Running down hill,
Rushing past many things.
Perhaps time is not too relevant when you are running fast.
We shall arise.
We will see for ourselves
What this world will become.
Just a little jumps,
That’s all that is needed.
10.6.2019
Cheers
All what’s been done and said,
It’s been a good ride, alright.
In between the shades of orange trees, basking in the sun, scent of lemon freshly fleeting by so fast,
Wandering in forest of grey buildings, feeding little kittens pieces of peanut butter sandwich underneath a neon sign,
Singing an anthem we do not understand at all and beating our hearts to it,
It’s been alright, a wave worth riding
Through it all, when said and done, square and fair.
I’d do it again. Yes, I would.
10.5.2019
Clown
Where should i begin with this
This bottomless pit,
The craziness that has not started
Nor stopped where does this go and where does this end
When can i live and when can i say what i want and do what i feel like i want to do
Do do do I live like this? for how long how long does it take? what does it take? why does it take so much?
Ah the dance, the dance of a clown is so funny, so ephemeral, an apotheosis of an arterial flow of living things on this earth.
Why should i bother
Why should i care
What can matter?
Where is the death? Where is the light? Where is the truth? Where is the warmth?
Is there an end to this suffering? Is there anything else than the denials, the roman honor and all the glories in the world?
Why
Why
Why
What is an answer to this? Is there an answer? There must be. It must be. What should be done?
Ah, perhaps I know. Perhaps i suggest we sing. Sing out of our lungs the dances, the whistle and the thrusts.
Perhaps, that’s what all it matters.
Perhaps, that’s where it all ends.
Perhaps, this is where we say good morning.
10.4.2019
Trident
Vast sky may have overrun with grey shrewd clouds,
Brewing a luminous lightening veiled in diaphanous mist,
Rancorous drum rolling and roaring.
Mercurial ocean waves forms a precipitous rampart,
a façade to a bereaved cause.
Once remembered, once sought after again, nobility shall return.
10.3.2019
Happinesss
Grenade balloons won’t do it
Serenade by millions of clowns won’t do it
Cascades of golden milk won’t do it
Perhaps the dance of last summer is what counts.
But poems soak and bleed their ink
Heated strokes of heart cool down
Flesh so tender will wither
Well then.
I hope my probated story will last,
And that my eyes now are clear
10.1.2019
Shot
After a shower of sweats,
Cold tears in a dark room,
Dawn breaks beyond the horizon.
“You took the shot”—
Yes, this morning glow is what I’ve been waiting for.
All the swords that dug deep within my flesh dissolves into a shadow.
“You took the shot”
Yes, I did. And I’ll take more shot,
Until I hit a star.
9.30.2019
Fireflies
Even in the coldest darkness,
The fire won’t desiccate.
Trailblazing time and space,
Engraves hope in others’ hearts.
I dare to hope again.
I’ll carry the mountainous pressure,
Trudge through mud and broken glasses,
I will alight the fire again.
I dare to hope again.
9.29.2019
Icecream
perhaps the ice cream is where it all starts
perhaps people will notice how fast it melts,
and talk about how to slow cooling of the earth,
so that future generations can have this joy of birth.
Icecream seems to unite people somehow,
I’ve seen infants on the carrier to elderlies with bingo,
teenager girls proudly complaining their fathers
ten minutes ago they had already told their flavors,
solemn couples taking the ritual of sampling spoons,
to youthful professionals flirting like goons.
Perhaps ice cream is where it all starts,
from the birth to redemption, and an awakening.
9.28.2019
Joey Alexander
Before I can start commenting about this artist, please first watch this video:
If you have finished watching the video, yes, you’re welcome.
Not only is the music astonishing, but the performance, the act of weaving the music itself is a matriculate art itself.
Joey Alexander, a 15-year-old Indonesian prodigy classic jazz player, has teamed up with Reuben Rogers on bass and Kendrick Scott on drums to create a dynamic performance.
When you watch Joey Alexander play, you can see and hear his intensity, something that’s beyond the flesh and bone. Perhaps, his soul is expressed through his ten digits (watch how his fingers press against the keys). A soul that reverberates with such strength and profundity that creates resonation in your core. As you absorb your attention into the fingertips that flick the bass string, smoothly swerving with drum sticks, and dancing on the keyboards, you will realize you are in for a trip.
This trio will carry you through a stumbling journey that you’d think will fall apart into a total musical mess, but they swoop you up and bring you back onto the joy of rush, that feel-good sensation of freedom. They keep you on your toes; one moment you get used to the repetitive rhythm, and then you bump into a period of silence or a sudden pitch, that turns things around for good.
There is music that seeks perfection. There is music that seeks freedom. But rarely, can you find music that perfectly syncs, orchestrates, and interweaves musical instruments as these three.
Don’t close your eyes yet. The journey continues.
Yemeni Girl
I can’t forget her.
I can’t forget the way she shyly lowers her head as she said she memorized a beautiful Arab song a week before,
in front of a crowd full of confused Americans
and she said she was happy she did it.
I can’t forget her petite black bicycle she told me
she pulled apart, into her luggage,
through the airport security check,
so that she can fly,
and then land in a new place where she can ride her black bicycle.
I can’t forget her white teeth
that innocently gleamed,
as her pride glowed in halo
against the sun that left her home.
I can’t forget the picture in her smartphone background,
an impromptu portrait of a woman elegantly poised with a scarf wrapped around,
and her bitter lips spreading over her teeth,
smiling against a shadow so thick.
9.27.2019
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