sexta-feira, 30 de outubro de 2009


God of my fathers, God of my seeds,
Grant me Light.

Giver of All. Life. Guide. On High.
Give me Insight
Beacon to the depths of the Abyss
In Me.

God Greater than the Galls
and Gulfs,
God filling in the Gaps between
Heaven and Earth.

God Good
Governor God
of Virtue and Evil,

When shall I see?

One wishes togetherness with You All
You All Venerable Elohim on High.

All in one.
One in all.


My Fate is proclaimed in Freedom
From Beginning to End.

You win

Fight me for a word,
and lose me completely.
Throw your darts at the
Bull's eye of your argument
To miss me fully.

Incensed I feel, vapoured
and steamed, finite,
and still bound, still captive
in my room,
not willing to step out, yet

Again, cold winds for a hand;
Clouds and myst for a kiss;
The hand offered a hissing fist,
Ready for a finishing rant.

Thus I retreat and fall back
To a silent corner where
I might harden myself
And brandish my armour
and Coat of Arms
Clad in the purest Ice.

Muscovite Dogs

Strangely large and human looking
Are the mongrels and mutts wandering
Aimlessly down Gogolevski Boulevard.

For in their stride lies a pride
and defiance, as if suddenly a
Feline turned fiercely dog-like.
They smell ahead, ready for a kill.

For in their abandonment there is
the solace of lordship,
over their exquisite manes
over the mud and the frost
over the tracks fresh and long gone.

Revolutionary and bohemian
barks & licks & night watches;
Once friends, now patient observers
of Those Who Work Like Men.

Diabetic Rose

One white rose
(lies in a glass,)
Given as a mute
Token of meaning,
Words crystalised actions
Actions concrete feeling
(not glass lies).

From supreme
She sprang before my eyes.
From sweet blissful
She unfolded the narcotic
Scent of Life.

Standing alone passively
Day in, night out
I bloom and she withers;
She talks and I fall silent
As someone beholding a mirror.

Like myself, cut off from its roots;
Like myself, sucking desperately
Sugared water;
Like myself, maimed and crippled,
Blossoming bursting petals
In a slow drift into Existence.

domingo, 4 de outubro de 2009

Man of the future

The way ahead is spelled backwards
And in order to get to the end
I have at last reached my beginnings.

Name at least one way to tame
the upsurges of tiresome suns,
All of them in my control, though
the uncontrollable in me is the same.

Endless flow of answers fleeting fiercely
stuck in this still pond of the mind,
Cathedrals and skyscrapers in sight, towering high
Up where I am supposed to belong,
still so low, still a crow

croaking the never-ending cycle of life
which i observant go past and beyond
shedding my blood for marble and gold
till the process is complete and I am loaded

to the database of essence.