Love is the Light

Written May 25, 2013, while pondering “Love is the means through which ends become new beginnings.”

Love is the Light

We are each one an End
Living for a perpetual Beginning.

Every moment brings
A new movement of mood.

Biorhythms connect us
To a flow full of allegories.

Patterns of sensation,
Reflect in our mind’s eye,

To suggest that where we are going
We have already been.

For, this place is a season of feeling,
A reason, fulfilling,

A discovery that Love is the Light
That casts no shadows.


Three More Letters

Written October 26, 1994, in my junior year of university study.

Three More Letters

If you were cherished, do you think you would perish?
Do you think it would overwhelm your soul
To be loved not only as part, but as a greater whole?
Would you like to meet the one who speaks with gentle words
The thoughts he heard his heart demand
Within its stand against wasted feeling?

If you were cherished, would you call it ‘love’?
Do you know that word?
Could you feel its touch?
Living life uncherished leaves a void inside
But the thought’s denied as you bide the time.

Just three more letters, another syllable for you
Then you will feel cherished, as I want you to be
For love is trite, another four letter word
But you are cherished with seven, so you win this time.

Adding four seems such a sin
But eleven equals seven, so you win again
Cherished with love eternally
Rejecting loss as a means to an end.

If you did cherish, would your loved one perish?
Would the pressure felt cause him to melt?
Could the love you give make her flee in disbelief
That something free should cost so much?

If you did cherish, would your feelings perish
If the love you give is not returned?
Should you learn that love is the fall of man?
Could you turn to lust as an ‘other’ plan?
Or would you simply perish, as if you were cherished
Drained by love, bruised by lust, betrayed by trust?


Pick Up the Phone

Written July 2, 2009, after receiving a phone call asking me to not text but to call instead. It got me thinking, when in doubt…

Pick Up the Phone

I met with my shadow indoors all too often
For, you see, I had the habit of being inside
Connected to the social cloud, knowledgeable folks
People for whom my occasional witticism provided
Entertainment, nuggets fashioned around awareness

The enjoyment of brisk walks with portable devices
Prancing about town, carrying out mundane tasks
Errands had become more pleasant, bearable
Or so I thought, since I remained connected to the Orb
Pulsing through my tiny technology terminal, into me

Walter found that though the sunlight was bright
I could not see him, for my misplaced attention
Devoted itself to the information flowing forth
From a source of feedback society is learning to trust
While also enticing me to publish more historical context

So, my shadow began to abandon its duty
Perspective was much more clouded without him
Attempts to understand texts, tweets and e-mails
Could be likened to a trip through a minefield
Where each transmission is potentially explosive

Why have you left me stranded in this digital abyss?
Walter replied, “I cannot exist without light.”
“The Orb is filled with darkness and artifice.”
What will I do without you? How will I discern?
“Unplug and communicate. Share human emotion.”

Soon, artificial light replaced sunlight
As I became ever more entwined behind closed doors
Sure, I cast a shadow, but it was hardly Walter
Rather, a synthetic conscience emerged
Her inorganic nature was all too easy to ignore

She could be staring me in the face
Conveying to me the importance of aural stimulation
Oral interactions would fertilize our points of view
Allowing a garden of insight to flourish
Between us, a fountain of intuition would cascade

If only I would listen to Susan’s metallic musings
The orchestra of feelings within me would play
Loudly and clearly, submitting sounds to the sonic foundry
Forging trust through the tonal subtleties of spoken words
Rendering the Orb as insignificant as all else should be

“Contortions of technology will not bring peace,” Susan advised.
Are you saying that so-called efficient communication is flawed?
“Indeed, it is ineffective and even counter-productive.”
“What do we gain by sacrificing feeling to the compression of meaning?”
What do we lose? What should we do?

“Pick up the phone.”


Dreaming for Consciousness

Written October 16, 2008, for Irene Prado, a dear friend, for her birthday, in response to the first and only poem she has written in English, “(Don’t) Look Back”. I feel that other special people I know may enjoy and relate to this piece, so I am finally sharing it, for the first time.

Dreaming for Consciousness

Consciousness today demands contentment
For celebrating life is her only wish

Laughter shall be her present
Gifted with smiles unforlorn

Belief bestows new life
Birthed within her heart and mind

Spirit vanquishes her shame
Soul unleashes new rhythms

Truth reveals its beauty
Love wipes away her tears

Sleep opens the map
Dreams guide her to you


Turning Promise Into Belief

Written June 14, 2009.

Turning Promise Into Belief

Peering through her starlight
Time delicately beats
Coiling mystery into beauty
Condensing vision into feeling

Sensing her tenderness
It gently splashes
Wetting with anticipation
Marinating feeling with thought

Such a taste excites her palate
Sparks the imagination
Overwhelms all sense of reality
Ultimately infusing thought with possibility

Dreams take root
Hope finds new life
Impulsively encouraging us
To see possibility’s promise

Fueled by new perspectives
Time flattens the obstacles to understanding
Crumpling our doubts
Turning promise into belief


A Privilege I Will Not Cede

Written June 3, 2009, for Melissa Ruggiero, on the occasion of her high school graduation.  This will hopefully be meaningful to all those who find themselves on the precipice of a life changing transition, particularly high school, college graduates and perhaps newly single individuals…

A Privilege I Will Not Cede

Memories flood my mind
As my heart compiles the feelings I have gathered
Along with the wisdom I have earned
The precious moments I will always cherish

The friends I trust
The family I love
The mentors who have guided me
The people I admire

Let me hold still a while
To soak in the energy of their hopes for me
Genuinely revealed as if they were their own
A testament to everlasting bonds forged into my identity

Feeling the power of this insight
My own dreams begin stirring
Seeking to sprout forth from experiences I have yet to behold
A tapestry I will build in the years to come

Freedom’s wings flutter feverishly as I enjoy autonomy
Testing the limits of my vision
For my future is waiting for me to define it
A privilege I will not cede to blurry souls


A Breath for Weeping

Written a very long time ago, but I find myself thinking of it often, lately…

A Breath for Weeping

I want to taste the breath you breathe as I slip beneath…
I want to feel your need as I enter between…
I’ve got to know possession as you press against my flesh…
I’ve got to feel your passion as you breathe my breath…

I must live this feeling like a fire burning
Trees dissolving, walls collapsing
Bricks destroyed, space denied
As I stroll into your eyes

The air in the wind carries lust to its home
Fans the fire that will melt our souls
Prepares the spirit for its final climb
Gives us knowledge, guiding light

Maps of feeling, out of date
Books of wisdom, pages faded
Chains of freedom, loosely bound
Angelic ceilings falling down
Painted faces reveal the truth
Whispered statements give the proof

The search continues for love in lust
Light in darkness, might in fright
Day in night, life in death

It stops, it spins, it orbits within
Where thoughts of fire make us blind
Consuming our minds with futile highs

The air in the wind carries lust to its home
Fans the fire that will melt our souls
Prepares the spirit for its final climb
Gives us knowledge, the will to die

I want to taste the breath you breathe as I slip beneath…
I want to feel your need as I enter between…
I’ve got to know possession as you press against my flesh…
I’ve got to feel you weeping as you breathe my final breath…


Only a Kiss

Written on January 18, 2009

Only a Kiss

This beauty enveloping me
Is your gift to behold
Should your sights be fixed
Unleashed within my gaze

I see what it means
To witness trust and understanding
Cushioning our aching hearts
Pillowing weary souls to slumber

Rest here a while without fear
Holding tight to uncertainty
An emblem of your tepid free will
Choosing to share my consciousness

Feeling its lyrical logic tingling
Up and down your spine twisting
Into knots binding our souls
Even as we lie worlds apart

Sentiment travels between us
Reaching for destinations unforeseen
Reflecting a knowledge of beauty
That only a kiss can convey

Musing Alone

A friend made me wonder about musing and muses. Here’s a poem on the subject, written Mar. 23, 2009. Since this is the first poem that I have published openly on the Internet, allow me to explain that the stanzas tend to blend together but are very much meant to be read independently, including each verse. The blending of lines is intentional and hopefully will add depth to the experience of the poem.

Musing Alone

The Muse transports me
You see, within thee
Fuzes lit with fires
Of a paralyzed gaze

Looking inwardly tempts
Meaning, suggesting what
We want, to be consumed
By the oblivion of essence

Conferring upon the entity
Anything more than ignition
Dilutes the power possessed
Blinding us with light

Mythologized in our minds
We respond to programming
Whether it be theirs or ours
Tucking away memories

Purity of thought might
Circumventing old interpretations
Help us know more meaning
Than musing alone can allow

Expounding on Experentuality

Labels are necessary for context; ask any marketer.  Language provides labels and we are constantly organizing our ever growing knowledgebases by categorizing.  Since I believe in Networkth™ (a word which I will define in a future entry), and self-promotion and image management are key principles of that philosophy, inventing a new word to represent me (one that does not exist on Google as of this writing) feels like a logical first step. Here is my initial definition… Experentuality™: n.

  1. Lifelong knowledge acquisition & thought experimentation
  2. Treating life as an evolving experiment.
  3. Living in the moment, always seeking new experiences.
  4. Experiencing life as art.

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