Flashback: October 5, 1998

anywhere
between desperation and
death
my heart stops at
shallow waters of a
bleak feeling of smallness
horror and tragedy:
the feeling of increasing
entropy.
i am suffocated
with it.
without it i am
clinged to nothingness--
a breath of something
larger than myself,
slightly.

Monday, October 27, 2008

this is where dreams are grown
and fall victim to history

persistent threads of memories
pictures
sounds
smells
--believe or not
they have the most impact--
trail one another

with whole armadas of new beginnings
on the horizon

yet catastrophes
bigger than ourselves
smash everything
under the sun
unto the harsh wall of
statistical variability

"most of the time
things just happen, you know"

listening to maddening
shrieks of random noise
as hopes transgress to become
nightmares

Sunday, September 28, 2008

an anger has been brewing inside
this head of mine

not my heart mind you

for i conceded long time ago
i do not own one

a rotten faustian deal:
pawned my heart
for a lightning short glimpse
of platonic dreams built out of
symbols and rules

a world which is
everything that is the case

plagued by godel's curse

condemned to roam
the desolate desert of the real
with eyes blinded by the dreams
i stole

a bard

i am my own prometheus
my own zeus

spewing random symbols
determined by some random rules

with an anger
born in a sacred spring

Monday, August 25, 2008

today
i sat on a park bench
looking at the Rhine
at dusk
listening to a tango
about obsession

grateful
for the inner peace i had
at the moment
caressing it carefully
however brief
it was

lasting as long as
the dusk

geographically
between my dying father
and my pregnant sister
between the woman i love
and the mother i abandoned
between my distant brother
and my best friend

sun has gone
before the song ended
and i got up
realizing the moment
has long escaped

i needed to get ready

traveling again
tomorrow

Sunday, August 10, 2008

the world is my oyster
and i drift from one part
of the world to another
leaving a piece of me behind
each time
friends
lovers
cats
memories
until nothing is left one day
to settle
somewhere i call home

Saturday, July 26, 2008

in this town of glorious cathedrals
houses of god
the beggars seem to be avoiding
his gaze by hiding below over-passes
as if they are ashamed
not wanting to "crap his style"

and on the other corner
was a puppet master displaying his craft
to a mesmerized audience

the irony...

i kept on walking

Flashback: January 10, 1998

when ancient times gave birth to
philo-sophers
there were only stars to witness

now that we all are
misanthropic spectators
we all behold
everyday
the despair of
the deteriorated and insentient
human condition
in glorified happy masks
without even stirring a nerve

and nothing perforates through
our skins anymore

is it because
nothing left under to be penetrated
or because
we bargained our souls for
everything that perishes before ourselves
as a vengeance, a retribution
of being mortal?