Our Cold Nights

A cold wind blows from
empty lakes, as green and
red lanterns flicker, slow to dance
an the awaited Eve; yes, it is cold.
Cold - on meadows and valleys
pregnant memories, as

tall, darkly draped on the
of silent (and if we could still call them as such).
The raging waters of our collective
excuses for expediency and mentality,
the darkness wailing on far-away blooded hills,
were forcibly weaved within the rhymes our
children's songs.

The wind is cold,
particular month, but who
knows if we will soon
hang silent bamboo lanterns
igloos inside our vaults;
as our shadows are standing
tall and long in front of the thick road.
The cold wind whispers:


this Eve only shines to all
clasp hand towards the bent night,
while the green, red
lanterns still flicker on
our cold night.

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I Got Wet Under the Rain

the rain walks quick from the horizon
miles away over the sleeping hills,
unexpecting its sudden mourning and
crying over my blue face, until i am
all wet, all drowned, all crying.

i tried to wipe all tears with my
white soaked shirt, and it only
added to the hurt - made my
face and eyes all red and wet.

over the horizon i saw the
shimmers of the peering bading sun,
and the mourning of the heavy
sky stopped all sudden;
but my face, my eyes, my shirt
and my all of me were still
soaked in the cold of rain's
afternoon mourning.

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The Silence of Truth

The dust has not yet settled
Off, from the rubles of
Darkness that has fallen from
The eternal sky.

Silence. Hush of truth is
Grappled by the noise of
The shallow conscience of apparent
Arrogance.

Hush. Silence of truth extolled
The greatness proven by no words– embraced
By many, but belied by a few who
Played in the scheming of the just.

The dust has finally settled and
rubles has befallen only on
Those who dared to build the ivory
Tower with playing cards and barefaced lies.

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Rain Shower

I walk under the rain
bare,
naked.


Imagine

each rain drop
is a sword.

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Frogs shade on
Wide swords of pond;
Waiting for the rainfall.

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Totem

Ivory totem of biblical promise glistening,
mortal scepter of Adam from
this paradise’s sadness.

Totem of ivory white; white
breasts with perfect nipples red,
they displayed her inside Plato’s
ancient cavern.

Bathe her a half-naked slave on the
river of “his” story, circling
circle of immaculate tyranny!

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Yellow Flower

Slow, majestic moving
so vivid, I woke up earth seeing,
a woman’s honey-sweet
yellow flowering.

Her fresh flower of yellow,
moistened with dew and rain,
after a whole night’s kisses with
her lover-moon.

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Merriment of Sam

merrily, merrily,
Sam
went up the
lofty tree,

to his
merriment,
on earth,
he
left his
purpled feet!

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Pinked Eyes

Cottoned pink,
her dress embroidered,
tightly, Oh so tightly
over her milked sultry flesh.

Obviously she loved pink!
Oh yes, pinkish she does…

For my eyes, angelic eyes
pinkly turned to be,
though undressed, already
she was!

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The Farmer

I’m a lowly peasant bathe in sun,
combing the sweet earth of my father Adam.

Come and see, and feel, and taste this land,
from the sweat of my brows I become

man-divine!

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Apples and Oranges

I showed you red
and also, did you.

Apples red sweet
I offered you,

and also you did
offered red apples to me.

You whispered: These are not
tastier if only seen.

So you ate the apples
of juicy red I gave thee,

and so, did I. Ate the
juicy red flesh from you.

Then it’s you I told sweetly:
Indeed, apples were the sweet
juicy red you gave me.

But to me you screamed: No, they’re oranges!

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Bells and Coconuts

(For Jose Garcia Villa)


He loves ripe coconuts
Unfortunately, I do not

It’s bells of gold I hold
And play and adore.

Yet, love pure, true, divine
Make coconuts and bells only one.

Ah, we both love
Ripe bells and golden coconuts!

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Wooden table cradling,
Lamp in time flickering;
Fireflies dance with fire!

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Mixed in reddish earth,
Tragedy trying to sleep itself;
Always exhumed from its
forced slumber,
Every time a pointed iron combs,
Forefathers' wearied face of land

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Drops of rain over
Rice field of clay,
Bathing man’s sacred
nakedness.

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