More than a dozen prickling

words attack my body

little by little.

Some assault my face,

my nose, my lips, my eyes.

Several of 'em cut

through my head.

A few gash my arms and

a couple stab my chest.

I could feel the

piercing pain on my palms,

still suffer the sting

on my feet.

Bit by bit

those tiny bullets

you shoot at me

rip me to pieces.


When I’m in between
I feel a weightless breeze
cold upon my face as
shallow breaths escape.
Colors are a blur against
the blackness ahead.
You reach me still
even here
lingering –
a vague presence
while I am
slowly slipping away.

The Protagonist

You know there is something
wrong when you start
rooting for the bad guys
because at least they have
a sense of what they are
fighting for their words
resonate with the harsh
truth that they see but
we do not see as
we are saturated with lies
wrapped up in pretty
words and pictures that do
not seem to harmonize
with what we need
they keep feeding us with
what they want us to want
now we are lost and trapped
and groping in the dark

Is there a light?

When trapped outside

There are a lot of things
to think about, to write or sing about
There are rules to writing
a poem or a story
but oftentimes I get lost
among all the cacophony
Fairies and prairies sound magical together
I throw them in the air
over my head, without any care
Rhymes and times I’d like to consider
but they all come out jagged,
fractured and rough
like a broken mirror
or a torn piece of paper
A collection of words in a connection
forming a most peculiar pattern
No, there’s no intention of any
But there always emerges
an image, a sound,
a priceless piece of symphony
that the eyes delight in touching
and the ears excite in tasting

A Passionate Affair

Overwhelming is the sensation

to read and be read.

Astounding is the feeling

when a reader

can journey so far

even without departing.

Remarkable is the fact

that a writer

can reach out to so many

even with just a few lines.

Miraculous is the phenomenon

when thoughts and emotions

collide and combine,

they intertwine,

when the reader reads the writer

and the writer writes for the reader.

Blown away

In my solemn solitude
silence takes over.

Nothing can be heard
but the passing of the wind
through my hollow head.

Then slowly I hear words
fluttering near my ears
merrily playing around,
chasing one another.

They whisper teasingly,
these restless butterflies.
They seem thoroughly eager
in seeking for a place
to settle at last.

But these flighty thoughts
are often a tricky catch.
And when I come near
to finally grasping them,
the strong breeze blows by
and takes them away.


Escape reality
Ignore time

Sculpt an alternate world inside your dreary psyche
Plummet into a subterranean dimension
Beyond this mundane universe

Breathe into another existence
Tracing the intricate lines of imagination
Create life in the crux of your mind
– reaching your soul

Let it consume you in its pages                                 

A vein connects its spine to your heart
Emotions seeping from the words and phrases
Controlling your consciousness       

Soaring in heavenly bliss
Drowning in passion
Plunging in deep sorrow
Crippling in pain
Swelling in anger
Shuddering in fear

Letting you yearn for more 

Be whoever you desire to be
Be with the mortals and immortals
With creatures and beings of the impossible
Wandering aimlessly in your vague fantasy

Exist in an endless era
Let yourself be oblivious of
The past
        The present
                Or the future
Unmindful of everything

...until you turn the last page.