Access the project: Quieter than Silence
lying on the grass
the flower is
the velvet sky
shifts his weight
I see this guy at work, who often comes to shop, his upper body is jacked up, like he didn’t know when to stop working out however, his lower body, he completely never realized needed physical training in equal measure. The abnormal looking frame is probably what caught my attention in the first place. He has brown hair, about 6 feet, wide shoulders, very narrow (girly) waist, and no-butt attached to chicken legs. It’s appalling because if I was a guy, and I looked like that, I would hope someone would be nice enough to point out how wacky I looked. Working out is an art and a science, and simply grabbing a couple of dumbbells and doing pushups without exercising all parts of your body can make the outcome real interesting. Anyway, he looks like a surfer dude gone wrong. The confident stride with which he sashays in validates the self-ignorance of his personal irregular physical dimensions.
Moving on from this vain moron, there is another guy, I call it that often visits the store. He alternates the wigs he chooses to wear, two days ago, he had a red curly wig on, which matched the dog that was accompanying IT. He must be about 50+ in age, but wears an interesting choice of summer dresses. A couple of weeks ago, two female associates complained that it was in the women’s restroom shaving it’s legs. I could not of course, force it to leave the restroom, considering s/he was wearing a dress and had long hair, but at the same time, I thought how unhygienic to perform personal cleaning practices at such a public place.
After consulting my HR colleague, I realized we could not remove him from the restroom by law, so we let him finish getting ready with his little poodle and get on with his day.
As much as I am constantly aware of human bodily aesthetics and admire the human form, this one time I wish I had not mistakenly glanced at it while he crossed the street outside our store, wearing booty shorts, because it did NOT have a booty and the shorts lay flat on it’s hips causing me to panic and look away in case I would get a flash-view of it’s testicles, forgive me, but some images one cannot un-see, ever. And I did look away when I realized quickly who it was, gaining a quick side-view of the person in reference.
I am reading an interesting book, well several to be exact. I just cannot choose which one to read some evenings, they’re all interesting. This particular one, was a gift from a friend, that I haphazardly met, after years of ‘writer-friendship’ (sounds lame, but I can’t describe it any other way), the book is called, “the gift of kinds: the good in abundance” by Stephen David Ross. A must read if you are past reading bullshit fiction, fake self-aggrandizing non-fiction, and too woke some days to engage in poetry, then my friend, please lay your sweet hands on this treat.
Speaking of treats, my parents just returned from India and brought me an Indian treat! Count calories as I do, I often skip meals to indulge in sweet savories 🙂
We arrive so often
In this place:
Circling like vultures upon their prey,
We have stood still and departed
Thinking of evils to come, mourning the ones that have passed
Sublimating our conscience,
We have committed crimes
Attempting the masquerade of life
In this race toward the end.
Perhaps we are not meant to understand
What is to love
Until we lose,
The ocean drifts aimlessly
Like a gypsy who has no need
To recall where she has been,
Waves surface and recede
The night air caresses my hair
Parting them from the shoulder blade,
There is a reminiscence of your breath
That greets my skin
A nostalgic arrival –
Between a hitched breath
The diaspora of a slant descent
Flight of sea gulls
Circling over our love scent.
in your eyes
*(from Introduction au Discours sur le peu de réalité by Andre Breton)
[through the woods we came
the winds of fortune
holding on to the sails
the birds were dancing]
my name is made up of
but i have not learned it yet
he calls me princess
but i am a queen
c’est mais mon cherie
……si tu savais…
Perhaps we should single her out
she has a way with words
If she would only talk,
Now carry her heart in a velvet box
Sprinkle petals of roses on her scars.
She will dance for you into an art,
Mix a cup of sunshine, two spoonfuls of starlight,
A pinch of daisy, and cajole those ears,
Shall I count to ten, begin one with a kiss
On her palm, and two on a shoulder,
Three would cover the slope of the neck,
While four miladies
We won’t tell,
Five onto the dust speckled dots
Six like a charging bull
On a red mark,
Seven if you lean in
And whisper softly
Eight may be the deal maker
Nine inchin forward
Ten hold her close
And never part.
At night when everything and everyone is still and quiet I can hear my heart beating in my chest. It is the most beautiful sound in the world.
sometimes happiness comes from the most irrational things…or situations..and life takes me by surprise.
I can love you without resorting to
the corny cliches of
or clinging to your manly strength,
I can close my eyes
in your night
while you deconstruct the stars,
to contemplate upon this
such a love that is not loving
but holds me close
to your heart.
the endlessness of humanity
her outstretched hands calling;
the voice of want, love, and wretched sorrow
forever diabolical and draped in naïveté
such is the plight of her dispossession
but my heart is in your palm
like the yogi in a state of ascension,
the tremors of a disturbed heart
that lies awake when sleeping
in whose terror does it seek freedom
this endlessness of existence
when it cannot fathom the color of this season
such is the music of this hour
wayward and lost like a beautiful poem,
for words are not what they mean to be
the intent arises from a deeper need
like that of hunger when the body pleads
its strength to decipher a logic of an ever gnawing
cry, behold her consummation – the hour of love
when the lover and the beloved unites.
Hungry for more that never came
The whisper, rustle and wild wave,
I built a house of sand in my name
Decided to play this shallow game,
Leper of my estate
A cripple of several dictates
I was chained to what was preordained,
East is my harbor
West the giver
Silent the crowd
Where is my river?
If it was words that made love
I would be the proud owner of
A rich beautiful ancestry
If it was silence that engulfed
Your body in this warmth of my heart
Singing a chorus of its dreams,
Life like my pages
Tumble over weed and grass
Like wind recreates moon in the waters,
Stir ants despondent into stages of
If the sky changed colors
And waltzed with the branches
And Homer awoke from
Long arduous sleep blinking heard his
The antonym of Buddha’s dogma
Would expostulate joy = positive life.
When frustration would compel
A frizzy head of over-dense hair
Hands rove the planet and fight the rooted
Sense of logic
Preserve reason with fragile care,
If I was a pen
And smeared the white sheet
Drew Words, began my life
From A for Am, B for Being,
If life were ink.
Each heart would bear
my finger print.
It takes a while for them to understand
Time, patience, love, stronghold
It takes more than space to sink
Depth – my soul and heart shall not
Be out of link.
This quilt I weave
Threads of hope
And the dew sings,
“I will make love to the rose,”
It will take a while before they learn
How to be,
Why I talk
As I do.
I made them proud
Shattered and confused
I defined their existence,
Living beyond the walls
Of man-made boundaries
I broke those chains
Which enslaved our dreams,
How far were we thrown?
Storm’s unending destruction
Flooding an identity incomplete
Stone awaiting sculptural sheen,
I gave them life
An eye’s prophesized sight,
A broken branch from orphan tree
I found my soil and planted ‘me’.
Maybe I wasn’t street-smart
funny or wise,
Maybe life was a little bitter
when I opened my eyes,
Never could justify
how I lost myself
before I could find
A purpose to sanctify
the other ‘me’
that I could’ve been,
Who is her?
Who is me?
The past and the future
hang on each side
of this terrible reality
And the night breathes a mystery
something in between the notions
of a possibility
I am just what I might appear to be
magic, silence and secrecy.
He clings to me like a vapor
of mist never letting go,
His love is falling rain
drenching my soul.
The sweetest treasure I unearthed
Clasping the warmth of his body
I live in his touch,
He thirsts for it
without knowing why
The night ends quickly
when stars disappear in the sky,
He craves me with deepening insanity
The where and why incoherency
Groping for heights we reached
In the mountain where clouds touched the trees.
Green leaves bow to his majesty
The ground he trod where stones sing
Calm prevails the sweet serene
The woods wake up, it is spring.
slowly it sinks deep
this thought, a moment
when truth itself unveils
the unbearable ache of grasping
and you find the grass not
so insignificant or small
the little bugs seem suddenly
important, a part of the whole
as if in a breath of a second
in the abdomen of time
life suddenly opened a window
and showed you a strange sight
you whispered, ‘unbelievable’
it was a divine sign.
you used to think in terms of
black and white,
too many colors confuse
reduce our power of making a choice
but I was a rainbow personified,
we could never be,
unless for the evening
between the day and night
covered under the mantle of
should you choose to
give up your sight for my vision
my heart for your reason,
there might just be a chance
for love in every season.
Know it is the fires raging
whirling us away
This is our dance
your kiss and my receptivity
the touch and spontaneity,
and my heartbeat racing,
fragrant dreams emanating
know the hour is conceiving,
The ache of devouring
my root of longing,
Dazed I trace imprints of your gaze
wild travels on my geography
counting the miles one, two, three…
They do not believe in hope
but in a picture of its calamity
outside the where and why
I exist in a womb of possibility,
Know it is alchemy
the fire work and the rainbow
and everything you and I know
that reveals serendipity.
I am the nobody you love
Faceless without body
I live in the ether you do not know
You claim to have seen my soul
But I am the mere dust
That encompasses the stone.
When I am not –
Like a flame from the fires of havoc
I create amidst chaos
Drowning in passions
Consuming the desire
You speak not to me
But to your heart
That has whispered its secrets
To the silence of the night.
The stillness amidst time
A caress undefined
That breeds hope
In hearts cold.
I am the kindness
That beauty defines
Whereby the river gently sings
An apparition of life
As the mist is to the rose
And I to your eyes.
There were many and I could not count
The traces left behind,
A cloud of smoke ring circling what
I did not give a name to,
Unattended in the solitary gesture of a
Fountain erupting colors of a rainbow,
Why was it hidden all these years?
The day light, evening and night
So soon behind veils disappeared,
And between thoughts of two extremes
The valley of light and the terror of unknowing
I began to understand this state of groping,
There were things
I could not perceive
Spiral like a shaded mystery somewhere
In the corners of my unconscious dreaming
Where I awoke to find
Your presence in me.
Sometimes there is no music between our hearts,
Sad silences stretch their broken wings.
My song does not soar because the sky is dark
You seek me like an enchanting discovery
your captured territory
And envelope me like clouds embrace
I disappear unheard
haunting my own past
Where the sun seems to forever rest
In Peace (R.I.P.)
shall we put out our obituaries?
memories. What shall I do with you?
Amputate this bondage
A glimpse of foreign wonder
images that lie outside:
real World, man-made earth – a stupid spasm
each of us subsiding
in a flux of contradictory art.
They cannot figure me out
A riddle, I am a meshed collage
Of the several human versions
Existing on this earthly platform
My stubborn feet walk.
They cannot find me when I talk
Or safely anchor my heart
I am a blown away leaf
Framed like a wayward star
In dreams that awaken you with a start.
Verses introduce my heart
And poems leave their mark,
I never speak aloud but wonder
Why silence is a peace treaty
All war-torn refugees sought?
Neither does an embrace contain
My liquid soul leaking its essence
Devoid of the togetherness it must sow
My mind often lets me go
Drift where there is no more to know.
Will making this journey count?
When distances grow lesser
And years fewer
Can the memory remain forever?
Elapsed moments of ruptured hopes
Because fingers counted those stars
Earth’s sky that night had assembled
But no more – the sun has ascended!
I salute this creator:
The womb where dawns all creation
Me – You and Plant
Destiny prophesied: premeditated,
Would eternity suffice?
For hungry souls like yours and mine
I doubt this feigned suspicion
I whose will the grass applauded.
These hours multiply into days
And weeks that change the face
Of time as we deem it to be
A sacrament of purpose
The ordained task of becoming,
Of going back into the nothing
Reversing thought unto its root
The very first act of conceiving
That led to this giant oak
It’s the rhythm in the easy flow
Gradually sustaining hope
And all that its colors show
Underneath our shells
The words we utter
Assailing the ancient shores
Our waves unending
My heart on my fingers counting
The miles I trod betwixt the roads.
A silence you may fall into
The cherished depths of love;
A reservoir of hope where none questions
The why and how of giving up,
I will be a strength that retains
The power to comprehend touch
You may disclose your secrets
That have made you roam this earth,
Existence is a leaf that falls only once
Betraying eternity and deriding our trust,
We sway to its music
While it takes away all that we earned.
I would like to thank Chuck (aka Doctori Sadisco) for gifting me a signed copy of his wonderful book, and even though I had not had enough time to sit down and read deeply the work he had shared over a month ago, here I am turning pages and reading into Doctori’s subtle messages conveyed in verse. I read his words at a perfect time in my life when I am in need of a fresh perspective, some hope, and a better vision of who we are as people. What Chuck manages to do is follow his inner voice, the mysterious images and meanings birthed from lyrical words, you not only enjoy the music in the poem but also the message. How rare is that? Most of us get lost in trying to create the perfect poem, so we either destroy the music by rigid structures or lose the meaning and deliver an empty sentence that is just structurally perfect.
I found the following words speaking to me directly:
“To remain in the days
Which gifted you with love
The angry days must pass
And the futile days and
The frail ones bent and broken
Full of sorrow and remorse
Not because your soul has wings
But for the rising flame of that love
Which took you from womb and carried you
Day after long day you woke
To the world and took your first step
So now take the next step
Deeper into love where your salvation
Isn’t with a God but is inside your own heart”
(p. 27, Sonnet XXVII, No Fear – Doctori Sadisco)
What a valuable gift these words are, priceless and to be cherished and read in times of darkness and need. Thank you, Doc.
Don’t hesitate to get a copy of No Fear and enjoy these wonderful sonnets!
I am excited to announce that my poem ‘If sleep was a bird’ was published in Zaum Magazine from Sonoma State University. I would like to thank Amber Nelson (poetry editor at Zaum) who initially announced they were accepting submissions. The judges carried out a blind review and I was excited to get an acceptance email from them! : )