Rants. raves and ramblings from celestial circles . . .

Posts tagged ‘poetry’

ROAMING RUINS

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‘on the streets of Rome the roads are paved with desire’

 

In a small cafe in Rome

sit I in my latte espresso,

bonjourno.

The streets are hills

where all roads lead.

A gas pump

 

pumps the smell of petrol

 

young girls in their skin tights

old men dream, cry

reshape a future

no longer theirs.

In business they give nothing away

the begging is stealing

and the prize vanishes

once your hungry fingers

touch

a sparkling light invisible.

 

Where do the signals

of the hustling bustling strada

direct the lost and wandering

without direction?

Without stars or visions

or love

or money?

Without the future of an anchored past?

Without a cigarette to hold

between two fingers.

Without smoke to hide

heated passions

never found.

 

Buzzing boys on scooters

and girls on motorcycles

swarming worker bees

pace the afternoon air

directing the incessant

active backdrop stage of noise

for ice cream eating aging beauties

tongue licking spinning ice cream cones

spinning vanilla upper lip memories

of once best nights satisfied

yet even now

never happy.

 

Where did your gas pump stop spinning?

When did it stop pumping

fairy tale novels romance?

Holy sister keeps the steeple bells ringing

where all else pulses silent

hushed by the smiles of bright blue skies

turned dark and cloudy black.

 

Where did your pump stop pumping?

When did your wars become death star battles?

Why has the diamond sky never lit your way?

The graffiti walls do not conceal any answers.

The petrol smell pump

keeps every designer baby carriage rolling.

The pulsating sirens gift only more questions.

 

What does the business meeting want?

Love.

What does the endless night desire?

Love.

What does the greed of possession refuse to give?

Love.

Where do you buy your next human touch?

 

From pigeons lonely for the next crumb.

 


 

***************************************************

f. j. llorente

Rome, Italy

April 7, 2017

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NEW POETRY COLLECTION NOW ON AMAZON!!!!!!!

Exciting news!!! ‘The Treasure of Forgotten Island, A Poetry Collection‘ is now published and available to the public on Amazon.com. The collection of over 60 poems and 11 paintings is a treasure . . .  packed with treasures for any poetry reader or art lover. Order your full color copy of the book today, or if you just want to read the poems, order the black and white paperback, or pick up the Kindle e-version. Then let me know what you think. Enjoy!

 

Full Color Version

Black and White Paperback

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CITY TALK

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In this turbulent city

the shrill alarm of the sun

awakens me

to kiss a new morning sky.

A thick brown cloud of smog

tickles me

to open my dreary eyes

and smell the rising dawn.

 

Roaring motorcars

and boisterous buses

sing a brutal song

to my distressed ears.

Grueling heavy metal

in a crescendo

of muddled thrash.

 

Soon faces in the traffic

snarl viciously at me

with all the shortcomings

of the previous

disenchanted evening.

 

Tall looming skyscrapers

stare brooding at me

dark shaded windows

laughing.

Traffic lights

are yelling at me

in enigmatic code

only gods can understand.

 

At the close of night

the roads are deathly silent

and I

have yet

to say a word.

THE DESTROYERS OF THE DAWN

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I’ve experienced the operatives of deceit throughout my life in many different forms and in many different media. I was destined from birth to seek and share, Truth and enlightenment, wherever and whenever. So it continues to be a constant struggle. A consistent challenge where they suppress all forms of achievement and advancement in any way they can.

I can not stress enough how ingrained and integrated they are in every aspect of our lives. They are especially most dangerous to those that attempt to reveal them and expose them to others. They are masters of disinformation. They use politics, religion or any personal topic they can to fulfill their deviant agenda. Or worse.

Be aware. Call them out whenever possible. Don’t let them divert your focus from the sharing and spread of knowledge and enlightenment. They are powerful and very wealthy. They are the concealers of artifacts and learning from the past. They are in hiding in lands and countries throughout the world. Their modus operandi is to use conflict and violence to control and confiscate the world treasures they haven’t already confiscated and concealed for themselves.

Be aware!

And in secret warehouses, underground caves, bunkers, castles and mansions . . . millions of artifacts dwell in darkness, few in the limelight. Many in crates and boxes, compartmentalized. Few records of their existence and fewer still, those authorized to open them to verify if their recorded contents actually still exist.

:like ON THE EDGE OF PO VER CITY

violin on a metro skywalk

……………………

…………………..

on the tattered street by the sidewalks of diversity

lies bare and broken the remnants of a civilization’s dream

discarded and no longer significant to the progress of the modern era.

the streets of silence howl with night, they feel the brittle fingers of the bite

………………………..of the lost entrails of the fading sun

they feel that comet on the run

like no longer dying

……………….but no longer fun.

…………….

……………………..The bright illuminated headlights of the planets sun

………………………………………….shines above the city like a darkened plum

…………………….the skins of the city dirty come

………………….for a breadth of pleasure to fill their sum

……………….but the dreams of the mortals are not soon over run

………….for they savored bitter, sweetness of the silent one.

……………..

…………………..broken and shattered you can hear them plea

……………….salvage the remnants or they’ll never see.

…………………..

……………………..and back on the street the wheels still roar

…………….as the fire of the sky above does burn

………………………..so the wheel of the killer still does turn

…………..as the remnant on the street feels the rubber pound

……so the motor and the earth felt the burning ground.

………………….

………………………….bells ring         souls sing

……..and the remnant and the sky didn’t hear a sound

…………………..they were happy for the silence

……………………………………in a dream

……………………………………….they   found.

………….

…………….

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fj llorente – Texas Max King – circa 1996

RIVETS AND BUNS (A War Story of Love)

shadows

 

Her soft hands
warmly knead my flour
a precious cargo
booming to land another flawless mission.

To Paris on her smell.

He doesn’t feel the final rivet snap
blooming foreskin
shielding the butt tip of his cockpit
as it rips apart
on his final approach
to her runway.

He smells the Paris of her hands baking.

DEEP MINES

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Mines I slave for nights and days

the dark depths conceal

hard hammered walls

of bones and dirt.

 

One hollow cavity I follow

pounding loud and soundly

a suckled pulse

for a dire gem of pleasure

and a mass mother lode.

 

In the core shaft of pursuit

the bright gilded veins

gleam ruptured passion

from every mind’s eye

my find you are mine

dear lover.

 

 

 

 

_______________________________

Written August 25, 1999
Revised November 2, 2015

OUT OF THE BLUE AND INTO THE BLACK

I enjoy film, photography, poetry and music. I am an artist. I am also interconnected to everyone else on this planet. I have crossed paths with many people throughout my life. Those people have crossed paths with many others. We live in a woven fabric of connectivity, weaving denser every day of our lives. When most of the world is at peace, we are at peace. When most of the world is not, we are not. Violence always exists somewhere in the world. Often in many different places at the same time. The world is that large. Humans are that flawed. When there is extreme violence going on in some part of the world, and we are made aware of it by the many strands of information we are connected to, many of us are compassionately moved to stop it in any way we can. No, not everyone feels that way. Nor do they act beyond their own survival requirements. But some of us are inspired and conscientiously forced to act.

My personal method is to enlighten through film, photography, poetry or writing. In the past few weeks I have been at a crossroads once again. I am painfully torn apart by extreme merciless violence in parts of the world. I am also hurt and torn by people who prefer to target a group of people for the crimes of certain individuals within the group of people.

So I have taken on the responsibility of enlightening as many people around the world as I can possibly reach, with all of my strands of connectivity. The most noble purpose in this life is to teach others how to teach enlightenment. I will teach ‘differentiation’. Differentiation is the skill of being able to analyse and process the perceptive difference between two or more things which otherwise seem to be similar. I will begin with a topic I have been most ardently involved with for the past month. I will continue as time moves on with topics in need of evaluation and reassessment. In the end, our goal is to explore new ways of improving the lives of everyone. And reducing or eliminating those things that attempt to block us from achieving that goal. The first ‘differentiation’ I will explore is ‘the merciful and the merciless‘. Please feel free to reblog or repost any of the essays. Courteously include author credit. 1-004-14SEY28 MK0018

:OBSERVATIONS ON A NOVEMBER DARKNESS ON THE EDGE OF TOWN

It’s almost time for me to head back home
but today I feel a darkness creeping
across the globe dark forces seeping
they find the holes when I am sleeping
or when I am not fighting them and keeping
them on the defensive.
They are greedy green mean machines.
Real powers and real forces. There are those that
don’t believe me. They don’t see them every day.
So they give them holidays, so they can do what they may, and take away, more of what you pay and pay. They do not understand that only they can stop them. But they must fight them every day. Without a holiday. Believe what I say.
Drugs you don’t need.
Healing plants you can’t have.
Poisons in your food to make you pay.
Wars and weapons to pay and pay in lives.
Watching and listening, taking away your dignity,
your humanity, your joy.
Tricks to fool you, pay you to work,
then take your money away.
You never own anything. They own you.
You can stop them.
You must stop them.
Stop the banks from stealing.
Stop the companies from cheating.
Stop the people from lying.
Stop the government from killing.
Love.
Love is not religion.
Love is not a competition.
Love is not waiting for the reward.
Love is Nature.

===================

11/13/13 – fjl

CHILL

i opened my refrigerator today

cool sensations of life inspired me to dig deeper

the light of the universe filled a dark room

and the cabbage made me think

juice of a thousand wars pure and unsweetened

tomatoes hit every bad act ever performed

by any slice of meat

egg head lined eyes on the embryonic world

from every chicken never born

lest the rotting stench of life decay

tickle a nose with the sulfur mine of love

shake your mustard

or else

not even your best squeeze

will stop dripping wet first fallen

from lonesome cucumber

where is your cavity

lemon sour yellow dreams

no limes, no clouds, no perfect life

where are you hiding sweets

why is your sweet hiding

is your middle shelf always full

or does unspoiled milk still feed

your baby right times

waters of a thousand lies

keep yogurt smiles healthy

hold your mayonnaise tight

and don’t let your ketchup slip

or you will never catch up

you will never slip tight

sleepless nights might

frighten you to close the door

and never again open

and never open it again

never knowing if the light turns off

alone.

————————————-

August 2013

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WHO AM I

sunset pic jan 2013

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WHO ARE YOU

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SOUNDS OF NOTHING AND THE SIGHT OF NO ONE

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NO ONE LISTENS, NOTHING IS HEARD

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FOOTSTEPS IN THE SANDS ARE WORN AWAY BY THE WINDS OF TIME

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