I hope that I do not fall in love with you,
The one that curves around my beating heart,
Only to beat excessively palpitating its screams,
Deafening my mind with nonsensical sonnets.
I still hope that I do not fall in love with you,
And she choreographs an impulsive hug,
Followed with random kisses on my cheeks
As she dances her way towards my chest,
And magically stuns me with her dazzling eyes.
But no! I really can’t fall in love with you,
The one that whispers her songs melodiously,
While tapping her fingertips on my shoulders,
And moves them down towards my hips,
Slowly but surely we become one and we kiss,
Stop! I should leave before I fall in love with you!
Reminiscing into places I buried long ago,
Indeed, it is about a girl and a road trip,
Seven years have passed without a word,
Yet, still friends – except it is thinning out,
But let me share some exciting moments,
Particularly with the adrenaline-filled rides,
And the refreshing water theme park,
Ending with a long walk by the warm beach,
Well, there is that embarrassing moment,
It does seem so inevitable, does it not?
In the apartment preparing for a barbeque,
And so, I volunteered to clean the dishes,
Surely putting dishes in the dishwasher
Is as easy of a task as looking at the stars?
It sure is if I had used the correct soap!
In my defence, the manual did not state
That I could not use hand soap, except,
I think it was left as common sense,
Alas, bubble-filled kitchen made its mark,
And between the screams and laughs,
I fixed it, cleaned it, watered it, dried it,
Well, not really! She did all of that –
But it was done! No more dishwashing!
Then there was the story of the groceries,
So maybe I should message her now?!
I have commanded the first pawn to march forward,
To recreate the stolen pieces of the jigsaw puzzle,
Whereas she (seeing my pawn appear within the
Fog of war) takes out a blank canvas and a brush,
Her command was her first stroke towards the centre,
A line of crimson to deviate my own thoughts,
Soon I realised her deceptive move and I ordered
My knights to hammer her stubborn mind,
Only then will she accept my point of view:
This world existed for us to consume at our own will,
But there she goes again with her crimson lines,
Except, it curves into oddly shapes: floral hearts,
Such senseless retaliation to our reality that made
Me order my rooks to tear down her territory,
And yet she continues with more worthless strokes,
She switches to green and sings for a melodic dance,
Choreographed specifically for a hardened soul,
Now crumbling as if a disintegrating meteor –
I – I open the chambers of my heart, and listen
To its soothing rhythmic beats, and I listen
With my eyes all of her beauty, and I listen
To her warming natural voices of life,
And I stop. And I listen once again.
The clock ticked forward alas anticlockwise,
And there stood the heroes of their time: kids;
A generational mischief that think by themselves,
And act on their own accord without consultation,
Burying our preserved century in total misery,
And we shall observe these kids dwell on
An ancient Earth living in lives uninvited,
With the way they dress and the few nonverbal
Cues that they stubbornly omit: void of etiquette,
Ah, have I only known of the extinction of our
Generation was this close, I would have raced into the
Horizon without looking behind at all, without –
But the genetic stars in our tribal silhouettes
Are twinkling to form their own galaxies,
Personalities to lead in an ever-changing century,
An era where we will become this arid desert,
Where they become constellations to lighten us,
Kids these days are surely on their own journey,
And our job is just to spark something within their
Free souls to evolve them into many shooting stars!
I created my own gavel to decree laws upon myself,
Observing many moments on this warm soil,
A soil that nourished a soul for many decades,
And these laws have been proven unnecessary,
Why should we throw back many donated smiles?
Reasons when explained beget pitiful nonverbal cues,
But now I have seen something that might lighten
This endless dark passage within my drowning mind,
A probability slightly increased from the actions of
Few who decided to perform random acts of kindness,
Unprecedented in a materialistic era that envelops us,
And so my gavel hit the very eyes that saw him
Move, dress, talk, and smoke so stereotypically,
A lost soul that lives anonymously as a material,
In spite of such a harsh gavel noise the man
Came forward producing an everlasting smile,
Painting a recreation of an old colourful canvas,
Such a marvellous moment gives us hope in this soil.
I took a swim and faded beyond the glittering blue,
And went further – drifting carelessly for a discovery,
To bring rare relics from different parts of the world,
And return to the golden granules that tickled your feet,
There you stood bidding me the warmest farewell,
But where are you now? Where have you gone to?
Let me once again surround my arms around you,
And warm your cheeks with passionate kisses,
Before the distance lengthens and we fade away,
And our memories limited to framed photographs,
Shared on certain occasions described as fate,
A decree put upon ourselves without a fight back,
But I believe the flame within me will show you
How the stars should line up in our own red carpet,
Yours and mine such that we never fade away.
Scrolls have been dispersed
Around our limited universe,
And the birds of our ancient tree
Obtained a new inept hobby:
Manipulation of scrolls where
The needs are bargained in nearby markets,
The wants are bragged blatantly in plain sight,
And a profitable land – stolen,
In a natural biome – broken,
So, forgive me if I stepped outside and chosen
To fly away from this tree to find a remedy,
Maybe the answer is embedded within
A different scroll somewhere in a far land,
Hope energises the dance of my wings,
As if a fluent skill in a foreign language:
A deed meant to disguise a need,
Limited by the scrolls of this universe.
How many have I counted to
Hasten the release of a tight rope,
Dropped out of a system that links
The unknowns for a symbiotic code,
Shared amongst treasure hunters
Seeking the golden era of our kind,
The rope shortens and thickens
Between few venturing beings,
And lengthens and thins out for
Many who lost a reasonable code,
The treasures were hidden from me
For so many youthful years,
And ignorant was I even after it was
Divinely revealed beyond borders,
But once I acquired the map I
Noticed drawings of endless X’s,
And I journeyed yet again through
The joyful years of my youth,
Young was I only after appreciating
The common sense of the code,
And borders meant nothing except
A political excuse for separation,
Little did they know that our true
Code was unified with the stars,
Constellations to reveal our guided
Smiles and geometrical hugs,
If you truly seek the code for this
Universe’s hidden treasures,
Then walk under the purple sky
Harbouring billions of stars,
And hold hands to dance with
Those next to you without reason,
Except, to acknowledge the code
Of travelling among free beings.
¡Tú sueño no es mío!
And I hatched into life,
Climbing towards a canopy,
A star that followed a dream.
¡Pero no es mío!
An oscillating pendulum,
The resonating core,
Distorted into broken wings.
¡Mi sueño no es tuyo!
Venturing to a universe,
Dimensions to discover,
Amidst infinite horizons.
¡Pero no es tuyo!
An affinity for more,
Fountains of recovery,
A realistic sublime.
¿Pero, por qué no?
Alive to ascend,
Warmth in descend,
Into the smiling dream.