Dysfunctionality of an Almost Human Mind

no more than enough have i said, words like those you wish for. so many of those left behind in dazzling products of animal consumption. like a book you look back on, i see chapters repeating. i will not be forced to read the same lines again. i have seen better dialogs and deeper meanings in images seen by those with little responsibility on a Sabbath's morning. to ask for such things is like feeding lions with your own child . no longer will this be a strain, for the path was once set. but your precious lies feed the mask, and the mask is always rewarding. to hide in the shadows, that is you yearn for. i said leave the lies at the door, but you left instead. some say it was fate. but everything was over after the fire. fate is a blind path paved over indecision. the cold summers are testament to the reality of those words. the long lost moments. all because of trembling images of self created, self invented, self indoctrinated scenarios where all is lost. those who sit, have

it had been a bad day. the one before was not better... the scars led to fear, but the fierce hate within helped me stand. intentions where never part of the thoughts and ideas that drove to these decisions. it was more than welcome the time of "no one else around" and with it the marvelous feeling of "why bother?", so well fed by this Babylon ways. and yet there is always time for a new "you", and time to waste by playing the game of "me and you", yet no time to rest from the "me minus you". dim lights and foggy images bring back my eyes to yours and then.... ice ice baby. you were not looking for me, i was not looking for you, but our eyes met and then... in her clothes i dressed you, said one man once describing what i had seen in you. the red... within. never meant but apparent, and apparently seamlessly ridiculous to even consider. but yet thought possible. hmm... whatever. i guess my next move should be to give no value t

My new book will soon be available. But in the meanwhile, here's the cover for y'all. Irie bless! Here you can see all the illustrations involved in this book.

within nights of disturbed imagery the lights of dawn hide far away i saw the sun... rise 3 times in one day and never leave my sight for 6 months felt the fall of night like surfing icy waves and loved the melting of the flowers and the four walls we shared were not enough so i left once again and discovered myself i'm just a fat sri lankan that likes to crush skulls with his middle fingers a hairy thai that walks with his knees on your heads a brown japanese that cuts eyes with finger-pointing blades a peaceful mongolian see y'all in india when cows stop flying i'll bring gifts from indonesia and marry a boricua right after the sight of flying castles in cambodian ships of massacre and nepalese bittersweets in bangladesh i'll free my soul in laos earth broke my heart in china i saw her face and burma made me forget and one of those cells had me good and once in those cells i felt i could and over again i had survived and other ways i walke

up there in the sky, there the mirror we all scream to... she who reflects not only the light in us, but the evil as well. "never let your friends know your weak side, you never know who shall become your enemy". i remember those words from the holocaust of minds you call heaven in that little story book of yours. thanks to that there's a huge mine buried inside with all there is to know and nothing to be said about it . i'm tired... i tried i swear, to hold on, as tight as i could... but you are letting go of me now... and little by little you are more and more unreachable... lemme go play God in my dreams instead and recreate the times when nothing was weird for either one of us. maybe then i can find where it was that we got lost or separated. even if i find it, it'll be useless though... i can't fix it... nor can you. if you rewind this one story, you'll see that the mistakes that happened, were meant to happen. it is thanks to it that today th

en lo pasajero esta la calma. efímeros momentos de lujuria y apatía trabajando al unisono para traer paz a las almas en pena. gemidos, rasguños, sudor, lágrimas... situaciones momentáneas que llenan por segundos y luego caducan, sin dejar rastro. terapia de un vaso de agua en medio de un desierto interminable como herramienta para la esperanza. ¿será posible que las cosas realmente sean como se ven? ¿serán lo que son? ...¿que son? son los que deben ser, fueron la falta de experiencia y serán la sobre-preparación. de la misma forma que tu rompes la norma del "hola y adiós" queriendo llamar de nuevo, como si un "hasta luego" fuera suficiente para aceptar tu presencia entre paredes más que sabanas. a él le parece ridículo también. él buscaba por más, pero encontró solo un beso, seguido del gemido del tiempo perdido por un amor que nunca se dejó llegar. imagínate lo que sintió, yo me pregunto que sentirás tu? no sin pronto olvidar. mira que fugaz nuestro deseo. mira

-Melodic Rhymes from a Distorted Mind- Rimas y prosas escritas en Ingles. Rhymes and proses written in English. $10.00USD -Imágenes de una Memoria Fotográfica- Rimas y prosas escritas en Español. Rhymes and proses written in Spanish. $10.00USD  -La Leyenda del  Recordatorio de los Dioses- * Novela iIlustrada. Libro 0 a la serie "Gaia" Illustrated Novel. Book 0 of the "Gaia" series.   $15.00USD * availab le only in spanish for now . disponible solo en español por ahora.

aveces quisiera llamarte... hablarte y decirte... tomarte y sentirte... quererte y vivirte; pero la dificultad de tener el único camino a ti, bloqueado por tormenta y penuria, todo gracias al pueblo pequeño [...], me irrita. irritado por las miles de veces en que tuve que cerrar mi boca, tensar mi mano y mirar al otro lado. esperando la otra bofetada que me hace falta para dejar esta farsa. olvidar las veces que negamos por cuidar[te]nos de las luces de aquel interrogatorio de la SS, donde tantos quisieron morir, mas que callar... aun si nuestras manos se encuentran en la penumbra... aun si... si el llevarte de la mano resulta pecado delante de los ojos que tanto te guiaron, talvez sea necesario cerrar los ojos y dejarse llevar... y lloverían estrellas... pero la cantidad de "peros" que caben luego de esta frase son mas pesados que las ganas que aparentamos tener... aparentamos buscar en nuestros labios un sitio para llevar la contraria. encontramos un lugar para dejar

Many have tried, many have failed, many have fallen, yet no one ever decides to walk away. One try... one single essay... maybe you can be the next winner? Oh, how many? hmm... don't worry. Rest assured, if you win, it will be news... Thinking about it? Hahahaha no one ever thinks about it. The price? Life ... To see the world in its true face is not living! Being part of the wrinkles of that face, that! Maybe some other time you can reconsider life, not today. What do you have to do? Oh, just jump . Oh, yes, there is. Look ahead of you, the horizon... it is beautiful. It was not a lie, it was not fiction, there it is. Right in front of you. Afraid? Ha! Life is fearful, yet there the emotion lies, there the excitement dwells. Yes... I understand... It is not until the bird tries to fly for the first time that it understands there is a fall, but that same fall will be the one to push your wings wide open,  that same fall will make you fly ...

look at that smoke cloud... can you see that shape forming? can you recognize my face in the haze...? i was lost... but now i'm found... but... am i found? have i found? have i mourned the lost and heard the sound? i don't know... i did see you frown though that i do remember... that i do know... i saw your crown fall i sow the gift your memory left chainsawed the emotion that i felt peacefully in time wasted. you are the misery within the memory of what was meant to be but never was... has it come to you yet? him? the one who seeks is never found the one that's found must never speak the one he seeks has died and he who seeks hides on the ground have you lived to tell a story? or are you the story of he who died? was your life worth the story? or will your tale be the endless rhyme? not even death can kill time...