Intercession

Ball o’ light flies
to blue-white Buddha
as i pray for you
cousin of AIDS
interceding for your life.
Mandorla of golden hope
opens up in me forefront
as i reach the state of intercession
before the intercessors of humans
before Mary and the other gods.
Five pointed star spreads around this meditation
as zen becomes me
as i become you
as you become dust
cousin of AIDS.
Ball o’ light
as i gather the prayers
of intercession from others
to others
and the tragedy is
that i abduct their intercessions
to use them for you
cousin of AIDS
to bind your eyes open
to sew you lips together
to force your blood to work
the miracle of life
cousin of AIDS
so that you don’t die on me.

Pandemonium

“Pop goes the dreamer”
as our neo-faith goes boom
in the heads of the preachers
and the Jesus-guys
popping up the dreams
bubbles of a better year chardonnay
sparkles of glitter in your head
as we preach our neo-faith of common sense
and take back the power
from the Jesus-guys
faith is vacuum in Hourglass
faith is the energy of the thousands
then, please, lend me you rosary beads
so i can firestart my starfire
in a beautiful pandemonium
of bare ungloved larceny
of old, arthritic beliefs.
“Pop goes the dreamer”
you say to me,
and then it becomes a password
a greeting
a salute
a better way to spend life
dreaming it all
faith is the current of thousands
faith is the spell of thousands
faith is the age of the world,
and after that, i started to fear salutes
and politics
and any faith that can be shared
for in sharing, faith becomes an ugly pandemonium
hubbub of possible Devil mayhem
brother vs brother
mothers vs daughters
humans against their kin
and then, in the darkness of oppression
we can dream no more.

Impending

Ruin goes both ways
and 360° all over Midwest
as wind twirls
and takes men with their gonads
to Momby
and all those left over
in E. City.
Ruin goes all ways
as the impending punishment
come from the Hand O’Glory
--the one that wrote all those old commandments—
sweeps as pyroclasm
bent on erasure.
Ruin goes everywhere
as we strive to remember
to save something from God
to keep something to ourselves
so we don’t forget
just how close we were of becoming Him.

Evanescence

Rain is the happiest season
as droplets of water fall
silently at first
then shouting their comeback
falling hard on their heads
in beautiful, sinful suicide.

Rain is the happiest month
as the air turns white
at an arm’s length
the youngsters comming out
of the high school in the other street
running and laughing under the rain.

Rain is the happiest month
as i coil between shades and sheets
looking for a warmer setting
crawling for the two arms
that shall get me to comfort X zone
from the Y is it so cold excuse of a month.

Then comes the sun
and Rain becomes the month of evanescence
and i pass out of sight with no alcohol
passing out of memory
for nobody saw me leave
they were too busy with the rain.

Resplendence

i saw you dancing
trying to stop time
attractive and impressive through being quite richly colorful or sumptuous
you were dancing
and i saw you stop time
resplendent
a child turns to child no more
a child forever in hold of that call
i saw you dancing
trying to stop time
everytime God’s stars
turned to white horses and caravels
made of God’s cigarrette smoke
resplendent
in your dance
to stop time
and name the last discovered planet Xena
resplendent in the air
as i walk on the Old Ways
stoping to dance
and i see you stop time.

Whorl

World is thy white whorl
if wind turns to water
in a much more than easy manner
for thy bukes start to fry the fish
he shall give to the many and needy
fish, bread and tulips
and thy world spinning around a white whorl
maelstrom in other parts of the world
thy world
waiting forever for the ruin
that lies around the corner.

Kike

The beast is a beast
not because of devilry or witchery
but for his beauty
if you don’t believe me
ask Mata Hari
or whoever was Filimelé
my friend is not Jewish
although he has a beard
and big ears
and has a name of kike
although he’s not a New York kike
and probably doesn’t know who Mata Hari was
or Filimelé for what matters
my friend has a beauty of his own
although no devil inside Brazilian rum bottles
and no taste for devilish mischief.
“The beast is a beast…
-I heard his radio say-
not because of devilry or witchery
but for his beauty”
just ask my friend Kike
although he’s not a kike.