Poetry

SECRET KEYS
Hey child, roses are blooming
are you sure you locked
you're secret garden?

A white crow might
peck at Colin's window
he opens it
legs wavering
make sure the secret entrance
will be known just in time

Camilla smells the jasmine
bloom at night
She thinks of what has come to pass
memories, streaming
down from the heavens
innocence smell like
thorny roses

She was the one
who left the key
in the lock.

 

UNTITLED No. 3
So you say that with me
                   It's like
   we're in a world
        where things can be seen
           can be touched
         can be smelled
       even heard
    but we are never there
        it is real
          for it is there
            but then it's not real
        like Beever's pavement.

So you say
    that with me you
      per aspera ad astra.
 
So I get back
      by saying that you
            who ran off
       with the bitch
like the one inside Velasquez's frame
     who lives in her own world
          of a fucking make believe
is that you
        are nothing but a mere sad pathetic puppet
     to someone worth nothing
        not even valuable as dirt.
     She who
           makes you happy
               because you make her feel like
     a Vogue model
              but she is no Gaultier's doll
    but a re-dressed
           sadly fixed
                 in some cheapo  place
                   the same place
                        they rip angels off their homes.
And you
        you who live in a desert
              sees an oasis
                 with camels but the water is black
            blacker than your mind
                 nothing
n o t h i n g   but a mirage
    yes, you are a mirage
      a sad little fool
            but also a sad little reflection.

I was a fool
   oh yes I was a fool
     to think that you are not like a pavement of Beever's.
Just because you are a dancing tree
       who answers questions
             and quotes Gandhi
                  and Shakespeare
    like you guys were close.

Now I'm not a fool
     at least a fool like I was before.
I don't mind
       no not at all
    You and you're little doll
          is as good as two little perverse siamese twins.
        I just hope that
      you won't say
        that indeed
              she is one plastic doll.

THOSE SMILES
  An astronaut
looks down on earth
  over the pacific
and saw a green, mottled
  brownish, disheveled dog.
That was no pearl.
And that was certainly no Orient.
The astronaut saw
Two golden arches dotting the ground
A green mermaid in an orb
A bee without a stinger
People always smiling
But with guns hidden in their cars
Just in case you cut them in the road
And the astronaut heard
  a loud BANG! BANG!
People still smiling,
Joking,
   In happy noontime shows
     In sad t.v. shows
They nudge, and then they nod
and then they smile
that evil smile
   that evil smile
     that is kind of grinning
b u t  n ooooo t grinning
  but is just a smile
that is not a smile.

  The astronaut zooms his lens.
and realizes that in the Orient
which is really not an Orient
  because there really is no Orient
   that the so called pearl
was a dog
  which is worse than a dog
    which is a mottled dog.
Robbed of his/her/it beauty.
  By the same smiling people
   who smiles that smile
     that is not a smile.
The astronaut saw his kind
mingling with the people
who smiles that smile.
He saw that they were given
Apollo's leaves
   and a golden orb.
The astronaut also saw
   That Attila The Hun's bastards
And so does Yuan Mei's
  Have infested
   the people
     who smiles that smile
  that is not a smile.
And yet the people who smilesthatsmilethatisnotasmile
is entirely happy about it
   they think that they are the new epitome of the people
whosmilesthatsmilethatisnotasmile
and so the mottled dog
is not pearl
and certainly not in the Orient
   but a mottledmottled dog.

Then the astronaut taught
What will Maguayen say?
What will happen
  to that dog
   born out of fiction
that dog
   which is worse than a dog
withpeople whosmilesthatsmilethatisnotasmile
lost in a blur
   in a whirlwind
      in a blur
           in a whirlwind
inablurinawhirlwindinablurinawhirlwindin abludehteihognjwnbfetuhwobfkjfdddddwhrwb fiosufhwo

Then the astronaut said
  they are inventing
          that dog which is more than worse than a dog
  a worse than a dog, a worse than a blind dog
   sniffing
       sniffing, smelling, searching
   for a scent
      that will lead him/her/it to the pound
so those people
whosmilesthatsmilethatisnotasmile
    can make a real smile
      that is a real smile
    and not a grin
  but a real smile
  and the dog
will not be a dog
but another astronaut.


A LETTER FOR WILLIAM
We passed by
train station to train station
hoping that we will reach
our farthest destination.
Two train stations in the east.
Then three in the North.
Then we both went down
on the last one.

And now I am
in another train station
hoping that I will meet
you in the next stop.
But you are back
to the station
where we started from.
And you can't go
to where I am now.

CASSANDRA
Cassandra saw
  paper ballerinas
      hanging in the sky
         they cling
      in ropes
    made of silver twine
  that sparkles
     like moonlight in mud.
    But these ballerinas
       are not wearing
          pink tutus.
    These paper ballerinas
         do not dance with the wind
    but with the sunlight.

              Cassandra, closed her eyes.
                        And she woke up.
                             Things are not
                          going to be
                        what they're
               supposed to be.

Cassandra saw
a hummingbird and Thumbelina
     standing
        on a blooming red hibiscus.
      The flower bloomed to its prime.
   So the Hummingbird smelled
       the sweet nectar
           dove in the middle
        cutting through Thumbelina's
            body, ripped in shreds.
    Her blood, mingled with the
           sweet nectar
                and the hummingbird
                     flew away
                         to find more Thumbelinas
                                 more sweet nectar
                        mingled with blood.

         Cassandra, closed her eyes.
                        And she woke up.
                             Things are not
                          going to be
                        what they're
               supposed to be.
                
Cassandra saw
      a mountain afire.
          The Hydra
             The Grendel
                  Arachne
                     and a giant squid.
            Then she heard
                  a sweet sound
               that lulled her to dream.

                    Cassandra, opened her eyes.
                            But she did not wake up.

NIGHT SKY
Dusk.
Cornflower over blackish blue.
    Strike a fan brush.
Gradient-like.
Spread blackish blue all over.
Slowly sprinkle little diamonds.
Light flickering, faint yet bright.
On the north,
Etoile Polaire.
   It's place never changes.
Stare
         Stare harder
                   Stare.
   Diamonds become one glow of heavenly light.
            Go on.
                 And on.
         Now
                 Look back.
  Look back.
Go back to being the painter.
Toes on the damp soil
  Covered with night moist.
There's no more Heavenly light.
Only diamonds.
Stare.
  And they're like lights from a far shore.
Stare harder.
  And they're like a crowd in Woodstock.
See the face of Luna
  The orb who caught the Rabbit.
       Surreal.
A bauble in the shimmering black veil.
Not at all black.
But a blackish blue.

Half A Moment Comes To Pass
The fleeting moment passed by
as quickly as moonshine does
There has been enough wreckage
for a scavenger to find
a road strewn with serpents
dead, but eyes staring
at a secret gateway
that only the Medusa sees.

There will be no such moment again
for time is composed of a million,
billion, uncountable moments.
Moment in a moment in a moment.
An infinite number with no definite
purpose, of which all of life is based.

A moment will never be repeated.
So much as one might wish.
It will be like a photograph.
As it ages, it will be more valueable.
But the photograph fades.
The smiling faces whose names are forgotten
But the time they lived
will forever live on
until the same exact moment
comes again

The Day All I Saw Is Grey
One monday night
I woke up
    and
      looked out the window
    and saw the devil playing the guitar
a sad slow serenade
    to lull me back to sleep.

Finally the sun is out
    and I saw the angel waking up
      to get me out of bed
          and carry me back to hell
  in his arms.

Afternoon came then dusk
   and I drive
          in my sleek black car
  which I named Gabriel
       and I met up with Dionysus
    in a bend in the road
   hand in hand we walked
       to the end of the rainbow.

    Then the angel came back
and I also saw the devil
      Together they fought Dionysus
   The devil with his trident
    The angel with his spear
  but Dionysus went undefeated
the angel and the devil
    their heads bowed
         went back to where they came from.
And I then all I saw is grey.
 
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