shadow_vagabond

The front door lies open during a long quiet after sirens passed though the darkened street
a few houses south of such a well-trimmed neighborhood.


I've spent some time
looking into various conspiracy theories,
which raise serious doubts
though spawn some questions
of our common reality.
Isn't our version of truth limited?

Can it be understood
that most of education could be limitless
yet is cut down and minimized by society?
There's so much beyond the horizon,
I could spend days just learning
about calendars and stars.

I'm always checking myself of what's true,
but who will tell it at the end of the day?

Get up!
I'm not going down without a fight.
I'm not bowing down to these clowns.

They may be snakes or demons,
but what I see are men of flesh and blood.

They may hide their tears,
but the blood stains will tell the truth.

Castles have been stormed.
Empires and kingdoms have fallen.

And the wicked shall pay for their sins today.
Did they really think they would live forever this way?

It's time to put an end to the dynasty of darkened hearts.
Their wealth has made them mad
and surely a cup of flames is theirs to bear.

Faces carved onto pumpkins, spider webs, and scarecrows
have recently populated the front lawns of households
where fret and fears are stuffed into jack-o-laterns.

Carefully detailed skulls and packaged, bite-sized candy
materializes on store shelves for a season
before the deadly chills of winter take hold.

Children come and pick up the pieces
of old, dusty traditions
and turn it all into an fantasy of fear to conquer fears.

To put the fun in a boo,
to bring life to an undead zoo,
to illuminate creeping darkness of long nights,
echoes a tone of a colorful autumn and harvests.

Enjoy your weekend evenings of treats

People come and go,
some names I remember
while others I can barely make out
the eroded letters of their tombstones.

They all had their time
with two eyes, two ears,
a mouth to express and digest,
yet one can detect affections
among words of endearment.

I roam no where.
For some reason, I decided to remain in the city.
For some reason, I thought this was the way to live.

I come and go, regreting every decision I make.
With buyer's remorse, I look upon each light and delight.
Wonder and awe fill those shopper halls of steel shelves.

I've aimed for companionship, friendship, and community,
yet all these seem to drift away from me
as I sit here listening to a night of Fall winds.

I'm ever seeing, but never perceiving.
I'm ever hearing, but never listening.

Information comes and flows through my mind
as water pours down the bedrock of a waterfall.

I knew something then, but not now.
What I borrow today, becomes tomorrow's dream.

Those men break their backs to collect a sum
while I move about to avoid the label of a bum.

Got any change?

When we were riding through the desert
in that rental a few winters ago
from New Mexico, the Land of Enchantment,
we visited my old mentor in Colorado
whose a breath of fresh air among mountians.

Too easily, I forget my true master
who paid so costly a price
to exchange as my scarifice
so I can stand without the deeds of death
dragging me down as heavy chains.

Whatever jumbled dreams I roam through,
I find my purpose is still buried deep
with the hands of my creator
somewhere between my mother's embrace
and my father's determined face
though his motives were skewed
the one with the master plans
guided his steps as he guides mine today.

Have I really received it yet,
or have I been shamed by a double mind?
Between what appears and feels good
and what I know is good in my heart,
I see into the Lord of Hosts
and find an ancient father
whose patience I cannot measure,
whose power is beyond my senses,
and whose love is far deeper than I'll ever know.

People may judge me and times may get rough,
yet I know what will stand the test of time.
My God will always be there,
even when they all walk away.

The mist that surrounds my home
is actually millions of droplets
pouring from a sky's grey mask.
Darken and moist, trees and fences
appear as voids of consciousness
as mud creeping over sidewalks.

The month of October has been marked away
until the days lying behind a new moon
reminding me of fall's decent and demise.

A little bird came along
salvaging pieces
of last week's final scoop of seeds
from the makeshift birdfeeder
of wood and tin,
partially whitewashed
by my father
who roams about alone.

I sit here and leak
like a broken carton of half n' half.
Watching it all flow from me:
all blood and no water.
I've have seen much, but quite enough.

Beyond my window,
daylight fades
for a lone rose
propped up by a meek,
little bush of five feet.
Who will see her as those frail,
departing hours come from winter winds?
Soon, she'll be yellow, wrinkled
and sore for sights,
opposite from the friendly colors I see now.
Could her aromatic, romantic reflection
and pious, pink perfection
have been designed for me?

Some gifts come free and solid for the soul.

Knowing is never good enough,
they always want to see the work
one would have to show
to be a ship inside one of those glass bottles.

No where to sail,
since the cork is tight
and the neck is narrow
so all I can do is rock
forward and back
like a mad hamster
hoping to send it all off the shelf.

There's a risk of broken parts
yet it would be a chance to breathe
before all fading lights meet with misty trails.

time after time,
you'll find yourself catching her
when she seeks someone
falling in the rain.

be careful going down those narrow hallways
where oracles and sages reside
in shapes in the shadow whispering.

gliding through fog and unbroken song,
those kids found her
and she did not seek their eyes,
yet they crossed lines
and believed the unseen.

they should have never stared
for those who gaze at her
find their minds robbed of their
thinking capacities
and are filled to the rim
with a screaming silence
seeking to fill their holes
with the flesh of mankind's woes.

Finally, a few moments of gentle silence.
I had to push the mute button
because at times the TV gets on my nerves.
What I thought was silence is filled with its own sounds.
Right now, the wall clock before me ticks away
upon the mantle of the fire place.
On the left, there's a vase with fake white flowers
with an array of framed pictures to the right.
These pictures hold still my family
at some of the best moments of my life...
there's my sister's family from california
dressed in white T-shirts and jeans:
my two nephews and my first brother-in-law.
Although we don't talk much, I'm thankful of his
words of encouragement when I was lost and depressed
after my mother passed who raised what seemed like two families:
my three older siblings during the transition from Italy to New Mexico
and the two born in Land of Enchantment as we worked our way into Texas.
In the next four pictures, she's there, my mother as an anchor
in the center of each picture. Her work of love
in evidenced in the blessings we enjoy today.

Next, I also see a tall wooden angel there
side by side with Holy Mary and Jesus of Nazareth .
A bronze plate of Romulus and Ramos sits further right
being nurtured by the she-wolf.
Legend has it that Rome owes its existence in the mouth of a wolf.

Outside, last night's rain left a cold chill
creeps in my bones as I gaze at grey light's eerie haze.
The quiet thunder of passing rubber wheels
reminds me of the to and fro automotive nature of our society.

Isolated yet densely packed within society,
I sit here at a round table with orange chairs.
In this dining hall, I have the pleasure
of geometry shapes all around me:
a large green circle in the ceiling
radiating from a red column in the center.
A tile tessellation flanks me on the left
and three girls sit at a tall bar table to my right.

An aroma of sausages, pork, and chicken
oozes out of the cafeteria
creating an warm welcome
for my generation and those crowding behind them.

If I look up through abstract, multicolored windows,
I can see my blue sky that broke through this morning's grey.

Is peace eating in palaces like this
consuming the world away
while the nations suffer and spin?

I wish I had confidence within the fabric my being.
I wish I had a better relationship with my Creator and Redeemer.

I wish suffering could be minimized to realistic discomforts.
I wish people had enough bread and strong roofs to sustain happiness.

I wish I would not second guess the yellow light.
I wish I took better care of my body and not abuse it.

I wish I had better control of my thoughts and emotions.
I wish I could tame my tongue and claim wisdom with listening ears.

Sometimes, a dream becomes reality and a career eventually becomes a job. The possibilities of the present are limitless. That's if a man's pockets are full, at least these days. Men used to have missions and goals in life. Sometimes, those missions and goals were actually beneficial for many and following generations, but somewhere along the way this euphoria got hijacked by the bloody cycle of ambition, greed, and debt. It starts with ambition, because with our little bodies we desire to command the clouds. With each passing year, we find out our fathers grip on quicksand.

Regarding happiness,
I'd rather obsess
over the joy of less
when living in our monetary mess.

For when one gets more
of what many would adore
they see a truth beyond lore
and find out an abundant sore.

In three years, time has become a great teacher.
In jealousy and carelessness, my words and decisions
have slowly pushed away all the people I cared about.

Instead of finding a way to be entertaining,
which I knew was never me from the beginning,
I should been me enjoying time with my friends.

Instead of worrying about appearances,
I would have been better off drunk and delirious.

Instead of waiting for failure,
I'll stand ready for the next opportunity
to win with the prize I had from the start.

I had everything I needed to be,
so all I needed was to let it go.

My heart is glad sunshine smiles on her.

It is a better feeling than my memories
from a woman of those shadow nights,
who I should have left alone
a friendship that was good as it was.

Silence mends an end to that foolish night.
Selfishness is my enemy
and it tarnished my hopes of being blameless.
However, I deserve blame like anyone else
for mistakes I could have avoided with just
enough time to think things over.

If I sit here and put it all in perspective
I read and knew the right road to take,
instead I gave to long wanted desires.

Short term gain can equal a long term loss.

People are as real as me.
If I bleed, they bleed.
If they cry, one like them cries as well
and I'm looking at him in the mirror.

However, there's not a single tear tonight.
Yesterday has burned down like weekend garbage
and tomorrow flows down fresh
from a cracking storm waking me into the present.

Happiness can be found, but forgiveness needs to get there first.

There once was a boy who dreamed wonderous dreams.
In a dusty, desert town far away,
whose interstate was its lifeline
and whose tracks were it arteries.
He often listened to the distant whistle
of the passing freight train rumbling along.
The echo would get caught in the wind,
wisping along the spinning thunder
of the midnight trucker making his dues,
of the weary looking for a place to stay.
In the quiet, the waiting darkness
carried many fantasies
featuring friends of color pencils
characters who he has yet to meet.

Little man, step into the light.
Today is a new creature
and the sun is not your enemy.
Live out your dream
where dust and air collide.

I should be silent and let their noise undo them and their world.
I don't claim anything on this rocky mess anymore.
These temporary treasures are but shadows and dust,
which slip through fingers at the wash of waves.
I see myself as a passenger, riding through peaks and troughs.
I should be grateful to live on a diamond in the rough
in this area of moving bodies and conflicting forces.
People go about making the most for themselves,
at least in this country of liberty and freedom.
Most people on this planet require a collective mindset.
They become body parts to work for some head, some lead
to bring them out of the darkness of instinct.
They are told to copy a character, to emulate an icon,
and grow a couple horns to ward off life's thorns.
However, the more a person becomes an individual,
the bigger personality that person nurtures,
and therefore those without will or want
will latch on to the original mindset, the first sprout.
One can see them from time to time as grafted branches
or clinging parasites living off a hardened host.
Plants are the producers, they live off the elements.
They are dependent on the status quo,
so when the life-givers withdraw, they dissolve.
However, what came along was the animal, the consumer.
Beginning as fruit pickers, then as hunter-gatherers,
They ravaged the beasts of the field
to obey their stomach's pain, their dependent's cry.
However, with agriculture's advance and keeping of knowledge
put the fight or flight response at bay for another terrible day.
Terrible days of competition with fellow inhabitants,
who lived along the river, the giver of life and longivity,
brought about change and control about resources and dominance.

There are times when I have nothing to say, but I must type because the energy within me screams for some meaning even if I have to make up my own reality. Crazy, insanity, and unstable are all just labels for those who are ungrateful for their ability to suffer rationally with a sound mind. Just as there are those who are handicapped by birth, injury, or ailment, a brain is a muscle that must make it through this existence for three reasons: to survive, to sustain, and to procreate.
The need to remain in this three dimensional land filled with no comfort or guide.

Perhaps, we have each other, but then we have each other to worry about.
Fragile cargo passing through a red eye to Boston might meet a few bumps in the sky.
A few gusts and a crystal glass will crack, chip, and shatter if not wrapped effectively. We need security, substance, and sleep, because our mind tackles so much even if we do nothing. Even in our idle hands, we can feel time's weight bear down on us. We are held together by pressure and persistence. As gravity pushes us down and predators aim to hunt our flesh, we must trigger our flight or fight response. Somewhere between running and fighting, our body grew tired so it had to remember. Memory is only as good as its keeper. Sharing our experiences with others prepares the next generation to avoid dire consequences. We aim to look ahead, knowing full well how many whiskers we lost and intend a more careful approach next time down by the river.

This world turns and returns. You can run east and meet the sun each morning or go west to bear long mornings and enjoy long nights. However, all along you were going the same direction as everyone else on this spinning cue ball.
For better or worse, what the future holds I will not predict to you.
What I can say is that the farmer waits for his crops and they all grow together.
Some may be slow, some die early, but all reach harvest
and between that harvest and now is the climb of time.
Let's see how far we go if only for sheer curiousity.

A man lives, a man dies,
they fill the gap with lies
so along the path, he forgets
and let them run his life
before he realizes what they've taken.

I've sailed over seven seas of sand,
so though I left that land of enchantment
the chemical reaction to burning sands
scar my soul during a fragile childhood.

Demons filled my dreams with reminders,
all bloody and messy
and our beloved tube
brought an old woman wearing away
in a hospital in my mind.

She walked, then she faded away,
a kind veil over burn scars.

In real life, death slapped me
cold, before I realized
death awaits within me
like gravity waits for a star's fusion to fail.

Emergent properities work
as gears of a watch
slowly wear down a battery,
unless one finds a way
to wind it back.
However, that's a different watch.

Singing sour songs in my senisible surroundings,
before the enemy takes away my remedy,
the erosive enemy wearing away my love and life.

Shipping off to boot camp, healthy and pround?
I'm happy for you and I hope you save the world,
because the system weighs heavy on the human soul.

Forks in road, I wonder where she'll be tomorrow.