About an arrow

I have this little poem
About an arrow
I’ve been working on
And I try to read it
To some lovers who have listened
And listened
And they all seem
To think its crazy
They told me they see
No arrow in there
I’m going nuts
Kind of mad
Writing about tongues and love making
And arrows
I keep telling them
This is not about
Tongues and love making
Don’t get distracted by details
Don’t love small parts
Look to the original
Be an all
Not a part
But they all were parts, my lovers
And they didn’t recognize an all
Without its part
They don’t recognize any alls
Any parts
Nothing
Not even an arrow
And its parts like
Some say I’m too petty
Too critical
Demanding
But when it gets to
Tongues
And love making
I wonder
What’s wrong with my arrows?
I guess, the answer is,
I should find
Better lovers.

The War

Beyond this world
And the next one
Some may have learned how
To leave their presence in
EXISTENCE
By breaking toilet sinks
By shaking hands
Writing absolutely genius works
Absolute astonishing lyrics
Emotional intellectual poems
A classic song
By loving one of a couple
By being loved by one of a couple
By giving birth
By having sex and great orgasms
And fireworks
And stars
By simple mere revelation of
FORCE
And CAPACITY
And MOTIVATION
Single marks, valses and a typical way
Of be living and
Not be lived
By a matter of faith
And incapacity
Longitude
You will never be able
To touch sadness, melancholia, nostalgia,
Even glory.
Achieve the paramount of awareness
Let yourself fall
Through meaning
And
Wake up every morning
To break a little
Of what doesn’t break you

liberty

My mother used to drive me
with her car full of toys
we used to drive everywhere
she used to tell me stories
she said that lonely people's problem
is to be lonely and
that time declines happiness
that you just have to wait
you're intire life
to realize
there's nothing out there
no purpose and no meanings
we drove for hours
and olny stopped
by the house
where I grew up
such a fascinating house
and tremendous glimmering light
stagnated air
a perfect view to the city
-the world is a mess, she
used to tell me,
but I feed you with tender
all your life
my dear child
you will fall into the world
like there's no rythm
or gravity
and all your laws
will turn out to be
desires
you will know
the word beauty
so intesively
that you will read
this poem
until you find it.

The day I went for a massage

It has been sun and rise
And I got
A massage
And it felt quite good
Two hands gently spreading oil up on the skin
And on the shoulders, on the knees
In some places where you’re supposed to feel it a little bit more
On the palm of your hands
Beneath your fingers
I got a massage
it felt quite ok
but that was hours earlier
to the point that I’m narrating:
it was about
7 o’clock
And I was walking
towards home
It started raining
And it has been sun and rise
all day long
but it started raining
and I ran
I was quite away from home
so I had to run a lot
But suddenly,
Running,
I realized that
I really didn’t have to run
After all it was raining
And it didn’t feel bad
And the water on the skin
Dropped so good
As the hot oil
and the hands.
So I calmed down,
walked again.
And do you know those times
when you have words bumping through your head
very fast
and you definitely
feel like writing?
Well, it was a hell of a day
Because I wrote a lot
it was raining
and I had a massage.