Dancing in the Afternoon Dreams

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Not all afternoons are made the same.
Remember the days of April
when the sun melts away
every coldness in the hearts of men.
I take off my shirt
and a warmth of comfort
looms among the clouds
of changing colors and shapes.
There aren’t many of them;
and as I count each tiny little cloud
against the canvass
of the vast blue sky,
my mind begins to wander afloat
in heavens along the passing of time.
At this moment,
my body is already drenched in sweat
and I begin to scrutinize
an impending chaos
when the hand touches the skin.
But not all afternoons are made the same.
A rare gush of wind suddenly
flows in through the window blinds.
The book on the table is moved
and its pages flip off invitingly.
A sound is created
like a music box to the ears.
I am poked instead by a thought of reading.
And that’s how I dance in my afternoon dreams.

Courtney Love and Grunge

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“Grunge.”Lavine, Michael. 2009.
When I was turning 27, I felt like dying.
Kurt Cobain made absolute sense.
I wandered in the beautiful philosophy of death.
Every night as I turned off the lights,
approaching the eve of my new age,
I was setting off into trance of pitch black sight.
I was alone at the center of that dark universe.
It gave me chills and urge of lust and there’s just no word
that would exactly describe the feeling.
Maybe, bliss.
Maybe, nirvana.
The flesh of my physical existence
bloomed like eternal sunshine.
Nobody would understand Kurt.
He killed himself, but it wasn’t suicide –
it was freedom.
He was not a sick and depressed junkie;
he was an eclectic geek
who happened to tap his highest level of consciousness
that drove him into the wilderness of paradise.
He sided with the point of view of the few.
I understood Kurt with absolute certainty,
and I felt like he left with me a part of his soul
which was pulling me into his reality.
He whispered in my ears,
*And I’m not scared / Light my candles,
in a daze / ‘Cause I’ve found god.
——————–
*Lithium. Nirvana. 1992.

Love Begins

There are times that solitude
invites you to wander around
many different places and dreams.
It could take you to a journey of awakening
and a search for boundless bliss.
Yet,
there are times that it catches you by surprise,
like the occurrence of summer rains.
You dance with it without rules or reason.
You find yourself in awe.
There is this sound of countless tiny droplets
piercing through your fragile skin,
gushing through the breathing ground,
creating a kind of scent of the earth
forgotten long ago.
With the passage of time,
oblivious and surreal,
in nakedness and innocence,
one with nature –
the afternoon sky that weeps and smiles,
you whisper,
Oh, loneliness:
This is where love begins.

April 6, 2015

Meaningless Dirty Yellow and the Gibberish of the Night

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I woke up kissing the moon
We were facing the north of Jupiter
And Coldplay was singing Yellow
I grinned at the thought
Of Summer and Zooey Deschanel
And found myself alone
At the foot of Mt. Vesuvius
I learned to fly and hummed
The tune of a favorite
Foo Fighters song which invited
The angels who brought me
To the wonderland
Of meaningless dirty yellow
And the gibberish of the night
It was where melancholy attacked
The weak and love spoke
Words of wisdom like
The evil triumphs
When the good accepts defeat
I wake up and kiss the sun
Another day has come
Now I am falling asleep
And from here at the edge
of my bed beside a million
whispers and tears
I sincerely wish you a lovely
lovely dream