafed by the serrated hand of the insomniac—were you wiping away the remnants of oblivion from face, or had you never known dreaming before this? Do galaxies commit a deeper complexity, leaving you to seek relevation through an elusive vortex? Like besieging charcoal vapors intercepting panoramic sights from archaic location—you boldly forfeited your disguise to behold miracles contritely, and remained hypnotized with me, at the infatuated footsteps of ravishing night...

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]

Plundered

2010-10-28T19:00:00.000-04:00

I was watching through the reflection as you ardently explored. With notorious reservation, stare quietly implored. With momentum did you rumble, while you swift do contemplate. With iris scanning direction, did you wish to initiate? Can be your true intention to stealthily invade? Though charcoal eyes evaded, did you strive to deep persuade? Though you caught my rapt attention, could instinct soul ensnare? With audacious gushing craving, would you plan to confiscate? Can femme fatale senses gingerly awake, if your belligerent obsession secretly prevailed? Did you walk away disillusioned long before I could display, that your glaring at my essence did vigilante break? Behind the walls of countenance, dark shadows sight delayed, and so vantage point assimilates visual contact made. Thus simmered fascination was furtively relayed, with mark of fervor’s smolder left by rampant gaze…

(While one's lips softly parted with wonder, the other's whispered something that couldnt be deciphered. Except for intense eyes that pierced leaving message undercover, overtaking like tornado does the thunder, and blazing the trail for senses to go asunder. Rendezvous begetting rhyme when poetess is plundered ...)

Voltage

2010-10-01T00:00:00.000-04:00

What forays inside when mystic plays-- unfastened bridled beauty lay. In risk of night, in dusk of day, conjured chimera in oracle stay. Palpitation arrayed in camouflaged face, unknowing subtle trance became. Sparked kinesthetic could not relay, but a wish by you to subjugate. Seized and retrieved, heaved and reprieved—your essence in undulations came. In quivered lips and beating frame, colliding till her plead acclaimed. Breathe infused softest shape to form a zenith Venus trait. Holding in, then slowing pace, to taste her culminating fate. Though trembling voltage breeds the high-- your ecstasy in her rising lies.

Crossroads

2010-09-29T00:00:00.002-04:00

Entangled at the track, neoteric Achelois once again dragged past the speeding train, canvassed through graffiti ridden window frames by your refrain and vulnerability, not fitting into the chaos and arbitration that besieged this scene. Were they oblivious as crossroads trembled, two resolute assembling face to face-Tristan becoming the mirror reflection of King Marke, interlaced in time with twain sparked dreams falling united to accountability solely mine? Beguiled by siren eyes and controversial plight-- without scrutiny of price, traumatic obligation incites sacrifice of heart and mind with a reverie to appease dual sides. Amid Mephistophelian sights, you did not perceive the blur. Then again, how could you-when all you could see was her....

Indigo Sun

2010-09-01T14:00:00.001-04:00

What brews outside my mind today, not explicit shine nor absolute rain-- the day seems caught in elusive refrains, like trembling hands wrought in ardor’s chain. To realize the solar blue, is to encapsulate the vision true. Is this a reflection of who we are-- a portion hope, a segment dark? Will it break, and find release, as nebula conquer eclipsing beast? But blaring through each haunting glow, the light still always seems to show---For behind every mystic shadow’s throat, the jugular of my renaissance pulsating flows.

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]

Rooh Afza

2010-08-09T06:00:00.005-04:00

Night long I twisted from ghazals and visions— then rising from intense intrusions, captured amidst nocturnal excursions. Too weighted to keep, somehow, can I for a moment believe that releasing it will grant me autonomy from its grip? Still, to what do I owe its rapturous return into a world that has found some sound sense and reparation? Yes, it has burned secretly, quietly, unexpectedly many times before, but oft diminutively so I chose to ignore. Lest I close the door any tighter on lessons learned, allow me delivery of this last anomaly-- that most times, I forget, but this night the soul churned harder than the rest. It wakened me from deep slumber, leaving me exhaling as heavily as a tempestuous thunder—perspirations on temples and lips bitten in wonder. And within the night trance were things I can’t explain, and things I knew plain from reality:

In this strangest place, a monastery by the ocean side, stood the last one to pass through the garden gate--- and knowing the way, permeated the chambers through the narrow corridor laden with blossomed jasmine scent. As he thrust upon the floor, panting, staggering, in a daze, she pulled in scrutinizing the one who entered the forbidden maze. Her daggers struck havoc on him as closer she came, body spread over prey like a valiant hunter-- but then slowly retreated as light revealed the intruder: Unchanged were a pair of raven eyes, which mirrored mercy at one moment and exhilaration at second glance. But different all the same— sans spectacles stood an exiled heir, beautiful but beyond repair-- hair now allowed sovereignty from sacrificial rituals, a dark glory, and a structure strong with cerebrum titillated by pages and stages and words and brusque scrolls of science and torrent philosophy rolled in the palm. He leaned in, wearing night on his back, pensive and wise, but all the while beaming bright with covert naivety. Then she sudden asked him, almost presumptuously, “Did you want to taste again? Do you wish to be fed?” Being one of self-appointed lineage, and though had often spread across tongue a myriad of flavors sweet and delirious, oft tainted by an appetite for the finest feasts--- he did surprise when his eyes reflected the gaze of the ravenous instead, as he fell thirsty by her side. Without impediment, she offered to feed him with her hands, forcing his head back, mouth open-- her hair spilling across his chest swaying from his emergent impetus , intentions penetrating and lips at unrest. His hands tied behind with tight scarlet sashes of silk--- she poured the sherbet into him, one ruthless droplet at a time--- the rose sweetened Rooh Afza milk cascading between her henna painted fingers and down his throat. The swords of her piercing eyes fixed on his, unrelenting, an unforgiving potency that left him rapt --- that is--- until he recited the words that broke the trance, and she dropped the chalice from within her hands: “Zolf bar bad madeh ta nadahi bar badam. Naz bonyad makon ta nakani bonyadam. Rahm kon bar mane meskino be faryadam ras.” *

Then abrupt I awoke from this scene, my body pushing in an upwards motion, swooning. Intoxicated I felt—as if the potion were poured into my ear, and so the dizziness of an addict appeared as I tried to gain equilibrium on my standing feet. And perhaps, they were only words I once read while on a sage’s quest that unwittingly clung to my mind like a spider on a web, unnoticed at the corner of my head—that exorcised when body fell to the bed. Or maybe, it was something that I was not yet meant to understand, which stretched its arms out from clandestine origins. Still somehow, even as the sun rays through curtains did sneak, and the sobriety of the mind did slowly peak, those words spoken did not swiftly leave-- the prurience of his voice gushed out from a dream.

*Do not spread your restless tresses in the breeze, or you would make me feverish, restless. Do not build your fortress of coquettishness and beauty, or you would ruin me. I am longing for your love, take pity in me, help me. [Hafez-e-Shirazi, 1319-1389 CE]

Fireflies

2010-01-01T00:00:00.035-05:00

Beautiful is the wooden mirror hanging on my bedroom wall, traced by trimmings of carved gold--- often drawing both temperate and bold reflections. There is no more second guessing for me. Words fall out of my mouth in a nectarous, daedalean puzzle even in waking now--- and you walking by, unconsumed by the paradox, is what I am praying for.

Startling to see that it’s not always a matter of seeking or speaking-- but that often the concept of being is intimidating. Nomadic in a disturbia of thoughts, as moments play out, conjoining in a symphony of disarrayed prejudices and faults. This focus alone is cause for repeated compulsions, and a fist full of conjectures that go unnoticed. But has it not been better to devour concoctions of kalonji and ginger with a touch of honey—turning what once felt bitter into what is delectable? I found myself running by the edge, where sand and water joined hands, and it was enlightening to detect that the contradiction was no longer uncharted land. But then what has happened to the question within, ask instigators with sarcastic grin. To them I say-- questions did quickly stray when no longer were we anxiety's prey, and nightmares crashed not in slumber's way-- and softest bod no longer quaked.

Staying in a state of perpetual breach, I can reach out to feel changing faces, because even the blind have opportunity to see. Wrapped inside this, I find that all my reflections show but one eye. So what lies on the other side? It is a natural high, unadulterated by dried burned leaves and rolled up sleeves. Again the contradiction lies-- how can transparency and defiance collide to create something refined? And how strange to wear this rhetorical disguise, for one who rants more raw in public eyes. My face remained the same, but my inflections abruptly changed. What comes out these lips crushes your crime, and I will not be reprimanded for speaking my mind. So do not take these for frivolous rhymes, for burning vigils do vengeance ignite. Time did take a brazen turn, and I assent its capricious nature with open arms. With whitened strands does wisdom arise, or learn do young from pure insight? What makes me human is both heart and mind, so none of the two shall be sacrificed. Because, Kahlil, I am the mirror--- but you didn’t realize.

Still this reckoning and computation need not make sense. Everything you render is not physics and math. Though science and logic do continue to run rampant beneath, it was the mystery of it that drew you to solicit formulaic ways. So why rush to relinquish what made you thirsty in the first place? The inscrutability of life makes it worth living. So don’t offer me a calculation of ingredients and numbers when you know I am count no longer keeping. I simply savor as I go along, for investing in finer gardens holds a greater charm. Measurements are made in the fragrance of the day’s end, in palms lined with such soft skin, and embracing the rhythm of my feet, as they meet with the earth. There is a mystery in sound, in touch, in sight, and in the mechanisms of our paradoxical minds. So while you record statistics and size, I stare delighted in galaxy's eyes.

Now behold— the azure bird sitting calm in the palm of my left hand, and the smoldering bolt now in the right. Two guardians stand brave at each side, setting the heart ablaze like a thousand agarbatiya. Between bridges of amnesia, across white terrain, the cobble stone now becomes glass. We glance below to catch our reflections as we pass. Contortions of your unfolding beauty did we love above all rest. Then winds changed direction, and I revolved with its force to see a story untold. If mayhem arose, then I was the culprit. Still where words fall off a cliff into a most striking abyss, there stands a hundred resolutions at best. And I turned the corner to find a child with the lightest eyes, releasing a jar of fireflies, declaring “Be free to touch the sky!” And though this selfless empathy did brighten the haze, I wondered if we had the fortitude to do the same. Aphrodite, you are now, and you were yesterday.

Beautiful is the golden mirror hanging on my bedroom wall, traced by trimmings of carved wood, and yet it often beholds both gentle and harsh benedictions. Some inflictions give birth to ayurvedic impulses indeed. Words fall out my mouth in an exotic, ambrosial song, even in sleep now--- and you walking by, unaware of the paradox, is what I am gracious for.

Laila Iluminação

2009-01-01T00:00:00.018-05:00

Crimson red, aqua blue, purple haze, or grayest hues, what shade do you embrace when no one sees you?

And I awoke in the morning to find-- in one pocket, a paling rose, and in the other, a lightening bolt. What to do when polar both-- one withering song, one stanch revolt?

Sometimes I whispered weightless words. To some, what I uttered was but a blur. To others, the strangest sound ever heard. And for those who listened, did you understand love?

When the sun sleeps, the eye of the night is open. The sky has to be broken for us to behold heaven. We are fragile when we sleep. We are open like the night. My galaxies run deep, my thoughts bleed through sleeves onto fingertips. Traveler, there is only so much you can see in one sitting. There is only so much I can entreat.

These eyelashes slowly close in dozing moments alone, and some hopes do grow in places undisclosed. Clock ticking above my head, wind howling at the sill, dreams escaping softest bed, while thoughts lie fragrant still. Perhaps God gave us memories so that even in December, we could recall the scent of flowers when trees are skeletons but the mind is an ember.

I once heard that healing is embracing what is most feared, opening what has been closed, and softening what has hardened. But certainly, it starts with faith in God. But I will not reveal my fears as you are treacherous. And some doors will never be opened again. And truly, could this softening feel like taking an already ripened word, and leading it to ruins by setting it in the sun longer than it should? Healing may be to realize and treasure who you are and wish no evil upon others. So why not let the heart feel what is true, and dream for me what I dream for you? If I protest this is the last smile in my possession, would you hold it preciously and help protect its rare existence?

The other night, I rested on a bed of jasmine and vanilla- It is the scent of sweetness from those who knew love best. I once saw small flowers reach out through the pavement. I once heard a heartbeat amongst deadest places. Behind broken mirrors I have seen lovely faces. I smile when I remember – running to get M&Ms when I was ten, hugging my sisters again, the time we sang in the car so loud that no one could figure any of the words out, being ignorant and being aware, watching shadows walking in the warmest air— staring into nothingness, and the glare of sunlight after hiding contritely here. And then there's nights of wailing calls heard against the holy wall, and times the moon and the sun collide, igniting just the brightest light.

Could it be a delusional amnesia for the insane? How we walk with snowflakes on our face? My eyes were closed today, but my walk was straight. I am not bitter I swear, just sweet and sour from synthetic despairs. How we have always loved gentleness—but somewhere in the middle— did we become just monstrous? I grit my teeth in my sleep, wipe a tear relentlessly. I feel the hope and feel the fears--where go all the countless years? When I forget, I am at peace. When I regress-I aggravate me. There is a pain, and there is release. There is graciousness but have you forsaken me? Please God--- where have we taken this?

Wait. Convene. These scenes don’t become you. So recreate and sustain. Would you like to know my refrains? Black is beautiful, indigo is spiritual, pink is plausible, and smudged eyeliner is never exhaustible. I have enough to fill every eye in this room. Would you like to see what I can do? Don’t judge me so quick-- give me a chance to sink in. I’ve changed, morphed from within. What is that you hear? Just ignore the one who is screaming on the side. I call her Phoenix, she is the wild card. There is no exception. Do not cross me, because I am a reflection of kindness and rage, so don’t open this book, if you don’t understand one page. I believe in karma, I seek wisdom from the unlikely and the expected ones. You never know what you may find if you listen quietly, for once. If you never read the signs, which way did you go? And when you watch me through windows, I know... The world doesn’t counter clock wise flow. So descant now donnie darko careful and slow—“Laila, Oh Laila... how does your garden grow?”

Para quando é escuridão, coisas murcham. Certamente coisas florescerão--- Se é iluminação…

Are you still with me? Do you see a picture clear or have I blistered what you held so dear? Do you hear what I hear? There is no such thing as silence. There is white noise and blue streaks with unforeseen sparks in between. And then there is this—a tiny star—flickering far away, beholding all from the great black sky-- I see you disclosing and withholding from my window at night. And I can’t help but wonder what you see, when you look back at me. Am I sunset or sunrise...?

Still the mind is an ember, so do recall-- snowflakes on faces… long winding staircases...and applause from the mezzanine when in jewels we are laced. You can not erase-- the sight of miniscule lights as we rose above and beyond in freedom flights. Can you somehow relate to this? The ground shaking as we landed in turbulence…my face peering over shoulders, dimpled smile, and a pence to buy me a bag of prose, when my aesthetic sense is morosely overwhelming. It is the scent of a Kashmir rose, to be held tenderly in children’s arms, the wonder of my mother’s coat, hair soaked from the pacific shore, then redemption swift with a southern charm, avant garde with eyes aglow, in my grip the lightening bolt ---- and a vision of you and me… in a galaxy of our thoughts…

Shadows and Light

2008-01-01T00:00:00.005-05:00

I find myself embraced tenderly by vivid, anarchic and fervent thoughts, encapsulated in spaces with beautiful shadows, eccentric shapes and sacred labyrinths. A secret knowledge simmers softly, brewed by revelations and tragedy, delivering the channels by which delusions and reality could be translated and divided. With cloaked, obstinate mirages accentuated, and then abandoned, what remains before me is a reflection of my true self. She is sagacity and clemency, impulsion and passion, creation and elucidation, influence and intimacy, curiosity and intricacy, ripened amidst the mortal trinity of the past, the present, and the future. A most endearing and revealing journey this will continue to be, as long as I truly choose to see. And sometimes we find that the first step is speaking our mind, and not always hide what ails us- for it is only when we know the name of our illness, that we can find the cure. And shudder not at the thought of speaking- you will not be hated, but instead revered for facing the things that bore allegories indeed, and long tore you to sing in tears. And prolonged symptoms cannot themselves be gone- So how can it be wrong to voice your vices and concerns in kind, but aggressive ways, if the ultimate intention is to expand oneself for wiser ends? The key is to gracefully move, but proactively mend.

When it comes to the past, there is amnesia, euphoria, breakdowns, and epiphanies all tied up into one pedagogic fusion. We pluck the roses, and burn the gardens--with thorns removed and gash forgotten, rebuild new grounds on which to flourish. Some we keep, some do stray, some we forcefully put away. And venoms can not lengthy stay, so hush all toxins til they fade. For whence a grain of truth is laid, enlightenment is oft arrayed. And for the days that lie ahead, we strive to design a fortress of unconditional love and guidance for the ones who surround us-- And absolute love does not entitle the bearer to abuse or to be the abused, to ravage or to be ravaged, but instead they have the right to an understanding that they may attain love, but at times be gently kept at arms length if they exploit the terms of use. And pillaging devotion's muse is a hostile thing to do. My love can be shrouded or bestowed when I choose, and is implemented with a hope that we rise upwards in spiritual and intellectual ways while we do affection consume. And amidst this lit fuse, I get caught in a startling whirl wind of restoration, where compassion, wisdom and truth reign as the quintessential elements. Compassion is the giving touch. Wisdom is intuition from God. And truth- truth is accepting who we are, being able to stare at the one who stands in the mirror now- an effervescent, anomalous fountain of sweet insurgence, vagrancy, and comprehension- self replenishing, distilling countless former addictions, inflictions and indulgences, yet still finding the means to satiate the innate need. A charming vision with reality's seed, but more aware of looming threats to her sanctity-- I am learning to dispel the myth of me.

Woe to one's mislaid philosophies- For chastity is more than the mind perceives. Is not her sweeping long hair a prelude to where she was, and how she grows free? The remnants of counterfeit shades- red, brown and gold- have dwindled past her back and down to the very last ends. And instead, there extends the natural midnight black, stark naked in thought and no pretence. I am who I am- vehement lightning flowing through innocence, dark eyes glowing, knowing that her transient nature makes her the intricate creature that she is, and that life is the ever altering glass that breaks and remakes itself. And to those who got cut along the way by pieces that fell, jagged shrapnel, hysteric stabs of fallacy's knife, I was forlorn and oblivious- and I apologize. We have all once stood here, blood spilled, but as we wipe down and wash away what we can and will, we remain aware of the stitches, and thankful for wounds that taught us what life is. There is no image of perfection except God. We are broken pieces making a whole, but nevertheless beautiful, like stained glass, cracked, exclusive, sacred, and colorful--we are forever in a cyclical renaissance.

My present is a blessing-- filled with expectations, queries, tranquilities, mysteries, wonders and lessons. Some sanctions are hidden to the touch and sight, yet they are the ones that are tri-fold and flowing beyond our cup. Like every mortal, I encounter my daily challenges and tests. And I truly believe that my tests are very small ones in comparison to the world and its suffering. The beauty of each test, discomfort or hurdle, is that in the process of experiencing them, we somehow find the name of God escaping our mouths. We yearn for Him. We require Him. We realize how merciful is our Lord, who lets us remember Him without thought. And we need to continually turn to Him, akin to how dark turns to daybreak and back to night, infinite times- for humans are often at harmony, and habitually in strife. And when we finally find the wound, we cannot cover it with bandages of falsehood and fear, but instead find ways to crawl forward to the paths of resolutions, answers, medicines that work to heal what we have disparaged by our own hands and an idealistic blindness. The medicine to healing is to accept that I am frail and strong, lucid and complex, but entering a place that is full of hope. I am loved, by myself and by others. But I am not as naive as before, for I understand that there will always be questions and falls, resurrections and breakdowns, movements and consequences, just so we can awake once again like a phoenix strong. And together, we cope and regain our spiritual youth through reckless times and energy renewed. For if the truth did not embrace us, what would we do?

By the processes of repentance, recollection and veracity, I find myself almost at the nucleus of a tornado- But not how you may behold the center of this tempest. I am, God willing, at the true crux of any chaos- where it is most quiet- where it is most controlled. Here from the inner core, I can see the outside of the tornado- of it's power and it's influences- the destructions, the rage, the seclusion, the hypocrites, the intertwining intellects, the dreams and nightmares of bitter sweet reflections, the beauties of days long gone, and the rogues that once haunted my sanctuary. But within these furiously rampaging winds, there is also promise, penance, perils and promethean pondering. I see confusions diffusing amidst knowledge of human err and understanding, and answers that lay in my palm, white roses with dismembered thorns, leading towards a more fragrant road- yet still brindled with the inquisitions of rights and wrongs.

But to reach this plateau, dare I say- never stand arrogant and intentional in the eye of storms. When winds can rip gracious lands apart, do you think you would be spared its violent tendencies? Envision fragile shattered fragments, scattered across, suspended mid air, moving fiercely like hawks piercing a dawn lit sky. In a fit of quixotic defiance, I once tore myself into a trillion scraps of tiny debris, and it seemed almost irretrievable. Still, one by one, day by day, I conceive of ways to pick precious pieces, and bring them back in me-- to a blood stream of reverie and self reprieve.

And where I am now, at this dominion of catechism and nostrum, a captivating cathartic breakdown of sorts- I am able to extend my hand outwards, look at what has broken, grieve for it, and finally attempt to heal it. I pray that I am granted wisdom to walk towards faith, forgiveness and fulfillment, and to embrace an obligation of eluding poisons. And should we not surround our life by reasoned guidance, where we are ushered towards seasoned choices? Still, we are human, and suseptible to both good and sin. But what we swallow is what's found within. So tread not on bombshells , if you are not fond of battles. And fragrance of jasmine wafts only from meadows. So I accept you, my faults. I accept you, my virtue. I accept you, my afflictions. I accept you, my heart. I accept you, my shadows. Because at the core of my chaos - was always a chance at mercy and forgiveness... Because in every entity is the need for life... Because where there are shadows, you will always find light...