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Chapter one |
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| Innocence
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1983, age 10 |
The secret place
I had a friend and we shared a secret place.
It was by a green forest that smelled of pine.
There was tall yellow grass all around it.
There was a bare bush with a bird's nest in it.
When we were cold the sun was our blanket.
There was a rippling steam with golden water
that gleamed in the sunlight.
The water was filled with silver fish
that always smiled at us.
When we were hot the wind was our fan.
It whispered secrets in our ears.
The silver fish swam up
to hear the wind's secrets.
The grass giggled so hard
that it swayed back and forth.
The leaves on the trees chuckled and chattered.
The sun gleamed down with beams of love.
The air then was filled with love and happiness.
Oh, how I wish I could go back to that secret place
and see my friends once more.
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The Secret Place
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1985, age 11 |
Sea of Green
A sea of green,
waves splashing against my legs.
Coolness surrounds me
but I am not wet.
I walk on the waves of the green sea.
I lie down in the sea of green.
Waves splash over my face.
I open my mouth to drink the sea
but only wind flows in.
I close my eyes and all sound stops.
I am asleep.
When I awake the sea of green is gone.
In it's place is green cool grass.
The waves are gone.
In their place is the wind.
I slowly stand up right.
The grass brushes against my legs.
Coolness surrounds me.
I walk on the meadow of green.
I lie down in the cool grass.
The grass sways over my head.
I smile, close my eyes
and the sea of green comes back. |
1986, age 12 |
The Hunt
The Lion, King of the Jungle,
Hunting in the wilderness,
Creeping along in the grass,
Silently as if it were a shadow.
Suddenly it stops.
It's eyes Narrow.
Then it moves again.
Oh so slowly.
It's tail twitches.
It creeps closer and closer to it's prey.
Suddenly with a mighty roar it leaps,
Pouncing on it's struggling prize.
It tears the tender flesh of the creature.
Then as quick as it began the struggle ends.
The lion eats, content and relaxed
Until it is time to hunt again. |
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1986, age 13 |
When friends grow apart
You came like a flower in early spring |
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Chapter two
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Labyrinth
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2008, age 34 |
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Chapter Three
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Eclipse
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Chapter Four
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Genesis
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Chapter Five
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Tranquillity
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Chapter six
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Trinity
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Chapter Seven
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Lauderealudum
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Chapter Eight
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Tribulation
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Date and age |
The Starbuck Coffee Culture
I gather on the corner by the fountain for a Cafe Americano sunrise.
The sun yawns wide, aroused by the aroma of the espresso bean and opens
its eyes.
I reflect upon cafe promises of somewhere I would like to be, with that
cup of coffee:
Do you remember? You said you would buy for me.
As the dawn grows conscious, I drink it up like Cafe Latte at
cockcrow.
I greet the morning slowly as the player plays capriccio.
We are there together in a sentient dream of fancy,
you composing in your notebook and I upon my laptop, art literary.
Day awakens to contemplate philosophy, the human condition and
coffee shop theories
of politics governing life and death, homeland economics and overseas,
thinking on the mental state while mindful of passions art,
sitting in the expanse of the macrocosm waiting for the clock to start.
Consider the spiders weaving their webs high on caffeine and out
of proportion.
Caramel Macchiato, White Mocha and Chantico excite the senses beyond the
distortion.
I could go to that somewhere place alone to compose and to
think,
where once we were to meet, Bold Yukon, one black, one blond and sweet
to drink,
but to do so would be the loss of inspiration, so from somewhere I will
stay away,
until in caprice my fantasy of together entwines our words and combines
our day.
The air beats lively in the afternoon as sunlight fades to
moonrise.
As evening falls, with pen in hand I dream of Cappuccino skies
and a cafe' somewhere, and you are there with me
fulfilling the coffee shop promise of a moment that may never be.
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Chapter Nine
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Reflection
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2008, age 34 |
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Chapter Ten
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Inspiration
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2008, age 34 |
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Chapter Eleven
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The End is The beginning
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Minute Minute: 2008, age 35
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Minute is moments in time in Moment's "is" Minute.
To frame time in "Minute" is minute in time frame too.
I hold time in minutes in time. Hold I
the numbers of hours. Pass by. Pass hours of numbers. The
mediocrity! In times of contemplation of times in mediocrity,
minutes become hours and days and hours become minutes.
Remember? Too many times when I am full, wonder I,
Wonderful am I when time's many to remember."
Mathematically speaking, time is time speaking mathematically.
Yet, two hours times four equals the eight only if minutes,
if only, ate the equals, for time's ours too, Yet-
How ever I am, ask me. Ask, am I ever? How?
Am I minute time? Minute I am!
Contemplate contemplation. Contemplate!
Wait. I, if time I am not, am I time if I wait?
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2008, age 34 |
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Chapter twelve |
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Who Knows?
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2008, age 34 |
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Back to Contents-chapt.3 | Back to Top
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