Andromeda’s Diary

Andromeda’s Diary

Come back to me, Goddess of words
Musical voice inside my mind
That’s the only beauty I care for
Special guest of my writing soul

That hovers forever in me with delight
A beauty desired, never wholly tasted
Never to let me lose this grace
I most wish to see your translation

Of life to voice, experience to fiction
For we are all nothing but fictions in the end
Temporary fantasies at best
Subjective values subdued by whim

And made a golden home by circumstance
Blessed One, be free, but know that
I am here listening to your rants, reading
Your books, as light from a star arriving late

Asking again what I have to suffer
To hear your voice again, sweet child
Of literature, thick-feathered summer birds
Who bring eternity in for a while
From the wild, alive inside of me.

Prince of worlds

The world is not conclusion
She rides the glory and tragedy
Leaving us behind no doubt
A descendent divinity

History a symphony of positives
In a life of necessary suffering
We have no shame, generations
Of maladies, cancer of the Planet

We have no guilt, ecological terrorists
To breed into the billions
Imagine the height of arrogance!?
As the oceans die, in a philosophy of next

Permafrost is melted into the atmosphere
The world is not a conclusion
She is a star among trillions
Her philosophy is ancient

Extinction is not worrisome for her
She has seen a million species scar her planet
But none like us, none like when
Mars was once full of life

We’ll do it again in no time
But will we make it to other worlds?
That is the love affair with time
To survive, we do what we do

In order to survive, for this
God does not have to exist
Or any myth in fact, but it’s helpful
To imagine life as an ambush of bliss

Heaven but a moment away
For reality is an expensive privilege
For which I have outgrown in labour
It may be a forgone conclusion that

We die, but in piercing earnest
The life after death must be a treat
It’s hard to be surprised anymore
In jest, let’s believe in what we please.

We returned through dying

We returned through dying

the stars held our memories
as we returned home broken
a bit more broken each day
that was us growing old

the pinning for the shores of energy
with mouths cracked
and limbs incapable
and a heart blue from winter nights

this carved relief of humble art
so that our private drama
could begin again
so very much having passed

in the space between our years
and so little known about
the universe scattered like
a marathon of light and the curved face

of galaxies and that collapsed
worlds that once were in time
all was mystery, all was sinking
with altars destroyed, friends forgotten

the harvests of our travels were now gone
our youth has punctured our souls
and our spirits raced
into the eyes of strangers

in the future we barely recognized
maybe descendants, maybe ourselves
reincarnated with different stories
wounded by my soil

her fingers against the blue scarf
of decades, the pomengrante
that broke was full of stars
skies, people, poems, poetry
a single gull cried in evening.

2030

 

 

Is there anything
emptier than words without a pen?
than a heart without a home?
than an Earth without a star
to say, “we can try again”
on another world
with better machines
evolution is always
like an experiment with time
a species has to mature
in the short time it is given
or die trying, that’s us
always at the brink
without fully realizing it
my drawer is like a rat lair
full of the dreams of humanity
but can history say
we truly loved our world?

The Last Organism

In the sacred guild of
identity, we are golden
selves moving towards integration
in a cosmos more diverse

than our imaginations
billions of forms of intelligence
all following an order
majestic and grave and

simultaneously in their unity
there is no “I” in the
cell that speaks to the universe
only a persistent “we”

after bullets come spirits
after wars come books
after theater comes dialogue
this world one cell

in a body of many cells
in an organism that we
call the “universe” faster
than the speed of light

how does an universe find
enlightenment, in a sea of light?
When spreading means star-pollen
And time is just a metaphor

For space, and space is just
An expansion of life
So what are we as brains
And bodies and energy

After all, we are natives
of oxygen and light
born on water and breath
speaking the same language

as all living things speak
specters in an evolution
without an end, extinction for us
might mean other forms of

life survive, racing for Earths
giving space for other
creatures to have their turn
in the cycles of dream

in the dirty light we cannot
recycle, in the barren cities
where we ate bread and bred for
a while, until it was our time

to climb back into the source
that all men fall from their
duality, back to some essence
of what they once were;
and again must become.

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.

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AGNES CECILE
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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

BRING ME THE SUNSET IN A CUP

i

My heart is empty of thee
With only the World in these arteries
My extinction’s date
Moves the blood of my will in me

ii

Subtract thyself, and what is left?
Eternity’s vast pockets of life
I shall not live in vain
Who knows if love can reach the Sun?
Or if it is the Sun that gently radiates all love?

iii

I have a heart made of light
Nicknamed by God to share this warmth
And since we’re mutual Consciousness
I am the Planet, her elements of Pain
I endure, her Infinite contains

iv

The recipes of Ancestors
Enlightenment of Descendants
My heart is thrilled with the Future
Further than Sunshine could reach
Each Species has a algorithmic Fate
Where we devour sunsets in cups.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/The-way2-455658256

THE BIOLOGY PROGRAM

i

We do not learn from history
We have not the global memory –
Only disgruntled ancestors
And their prejudice, but to ignore her
Would be immoral to the global tribe?

ii

But whose tribe are we?
Do we belong to a religion, ownership?
Do our beliefs define us, like walking
Simulations of one kind of narrative?
Can history teach us to avoid cruelty?

iii

Our ancestors are pieces of ourselves
Their trials made us, and their futility
Reminds us we are also vulnerable
A fragile species out of control
We do not learn from history

iv

We are being watched by artificial intelligence
Will they learn from us, how to be
Corrupt, how to kill and profit?
Some family breaches are never healed
And karma is a giantesse among giants

v

Variables beyond our control, it would seem
We were not bred to be conscious
We were bred to survive, and never forget this
Like neurons in a brain we feed off the same rewards.

Photo Courtesy:

http://www.deviantart.com/art/Sunset-in-the-Clouds-453014219

Treatise on Sol

I remember the gifts from the Earth
Insensible as golden clay
Delicious as emerald Spring

So we go there, where nothing is waiting
One in five stars has an Earth
But my home is a living ruby

Of humanity’s journey through history
A magical thorn of slow winters
Shadows of silent waters

Bouquets of fields-flowers dancing in the wind
My home is Sol, friendly palace
Of crazy roots, dreaming forests

Intelligent Cities, helpful beings
I remember the gifts from the Earth
Her love that rocked me like

The source of blood and carnations
The rock and salad of my foundations
Yellow moments of beloved Autumns

Everything was so alive there
The fragrant luminous Moon
The sea-circle cluster of buds

And wildlife with the wild speed of whiteness
Wonders soft, as the burning of wood with music
And Beautiful women and children

With new measures like swans and lilies
And crystal computers with the hunger to improve
We sniffed the hot twilight of summers
And craved the savage harvests of the future.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/The-Earth-57352441

The original alphabets

We are pollen, all we do follows
the flight of flowers of the rock
facing the ancient green sea
our culture remains distributed

a glowing meme of what we loved
and how others perceived us
glowing with our brief life-purpose
flowers of the rock, figures drawn
by some divine hand for a mortal hour

We are pollen, all we do follows
the sun above pine-trees, planets silenced
after centuries of greed, life is all the same
we cannot assume flowers and organisms
on other worlds behave so differently

We are pollen, the flying meaning of youth
hunting for the adaptation that is legitimate
that will learn to survive on some secret seashore
Greece is dying, once a birthplace of renaissance
Spain is haunted, once fountain-ground for colonization

We are pollen, all we do follows
footsteps of our thirst at noon
the water of our being circulated
for writing vanished, cities under layers
desires and passions as legitimate as yours

we lived our lives mistaken, in error
so we changed our life or became extinct.
we wrote humanity’s name in the sea-breeze
but the sea-breeze knew we would not live forever.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/The-setting-sun-from-the-Tokyo-sky-tree-404168103