imaginal

Melodies at a distance..I can hear.. songs..lyrics..familier to an ear... vein arias..sonatas..even stick to what I hear.. those things that will be there for a time so... ....lacking a factual reality.. look abound in an imaginary sound of a fear.. somber landscapes.. Arbitrarily..winning years ..........as far as you can see ... ..........See them into what appears music ..again music that one hears.. in a captaining fanciful ever-righteous poetic mind.. look around you.. ...........look again at every sinful..anting fear.. ...........maybe you will find.. ...........injurers of the time. maybe it will satisfy what you and I have in mind. strangeness..vissionary..fantastic.like .. dreams of mine.. ...........an forgetting that lone landscape of the dreams.. ...........Dreams that you and I have had in our time. Or is it an imaginary number..a number that we see.. ...........something visionary..a chimerical quixotic view.. allow me to leave it up to you.. in time we will view.. ...........View a chivalrous devotion.. or an unrestrained all divine objective in it's few. ...........avowing into our sensitives.. the very heart of what will become of me and you.. ...........in this fantasy of what we have in to reading what are dreams.. ...........dreams of fanciful suggestions .. of just a very few. ...........of just the very few !

eclipse

falling into obscurity...

• a decline...
• like a very narrow mind.....
  Sees only what he believes....
  like dead leaves falling of the trees...
  .............thoughts..wondering .. thoughts
  .............unsettled minds..
  .............as heavy winds destroying a gentle breeze...

no capacity..
no tolerance......
......................except the one that can love...
......................inebriating a level..in the same sanctity ..
as the ones above..
that can love one another with the same feelings of the ones we trust.....
the ones acceptable to us...
excitable to all..
as they are when you reach the top..
the top of your height..of your ghoul..

the one that we all have to toll.
ones in an inviolable raw.
Strings in tow..
next to me feeling you.. above it all.

the allusions of flair.
suffering obscuring a beautiful image of the body a body so fair...
so at wonder to touch....
and to hold.
bringing out shadows of excitement..
of emotions that can destroy you in the eyes..
of eclogue

of        
"Vergil's pastorals in poems that shepherds converse"
As we see the sun doing when it aligns with the stars..
...........In our own universe....
...........A habitat..
...........an increment..of luster..
of luxurious beauty..
that you..
...........me ..
our body's forgather would be....
able to stand.
stand in a mist of wonder..
emerged in a solution of love..
a love that is only found between those ones that can feel the stones .. .

as they roll on the flash ..
soothing as is in the bones...

the bones of our understanding.
understandings of our own...
just as hard as the stones...as when we find our selves alone...
............when we are alone.
Suspended to the very end..
suspended in a dream-like state..
as we all have at a times there been.

are we in tune..
every one to practice an eclectic method..
a method of understanding so that each one of us can experience what we see..
what we feel..
between the fingers...
the stone...you and me...

and understand what it is that the sun..
the stars signifies as they align ..
also with our son...
...........the only one...

as they will two years so forth...... forth is there to com..

pyramid lake

STUCK IN THE MUD
do you remember that day...

light breeze...

white clouds...

the surface was deep..

..........soft..

• wishing we were there..right now...
  progression of a journey still today...
  a withdrawn....
  heterozygous.....
  condition that exists to this day ...
  permission to a given access....
  ..........a design... ..........
  ..........a design for the rest... .........
  ..........the same thoughts I have this day... .........
  .hoping to forget ..
  forget some day ...
  ...........Bruno was happy.....
  As if he is here with me today.. ..........
  i have but look out there.........
  I can SEE him.... ..........
  ...........how beautiful he was....
  ...........the warmth that he brought........
  to the both of us....
• the ship tipped over...
  lost contact with the world... .........
  no way to say.. .........
  no need to stay... .........
  ...........we will do it some other day no way to do...
  there to stay..
  an Oder of you...
  an Oder of your precedence is here today.. .........
  
  oxein stimulating......... .........
  emits a sweet pleasing scent
  That is in my thinking..
  When I think of that day.... .........
  
  When I think of you...
  The water is the same.... with smears of white....
  patches of blue ..........
  ..........the polyhedron is still in the center...
  ..........the colour of gray..
  the color of your eyes... ..........
            reminds me of you.. ..........
  
  the peak of the waves...
  the heights of the wind.. ..........
  the bight on my limbs..
  echoes in my heart... ..........
  as it did that day
  
  when I was with you...
  I aim my thoughts your way...
  in memory of that glorious day...........
  
  THAT VERY GLORIOUS DAY

my day without .. " Merriam Webster "

fifty five beautiful trees....

I see them in the morning...

I see them in the evening...

gently moving in the breeze...

with jagged dry limbs sticking out...

reminders of last years drought...

they beg for water...

........when the well runs dry...

I worry at night...

I worry during the day......

I just hope they don't die...

........When they don't get enough water..

the pecans are small.....

Again I worry that they may not ..

produce ........ at all........

out there early...

hacking out weeds...

I keep thinking ..

........Why..

........Who..

who gives them their feeds..

as I walk back to the house...

I look out west. the sun going down.......

the sprinklers making a beautiful quest...

my body hurting from the toil...

.........Asking for rest.

Sometimes I worry that three hundred feet below....

What--ever happens down there ........ .

the water may not ever again flow..

In the Small world of one man...

one can see us all....

you must believe that we are all here to be as one.........

or not at all...

• I crave....
  I pray.......
  I cry ...
  ,,,,,,,,,,,IN MY OWN WAY
  who ever is in charge of the big picture......
  ,,,,,,,,,,,please....
  PLEASE LOOK MY WAY..
  i DO NOT WANT THESE FLINGS OF NOT BEING ABLE TO STAY......
  to help them be healthy...to help them be green...
  to help them grow...
  so that they will ... in the wind sway...
  Is that being greedy........
  to have my say.... my way............

diabase..dialogue

To cover the distortions in a human form..'''..

.........pervert....image.. .........

.........whispers of the wind.. .........

.........my god forgive me for my sin.. ........

.........together like it's never been..... .........

engaged in a motion..

that no one has ever seen..

.........hypocrisy...puffs of sin..

.........sour round the grounds..

eloping on a foggy stream... ..........

like spines on a cactus field... ..........

.........scalping...

middles on a scary dream ..........

.........withe..''..

energy of a human spin...

The yoke in a field of a dream ...

offerings of imitation..

like bondage in ones emotions.

.servitude..in ones imagination.. ..........

..........like a smoke screen..

..........with narrow visions of what was there. and now only seems... ........

with the consistency of paper dreams.
with gerund of the crucifix in broken dreams... ........
uncompleted actions on what-ever seems.
enjoying the sound of nothings as we get along.. ........
..........fixations of words.. ........
..........to me and come fore...
..........in a broken spirit of your only.....
seam.

to continue in a vision of nothings... .........
in the spines of the plantings..
with very red..
very bloody hands ...
promoting those views to whom ever ...understands... .........
..........Understands with blank expressions on the wideness of the sand
..........The firmness of whatever you can stand... ........
images of your...hands.. ........
for whatever you may see in there to understand..
...........Again I say.....
...........this time with OH God forgive me for my sins... .......
.in a plural phrase of the words .. .
God forgive us for our sins.

OUR SINS....

from journey to ixtlan

"...a warrior is a hunter: .............

he calculates everything,

That is control, but once his calculations are over, he acts, ............

...........that's abandon,

the mood of a warrior allows him to hold on to himself,

and let go of himself at the same time. .............

a warrior is not a leaf at the mercy of the wind,

no one can push him:

no one can make him do things against himself,

or against his better judgement. .............

a warrior is tuned to survive,

• and he survives in the best of all possible fashions. ..............
  A warrior could be injured but not offended,
  for a warrior there is nothing offensive about the acts of his fellow man,
  as long as he himself is acting within the proper mood.... ..............
  To achieve the mood of a warrior is not a simple matter,
  it is a revolution,
  to regard our fellow men as equals is a magnificent act of the warrior's spirit. ..............
  it takes power to do that........
  
  ." FROM JOURNEY TO IXTLAN--THE LESSONS OF DON JUAN"
  ...................CARLOS CASTANEDA.....................

images

your image emits a synchronized beam of energy.. ......

it is when my thoughts enter ..that stage.. .......

.........in a gaze..

.........the beauty of your eyes..

Appear to me .. like a fog..

with edges in colour .. .......

like a wide..

.........strange haze...

the color that is real..

emerald is.. ..

.........blue..and yellow too..

becomes a vitreous exertion....

a luster..

a translucence of the beauty...

• that I see when I think of you..
  The memories of your touch..
  your being...
  ..........next to mine..
  a perceptual effort...
  a vitrification..of a love that was .. -------...--
  and now is just a memory ....
  
  I do live there..in that stage of love.. .........
  in that process that is.. .........
  ...........El tener todo el carino y vencer mi cuerpo para siempre.. .........
  ...........Y volver ah ti..en me mente temblando como en miedo ..
  
  that's always in my thinking..
  ...........pensamiento eres tu..
  ...........entre mi.. .........
  ...........Es una memoria........
  ...........memoria..nada mas..
  ...........en esta memoria es que veo yo tus ojos tan lindos..
  ...........del color de el cielo..
  
  un cielo maraviyoso..que cuando se acava..
  se ve el color de tu maraviyoso pelo tambien.. .........
  ...........Tanvien estan en esta memoria....
  ...........suspended in beautiful images..
  of the ones that you are..
  the way I saw you last...
  keeping me going so far...
  so far.......
  
  .........esta tan lejos de mi amistad...!

life at this moment

Dragging a life..with a very thin rope.. at times it lags behind .. it snags on patches of hope parallel to the opposite of what would be good... these kind of feelings can... and will make it .. in time misunderstood...... dragging behind... incorrectly..misinterpreted uncontrolled..archaic...ungovernnable..that could affect us all... worn out..seems as though it's time....... .........time ... to hear the call. sometimes it jumps up on a hill of an optimistic scope.... it seems harder some times because of what I see in the day.. harming...destroying the visions of that hope.... there is no hope for changes..I believe that what is here ...is here to stay... some times when I get up... in a very beautiful day.. flowing in lovingly goodness of what I had to say... .................say to the ones .. important that day. I know the way it is, because of when I think of you... it's done to start the day ...........your image is a mission happens every day.....for me to start the day dragging a long life.... the hardship of a sustainable .. a long an hard pull.. to make it work for you... and for me.... sometimes for all to wonder.....what I have been.... what is left for you... and for the finish product that you see... is like feeling good when you haven't won the game... maintaining...excepting..-.. the embrace of others just to be the same fooling what you feel within you... degrading the injuries that can... and will be the intent to be the same.. at times I feel like crying....but no tears are there.. no ........there is no .one to erase the hurt.. no one could bee....or be... In the place of the every day struggle to tow the life... a life that is becoming more.. more a drag.. sometimes I feel it right behind my heel...scream.... is what I want to do.....scream is what I feel.. It got so close to me because it reached a winning streak.. maybe I did not hurt that day.... maybe I did not bleed...only to find another way to cry .. reach a scratch of a bloody patch... have to work to make it stop..........before it it gets to be ENCOUNTERED. encountered with something worse to come... like a blind spot on a story .. a story that hasn't happened yet.. a towing life is an accoutered song.. a fading which is wrong. a fading all it's own. all it's very own.

night objections

1. I see a fog below..in a swirling confussion..
   slowly..dry..
   I feel the motion safely up here..
   from all kinds of dangers.......... ........
   ...........like the ones that lie the ones that cry.......
   ...........can not as I ...
   ...........can fly..
   
   the twisting..swirls... prohibit the ones that die
   ... .......there are machines down there....
              Machines with wings...
              eyes on the tips ...............
   Eyes that stare...
   with swishing movements... the sticking eyes..
   thicknesses of confrontations of living...
   ...........life below With bleeding hands..
   Wings .. with arteries ..
   flooding everything ..
   ...........the neurones of the minds..we know.
   Abjection's to the cry..
   the narrowness..A humbling rejection...
   to the minds below...
   ............ everything becomes very slow.. ..
   the fog is blinding.. coming up with stains from down below....
2. wonderment obsessions....
   habits that we have and adore..
   not know any better...
   feels just right..
   to voice them to others proclaim .....
   
   abhor trying to impress others ...
   Machines impress us with their power..
   what you believe...is a dream..
   .............dreams.can be false......
   dreams are just for us repeaters are follower..s..
   
   Therefore when one repeats.. is s not the same..
   nor the one It's just a dream...
   .............we can only fly in dreams..
   Dreams of sweet machines..
   that can terr your thoughts apart..
   Dreams can be heaven..the ones that you want go back to..
   ............ It's the ones that terrorize you...
   .............frightening..feelings of anxiety..
   .............terror ... the one with all the fires..
   that can reach up there.. in your minds mirror....
   
   Both could be saying things to you in your subconscious.
   . mental activities of what you may be ...
   doing..
   .thinking..
   or believing..
   .............or bereaving whats a nightmare...
   .............that's what you are saying.....
   next day.. ....
   
   next day......

perseveration

in search of the old..
my mind is now in a state of peripatetic..mold.
inferences to the most..grievous .. .....

a kinetic energy to find the gold

• That I can not avoid.........
  ..........Ineluctable..
  ..........unable to resist the changes in my soul.....
  seemingly like a social disparity... .......
  a paramount ..
  abrasive injury...
  the feelings of waif...
  ..........flopping in the wind of my internal dialog.. ....
  ..........of the soul. ..
  like tinnitus of an urgent call...
  needing help..
  .assistance with the road that I have been in today ..
  listening to you......
  ..........of all..
  
  no need to find me... .......
  allusions of me are gone...
  hearing all of you in one voice...
  ...........in unison to hold ..
  takes a vast amount of courage..
  pleading for me to be there in the old.
  your group is the twelve small birds.....
  ............the one voice.. the old
  ............because of what you have been told.
  ............the internal dialog of my soul.
  
  like the many small quail that I see today running..
  That is the way it feels
  to have to take you there..
  the need I have is the need .. of us all..
  ...........is that what makes us be the same...
  ...........be looking for gold..
  together like the tiny birds that I see out in the sun..
  ...........sparklers on my soul
  
  ............out in the yards of a watery hole..
  I will never hurt you..
  in periodic intervals,,,,a cyclic way of thinking....
• I will whole the Idea as if you were in there too.
  to tomorrow and beyond...
  I will still be looking for the change..
  ...........the ineluctable an irrefutable even strange......
  ...........there is a need to change..
  things are not the same as when I got here.
  then I had the means to be near..
  ...........now it hurts...
  .......... it hurts to know what I have to do...
  and to do the changes own my own...
  
  
   that's what is near...
  it is very near....... 
  
  a very persist tic...mode..........alone........

imagination

1. your nearness gives pleasure to the senses..
   it makes a plateau .
   .a golden hue.
   embracing me and you...
   ..........a stable condition on my feelings...
   ..........a range of emotional excitation.
   .interjecting a beautiful view.
   like when the sun is about to set.. .....
   ..........my body stops..
   ..........I cease to exist..
   like the sun ceases..
   at that moment projecting beautiful rays.
   feelings inter my existence.
   as when you inter my embrace..
   enclosing a love..
   ..........a grace of...
   ..........something far above.. ..
   ..........leaving just a trace .. .
   as a delicate..
   and lovely melody..
   dances inside my mind..
   ..........entangles tunnels..
   ..........vissions..
   ..........glorious..views..
   
   as if I was intertwined in the flash of those you left behind..
   when I think of you...
   ...........as if your touch is real..
   in my imagination is what I feel.
   ...........when you leave.
   .is like when the melody ends..
              the sonatas...
   ...........the voices of the arias....
   ...........gone from the voices that were there.
   
              tears so vast..
   so great that interrupts the rain..
   like the grains of send.
   ............in a river-bed...
   moving like the blood in a vein......
   disturbing your en brace.
   tears that disturb the beauty that was there..
   just before I feel your touch....
   
   ............once more it's just my imagination .. .
   it is therapy..
   it is the needs of much......
   ...
   it's the sadness part of my voice..
   my imagination..
   becomes excitation once agar....
   once again..
   stabilizing a culture in my heart..
   stabilizing the purity..
   the purity of love.....
   That has been left......
   afar-