CHEMIN FAISANT
With every season I strove to stay on the lit path.
I tried the best I could, expectantly; at least I thought so.
Synclines and anticlines, chemin faisant, the Prize forefront.
I knew He went before, to light up the Way.
With smiles, groans modulating the smiles, I did follow.
The secrets of the Saints I wished I knew, for reassurance.
Some gains, loss at their heels; yet pressing on, quite determined.
I knew that by His grace I’d keep to His Way.
Swerving from pesky promptings,
I chose ma Verite´ et mon Chemin, la Vie pour moi.
The lit path, His very Way;
Net forward trudge along the perfect highway.
Le Prix; chemin faisant, el premio es el Sen~or.
He’s Love; He doesn’t fail; ecce *****who shows me the Way.
His arms outstretched for me; welcoming me with holy embrace.
Lucid invitation, nudge to embrace Grace.
Car nul ne vient la? que par Lui; gaping gate on Easter morn.
Slowed by the plod, yet heart pounding, and empowered by His Grace;
Gleefully, I made it there by following His Way.
The Perfection Way.
a single word oath
never
doesn’t last
swear it
by those empty giant nuts
for what’s more powerful is our beating heart
if fate jokes
a bow and arrow bend swerving at right path
so save the last corn
before a fowl could swallow after a snatch
In luxuriant jade landscape
of verdant sprouts
glorious golden understory
copiously unveiled,
stemmed by swerving
emerald blades,
entwining the pairs
of petrified legs,
rooted in sensual soil of sanguinity,
the potent promise
morphed as the maze
of floral fresco.
The black upright figure
of deviant distinction,
a towering protector
in sutured closeness,
fused with the feminine flair,
camouflaged to confuse
the invidious predator.
Bare trees aligned geometric
in harmonized motif,
outline the florid boulevard
for the beguiled footsteps
walking away enticed
from the onyx horizon
to the sunburst meadow
where the dulcet dawn waits
with desire epitomized.
Inspired by Undergrowth With Two Figures by Van Gogh
Battle axe (For the 2nd Half) ... "At last!"
Way too fast past the rescue rascal hassling haphazardly mastered dastardly bastards' fractions of captioning cast iron spiraling wired wax on wax off golf cart Bart Simpson minced garlic cubes boob tube huge goober schooner dooms Days Taser taker wafer run stun gun NOT funny honey bun for one shunned lonesome wholesome quotient potion grunt of a stunt punt the ball into mid autumn leaves fall raking reiki draped date maker place mat patty whack hacky sack crap slapped happy tap dance romance slanted jambalaya riot spliced mice diet quiet cheese, please teases on both knees bereavement easing Fort Leavenworth girth that brings birth to twerk twerps slurred slurping squirts of hurting beef Jerky lurching around the church yard disbarred and charred crash cars 100 yards too far to see scars Mars rover Range Rover Red rover come over 4 leaf clover lawn mower seed Sower leaf blower as NOT just another voter devotional spokesperson swerving tertiary but too scary hairy fairy blue berry merry go round sage turns the page safe and sound clown town brown bag the sandwich fad dude and all of that...
In luxuriant jade landscape
of verdant sprouts,
opulent golden understory
copiously unveiled,
stemmed by swerving
emerald blades,
entwining the pairs
of petrified legs
rooted in soil of sanguinity,
the potent promise
morphed as the maze
of floral profusion.
The black figure upright
of deviant prominence,
a towering protector
in sutured closeness,
fused with feminine flair,
camouflaged to confuse
invidious predator.
Bare trees aligned geometric
in harmonized motif,
outline the florid boulevard
for beguiled footsteps
walking away enticed
from the onyx horizon
to the sunburst meadow
where the dulcet dawn waits
with desire epitomized.
Inspired by Undergrowth With Two Figures by Van Gogh
Urban Drift
[Verse 1]
In the city lights, I feel it in my bones, Suburban dreams, but I’m lost in the zones,
Riding through the streets that echo my past, urban vibes clash, can it ever last?
A new type of hurt, cannot shake this feeling, swerving through life, just searching for healing.
[Chorus]
Urban in a Suburban, where do I belong?
Swerving ‘round these corners, trying to stay strong.
A new type of hurt but I will find my way,
In the mix of the beats, I will carve out my day.
[Verse 2]
High rise thoughts, they loom like the towers,
Feeling misplaced, losing track of the hours,
Flashing back to where the roots used to thrive,
Now I am caught in a maze, just trying to survive.
Not deserving, but chasing the dream,
Lives like a movie, not at all what it seems.
[Chorus]
[Outro]
So here I am, lost but still awake,
In the city’s heart, I’ll never break.
There are better ways to travel in town
Past crusty breads, savory cheese, desserts
Two legs move slowly unless pumping down
Move out of the way at expert exerts
On busy European streets, renowned
diving, left, right, recentering, on walk
Here come the bicyclists; they’re all around
You might have to trace my figure with chalk
A slow stroll on quiet streets, disturbed
Darting into cute little shops, askance
Handlebars swerving, our sweet snack is curbed
Waiting for signal that we might advance
On busy European streets, renowned
diving, left, right, recentering, on walk
Here come the bicyclists; they’re all around
You might have to trace my figure with chalk
Children holding on tight; they’re used to this
Going to school, not by foot or by bus
Whilst straddling bike, mama blows a kiss
They weave through traffic; we try not to cuss
On busy European streets, renowned
diving, left, right, recentering, on walk
Here come the bicyclists; they’re all around
You might have to trace my figure with chalk
Swerving lanes with hot beer breath,
Your foot pressed down, a dance with death.
I watch you spiral, edge in sight,
But say no word, no will to fight.
You’ll lie
I know you will,
You always do.
You’ll lie
To me,
To you.
It’s “just one,”
but one turns two,
Then two turns four
You chase it through
Each curve, each crash
While I just watch
You lose control.
Swerving still,
I stay behind,
Hands clenched tight
But never mind.
Because suddenly
I’m small again,
A child curled tight
Against the pane,
A windowsill my waiting throne,
Hoping he’ll come stumbling home.
Helpless.
Heart worn thin with rust.
Praying love could be enough
To anchor someone
Sober.
To stay.
For once.
Swerving.
Jerking.
Careening,
from one end of the winding road to the other.
I am in the drivers seat,
but my hands are bound.
He is jerking the wheel,
back and forth,
laughing.
Telling me i can never steer.
I pull at the bindings around my hands,
it is no use.
They are too tight.
I contemplate,
letting him control the car.
Suddenly,
I am in action.
I grip the wheel,
steering,
though still my hands are bound.
I find control,
I take it.
It is mine.
The road twists,
turns.
I turn with it.
I turn the music up,
drowning out his voice.
I bat his hands away from the wheel.
As i listen to the music,
I notice-
his voice is no longer there,
his hands,
no longer fighting for the wheel.
I find peace in the knowing.
That i am in the drivers seat.
My hands,
no longer bound.
My mind,
no longer haunted by his words.
The voice in my head,
for the first time,
mine.
25.
Shallow Ocean
Swerving black plane drives helpless onto water, unseen
Now the greedy hole comes to the liquid it, sippin'
From shallow ocean away vessel
To dark, tongued, toothed pit, don't bid farewell
Human mouth ousts it unscathed back to soup basin.
-01/13/2007
(Dumarao)
*Topsy-Turvy Limerick Ironic
Skimming through the pages of core memories
Burnt yellow walls adorned with Western art on Blake Road
Watching Merlin with my siblings
Climbing an abandoned tree house behind our land
Fishin' near a ditch with a family of snails
Hiding in the barn while journaling
Hearing coyotes in the night
Chasing the sun before the horizon
Having picnics in the Sandia Mountains
Harvesting our vegetables and fruit
Seeing Jocelyn was the highlight of my day
Vivi swerving in her Kia on Central as we listen to 1901 by Phoenix–
Let me sink into the pages and reminisce my childhood.
Time has stolen from me
Where is my pause?
Where’s the mother tree?
Where am I now?
Please, let me be part of a moment that punctured my heart
I could go on and on…
Maybe I am caged to what was once a rush.
sometimes i fantasize about
driving on the highway
going eighty
and swerving into oncoming traffic
will that make the hurting stop?
walking somewhere
alone in the dark
and getting cornered by a murderer
will that make the hurting stop?
being home alone
door bursts open
an intruder with a gun pointed right at me
aimed right at my head
will that make the hurting stop?
the medicine cabinet torn apart
four pill bottles scattered around me
all once full
now empty
will that make the hurting stop?
a blade in my hand, pressed to my wrist
finally brave enough
to go deeper than just the surface
will that make the hurting stop?
going to bed one night
head laid on my tear-stained pillow
and never waking up again
will that make the hurting stop?
will the hurting ever stop?
or am i destined to live like this forever?
i'm not even living anymore
i'm just surviving
barely surviving
against my own will
Expectations brings
about self deprecations,
sometimes I wonder if
the thoughts running
through my head are
my own or somebody
else’s?
The world lives
in constant turmoil,
waves crashing,
tides swerving in
and out from open-
ended beaches,
abysmal delays of
the lighthouse directory,
guided by supplemental
shocks of lightening
rays trajectory.
I stand firmly in front
of the baseless sandcastle,
a fragile foundation of
past voices from lurking
shadows who slowly
poisoned its interior,
lack of motivation,
wandering in between
spaces incoherently,
my mind in anxiety help-
lessly what I could
not understand,
the words stare back
at me in silence gradually
suppressing the last
bit of life found closing
in underneath,
time holds on as
it falls into deep
sleep.
A sudden drizzle gushed along the street,
That I wiggled out , romping and playing
In my cotton jumpshirt as summer cooled,
To allow a downpour of monsoon rain.
Swerving through puddles where debris
Gathered around little tots' feet,
Our lithe bodies slip-skidded, glided
On a roller-coaster ride of muddy suds... what fun!
Then, I picked dingy ferns coiled by reeds,
Merrily smiling past waters, unclear…
Till Mom and Dad yelled "kids , clean up...”
O youth's play of bubble-pop made us blush.
Then soft winds crooned among the trees
Where only spellbound laughter can recall
This whimsical atmosphere: A time to reel,
To cherish the frolic in heat of summer days
Which spangled my childhood sprees aloft!
Night stampedes wind-horses.
I edgily negotiate the sharp corners
of swerving shadows.
The hind hoof of a doe
slaps the reflection of my startled face,
the Chevy twitches, plows on -
headlights rake the earth.
From a rear-view mirror
I see myself prone on the asphalt,
terrified limbs still stamping
over a shell-shocked mind.
The deer chased its bones,
disappearing into the sight unseen.
Night dropped its iron curtain.
Later,
I sleep dead-eyed
behind a spinning wheel.
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