Blessings

Aiden’s blessings to Lei

you have my blessings :

Be free,
be courageous,
for freedom is a scary thing.
but wherever you choose to go
may the kindness of strangers be with you.

Lei’s blessings to Aiden

you have my blessings:

love the world ,
love the world as it is not as what it should be,
love the book more ,
may you find things in the world
that you wish to find in books

After many a disheart’ning year when i look back
on your birthday night,
birthday night, birthday night ,
your scarlet-robed birthday night ,
I know I’d crave for another well-wishing rite.

Tiger and Tarots

Where is the world that i built
with my calloused hands?
where is the world black and white ?
once there were clays of awe ,
bricks of benevolence
and concrete columns of .reverence
yet now ? this empty now ?

I witnessed all with my very eyes,
witnessed all
that i’ve made peace with the law
that binds me into another social norm.
I became old at the age of twenty-seven.
where is world that i built ?

Once i met a man on a faraway plateau ,
such a tale to me he told
you see the cave up on the hill steep?
my mother died and lived again a spirit
and a home she made there with reeds,
you could hear at night her whispers.
and my father you see favored by fate
he died but he roamed the forest
as a tiger which i caught once
and saw on the chest
the pendant for him i made.

for me it’s such a fascination
the continuation of their worlds
not exactly in the mode of transmigration,
the dual perpetuation
in the wilderness of the world and life!
(or afterlife with no biblical connotation)

but where is the world i built ?
the mundane and monotonous everyday
habits, synonymous
to a uniform motion
caught in a seditious commotion.
i became old at the age of twenty-seven.

Monica the sweetest ,
puffing a cigar she casts three Benedetti
Tarots on her mahogany table,
you’ve given me your earthly wishes
she says , in return
i give you the message from elements
now dispose of your fixed judgement – and see !
reversed Queen of Pentacles
Reversed Devils , such a shame
and at last your proud Hierophant !
you are walking on a twisted path ,
she sighs
and covers her eyes with her gentle hands.

In The Realm Of Beings

in the realm of beings i come across nonbeings,
-shadows crawling beneath the sun,
or the splendor revolving around it
but again, do i really know ? have i really acquired
the knowledge necessary for clarity ?
i look at my watch,
its hand has been traveling for thousands miles,
whilst i stay at the exact spot ,
grieving over things of which i’m not even aware.

it was the fruit of life we ate,
at 1 o’clock  one ancient afternoon,
mortified , into beings we faded
with the concordance of ancestral chaos.
since then, we’ve seen too much of the world.
and we see nothing.

in the realm of beings i came across a mad man,
he dedicated his life trying to pull off the world
out from his weary eyes.
he told me
O you the wandering child,
turn around and face the cave ,
time to amuse yourself with a shadow play.

you mentioned the primeval waters – the deluge,
was it to say at least a grand delusion ?
the balance tilted first toward the nonbeing ,
who was him that provoked the violence ?
— we took too much pride in Being,
since then we’ve seen too much nothingness.

in the realm of beings i chanced upon a mad man,
his joy in life was talking to his beautiful tattoo ,
he would say to the image
O you my beautiful one,
i gave you my very essence of life ,
soon , very soon , my dearest ,
see how you thrive upon my blood and flesh.

we are the descendants of Erebus,
we are siblings to Pygmalion.
who are you that walked us into the conscious?
since then we’ve seen too little of what matters.

it was the fruit of life we ate ,
at 2 o’clock one early afternoon .
i watched you toss the kernel out of my window pane .
cold, as you finger ran down my spine.
the crack of nonbeing deep-etched your hand.

Write Me A Poem

Write me a poem , dearest
Write to me all your sorrows
How they encase your visions
And bend your grand volition
To dream , to wander.
Write to me how they cuffed
Your delicate hands and numbed
Your sensual  mouth where
Kisses arose from frivolous lips
Like burning nectar
Down to my panting heart.
Write to me , my dearest
When ever wearied and wronged
For who can bear to be forgotten
By many? You live , and so will I ,
In the eternal  art of our creation