Just a note to my dear fellow folk.

This is not to systematize my blog,
but we all know this is a huge system
run on wires and unseen waves.
So,...
please kindly consider
everything on this page
Copyrighted...
They are after all copyrighted.

a refined grunt

Something about the night,

the falling daylight.

Of the calm moonlight

foregoing the brazen daylight.

The effortless topple of a leaf,

the unbudging roots of a tree.

Still, I'm pissed.

Pissed like the yellowest shade of piss.

Conscience on my back,

always keeping me in or from my place.

What is it about?

Truly, clues lay vastly scattered.

A fresh pot of sunshine,

the hydration of swirling rain.

Will that suffice?

Oh, it must.

A tale told through a window.

At this hour the moonlit ripples of the bay is telling its own story.

"I just heard some commotion," an emerald-eyed girl of about seven peered about her surroundings. She thought she heard something different. Only if she knew it was a beam straight from the heart of the universe that awoke her. Only the deepest well of her being could grant her such a recollection. Until a fleeting moment of such certainty takes place, she will wander like every one of us who smiles at the most precious feelings without knowing where they come from.

Lunch at the beach, only to be thrown a wildly flocking blanket of savagely starved seagulls, was cut stump-short like a severed bloody thumb. Not even a wink of sleep or a muster of thought came marching around. However, a warming contention prospered as a good lay in the sun took place. A little more than a prickle of digestive juice that must have belonged to a seagull came flying onto the calf and foot. A smile on the face paralleled an internal nod. So, the seagull knows something. After all, who could question the creatures of peak-high clouds. Like the well-draped leaves of a willow tree, the afternoon hour swayed and then toppled like a leaf out of a wide-open window.

The sun came to salute the day in heavenly perfect air and light. A few questions brewed into existence as the mysteriously surreal sunset of an early summer eve sank beyond the horizon. Something gently tapped on the inside, "Even that you receive many ordinary days with bits of magic, this is surely not an ordinary day." A sure embrace was unavoidable even that the exact melody remained unknown to the observer. Still, the daylight melted with a mesmerizing blend of red, orange, and rich coral.

A little chivalry compliments the litheness of cosmic encounters.

A block away after something like a momentous reunion, stood an ol' drinking trough under yellow yet grey lights and cows were rather asleep in a mobile sense. Having steered a few miles elsewhere, a glad clink of two bottles gave way to seats under the starry fog. After a while, science determined itself a part of magic somehow. The air had something like an uncanny yet a novel familiarity that could not help but reverberate what might have been beams of universal resonance. Sometimes the air between certain entities can make like a warm blanket of sweet morning dew wrapped in a rainbow. And that was only... moments but moons ago.

Living on Borrowed Time

Is it really the case?

Are we living on borrowed time?

Where does time go?

Does it just diminish in thin air?

Or wait,...

is it the total opposite?

Borrowed time

just might be

a fictitious approach to life.

After all,

life as we know it

is as temporary as

permanent it appears

to us.

Temporal measures

fall far from

the infinite measures

we receive in feelings.

So,

what could that say?

Something about self-discovery, perhaps...

it is like a labyrinth...

mazes,

levels,

shapes,

colors.

Open the vault

in the heart,..

maybe just then,

borrowed time would be no more.

Loose change for reality

My sight is angled diagonally upward.

Behind the figure of a man,

shines an utter contention

in the glare

of sunlight from high above my eyes.

The figure says with a smile

and a book in hand,

"Would this be a good place to read?"

The atmosphere feels so still

like it is a moment to let seep

deep

in the existence

I know as mine.

Questions in the form of answers.

A cobalt blue convertible car sat on the side of the road.

It was but a faraway lone road.

A vast savanna sprawled on the other side

of the road.

Lions and tigers grazed

on the bright yellow grounds

which resembled

the terrain of a desert mountain.

I only looked away for a second.

Before I knew it,

Tex was on the other side

appearing more like a moving dot

with an figure of a dog.

"Look over there",

I was alerted.

only to notice the lion whooshing Tex

high in the air like a tossed ball arching to its receiver.

With a crouched heart,

I watched Tex land right on the ground

next to a tiger.

Still, he was like a moving dot

with the figure of a dog.

"We have to let him go."

as I looked on at the oddly tranquil ruckus

as we watched from afar.

Countdown to bliss

Do I forget to sleep

or

Do I forget to rise?

I rise

for nothing

but

an illusory desire...

so it seems.

For all the desires

that color this world,

nothing remains solid.

If this finds you willing

for such an angle,

it's just a big, beautiful illusion.

Only when we discover the marrow

of this floating mediocrity

in our so-called reality,

comes a waltz of clarity.

Once we depart,

shall they impart.

Then we may understand.

I tell you,

my friend,

fear no more.

Maybe believing in dreams

can take us there now.

So, tell me, friend

what is the harm

in believing...

Believe your dreams

and

I mine.

It's just a matter of time

before they intertwine

and

that we live in universal magic.

Weary like a Log in the Fog

Smeared is my mind

in the name of fatigue.

Fatigue is like a rapist

in the broad daylight.

It robs you of your strength.

Still, something about fatigue

in the daylight,...

a speckle about fatigue,

something like a hint of untouchability.

It leaves you with a dreamy feeling.

who wouldn't want a dreamy feeling

all day long,

all day long,

and then, one can dream all night long.

Not bad a bargain, right.

Just until the first star

meets the falling sky

of the night,

comes the moonlight.

It can't be all so bad.

The waking hour will come,

like a new home.

It becomes,

one star invites others

and constellations form.

Before we know it,

we aren't tired anymore.