poetic

The sun's rays have vision and give us vision. However, it is the birds' eyes and the two invisible angels by your side that record everything. Nothing goes unnoticed throughout the universe. Wherever there is a vibration, there are eyes and ears. Some energies don't need ears or vision to see or hear, they can feel what is in your heart and tap into all your sins and fears.

I make sacrifices in reward of trinkets for my gilded cage.

The clouds took on the shape of dancers; from somewhere far off, Pram heard music before the clouds became normal again.

And stay, my dearstay...forever, as my quiet song,in my lilac dawn.

I do not just want you at your best.I almost do not carewhere your Happiness lives,but please,let me visit your pain?Take me to the placewhere your sadness goes,and show me the tragedythat no one knows.

Pain is subtle. He has cold grey fingers. His voice is horse from crying & screaming... When people try to avoid him, he follows them silently & turns upas the bartender, or the bus driver... Pain has an elaborate filing system for keeping track of everyone... Pain respects people who are willing to take risks. If you... face him directly, he will give you a special ointment so your wounds don't fester.

Naked you are blue like the night in Cuba,you have vines and stars in your hair,

I want topeel away all the labelsI had once given to othersand place themupon the fabricof my own identity.They have reflected back to me,everything that I refuseto See in myself.

Watch, how the sunslowly risesfrom behind my earnew lines, new countriesspring up in my palmsmy rough hairbecome swaying silkand all the leavesin my bodybecome lusher than fruits.

Leave me alone,Do me a favor, abandon me,I want to think about,You me and the idea of forever.

And someday,when the partiesdon__ dazzle you anymore,and when the alcohol failsto amuse your senses,come to me.We__l lie on the grass,stare at the stars,and talk about Life.Maybe I will become the Momentyou rediscover yourself again.

if nothing endswhere do we begin?

Words do not always need a destination.We can leave them behind us at the borders of feelings.Running around headless in the vague zone.And that is the privilege of artists: to live in confusion.

a single poemthe thing that can keep melight on my feet,when my soul isheavy with sorrow.

A tattoo is a true poetic creation, and is always more than meets the eye. As a tattoo is grounded on living skin, so its essence emotes a poignancy unique to the mortal human condition.

Beauty is startling. She wears a gold shawl in the summer and sells seven kinds of honey at the flea market. She is young and old at once, my daughter and my grandmother. In school she excelled in mathematics and poetry. . . Beauty will dance with anyone who is brave enough to ask her.

You are the trembling of time, that passesbetween vertical light and darkened sky,

from under the ground, from under the waters,they clutch at us, they clutch at us,we won__ let go.