I’m not kind not humble not soft
I don’t need you to like me
I don’t need you to talk to me
I dont need you to smile
I don’t need you to cry either
Stay alert stay alert stay alert
You wont know who’s in front of you
Until the day comes
you think that I’ll forget everything?
VERY FUNNY
you think that i wont care ?
HAHAHA
You think that I’ll never notice?
STUPID
you think that i’ll stay blind forever ?
COMPLETE BULL
you think that I’ll leave before get to taste you back ? ??
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
STAY ALERT STAY ALERT
He’s always smiling, the damn fool
Sometimes veiled as a new moon
Sometimes bright as the midday sun,
And always right there with me
Right in front or riding my left shoulder
Good old Death, so patient and kind
Giving me another day
Waiting for that one last dance
As I work the steps, again and again
Wanting to get it right
This one last time.
What do I see in that face anyway?
All that I have been
And all that I may yet become.
(9/11/26)
is easy when you have seconds to pray,
baptize yourself with blessings,
spread wide as a snow angel,
dry as a scarecrow before a tsunami,
sweaty as an orange picker
who never knew rest
You and I were robbed
of that ending
And if I wouldn’t see you there
I wouldn’t know the sense
Here comes the meaningless nowhere
Presenting its offence
Aren’t we just names imprinted by
A memory that fades
But then it suddenly revives
And I can see your face
There was a time for us to share
Our garden was in bloom
Then came that letter from nowhere
It flew into your room
It didn’t say the time has come
Though, on the other hand,
I felt that something must be done
But failed to understand
The clocks were chiming rather loud
The wind was blowing high
Last time we talked there was no sound
You sang no lullaby..
We are the darkened sky I keep
I never let us go
The coastal waters become deep
The seagulls fly too low..
Here I am slowing down again
fidgeting with things, tarrying, stalling out
Anything to put off that horrible moment
that near-catastrophic split second
O! I just can’t face the prospect
I can’t face the thought of it
I certainly can’t put it into MERE WORDS!
It’s too devastating to let it happen
So, I won’t. I’ll continue to procrastinate
to put it off forever, though no later…
Ease up, dear reader ~
I just tossed the best book ever into the incinerator
The experience came fast
As streams flooded my soul
I had thought of an encounter coming
But slowly slowly it walked away from my worldview
Time is such a tiny vehicle
Driving life away from plan
I least expected streams to vomit water like a sinking body
The experience came prepared
Forming river links in my soul
Even in my dream
Rivers keep running after me
I could see ornaments coming along too
I lost fishes to the running splash
Fishes i had feed with the sand of life
Life is so vegetative in the pond
And fishes are interspersed among grasses
The experience came wild
Along with rain to share a particular relationship with time
Today
A beautiful sun is set above us
Giving us a flourishing light
As cassava stems
Stand looking gracious
I believe the last face of the sky
Gives hope in abundance
Today is faithful with us
And it's close to the end of everything
One night, I awoke remembering
the end of a dream like a movie trailer
Between shrouds of murky clouds unfolding
I saw the ancient wooden face carved on a totem
Perhaps an anonymous spokesman at death’s door
Perhaps my projection, just my reflection
or a phantom, a disturbing conundrum, I dare not say
I felt a withering mortality at my core
Yet, it contained all my living tree rings within
my years of stories, husky or thin
This shaman totem mask began to slowly speak
At first its mystical verse was somewhat oblique
Then in rich, tranquil tones, in humane inflexions
the face spoke, redolent and subliminal in my thoughts
Breathing deeply, I intuited what I was taught
Some seek refuge in still flower gardens
in stationary reflective pools of quiescence
in glistening golden altars to numina
But these material places are ever-changing
Illumination is the great revelation rearranging
of the consciousness animating all things
Anything but a wall
Blandly expressive!
Of scares, shocks' repugnance misshappened.
Or cracked, derisive.
Gazing out from billions of unique eyes
Your face gives a glimpse of timeless lives
Old man as weathered wisened monk,
Young child full of joy and boundless *****
Each and every one an endless story
Told without record in simple living glory
(8/6/26)
A vague face, immersed in mist
Lower lip firming, augmenting
Growing paler
Wider at one end
Like a curled up wood shaving
Mouth becoming linear
Puzzling process
Of de-existence as a face
Expression sinks away
In a cubist miasma
Embedded in a matrix
Of contorted dark vacuum
Which maintains emptiness
Despite what it contains
How many faces
Disappear into nothing
Never to be resupplied
Nor their lost words interpreted
(Old Nagpa in eastern Tibet 2017, young girl in western Tibet 2009)
Gazing out from billions of unique eyes
Your face gives a glimpse of timeless lives
Old man as weathered wisened monk,
Young child full of joy without bounds,
Each and every one an endless story
Being told without record
Simply in the doing.
(7/29/26)
With the sun on your face
And a shade in your smile
Won’t you come to my place
Have a rest for a while
Tell me your latest news
Through the sun and the rain
We’ve got nothing to lose
Almost nothing to gain
With the sun on your face
Like it was on that day
Come again to my place
Say whatever you may
I will listen in awe
I will kiss that sweet air
You will say goodnight love
I shall always take care..
Why do you frown, sweet little one?
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
face was dissatisfied with her life
she spoke to head about their strife
he wanted something different too
I want to be witty, do not you?
She did not care about being witty
but she wanted to move to a city
They decided in a dream one day
To move to New York far away
I want to be an apartment house she said
“I agree!” instantly said the rest of her head
They detached from their body
And set off on a jet on the dot-ee
They conjured up a base and planted roots
Became an apartment housing for violins and flutes
People tried to move in too
But face and head said “shoo, shoo shoo!”
Oh, how my eyebrows seem to bow,
To mark where life has got me now.
Each furrow etched across my brows
Defies what my well-swept hair allows.
My brow is bossy, yet will not kowtow,
It tells the world what's here and now.
Before I've spoken, it's clear somehow!
With the truth written on my brow.
It arches high when dreams take wing,
Then droops down low, when doubt sink in.
It charts each worry, joy, and vow—
In life's diary written on a brow.
Some call me highbrow, some say not.
Some a lobrow, all tied in a knot.
Such labels rise, and fall to new lows.
My brow wears none — it simply shows.
Alas, my brow will never ever lie;
It speaks before I can wonder why.
My eyebrows rise, my forehead pleads,
Confessing more than my face concedes.
So I don't beat my brow in vain,
Or wear it smooth, with needless strain.
It lifts with hope, it softens with care,
I trace the lines onto where I dare.
So my brow-beaten brow of mine
That traces all my worries, line by line
Your furrows are not my fault, somehow—
But the quirk of eyebrows on the plough.
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