Thursday, November 19, 2009

a fallen leaf

If we don't know life, how can we know death?

Do you just love it
when a faded-way-past-the-stars memory bubbles back to life
in such a small space of the mind?
Well, the mind is relatively tiny when you give half a speckle of the cosmos a thought.
Let's just call it a falling leaf.

The leaf tears away from the thread of its branch.

There was a time...
When I was young and quite reckless.
There was a man twice my age.
Something like untouchability laid on his walking grass.
He had that twinkle in his eyes.
He saw the same in mine.
Our eyes met.

Far from romance,
but it had to do something with passion.
not of passionate romance,
but of ever so plain passion
for what floats of the life mission.
Who knows what transpired as his plan
but now it is the unthinkable
the story unfolds now.

The leaf tears away from the very branch.

He was a magician.
He believed in magic.
He needed an assistant
who believed in the same as he did.

Showered I was with gifts;
a yellow rose,
thoughtful letters,
most of all,
the very alive twinkle in his eyes.

The leaf floats in midair.

Never did I feel more alive
or in more awe of the mystery that seemed to roam within life
especially when questions were terribly beyond rife.
You see, I was barely of the driving age.
I had years before adulthood would wind upon me.
So, I never did much but smile
and accept his gifts.
Might have written him once or twice.
In my dreams, did I assist his startling magic with far willing exuberance.
In "reality",
it never took place.

I can not help but wonder
no more than a chance encounter
showed me a profound wanderer
to say the least.
I thought it over and over
until that space of invisible matter
called time took the thought
and parted it bit by bit.
a little past soon after,
I barely could remember.

The leaf gently glides on the ground
and now is amongst its brothers and sisters.

Think of a falling leaf.
See a falling leaf.
Watch it until it reaches the ground.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

the sense of being alive

So, is it....
to connect
to disconnect?

Then, you might have been told
that you have your own road.
others may beg to differ.
They say, be like a heifer.
Follow the rest,
stumble onward in a straight line lest
the ultimate destination be a slaughter house.

Why leave the house
just to choke on false prejudice?
They say damage lies within the loss of objectivity.
I say...
to live rationally
is a shove towards ethereal spoliation.

Rove from the objective eye for once
and walk by all contraries.
After all,
being told how to participate
is but an imposition.
An imposition to what, you may ask,...
an imposition to the development of what is often unjustly shriveled.
The shriveled lies in the dormant core of a human behind a mask.
Lies the shriveled in so many
that it makes my head spin
like a disembodied fin.

Do not let this confuse you.
Let's just chalk this up as
a pep talk
about a way of life.
Like a beehive,
you never know how much life lies within
until you shake awake.

Monday, November 2, 2009

a thought on a piece

"Take Your Son, sir!"
by Ford Madox Brown (1851-6)
::oil on canvas::

Words dribble like the salvia of a starving dog.
Actions leap like a jaguar capturing its prey.

Still, bless all the children that roam in this... world.
Let them be with whole hearts
and know love.

Friday, October 2, 2009

-a certain momentum-

"The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience."
-Emily Dickinson

Love is, indeed, in the air.
Okay, I am just running on sugar.
It happens.

wholesomely and truly,
truth in love is like an virgin meadow
that no one really knows.

As far as an eye can struggle to conceive,
faint, very faint
glimpses of truth in love
swirl in the air.

Such truth lies in wait
deep, deep, deep
in the back of its lair.
Far and deep in the corner
of its lair,
truth sits there in vain
as our present-day world turns and tumbles;
it begins to collect dust.
Yes, the truth collects dust!

Have you ever seen a dust devil?
It can raise some hell.

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Breaking Free

One, two, three,...
well, yes, I am checking.
one, two, three,...
you know,
I am kinda having trouble
getting out of my seat.

I think the quieter
I wonder,
it mists into a ponder.
A reality in the mind of mine marches on.
A forest of truth awaits seekers.
It is where true freedom lies.

Must freedom ring,..
what would be of its ring?
Might it be the salvation of aloneness,
the medicinal relief in loving and being loved,
maybe chopping wood and carrying water?

Zen in,
Zen out.
It could become a trend.
People of the 21st century are, ahem, can be such whores.
Pardon, but whoring happens.
After all,
trends usually involve whoring.
Addictions include whoring...
I trust you get the picture.
Whoring, set aside from the duties of a prostitute,
is the means of excessive usage.
Clearly, that does not evoke freedom.

how is true freedom truly defined?.
Freedom is beyond words.
Freedom is way past flesh.
I quote Ecclesiastes,
"Even the breeze on the arm is vanity."
Yes, a bit ironic.
I am saying a word is beyond words.
It happens.

So, tell me,
help me...
it is our journey.
Well, we are in the same lifetime.
We owe it to ourselves and the future generations
if there must be any more.
How do we break free?

Saturday, September 26, 2009

The Carousel of Our Present-Day Lifetime.

One little lousy word.
Still, it is massive.
A massive little lousy word!

Time whisks away
the grainy alcohol in a cheaper-than-a-tin bottle
in the hand of desperation.
It goes fast,
yes, time.

The way I see it,
time has succeeded a fictitiously prosperous sense in our lives...
especially these days.
We succumb to the fleeting tick-tock
of the clock.

Each and every single day
there is a split-second
where the clock
meets our gawking eyes
after mindless hours stuck in a whirlwind of nothingness.

We have forgotten.
We have let life slip before our eyes.
Life or time,...
You might wonder.
I say life
time has consumed the marrow of life.

Time has crippled our sense of life.
After all,
what does one say
when one realizes the fleeting speed of a day
when it hit dusk.
"Oh, where did the time go?!"
But what about life?
Where did life of that day go!?

Recover your sense of time.
Recover the pace of your life.
Recover YOUR life,
or perhaps,
rediscover your life.

Saturday, September 12, 2009

Turbulence of the Mind

States of my mind come and go
quite just like
the seasons come and go.

Served by the illumination of a perfect summer day,
I easily thrive like a gecko
only on that day, anyway.

Fathomed by a grey autumn day,
I pause more often
to the stillness
of the bay.

Are my eyes playing tricks on me?
I ask the divine
as I stand stunned
on a pleasantly frigid winter day.
"How did winter get here so quickly?"
More Silence.

As fragrant blossoms arrive,
wonders begin to dance in my head,...
as they begin to find their places
in my head
and make me believe
they have settled.
Just about when they do,
they are softly but quickly blown into the gentleness
of the spring breeze.

In all four seasons
that take their turns
in a sweet year.

The mind can only follow the heart.
Silently I am reminded
of the vast course in life
I must take on.

Oh, how I must take it well.
Seasons of life,
whatever fruit that moves you.
Devour it to the core
with your mouth.
See what you are left with.
The marrow of such fruit
what you are left with.
When a season departs,
we are left with
the marrow
of the given atmosphere.

Oh, how we must go on.
The summer air gives to the fall breeze
the fall breeze begin to drop icicles...
the icicles transform into puddles
of hydration just for spring.

Oh, what it takes to just spring back,...
Oh, such states of the mind.

Friday, August 28, 2009


So, tell me...
who has not been robbed.
No, I am not talking about being mugged
at the ATM machine.

For the thousandth time,
being robbed in the monetary means
compared to being robbed
in a spiritual sense.

I will tell you this,...
if you will look at it this way...
a baby is robbed
of its natural state of "mind"
the very second
the baby is shown
one needs words to reciprocate in life.

Now, tell me,
what have YOU been robbed of?

"Intelligence is the inborn capacity to see,
to perceive.
Every child is born intelligent,
then made stupid by the society.
We educate him in stupidity,
and sooner or later
he graduates in stupidity."

Rain makes good medicine

May you see the rain
the way I see it.
Rain falls from the skies
like a healing dance.
When was the last time
you looked up in the skies
and let rain fall on your face?

Let a heart of sorrow,
or maybe,
a mind like a broken record
be the reason.
we just need the rain
to wash it all away.

Is it such a crime
to believe?
Is there a reason
for the heart
to feel such things?
Call the melodies of the heart
gifts from the divine.
what about the times
we need to heal?

Oh, the rain.
The rain washes it all away.
The rain comes in
swaying downward
doing a healing dance.
We just need
a little bit of rain
and time.

Let the rain wash it away,
whatever it is that you need gone.
Let the rain take it for you.
Breathe in the dance
the rain is doing for you.
One day
we shall see
why rain is so sacred.

Are you awake?

"Life does not consist mainly, or even largely, of facts and happenings. It consists mainly of the storm of thought that is forever flowing through one's head."
-Mark Twain

Monday, August 17, 2009

What do i remember after all that I've forgotten?

In the thickness of silence,
I find myself drowning in indescribable peace.
Slowly I recall...
how I often forget
to write of happiness.

Happiness melts in the mouth of truth.
Never there has been a clearer sign
of divine light in pleasure.
I only want to embrace
what I believe
I've been given.

Divinity is like a spectrum
of complex beauty in truth
blended in fine, fine sand.

There is an aroma about you.
As the air of your aroma settles on the ground
of my existence,
I only know it is simply a part
of my truth,
a truth in my journey.
Something about you inspire me.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009


How we need a bag of sunshine
even when it rains rainbows.
We just need sunshine
to survive.
Oh, just to survive!

If you will see,
we need a bag of sunshine.
When we stop and reflect,
we need sunshine to see.

To collect and receive,
The water's gotta be still.
Just still enough,...
as still as a dill.

Sunlight doesn't stop until
it reflects upon something.
Let it be...
a puddle of water,
a glistening body of lake,
a shimmering, vast sea.

To collect or receive,
the water's gotta be still,
just as still as a dill.

There is no denying that
we live not without
the sun
or the truth.

Go ahead,
look straight in the eye of the sun.
look straight in my eyes
tell me you know
everything there is to know.

Oh, to be in the groove,
I would suppose
we should sit down
and talk about the laws of nature.
Just like of Mama Earth's team,
we humans, too, need to follow the stream.

Gotta have sunshine in a bag.
So, when you need to reflect,
you can always let a bit of sunshine out.

Friday, August 7, 2009

Love or Lust

Is it really a choice?
Does love truly stand alone?
Is lust a mere form of wanderlust?

Is there not a question in life?
When answers seem to be in the cards,...
Say, a gust of wind blows the cards out of place.
What is one to do?
Fall back on your feet, right?
Even when one may not dance,
one still must sway to the given music...

You see,
doing something is not always doing something,
it is not always as it is.
Life is...

You tell me.
You make a decision.
Love or Lust.
I am not talking about going to bed with someone.
I am talking about making choices.
Love or Lust.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

...amore sciocco

I get by with a little bit of help.
Let it be,...
moments of truth,
amazing delicacies,
the warmth of sunshine,
the unmistakable smell of the bay,

every morning
I rise to,
every corner
I turn about,
every afternoon
I sail through,
every shell
I bend down for,
every dusk
I salute to,...
a soft angst lingers on.

I like to call it
some soft angst,...
zest for life.

After all,
wouldn't you say
is a flavor to savor.

Sunday, July 19, 2009




The only way to live is to love.

It just might drive you crazy.
At least, you will know the best kind of crazy.
Love well
you shall

Like perfecting a tree pose,
balancing your stance,
Taking a breath just deep enough
for the sake of standing still
in total peace with gentle strength.
Like of a tree pose,
balance is vital
in love and life.
May you be blessed with balance.

Thursday, July 9, 2009


-Oscar Wilde

You know,...
I have known a certain passerby
for as long as I can remember being an adult.
Maybe that doesn't make that one a passerby.
Still, I shall call that one a mere passerby.
Sometimes a passerby has a way
to one's heart.
Let it be a glance,
a smile,
the tip of a hat.
A passerby just does as one does.

That one works like the mystery of a mosaic.
Transparent yet muzzy...
Breakable but is not frail.
As hopeful as a dream,
yet, as fierce as a nightmare.

Years of lies masked with praises
and false glory may have left that one adamant
as a fire hydrant,
and then,
botched up that one's heart like a butcher
a carcass in a cold meat freezer
Still, there is a glimmer of beauty.
You know, the kind of beauty
you need to rub your eyes
in order to see.

Oh, yes,
stories to tell.
Stories to keep.
Stories to forget.
Stories to remember.
Some stories are gladly passed on
with pride like a torch of flame.
Some fade with the past
like a forgotten name.

Let this be a story
Of such a flame,
or perhaps,
A forgotten name

Tuesday, July 7, 2009


"Sometimes when you think you are waiting, you aren't waiting."

Every dawn the sun rises,
every night the sun sets.
Every dawn the sun greets,
every night the sun salutes.
Who ever is there?

The sun is always there,
coming and going...
always warming somewhere
with its luminous presence.

The question is
who remembers,
who realizes,
who embraces,
who looks up to greet and salute the sun.

We forget.
We slumber in our thoughts.
Life runs by us.
It is just easier to sink than to swim...
in consciousness.

Get it on.
The speed is on.
No one really knows it.
Do you get it?
It is going faster than we think.
We are always on the edge of the plank.

We are never waiting.

Monday, June 29, 2009

"There is light in the strangest place if you look at it right."

"Somewhere over the rainbow or not"

You never know what is around the corner.
May it be something you have been waiting all your life for.
Being the hidden optimist that I am,
who would not wish for that...
Being suddenly showered with something you always dreamt of.

Sometimes something happens
and it is nearly the farthest thing from the resounding echoes of your heart.
you never know what is around the corner.
I am not throwing you a curveball.
It is just how the ball rolls.
The ball of life, of course.

Like a blue moon,
how do you see blue in the moon?
There are so many shades of blue.
How would you begin to choose a shade of blue?
It lies in your head;
the shade of blue you see in the moon.
It is in your head.
Or better,
your heart.
To discover the shade of blue in your moon,
a journey within is in order.
Go within.
Dare to discover.

Monday, June 22, 2009

Hey Hey LilCuzzie! I'm the first follower! Yippee!!! Love your blog! Can't wait to read more!
xox Big Cuzzie

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Stepping in.

The most demanding part of living a lifetime as
an artist is the strict discipline of forcing oneself
to work along the nerve of one's own most
intimate sensitivity.
-Anne Truitt, sculptor.

"A Path's Tread"

How true.
From a very early age,
I felt a certain burn from the inside.
It always spoke to me
from the center of my torso
but never in clear words.

The burn was neither good or bad.
However, it did have a need to be fed.
Obtaining its nourishment through observance
by discovering and embracing the core
of the burn.

For a long time,
I did not quite get the burn,...
Why does it burn,
How did it happen,
What is it made of,
When did it start,
Who else has the burn?

Aha, time came.
I understood that I was an artist
discovering the ropes of life as an artist.
At last,
I dared enough
to embrace myself as an artist...
How beautiful,
how densely rich,
how amorally perspicacious,
I thought as I began to understand the burn.

Still, I do not know why it burns,...
or how it started.
Kindly remember, it is not good or bad.
If anything, it is more like a glow.
A glow without color,
but with immensity in unseen amenities.

Go ahead...
Tell me
What art is.
I want to know what you think.
I think...
it is like holding a floodlight
in the dark.
There is always something to discover
as the burn lingers,
as the glow deepens.