This Sentient Sphere

I live inside a big, transparent sphere with a Blue Ocean for a sky and clouds made of Love…And it envelopes everything.

When I stare up, I feel as if can see its spherical shape – like I can see the bend coming in the distance; that place where the horizon breaks and begins to descend.

And in this sphere, transparent and evanescent, I feel myself reflected.

And if I look hard enough, I can almost see it from above, from Outside this Gigantic Sphere, as if hovering on top.

I see it free and detached from me, but somehow linked by something far deeper and more transcendent than time or space.

I see it hold everything like glue. I see it as the Base — the Foundation of Everything.

I see its soil — made from grass, dirt and blood — feed the life that grows on top.

And then I see the Life which feeds on itself to start over again.

I see it adorned and set in motion by the birds that glide from one end of the sphere to the other.

I see it as it really is: Vast, Expanse and Finite, too — almost mortal.

I see the outer shell of the sphere eroded and stomped on, crusty and bleeding.

I see its body battered and torn, overrun with skyscrapers and chimneys billowing black smoke.

I see its lungs filled with fog, tar and oil, and suffocating to death.

I see it unable to move and constrained, replete and bursting at the seams with Walking Scavengers.

And yet…I still see the sphere for what it really is: that place that holds Everything. That which feeds the weak and quenches the thirsty…but the strong and greedy, too.

I see it flush with green leaves and innocent like a child, or like the young Gazette, who’s beautiful and free and also the prey.

I see remote places, untouched and unscathed by the Walking Scavenger, who Builds with Scars and whose Blood runs thick with Mortar and Tar; the Scavenger who with Steel and War has taken us so Far…and yet has never seen or felt this Sphere – my Star.

I see the sphere trying to survive and play host at the same time.

But the longer I look, the darker the sphere gets and the angrier the river runs.

It’s now hard to look into the Sphere, when it’s blocked by Lightning and Rain that falls from the ground…backwards like the moment I first came here.

The clouds have grown angry and ditched Love for Revenge, and the blue ocean runs black like oil and death.

I live inside this Sentient Sphere which I cannot touch but always Feel…This sphere that holds and reflects me…

But then dark turns to black and cold turns to ice…And I see Nothing More.

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Wings of Fire

In a few days she’ll be back, wrapped inside a thunderstorm and with wings made of fire.

She’ll visit me in that garden where we first met — under the tree with no name and leaves heavy with iron.

And together we’ll drink the venom that bleeds from the tree, and which turns Eden into a dying mire.

Then I, too, will get my wings and together we will fly. High into the heavens where mortals go to die.

…Lifeless…

There it was! There it is! Dear god, it’s still here!

The pile – that heap – lifeless but sick, there always! It hums and it moans, and it haunts me in my sleep — it taunts me!

Because it knows I loathe and despise its presence; that I abhor its plain and full existence. But it also knows that I could never bring myself to kill it, to maim it — just to even contain it. For I fathered it’s putrid and rotten experience: the layers of grease — and all things immaterial —  that now weigh it down and kill its spirit.

So it slithers….around the entire house it goes leaving a thick mucus behind. Rotten stench. Ugly. But deceitful to fearful eyes. The others are blind. They see it not. They believe it is the mere stench of death.

But I know it. I see it. It follows me around to taunt me. I conquer it every day; slay it every night; drink it every morning; caress it in the evening. It devours me, and I destroy it from inside.  It remains in my skin as it moves around. Then it returns to do it all over again!

Contribucion de Frank RC

Por Frank RC (http://www.facebook.com/ARCEnaL)

Dime viejo, ojo rojo, provocame pero estamos bien Maduro ah, aqui estoy hablandote azul, bien cool y es como que 
camino por primera vez, en 13 calles dejaron huellas mis pies, ahora hay tantas opciones, la vida es un ajedrez. 
Mi norte es el sur y los chamos me saludan de profe, deberia yo decirles licen porque ciertas cosas se aprenden al
revez. En el sueño americano para pagar mi mes fui hasta guardia, deperte casi desaparecido en una pastilla 
ahora firme en la vanguardia, nace revolucion de mi costilla y asi sigo buscando la mia. 
respira mija, estira el pulmon, abrete un poquito el corazon, me guia alegria y amor, no seas huevon y haber
cual se viene. Ms.cara bonita, con muzlos fuertes me hace sudar, me busco una sin miedo de criticar. Que caiga
con panza o estrechita, mas me preocupa que tiene en la cabecita. Que vez en la molina compañera? te dejas asustar??
Los fantasmas que juegan halloween en la cabeza son duros de matar, y asi de rapido se va el presente, tu destino
puede ser ya, deja de pensar. Al caballero el dolar se va a acabar, yo persigo a Sucre y la immortalidad, con buen
panas en cada brazo y por los mios dispuesto a matar,a ver si a esta puta vida le hago digna de contar…

A SHOT AT POETRY

Originally written: July 20, 2012

Step Away (from Ignorance)

Come forth my Child, step away from the Darkness;
it will hurt, surely, and perhaps inflict Madness.
But I will hold your hand, through and through,
during your Blossoming and till the end of your Bloom…
For a life blinded from colour, though safely within,
is not worth living, not even in Sin…
And I promise, Strong Child, that out here in the Wild —
Though unpredictably unstable and always potentially Vile,
Though ridden with Corruption and Dark Alleys of Bile —
Child becomes Man, and with the Right Kind of Smiles
His soul elevates to Heights so Free, into Heaven a Thousand Miles…
The Truth, My Dear Child, is the Gift of the Unafraid,
Of the Adventurer Idealist who the World’s Darkness he looks to Slay.
So come forth my Child, Step away from the Darkness;
it will hurt, surely, but the Truth cures the worst of all Madness.