24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
How you must have suffered getting accustomed to me
_ pablo neruda.
Sometimes I wonder how
Was it me or was it all you
You did’nt have to still you must
Whatever you wanted you had to have
Love stood silent ignominy suffered
Wanting needing ignored ,just getting
Bit by bit the soul accustomed
Recieving nothing giving all to
Was it all you or was there some me.
You are pieces of everything
Beauty amplified
The hue of the ocean
The pearl shade of billowing clouds
Stars piercing black canvas
It is where you are, everything is clear
You have never gone
your smile
slipping a rainbow
into my dreams
Essence you cannot bottle
Inspiration you can’t control
Yet it comes pouring out
In ways you never know
Word like bloodwork spill
And page absorbs it all
Marking what will be
Remember what heart saw
Waking up in the world full of colors and hues
Color schema in learning the walks of life
Artful crafts illuminating the simple clues
Nothing surely can lead to strife
Verbatim the knowledge
Marking in its steps of combination
Working like a steps as to ledge
Coloring the blank space a notion
Speck and span in our world illuminates
Every shade of gray , colorful hues of red and orange
Traversing times arriving in its pallets animates
Always cascading in all ranges
Moving much in the colors of realm deriving
World of life and love illuminating surely arriving
© Roy Mark Azanza Corrales 06082017 6:05 AM PST
Immortal beauty.
Warrior goddess with hair of gold and eyes of sapphire.
Her shield arm is strong,
her sword arm is sure.
Her eyes are keen,
her aim is true.
Lovely and deadly Thrūd,
we lift our praise to thee.
Shine upon us in our hour of need.
Besiege thy mighty father on our behalf.
Lead us to arms,
as the tide rises high.
Have pity on a lowly man,
too feeble to stand for his own.
Have mercy mighty goddess of beauty and strength.
Aid me in my hour of need.
Raise my feeble strength and low cunning,
that I might sit at they father’s table.
Even just to serve in the All-Father’s mighty halls of feasting,
is more honor than I deserve.
Hear my plea.
Answer my cry.
Your humble servant awaits.
Yeah yeah yeah
I’m sitting in this chair
Yeah yeah yeah
Wind through my hair
It’s a sunny sunny day
And so happy I’m gonna stay
Yeah yeah yeah
Drinking a cool drink
Sipping on it as it drips
Down into my chair I slip
Yeah yeah yeah
Piles of miles
And smile and wiles
All through your lies
All in the skies
Yeah yeah yeah
New Jersey in the heat
Cold cold drinks
And hot Hot meat
Oh, how easy it is to dream of a life far away.
What if that life wasn’t far away at all?
What if we existed alongside our parallel selves.
They smile when we cry.
They hurt when we are happy.
They love when we hate.
They are satisfied when we are hungry.
They keep the balance of the universe
Existing in silence for us
As we exist in silence for them.
I just quit teaching after 26 years. Between that and all the other art I do and all the other stuff I might be able to sell and all the places in the world I’ve been invited to do aikido, I have been very stuck about a new job. After all, I’ve been in school one way or another almost every week day of my life since I was six.
Nine hours into the marathon and I am sad for those poor people who only signed up for half and have to quit soon.
Nine hours into the marathon and it hits me: I need to make writing my job.
The mind’s imagination is a powerful thing.
My work, my life, the very fabric of my existence,
all must be painted just perfectly so,
lest the image be flawed.
Like a dream, all things must be vibrant and lively.
Why stay here in the real world,
when I can make my own wherever I like?