LOWS BETWEEN MANUSCRIPTS

I have written to the heart in you
Re-wrote it several times
Read it to you while you were sleeping
In whisper, free-form, without rhymes

I have spoken to the silence
That you put under your pillow
The easy dreams of zero heartbreak
In a world of such little gains

I have decided to honestly gift you
Entire poems to remember pain
It’s all backwards since we became artists
At the center of my life, I Forget my own names

I have written to the soul for you
Our soul, the one soul, the truth cannot stop
Just because one voice dies
Our manner of speaking changes

With the times, I’m sick of saying
The same thing, reading the same poem
There’s nobody as sick of themselves as me
Because I wanted an end to language

I become sick of duality
So I have written to the spirit in thee
In exchange, I will opt for a shorter life
One with tragedies that can potentially teach
Poems from obscurity, of absurdity, for posterity.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Writing-Owl-188040299

ACADEMY OF FINE IDEAS

The Prologues are over, they are done
The questioning is a fiction of not accepting
A Life we are given, choices in a fiction
An ultimate Elegance in an imaged land

Surreal are the chapters that made up
Our stages of experience, our stories
Of belief, we were islands of voices
Each playing out our internal narrative

From the inside-out, like a diamond pattern
Of the algorithms of fate, it wasn’t a rumor
It was the feeling of being burried in Jasmine flowers
The weight of walking over newly fallen snow

We lived without external reference
Hoping to reinvent ourselves in some design
But the Sea is so many written words
With vowels that all sound the same

Made of white foam and water molecules
With a rosy-golden rain of the same waves of Light.