come, stay and let's talk. it's a good day to be alive
For a drop of soul lost in an silent ocean of darkness,
For a rusted needled buried deep beneath billions of grains of desert sand,
There is a resonation.
An invisible, perhaps unbelievable, resonation whispers a promise.
Rise tomorrow.
Repeat. Again, and again.
We shall meet in our glory atop of heave of our works.
Overcome and repeat,
Within a blink of an eye, we’ll be there.
9.25.2019
It’s getting hot in here
There is no way to turn
Sight is getting blurry
Forced breathing becomes harsher
The harder I run, more difficult it becomes,
More angry I get, more oxygen I lose
More bitter I become, further the door goes away
A fine line between anger and panick
A tiptoed balance on a cliff
A dice throw to see where we land.
9.24.2019
Don’t accuse that man playing guitar sitting by the side walk bench in his melancholic tune.
Perhaps you may wonder how he dares to waste his time so imprudently away while you walk by trotting away.
Perhaps you may want to consider if the man had a crash of tragedy in his life.
Perhaps you may prefer pondering if you had a violin string snapped, sprung into a spiral.
Don’t accuse the man. But just walk away, listening to this music.
9.23.2019
Taken a few blow,
Still standing, waiting to make a final move
What’s it going to be
A fume of smokescreen
Or a dashing punch.
Only in this moment
When things are idle and soft
For this very moment may perhaps be brief
Soak your feet into this pond,
And coast in a breeze of summer sunshine
9.22.2019
Autumn air carried a matured scent,
Like a soft young girl’s hand,
Once fresh with all the possibilities,
Now toughened, acquiesced to sensibilities.
Buried deep within thick skin and smiles,
Spiraling with bitter humor and lyres,
One foot at a time, one jump at a time,
Hopping jovially, crimson sun rises
One last time.
9.21.2019
I’ll become the best manure on this earth
I may turn brown,
I may stink,
And I may become soft mush.
But I’ll become the best manure on this earth,
Blood and sweats of working out every morning and night,
Flesh and bone jumping through hoops and fires,
I’ll give all I have.
9.20.2019
Yes.
A small yes was where it all started.
An ant compared to a glacier whale
May be a feeble dust in a wind,
But a yes cannot be changed.
It will haunt through thousands of hills,
Lurk in mindless blind spots,
Resounding heartbeats blares its horns
As dusts flares into a grand sand storm.
The ant has said yes.
9.19.2019
All we see is the light that dances in the darkness.
Coldly marching drumbeats into the silence,
Sedulous wings whispers,
‘This must be the way, the only way’
Fire dances in the darkness,
Ever more alluringly.
9.19.2019
Perhaps you’ve known already.
That we aren’t meant for lofty breeze,
Rather a summer night of radicals
That call forth what laid in our bloods.
Howling of lunatics aren’t sharp enough
For in silence, action implodes in speed
No motion needs no proof or cause.
For in this moment, nothing else,
But we live only.
9.16.2019
Once actors play a showcase,
A quietest of quiet silence cannot resist
The illusions from arising
Behind the irises.
So when the silence last enough,
Truly smallest actor will arise
Out of abyss, towards the eternity
Laughing and slaughtering nonsense.
Today, mmmm today,
It is going to get going
9.12.2019
Ralph with Coffee 
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