Checkmate

Russian chess masters
train backwards their moves
on the board to improve 
their game's strategy.
They seem to have an edge
on their worldwide counterparts.

I ask myself: 
Why don't we play in quick motion 
the full movie of our life
and witness the final moment of strife?

In any case, checkmate will occur 
and some things will remain undone:

Unless Death and I settle for
a surprising gentlemen's draw.

Another angle

The shadow is but our light seen from another angle.

Ritz night shift

I am dreaming of a lush Sussex landscape
wrapped around the early morning's mist.
The river nearby would bend through
the capricious veins of this land.
I smell a lofty English breakfast brought in
on a silver platter by a  curvacious maid.
And a distant bell is echoing in my ears:
A disgruntled client tapping at my reception desk's bell
to complain about a maid in the corridor
singing out loud a Verdi aria with a shrill voice
at half past five in the morning.

Vertical blue

Nothing is horizontal or
straightforward as it seems.
Everything, even pain, is 
a means to keep you wandering
off the real essence.
You are the owner of the Self:
Look up! There is no Paradise!
Look down! No Hell to haunt you!
Only a bold vertical dive
into the blue within will 
free you and give you wings.

Showtime

The hectic vibes of 
the metropolis
slowly smother their 
blue and white collar 
deafening sounds.

I say:
Turn on the spotlights!
It's show time!

And my night creatures 
crawl out from the dark 
to claim their stardom. 

There was once a sea...

I close my eyes and I see
what was once me.
And is no more now.
I was here on this spot, 
I had laid down the bedrock 
of my soul's journey.
I took an oath to serve and protect
the less fortunate, my brothers.
And I did. I traveled light.
So I return empty handed,
but heart and soul are whole.
I come full circle.
Something shifted the stone 
farther down the path:
It must have been the strong
currents of a sea that once 
existed in this forsaken land:
Its does not matter now.
Home is all the space there is.  

Walk in the unknown

When shifting
from comfort to 
the misty and untamed 
territories of your life, 
don't hesitate:
Dive fearlessly within!
Insights and discoveries
are far more exciting
than an overly 
repeated roundabout 
scheme.

Lost

It is not the physical distance, 
but rather the insistence
of keeping ourselves away from 
the Light of Truth: 

That is really what being 
lost and stranded means. 

Space in between

- Two pairs of hungry lips -
Measure quantum space!

We are One

You and I, 
Lord,
Are One 
Light in Spirit.

That is why 
I need not 
turn to you. 

I am home,
I am always 
safe in my soul
wherever 
I go.

Antartica

A frozen, gusty wind
conjures me to focus
on every single thing.

I seize this very instant
and gaze upon this
candid land so distant.

Nature squeals within
icebergs, seals and whales:
tales of great suffering.

And this deafening sound
keeps shriveling my heart
as I am homeward bound.

You come at night...

You come at night
Stretching from nowhere
To somewhere in me.

I never knew why or how
This occurs: you must be 
a presence returning from 
A past - or after - life.

Suddenly, an entourage
of blinking lights hovers and
dances over dark scrubs:
And all is revealed to me, now.

Angels from the Sun

They came to this world
unparalleled to some.
They fully lived the Dream,
fought each single battle
and chanted in unison
The cry of Mother Earth.

They spread their wings
In the azure caprice of life.
They went around circles,
perched on the glistening
hues of an auspicious
rainbow to recall their home.

They were many, but now
all of them are gone. 
They were once known as
Angels from the Sun.

Ode to Thanatos

Son of Night and 
Darkness, release
souls from ominous sleep!

Styx

Charon, take
another part of me:
I feel my essence.

Without clocks

I was born on 
a sunny and lazy afternoon:
clocks were snoozing
half past two.

It has been one long race
against the ticks
of time so far.

I learned to read and 
write, but also to expand
with my dreams at night.

All was – and still is –
about Love.

One inspired, brilliant night

Dusk gently recedes within
The dark hours of silence.
Nature hushes, and 
my mind wanders.

I look back at the things 
I've done and gone through.

I had no expectations then,
I have no lingering claims now.

I did it all because 
I embraced life wholeheartedly:
And I will continue doing so.

So a brilliant symphony 
emerges  unexpectedly
from the core of the night: 
I hear it, feel it and I smile.

I am standing tall...

For those who have gone
Before me, fighting
Or not fighting at all.

Here I am, standing tall.

For all the memories of
Joy and pain or
The loved faces I recall:

Here I am, standing tall.

I ask myself what is really 
dead and buried after all
Are all these people and things

Or me alive, standing tall?  

Spirit of the flag

It was once the home of all braves.

It is now a place of 
modern white and blue-collar 
overly material slaves:
As in other parts of the world.

The original spirit has gone:
The flag is slowly waving,
waiting eagerly for
the winds of change to come.

Let it be sour

Let it be sour,
let me have it all.
Under this scorching heat
Anything is sweet:
My lemon lips upon yours.

Atom's song

Resonate, collide and explode, 
Expand energy in the Universe 
And fuse all joy back to the verse.

No beginning, no end

No beginning, no end:
This is life, the ongoing,
tireless spirit's race to mold 
and mend the road 
To find the Source Code
of our poetic acumen. 

Grain of eternity

Grain was in my hands
As Blake said it would:
I feel Eternity!

Romantic hippopotamus

Climbing quickly the 
Kilimanjaro 
To see sunset:
Took his breath away.

Parvum Dei

Primitive men carved 
on their cavern’s walls
with blood, bones and stones. 
Common daily scribbles
hieroglyphic-like riddles: 
That is how I see poetry’s sprout 
coming about, but we’ll never know.

I know that I can imagine
one of these unaware gods proudly
staring at his masterpiece, 
smiling and saying this:
One day, someone will see 
and put into words my legacy.
Poetry had a shape then,
yet it had no life or sound.

Then, other little Gods like me, 
skillful craftsmen of their art,
brought all the live elements 
to explode and play their part.
Poetry let loose its gifted hounds: 
All the shades, shapes and sounds
were brought to life. Even the
inexpressive worm beneath the Earth 
had its place in a poet´s verse.

Poetry became whole, 
as it was supposed to be.
Because of little Gods like me
its metaphors have cured a soul, 
lifted rocks with a pair of wings
and gave beauty to all the things.

It has made a stronger man 
of me, and under God’s plan
I may someday become poetry itself   
Or I’ll just write and walk 
until I reach myself.

Candlelight

It is late in the evening.
I have put out all the memories
To dry out in the rain.

Tears trickle outside 
My window pane,
and a candle I lit 
Has split into two.

What does it mean?
Is it a second that has 
Sliced pain and pleasure?
I know not.

All I can think of now
Is my lasagna bubbling
In the oven and scenting
All over the place.

Absurd poetry

That grain in 
the palm of your hand 
is but a grain 
and not the world
as Blake said.

Your brain is the world
Carried by the train
freewheeling over 
the invisible rails
of the matrix you created
Bound to nowhere

Jack the black cat

Jack the black cat
is silky-walking 
under the night's cap.

He's hungry.

But the thought
of swallowing
a loathsome furry rat
zips his appetite flat.

So comes a fluffy
graceful demoiselle
elegantly purring 
Her way up to 
Cover Jack’s sight. 

And off they go
Meowing and courting
Satisfying lovers’ appetite.

Desert tears

In this vast extension of 
Saharan despair, 
Not a single drop of 
Emotion is there:

No sweat, no tears:
All is dry in the air.

I wish to cry as I hear
A sad muezzin's prayer
Uttered in the distant  
Elusive tower of a minaret. 

I can't.

Another dance

Night and day try
To impose their tango
In my world:
But I am dancing 
To the beat 
Of a distant galaxy. 

The power of poetry

The power of poetry 
will break the chain of command,
and words, simple soldiers 
of writers soul's caprice,
shall have feathered wings
and lead men to the Truth.

Sweet visage

I rejoice at the dying lights of dusk:
I've been conjuring you
All day long or since
I can hardly remember.

Night gives artifices to lovers: 
And I shall have you here 
beside me, once more, 
in my silent reverie.

Sudden frissons all over my spine
Announce your homecoming.
I picture clearly your sweet visage
Eyes wide open 
into my vivid love dream.

My dream

My mind has set sails 
over the placid pool 
of my tears.

I can see it.
The ever elusive,
Constant vision
of my dream.

If I ever reach it,
Would this mania 
Finally subside?

Homage

Night cloaks expand:
Fireflies pay homage to
The dying sunlight. 

Refugee

Here I am, at the place 
every refugee belongs
and is whole.

A mysterious, yet suave drug 
is injected into my blood:
I suddenly feel hope.

Stranded I am
In my wandering thoughts.
I see flames rising everywhere
and burning scented candles
In my heart and soul.

This is where I forget
My origin, the Source:

The safe haven of your embrace. 

Fireflies

I gazed at her 
In the entangled maze 
Of dreams of love and lust,
as the midnight hour just
Struck in my body's clock:
An entourage of fireflies 
Suddenly ignited her face 
Before my sight.    

Torero Olé!

Fear zone

Adrenaline pumping hard
Body aching

Broken horn 
Stuck in his chest

Torero agonizes 
Before a twisted crowd.

Anything for a dream

In the raging and cruel
Battle between aspiring
And desiring
I'll put up at the frontline
All the days fighting
Against all the nights
Of my whole life:
I'd give it all for just one
Dream to survive.

Tales of the heart

Sometimes, 
in the dying embers
of the day, I pick up dreams
somebody left behind 
on a hasty flight 
towards the shadows 
of the night.

I feel their essence
and turn their evanescence 
into eternal glittering fireflies.
And so my heart is alive,
quivering in places 
that only bold bygones
have dared to be.
Or remotely aspired to be.
Revealing them to you
now would only pluck 
the power off their mystery.

The heart has reasons 
and causes it dares not tell:
some lead to Paradise, 
while others seem a constant Hell. 

Stillness

Not a sound.
Memories asleep:
Just clouds imprinting
their powdery cheeks 
on the lazy mirror of time
before they are swept away
by the breathing whims 
of the blue artist.

I wonder whether this moment
of stillness is me slowing down
Or is it time catching up with me.

For I Am A Man, Who Made the World Round

You tell me that things 
should be fair and square,
With no loose edges
and that even hedges
Should be perpendicular.
Listen! All is really circular,
even the secular vibrations of nature's sound:
For I am a man, who made the world round.

Silence was broken into words...

Once upon a time,
silence was broken into words,
and words spread out 
to the four corners of the world.

Some sounded rough and
other sweet. They mixed,
clashed and intertwined
with souls and flesh and 
lost eventually their essence.

Tao, nothingness,
non-being and non-desire,
presence in non-presence,
gathered them all
Through the vibration of Love.