Sunday, January 26, 2014

For Words (Ars Poetica)

Words are worthless.
Graves waiting to be filled.
Shadows of matter
In a world we did not build.

Soft-spoken poets suffer
For they’re afraid of sorrow
Outspoken poets suffer
For they’re afraid of tomorrow.

Sorrow from bothering
The sickness of the departing;
The future is a new present
In which lost souls are reuniting.

The poet who surrenders
To the soft hand of time
Understands the tie
And awaits for it to unwind.

Before he says goodbye,
He hopes to have traveled at least
The distance between two hearts
So that his mind can rest in peace.

Then,
Even his shadow will dance.

Thursday, January 23, 2014

Occupied

Your mind is occupied like a plane’s washroom
Absorbing all the dust and bugs like a vacuum
Got no space or time for some fresh air
Turn off the hum, undress your mind bare.

What ticket you got? We share the same fare.
Don’t you hate the stewardess’ fake care?
We could do better, oh, look at that cloud!
It looks like my dream! What’s yours? Oh, watch out!

Some guy just passed by, spilled your water all over
Hold on, I got napkins, don’t lose your composure
No need to be angry, be Zen, here’s a pamphlet
About Buddhism and how to regain your soul’s balance

Be happy, life’s beautiful, oh look at those birds!
I wish I had wings, don’t you? But of course!
When I was a kid I dreamt about flying
Now I’m a car dealer and I really like driving

You’re flying right now, silly, I’ll buy you a coffee
Look around you, folks sleeping, and one guy is coughing
But you look like you got a colourful dream
Let’s break the window and grab hold of the steam

After that we could work our way up
Grab onto that cloud and quack like a duck
After that maybe head down to the river
Flow on the stream of consciousness, be its mirror

The plane will be landing in Babylon soon
Make sure to have your seatbelts on, you baboons
Oh, this still on? Ha ha, I was joking
Don’t worry folks, enjoy your days croaking.

But I’m not a frog! I’m duck, I can quack!
Oh, shut up, you can’t, you’re falling off track!
Psst, don’t worry. Don’t listen to them.
Your path has been cleared, while they walk, you can run.

Monday, January 20, 2014

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

Guide

Aspire to be what you admire to see.

Sunday, January 5, 2014

Tired

Poetry, alone, is my synthesis
I miss not feeling restlessness
All my words are worthless
Experience consumes me
Followed by a comma
Where death’s mystery laughs
While someone cries on my shoulder.
My thoughts are never sober
Inflated by an ego
Breaking into the mind
Only to get a fine.

I feel blind.
No essence survives here
Nothing makes sense
Not even sense itself.
Because I’m disconnected
My eyes are skeptics.
My mind is biased.
Help me, I’m tired…
I just want to sleep,
But I’m confined to eternal insomnia.
Until my useless joy saves me again.
I wonder who gave me this pen.
I’ll pretend I made it up.
That I had some super luck
And that everything surrounding me
Is just an anomaly
Just like me.
But isn’t that funny?
Of course, because you reflect your own reality
Perceptions perceptions.
Clever misdirections.
Only one absolute truth.
It doesn’t care if you have proof.
But shall I rest in restlessness?
Does it matter? I do feel blessed
But I feel too sick of it all…
That’s why I ask if it’s all my fault.