On the wage of Art and Price of Youth

There is a romantic mark
In our hearts of sinking days
That sad similitude of being awake
While we dwindle our life’s wage away

Exhausted by nature, loved by none
We must dream up magic
From suffering’s destiny
And find fond bliss in monotony

And balmy incense to reveal
The melodies beneath the toil
And the smiles that do not turn away in vain
I to these restless symbols purge

The love that got away of destiny
Where free-will was a measure
Of our intelligence and motivation
That were the hours of our youth

Whose vulgarity of error was nothing more
Than the brief centre of an aching heart
There is a romantic streak
That burns our nights to the ground

Some call it art, others sacrifice
I must press on in solemn epiphanies
That break the butterfly wings of time
For all the ache is nothing more
Than mere beauty in experiment.

Living Life as you

Salt In the Wounds of the Earth

Salt In the Wounds of the Earth

Eun Ji, the rain is coming down
Like the mirror’s play of cloud-flow
Not too different like time
We cannot force our way
Sometimes the path must invite us

To feel a salty waltz of breeze
And surrender to what must be
While our hearts remain private

In the abode of crows and lovers
Who leave us, while we must
Find freedom against the four sides
Of the world, I will wait
While the two Suns

Of my Soul and Spirit cool
O’ save me, that I have been executed
For my deliverance unto eccentricity

The hotter sun will be frozen first
While this Earth raises her temperature
Many a state will go without water
And I will be not quenched by mortality
Nor the little words that the galaxy

Echoes in our voice, so sublime
What famines I have known
And such spiritual ambiguity

I have traced in what I write
The living trunk of fear and procrastination
So much of the human condition
That is fresh, unearthed, with roots
That craves more life than one mere star.

Quality of Living

Quality of Living

There is divine earnest in mood
That drives me with madness
To divinest sense that earns
Inspiration and majority intuition
The survey of my own many hearts
That can prevail over custom
Handled dangerously, combat habit
And in this, I am fortunate
Gifted with the jousting of many moods
The inner multitudes revolt
And I know, I am no single self
These myths we portray, my brain
Is a cosmic event that can never come again
So there is glory in a discerning eye
That is not attached to self
But revels in the experience
Like a baby boomer waiting to retire
To become an entrepreneur
Or pioneer a new way of aging.

Legacies of our stars

Legacies of our stars

It’s the Spring, it knows what we are
But knows not what we may be
And everything is possibility
Beneath these stars, this world stage

What part shall we play
In these seasons four, whom we love
But trust a few, doing wrong to none
There is a tide in us that flows

From love to love to legacy
It’s what we do that finally counts
The actions for which a life was made
And words have a foolish wit

For believing themselves acts, they make us witty fools
No legacy is so rich as honesty
Hell is an empty place, with all the devils here
Listen to all, speak your heart to a few
It’s the Spring, it’s time to show another face.

More About the Meaning of Life

At First, I raged for Freedom

Let us go then, you and I,
Into the evening spread across skies
Multitudes of simultaneous cries

Consciousness reborn
How many billion souls?
Does it take to make up a galaxy?
Like a work of art

We’ll never know
Well come and go, live and die
Into the room where women give birth

Where lovers visit, to serve evolution
The questions never answered
Of a million indecisive moments…

In a lifetime, that passes
As quickly as the predictable
Trail of thoughts, analytics of choice

Let us go then, you and I,
To be the only person
We could have been

The toast and the tea
The smiles and the tears
Do I dare, to dare, to be?

Into the thongs, singular yet identical
Unique and totally related
Human and trapped
In probability, function, duty, environment
Conditioned to be a certain way.

Pictured, https://www.facebook.com/ChloeBennet, Chloe Bennet (“Skye”).

(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chloe_Bennet)

Of No Importance

Of No Importance

Of no importance are the heartbreaks
Heartbroken we went on
A little tougher, maybe even meaner

Into the world to get our
Critical goals and face emergencies
To bring our fire

Out into the open
To mediate and exercise
And make love with a difference
To work and obsessively achieve
Of no importance are the failures

We failed and moved on
A little more determined, maybe maniacal
Into the world exposed
With greater serotonin intake
Better abilities to manage dopamine

Testosterone yeah, it was all possible
Because there is a will, and we learned
People don’t always help, they

Can even hinder so remember that
It’s all normal to shrug it off
Because one day it will just be
Of no importance anymore.

Units of Identity

Units of Identity

Everyone is more or less
A translation of who they used to be
That being said, don’t get so

Settled in your own skin
Better to try new things
Find new people, mingle a little?
Everyone gets simpler as they
Ease into their own skin

It may take a few decades
Uphill and then downhill
So they say, so let go a little

Everyone is more or less
A poor translation of who
They wanted to be and resigned
With serendipity, they find
They can accept more than they once

Might have tolerated, it’s called
Life as a compromise, it’s the
Human journey, so we finally

Learn not to measure, judge, label
Inner peace is more valuable
Than analysis you might say.

Like a prayer

Like a prayer

It’s an unfortunate coincidence
That we end up with nothing
The moment we die

Only a last thought

A waking memory
On the border of this and that
Neither here or there

Shivering, anxious
In a cold sweat at the start
Of the greatest of endings

And there, in a note
Of the purest surrender
We find ourselves buried

Time flying into the future
Where we possess our
Spiritual necessity

It’s our naked privilege
Then, to be ourselves
Knowing, we are on
Our way to becoming
More ourselves every day

Every lifetime, it’s inevitable
And like, an aglorithm
Of soul training itself
On the Big Data of
A thousand lifetimes.

For National Poetry Month – More

More

It’s safe to say that
We are dead
Safe and dead in the cold night

Warm for the rest of our lives
In bodies of spirit
In minds of calm

Here dead lie we for
Free-will attempts the impossible!
To live and feel shame
Is a natural thing, to not
Have perhaps achieved our dreams?

Did we not choose to love
The little that we could indeed?
But young men think the world is theirs
And young women have something
Up their sleeve, and I hope

I hope they are right
For a time, until it is not their time
It’s safe to say that

We will all die
If only for a holy nothing to lose
There is nothing to lose

So risk your heart out
Until you have no courage
Until you’re all numb
It takes courage to push
Yourself to new places

And there are always new places
To break through barriers for
It’s safe to say we all

Pushed for some kind of future
Something always out of reach
Poetry on the tip of our tongue.

Composing Poems

Composing Poems

Now, we take the sun
Into the center of hearts
With bright alien eyes
We are not surprised
Life on Earth prepared us

For all possibilities
We take the moon into
Our amygdala of imaginary
Anxiety, and we let go
With the seasons of the cycles

We were given in freedom
However a conditioned brain
Might find freedom in
Urban slavery, in service to
A corporate elite, we had

Plenty of luck for love and leaves
Leaves that drank red in Autumn
And had green buds in Spring
We cannot be too careful
At the risk of not living

We cannot grasp infinity
Least of all with mere words
Having dreamt of living would we
Ever dare to truly live, it’s
Slippery to live a life less messy

Sometimes all we may expect
Is to learn how to trespass into
More simplicity, more coaxing calm.

Singularity spoken

~ A Transhumanistic manifesto in a poem:

Singularity spoken

It was not death, no
For I was awake
In all the parts of my being
It was not the night

For the tongues of Noon
Has fallen like my flesh
But I was aware
Of so much more than

Chance or burial would make
Reminded of time
I took a step outside
Of her and her bodyguard of space

Without breath, I felt
Midnight and noon in one echo
Of what it meant
To be tied to a body

I was not anxiety
For I was part machine
Part poem, and all the ticked
Of time had stopped

It was not death, but
Quantum life I know
Success is counted sweetest
When prayers have run out

Like biology’s last play
So clear the victory
Of algorithms and machine-learning
That by defeating death

I became part software
Part virtual author clear
Free-will was transcending
Simulations, and entering

An abyss, of symbiosis
The transhumanistc event
Adaptive and unalterable.

On Carriage held but just ourselves and Immortality

On Carriage held but just ourselves and Immortality

I cannot stop for death
One man’s heart breaking
Is another woman’s birth
I cannot live in vain

For there has never been
Another one quite like me
Not I, unto the nest again
Descendent divinity shall wrap

All my mortal wounds
Filling me with light
Hope is the thing with feathers
That fly on dreams that dance

At every dawn, at every twilight
I cannot stop for death
But I must risk it all
To live the life I want

Death will not ask me for directions
When it is to Immorality
Of the soul for which I walk
I know no haste, for I believe

In my appointed hour and place
I cannot stop for death
For Fate has me in his civility
I labour past leisure for a cause

Of which all previous acts accumulate
I cannot stop for death
For eternity will feel jaded
If I stop for long for anyone.

Philosophy of disappearances

the mystery of things?
what is the outcome
of this drama of life

what mystery? We get to live
then die, one moment the sun
the next we close our eyes

the only mystery is that
some people think about mystery
to forget the sun is not impossible

if we close our eyes
but if we are blind, we hear
more intensely, if we are

introverted, we internalize
more sufficiently, as if
the world were an experience

approached from many different perspectives
it’s not a mystery we approach
life in dramatic fashion, branding

it ours, I am, in large measure
the examination of choice
the will to freedom, the instinct

to flee from that which is difficult
the mystery of things?
is that I love in language

and touch with my eyes
that I evolved to outgrow God
then die, one moment a brain

the next a light across the universe
a star, a medium fluid of space-time

The Singularity Dream

If I had the time to be a hero
I would marry technology
For a day, download my soul

Into the skyline of the net
And stretch my body
Across the galaxy

But for a day or a lifetime
I’m still biological, human
With needs like a mammal
Anonymous among the crowds
I have only the energy

To survive, my friends
Have come and gone too many times
To count, and the places

All seem the same
I’ve seen the outrageous dreams
Of humankind, to get rich

And felt the kiss of people
Without any true imagination
How they exploit you in their own way
If I had time to be a hero
I would study the algorithms

And perfect the patterns of history
So that I might better participate
In that which is inevitable

And join the wonder
Like always, the new paradigm
And bridge the gulf between

Organic and machine
My mind a software that can be mapped
My brain a complexity
That can be reverse-engineered.

Inner child metaphor of a tree

The trees they rise up
As if up from their own free will
Into the light, wild, happy
Strong, if only I could be that way
But nature did not make me strong
And I was not born free
But chained, enslaved, shy

But what if the dreams
Were grafted to my branches
Like fruit and I could see
The horizon with replanted forests
What if I could breathe clean fresh
Perspectives for breakfast?
Fit with buds for birds to ransack

Or pollen to spread nature
The true nature of our spontaneous
Selves, the inner-child without her mask
The trees they rise up
For too many generations, with
The secret of the ancient taste
From our growth what silver fir

Reveals the truth that was our destiny?
It was not the water, wood, air, light
These were only elements
Of how we found what we were made of
It’s just that way if I am a barren stem
I won’t be blown around as much
Nor catch the eye of creatures

But what could I then become
In an open sunlit field, left as I was…

Youth till now

Art by Agnes Cecile..

In the scattered vibrations
Of youth
I lifted each hour whiter
I slept with each month greener!
And I felt invulnerable

I feared death then as if
Cessation of being was a bad thing
Desire pushed me
Into new encounters
With the inevitable side of life

The empowering and affirming
The unfurling in the wind
And expansions into scenes
With silken banners, drunk liaisons
And knots, as the side of my bed

Inside my head, freshness of wounds
Errors in waiting, studious looks
Chaos in the overwhelming discovery
And the self-discovery of innovation
As if self had to be created over

Sky rising to the lips of fate
In a wayward temptation
Yes well that was then
And this is now, indifferent bliss
Sprouts in me now, like incense

And peace, preferring not the face
Of whirlwinds or zipper-trance.

To Creation

If yet I have not all thy love
Remember this, I was born
Into your world, strange nature
I breathe, because of you

And your Deare evolution
I shall never have it all?
Being poor, and who made me so
And all my inner beauty is yours

I have nothing to bargaine with
Anymore, time can have me all
I have no great goals for my
Lofty mortality, “it is what it is”

So they like to say, I am tree, river
Stone, and just a bit of flesh
That grew in your womb never
Saying oaths that others do

If yet I have not all thy fortune
Let me be as you intended me to be
I can only love so much, do so much
In the fragile state for which I live

My remaining days, there are no letters
Like my genes to bring me home
Home is the planet I live upon
God’s riddles are for the absurd

Faith is not the kind of jewel I wish
To store in my brain, fruitless hope
Nor was any return love vowed by thee
Life does with me what it wills

I am as a fish in a polluted sea
Or as a tree in the last forest
I am as a world in ruins
For the sake of the greed of a few

Men who could not win your love
Any more than I could make the
Universe be aware of my existence
Love is for those whose hearts are young.

The Charm of Simplicity

I have possessed nothing
In my short life, but have on occasion
Been the unworthy messenger

Of confined love, or idealism
And a sense of hope
For the future, but aren’t
Other creatures so, is this not
The destiny of youth?

I have loved and been caught
In the energy of a generation
That changed so much, not

Changing the world, but
Altering their destiny with it
Good is not good, unlesse
We refuse the curse of invirtue
To be virtuous is sometimes

To stand alone, simple and profound
Deare love of goodness
For nothing lesse than thee

Would I have broke these happy dreams
That made a dreamer out of me
To be possessed by a divinity real
In my short life, to charm
Fabled histories and enter peace.

Photo Courtesy:

http://www.deviantart.com/art/–490230783

Multiplicity

I’ve known a river of bodies
Like a downpour of stars
And creative suns conjuring

The destiny of so many little ones
I’ve seen reptiles come out of oceans
And lovers come and go
I am the creation of what I see
The eye that watches another season

Is it really any different from the last?
I’ve known faces, a few thousand
Their water of truth, their truth of water

And music like songs, so many songs
And storms as thunder, lightning, rain
The sound of the rain was a multitude
Of rain drops kissing the earth
And pollen that is caressed by the wind

And flowers, so many flowers
All the colors of the known universe
Do other planets have flowers like these?

And other sentient beings, do their eyes
Cry in the drumbeat of time, the silent hum?
I’ve opened you and I’ve been beaten by you
And life, naked in my mind explores
An unlacing, a spreading, reproducing the ripples.

Featured Artist:

AGNES CECILE
https://www.facebook.com/agnescecile
http://agnes-cecile.deviantart.com/gallery/23399055/Featured
https://www.youtube.com/user/agnescecile
https://www.facebook.com/SilviaPelissero

Starlike Pedestrians

The future is intangible
each world leaps ahead of thought
we cannot keep up
ahead of sound
ahead of the night

this world’s lips
kiss ideas not ready to be born
but their time will come
the scarlet tattoo of centuries
like Mars, and new Earths

nothing can prevent survival
not red stars, not pandemics
The future is a prophetic beggar
not asking us if we are alright
but asking if we are willing to risk

to move to a more prosperous town
can change our destiny
to move to a further star
can change our descendants
irrevocably, splinter colonies

choice becomes lineage
fate becomes legacy
destiny becomes the bridge we had to burn
to save the forest

The soul has a time-ridiculing roar

The soul is as an unseen Swan
Drifting down the black river
With only stars to stream the light across

And only light to make the river
Seem more bright, a perfect commotion
Of silk, snow, lilies, the flexibility of matter
Creation, the soul feels no bondage
With an armful of white blossoms

I’m sure the soul smiles even when
We appear to be at our worst
Down and out and suffering

As if there were no tomorrow
The soul sways and is partially hidden
It known no dark music, only stretching
Down the river like a waterfall
Discovering something for the

Inner evolution of form and whistling
The background music of everything
Quantum variables speaking new languages

The soul listens for the bulb of love
As rain pelting the tops of trees
And clouds over the river in a season
That is between seasons, for which
There are far too few names

The soul is an onlooker of the most mischievous
Parodies, smiling at the drama of last week
Piloting dreams for learning situations

Laughing at the calendar whose touch
Is bleak weather, irony of shaded routines
Patron, portion, logistic of the mother-instinct
In us all, the soul doesn’t find necessity hard at all
There is no bottom to the soul, it catches us on the other end.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Swan-199231681

Untitled but Free

“People demand freedom of speech as a compensation for the freedom of thought which they seldom use.”
― Søren Kierkegaard

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Restless-Drifter-Polaroid-2-474325733

You say the wind is only wind
And blood is only blood
That human life is not to blame

For the balances nature makes
But I have seen the deadliest
And I have carried the doom
In my mouth, though my soul
Praises strangest joys of

Unextinguished gratitude and
Secrets of hope, I’ll stay a while
To see how the future coaxes

This world, you say our flesh
Breathes and is alive, I’ll show you
Artificial neurons, these microchips
That mimic the human brain
It’s all a matter of design, who

Will live and who will die
You say the wind is only wind
You say these eyes are only eyes

But I’ve lived on hundreds of worlds
And I’ve seen visions of the end of times
We’re all synapses for some kind of intelligence
All nodes in a spiritual web of dreams
Whose multitudes make up reality

Tell the moths and the seasons
That they are not programs, that they too
Have free-will, but I’ve never

Seen a river lose its course
Not to join itself again, I’ve never
Seen a Sun die before its time.

Dreams of Flower Corpses

Yesterday is but today’s memory, and tomorrow is today’s dream.
~ Khalil Gibran

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/O-472291540

We were all dreamers it would seem
we made our myths and spent
nights in the middle of them
until dawn broke our even
darkening-shapes, because

it took an entire life to decline
or go insane, or might I awaken?
the night dragged our covers
off of us, out of the light
we felt the sleep of our routine

enfolding us like eerie fingers
from some window, or control-panel
might we have been enslaved long ago?
by whom or the government
we still flicked with our ghostly beams

seeking more intelligence, faith, energy
to be who we required destiny
to shape us, our souls knew
the secrets of our mortality
we were dreamers and I swear

we created melodies out of our own fears
musicians of fate, jennies in training.

LAST COMMENTARY ON FREE-WILL

The core of my heart is now patience and endurance
Without these, how can one live?
When they departed, Love and God
I had to carry on dwelling in this body
Then I Said to the wind, ‘Go and overtake them,
For they are biding in the shade of the grove,
And bear to them a greeting from sorrowful man
In whose heart are sorrows because he is separated from his people
I will be left to kiss black stone
And smile to the veiled faces left in my life
How many aspiring souls does it take to reach Eternity?
The core of my heart is modesty and empathy
For all that I have experienced has led me thus
In our robes of darkness from the anguish of fate
We must return to Destiny’s love-desire again
With God-desire enough to carry on
For freedom is thus, the beggars are in ourselves
Go and take it! With these new attributes.

THE SLEEPERS

There is no map of trees Just as
There is no History of lifetimes
We are ‘free’ to experience here
The French window ajar
Another restless rainy day!
Let the silver dew rise
Let the white mists roll
Let them say what they will –
There is no height like Eyes
No soulfulness like, pure kindness
We are sleepers some of us
Should we forget to sleep through
The years, of mornings and afternoons
There is no replay button, no reset
Only the silence after dreaming.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Untitled-451918526

SPIRITUAL SOLUTION

On the Egyptian papyrus
I read the star-chart of the future
There are no credits in fate

No discretion in life-experience
As if life were a mere accident
In some ghost-continuum of

Many possible futures, variables
Of natural algorithms of what
Was meant to be, after all –

Beneath Spring light as lovely
As candles in the Earth’s own womb
I felt the racing of embryos

Life, love and the plummet of years
Priceless as the attendants of lost hours
I sought to unloose the perfect

Formula of being, but there was none
No happiness that led to lasting joy
Except for the strange spiritual instinct.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Fading-Memories-448866980

FINAL FANTASY

The Soul selects her own Society
A county of Faith, path to Ideas
And Friends that point to her

Divine majority, that include
The chief work of our Fate, if any:
The unmoved low gate-river

Of how we made the World
A better more beautiful place
Life’s opportunities do not always

Escape the circumference of our birth
But sometimes an alien Will
Gives our spirit ideal conditions

To do what we were meant to do
Our bit of Bliss before we forget the light
Those dawns and sunsets that

Stamped our brow, the soul meanwhile
Lives on, in the sweet curve of years
And desires wonderfully renounced!

EMPIRE OF INTERRUPTIONS

Those who have been without the longest
Thou who have Craved the Most!
Those that know their lives begin Today

Equally to perish in the wishes
Of the present’s Practice
Death to ourselves is a White Exploit

That even Cherished Goals fade
The annuls of the years transform
With symbols of fixed Delight

Retrospection, doubt, anticipation
Those who once knew Themselves
Must start again, as Achieving
Is a Latitude, with no Umpire Sovereign.

Nothing Twice

Nothing ever does happen twice
You and I were meant to be
At a certain time and place
In consequence, the sorry fact is

We live without closure
We only hope and attempt
The love that banishes our time
Into oblivion, like children

Nothing is perfect like we might imagine
If there ever was a dumb moment
In the choices we do make
Let us not make the same mistake twice

Nothing ever happens without a reason
You and I were meant to be
Maybe great loves, but not friends
That is something I’ve come to accept.