Blog Archives
Life’s Complete Cycle
A rose petal falls on blades of grass and crumbles beneath the weight of heartbreak.
A white feather withers and drifts in a tempest of emotion, crushed by fate.
A tear slides down cheek, floats to the ground, evaporates into nothingness before contact.
A heart flutters and stalls to the sound of emptiness in time and space.
A life ascends to omnipotent space, floats through nebula, in limbo for eternal existence.
A mind sees all the above and grounds disorder in philosophical embrace.
A thought moves passion forward, past despair, to lighted realms like clouds of cotton.
A beat opens like rose petals to release ecstasy in reckless abandon.
A karma transcends trivial destiny to challenge what is said to be for what can be.
A life completes cycles of emotional journeys to find itself back in the embrace of a mother’s womb.
To The Colombian Woman I Don’t Know
she’s old
and rotting quickly,
each wrinkle on
her silvery black face
tells tales of years
stacked upon years,
tears piled on tears
joy and pain
toil and bitter rain Read the rest of this entry
This is for the Feelers
This is for the feelers
The stealers
The drug dealers
The muthafuckin dope feigners
The healers
The freakers
Runnin round naked like a streaker Read the rest of this entry
What is Love?
Love is not a war film
like Apocalypse Now where the hero
goes through the depths of hell and
returns drenched in blood from murder;
he’s psychologically ruined. Read the rest of this entry
These Little Heart Murmurs
What sour sweetness fills the air?
What mixed flavors spur these thoughts?
What song moves us closer?
What forces wedge in between?
What plots?
What counsel?
What stench still lingers. Read the rest of this entry
I Remember What My Father Told Me
I remember what my father told me:
There’s only one thing I’ll take with me,
all my women and their memories
But I knew he’d take more than just that. Read the rest of this entry
We Tug and Pull Each Other
We tug and pull each other
There’s never rest between
The ropes we pull are bruising
Sometimes they make us mean Read the rest of this entry
Wilson Santos 