Lion heart meets its match

Pussy here owns the place!
From the front window frames
to the corners of the garage,
the floors kiss his pillow paws
in his slick sleepy parades.

Between the gate and the ground
where little light squeezes down to
greet Lion-heart with the birth of day,
an intruder crawled in today.

Filled with the size of his name,
forward his shoulders rolled
like only a hunter may.
But as he closed the space
to face he who stole the sun,
slower got his steady pace
for light could breach again
hitting the slender silhouette.

His crown would not allow
a second guessing of his step,
the long curvy trespasser
should have to slither back.

The snake full bellied
by larger a mammal
blinked once and twice,
but it gave no surrender sign.
She had to analyze the insanity
that made it try tower over her.

And as the reptile's head
lifted in the magic of its ways
above the tall held cat
she could distinguish sweat
breaking behind its gaze,
so she kissed its tiny nose in truce
for she witnessed a lion's heart.

Goodbye fleeting river (version2)

A carcass of your touch,
with fresh mint pop gum
A shadow adrift of a cloth
used on the floor hanging to dry.

You came back! Knee on
the stone step of this front porch
as last night on my pillow, vowing...
to stay for good, to make it better.

But... You left!
My thoughts drifted to when you did,
that salted dam released my burden,
I felt the air enclosed in no more.

At last,
my tongue gained ghostly words, its last:
"I am sorry, but I can't... let you in.
I'd love to trust your word, but... I... don't.?!"

So my hand closed
the heavy door of wood
and after facing it motionless
I too... left.

He wants it too.

His eyes widen bright holding the dam,

his lips tremble overlaid plumed of red,

his arms cross a bumper to his chest

and his foot strikes the floor ever louder.

- I have heard you and the answer is no!

His body splashes to the floor

waves of arms and legs

mopping the rivers he breaks in.

I breathe so,

stretching my lungs

to knock on my brains

to wake me from this scene.

He wouldn't even care

if only she hadn't gotten one,

but what was I to do?

She earned hers

and he could have too.

The most terrible beast

You hear at both ends
of simultaneous conversations.
Your mind splits
cut by the the pounding of their voices.
The vibrations
slowly turn the key
to the lock of the beast.

The nails at the end of its fingers
scratch your throat from within
with a deafening screeching
as it presses its way up.

Raises pine needles
alert behind your neck
and that is how you know!

You growl,
try to hold it down.

But it jumps out!

Like vomit,
kicking you back,
claws drawn,
roaring thunder,
of fur naked.

Its scales
color the floor of holes
scatter light by the edges
drawing its slithering silhouette.

Before you straighten
from its rejoiced punt
your eyes see through its.

The eye-leads,
those rarely lock dark blood
surrounding a deep pit
from the sides.

In those instants
you try to pull it back in,
but it's been shaded too long,
it hungers for the sun
and it almost eats it whole
for he is a black hole.

The voices stop,
recoiled glares instead,
that it is immune to,
won't stop its rage.

My rage!

And its name.

For there is not a most terrible beast
than the one I cannot tame within.

The color that stirs my blood

There you sit!
At the corner outlet,
you fashionista,
of few years late.

Holding a palette,
a disheveled brush,
a blue denim skirt
and a black beret.

Matching your outfit,
you paint all fabric
that surrounds you
with deep sea water.

You play with tones,
from sky to treetops
in gradient terms
you feed my sight.

A monument's roof top
rain rendered verdigris,
the shell of unborn robins,
a gemstone for fortune.

No wonder I vowed
to stare your colored eyes,
given a mouth of smart
and a sweetest heart.

I smile, swing a hand
across my pale forehead
then quicken my step
to horde your pieces.

Please dress me with
the meating of oceans,
where packed sea water
feast on the other colors.

Reflecting only you,
and me too.

The balance is one to nurture.

The balance is one to nurture.
The inside compass tips the scale
towards our insignificant survival
but it is faced eyes locked,
with jets of heat exhaled,
and pointy horns ahead
digging our hooves on the sand.

As if we could overpower nature.

In its indifference it laughs.
Earth shaped by volcanoes,
and the drifting land and seas,
carved by the feet of dinosaurs,
embraced by the roots of trees,
are but a dot on the cosmos.
The secrets of their years in rings
are but a tick of the clock.

As if nature need us.

It will draw a new path
grow new pets and sleep
an infant's game.

We on the other hand,
need the measure of the grain,
can't breath with less oxygen,
would burn with one degree more
and freeze with a single less.
We are the center of this mess
but we also own its consequence.

"Stars cannot shine without darkness"
is romance of fiction,
and not the reason they parade
thousands light-years away.
We are the ones that cannot
gaze into their bright eyes
during our specific day
or point at when they shy behind
the shade of our burning sun.
Wonder, would they mind
if we were to be blind?
or would we alone complain
our starless turn of days?

We for ourselves must maintain
our advantage in the game,
listen to the rumors inside the brain
built in chips of evolutionary gain,
so we don't become the fossils
getting brushed off layers of soils
by historian pawns of a new board
making assumptions over today.

The goddess in each

Where her heels lift,
with the ground kiss,
there bloom wild daisies.

When her lips open,
birds ruffle bloatin'
and prepare to chorus.

What crossed her touch
left the larva to wings
and discovered its reach.

She carries a wand,
blossoms to give life,
to song birds and men.

Women are left to wonder
what makes her brighter
as if it were to see.

Men are left in wonder
over their own measure
and why that'd be.

She is but the owner
of her own breeze
design and rhythmic steps.

Will measure to none,
while nodding to praise,
and ignoring the knifes.

No contour is fairer
nor is it more than skin
we are all born with.

The goddess in each
howling to be unleashed
from the mirror we perceive.

Wave of relieve

Tension cascades down the neck
shoulders all through heavy legs,
avalanche of a sand that has been
weighing me down with burden.

Vacuum replaces this drop
in an after echo of the shock,
legs deflated by stress of blood
are left without structure to hold.

Balloon head floats a migraine,
aimlessly it drifts ruler of none
in conflict duplicity of the outcome.

Celebrate the thick skin of endurance
or repudiate unseen extent of damage,
thus pick the numb wine to pour tonight.


par 3 of "Stages of stress":

• Fear of anticipation 
• Adrenaline shot
• Wave of relieve

Adrenaline shot

Feel the compression rising
on my combusting engine,
like a turbo button pressed
by the current happening.

The brain then fireworks
into chaotic overdrive,
kick that drops me almost
face down on rushing ground.

In that split of a second
that lasts a horrid century,
I force back the reins.

Focusing this flood of energy
into the eminent task ahead
that assaulted my head.

par 2 of "Stages of stress":

• Fear of anticipation 
• Adrenaline shot
• Wave of relieve