Mind Control

TV, cable and billboards

laptop video and ipods

.

push, squash & re-do

the mind like mashed potato

.

the hot new liquid chip

blue green and cheap

implanted in the brain

will flush the mind down the drain

.

but the soul flies free

with photos and poetry...:)

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This got triggered by the post on Morgana's blog

"control mental versus lavardo de cerebro"

check out http://morgana-atravsde.blogspot.com

great poetry in photos !

As The Year Falls

the act waltz to a close

just as lights fade and curtain falls

to mark the end of the year's play

yet the applause lingers to stay

.

the heart is so full

of the part played so well

within the script and feel

and the directors' spell

.

yet a few times straying out

as the soul yearns to break out

wanting to change the lines and cast

go back and modify the past

.

still the urge to keep playing

many a role that keep unfolding

at work, at love, as a friend

while the act and truth closely bind

.

much after the dusk falls

and shadows climb on granite walls

the cast and the world gone to sleep

weariness on mind and body creep

.

look into myself in the mirror so deep

and smile at what is true and what is not

.

twinkling darkness in the eye

viels restless dance of a firefly

.

peel off a bit of paint

tear off a bit of mask

.

tape together the New Year look

am ready for the next act :)

Street Mushrooms

they sprout
at traffic lights

spent stalks
holding swelled up heads

skin full of rashes
hiding fixes and black spider kisses

diced and chopped fine
they wd go well with wine
honey, pass the pepper
and a twist of lime
with a fresh napkin
to wipe away the slime

before the sunflower eyes
pop up in the sleep
seeping with sticky
fragrance of the wild

Woman

a bit of dew
caressing the desert sand

wisp of fragrance
gliding thru the stifling smog

a bright red petal
softneing the black gravel

a dash of crimson
bursting thru the clouds

a drop of sweet sweat
trapping the sun on the chin...

God1106

I happen to stumble on God
this morn

as the three year old
on the road
tried coloring the patterns
on the dead skin of a sleeping leper

the fair smiling bundle
on a dead decaying cradle

energy pure and flowing
playing with a body in ruin

fresh breeze on dead coals
trying to kindle a glow

but

niether were aware
nor would they have cared
that the God was born
in such simple moments

Life !

Life is a breeze and I am trying to grab the scent as it blows…….as one would grab the remnants of a dream before it fades, as one would linger on the look which races the heart beat , as one would etch the memory of the towering mountains before leaving the wilderness……scent comes in wisps…soft as a baby's touch and as pure as its smile…it is fleeting as the smile which touches the eyes, as haunting as the tune long forgotten…the scent of virgin rain on mud, the scent of mist rolling on the lake, the scent of sweat after love, the scent of invocation after the prayer, the scent of happiness as life blows…like a breeze