Monday, September 07, 2015


Layers upon layers of genetic memory traces 
faces within faces, of an assortment of places
my lucid visions have since been squandered 
washed against the remote corners of my mind
where the faintest ideas will gather and season
longing to be broken free from the grip of reason.
My roots have been severed, my shoots leveled
my memory comes and goes, I walk on my toes
my feet are slippery, my fingers are rather jittery.
I sleep well though, I often see myself in reverie
always scribbling, writing and painting it seems
I come with a pair of eyes one brings to dreams
seeking for a vision which could render me free
from all the restrictions that won't allow me to be
whom I truly could be, has little to do with identity.


Polar goes bipolar
Disturbed universe
Beckoning for rise 
From past demise
Traced in the eyes
Sparkle of disguise
Have plenty to hide
Eruptions provoked
Tremors can be felt
Ready for departure
Before it be too late
Reach for a rapture
Prepared to capture
The meaning of fate.