Confetti in the Atmoshpere

No ordained order,
Just pin pricks in a black sheet,
God's first artwork.
Putting our world in perspective,
The original Jackson Pollock.

Oh Meteor shower, were are are you?
I'm drifting away waiting.
Listening in on conversation as it floats across the water,
Mixing with the music playing.
Do you dare share your glory with such a lowly crowd?
With no hear to hear your travel stories,
Burning out your shining confetti
Just light to show, now sound.

O'Ryan

I've made my way home in the dark more often of late,
Slipping from my car,
And making my stealthy way through the front door.
I'll often regard the sky
With the casual observer's interest,
And find O'Ryan's belt,
Slung low around his waist.

He is the one,
The one people mos misinterpreted.
He has let the times change him,
A burning pin prick in his hand.

I always find him at night,
Leaning against the wall of some rusty red brick building,
Smoking a cigarette.
We know each other from highschool,
We saw each other in the halls.
I covered for him once,
And saved him some dirt,
So now we exchange nods.
Admitting to awkward recognition,
His grimy hands throw away the stub.
The sparks shine like starts where it hits the sidewalk.
He'll keep smoking,
And i'll know where to find him
If I find that I ever need one.

Minds and Ballistics

I have the illusion that I know my little world.
May be that's why I call it mine.
And I only get scared when our orbits cross.

Your reference to Juan Ramón Jiménez,
Then Paul Valéry, caught me off guard
And our perspective earths collided.

You left me wanting to know more,
To recite verse to myself
As I waste away the sand in the hour-glass of my shift.
May be I will subscribe to the article of the day.
But no, the click clack of that process does not suit demeanor  at the moment.
Better wait, and this too shall pass.


-Inspired by Luke Adams click here and Billy Collins

Good Old Girl

Take care now
You've learned this already.
She has shown her colors,
Do you dare share your own faded ones?
Your ignorance emanates from its patches,
Your faults stand out like a gash across its center.
Hide them away,
Or share your short comings
And come out all the better

Their Love

Since time began,
Or at least the parched fragment I remember,
We've sought for it.
The comfort only found in their arms,
The warmth you feel knowing they're near.
The Joy that possess you with their touch.
You wish you could share in it,
Somehow leech the energy they experience,
But you know that the warmth will turn cold
Fore it is not your Joy, but His and Hers
And it does not deal kindly when foreign parties take what isn't theirs.
  So search for it yet,
  Do not grow weary,
  God's life plan for you may include a "her" to.

Science

Simply put, it isn't...
At least physics would be much easier.
And we wouldn't bother ourselves over those ecstatic electrons.
Spinning universes would not spin at all
Because there would be no one to watch them.
And the intricate facts of life would soon be forgotten.
Beauty would cease to exist
As our world grows older,
we would hear the stones cry out
Because beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.

Coming Down

This Weekend.
I'm sorry to say I don't remember much.
My slammed brain went over the edge with that last cup.
I'm left wandering the rooms,
Searching for steady ground,
And friends that always leave late,
But they aren't around.

The Coffee Didn't Help,
I Hate Coming Down.

Kingdom Building

How crazy we all are
Sitting, Standing, Holding hands.
Just to live
Just to breathe
Building something
Something to believe
We know its there
It has shown itself before
Moving, Seeing
Growing more and more
To little do we know,
That is why we search
In this life, for the one beyond
All of us, In God's church.

Moon Shadoow

I have a dearest friend whose name I can not recall.
She dances with me at night,
And mimics my very walk.
When first introduced, we shook hands and went on our way,
Moon Shadow and I,
But know I find it comforting to have her near,
To know the shadow of me,
So I'll see through my disguise.

-Pangun

Goodbyes

I never knew this silence,
And I'll never understand how to say it,
Its just when the evening fades
And the distractions wind their weary way away,
The nagging voice returns.
The one that reminds you of all the things you've done together,
And all the stories that were told.
You can't drive in this city,
You can't listen to your favorite songs,
Because they'll always be there,
Sitting in the back seat,
Singing along.

-Pangun

Sunset

It had rained that day,
And the whole sky was washed clean.
A few wisps of clouds hung in the air,
Residue or may be sponges
Attesting to its recent wash.
The sun was setting and cast its glorious shine across the earth.
Fading slowly,
Then dying,
In hopes of rebirth.
In the darkness the trees began their lives,
Dancing and swaying to the music of the night.
A chorus of crickets chirping in turn,
Sending calls and returning them,
All passing on the word.

Butterfly Evening

I'm basking In the slow after glow of the evening.
As wisps of dance floor ghosts take their last steps around me.
We joined them for occasional songs,
Filtering in and out of their ball gowns and suits
And sat a tables that felt warm to touch.
Time sped by, taking the night with it,
And the names on the dance card became a blur,
Only occasionally pausing to reminisce on the waning night
And sparkle in the eyes and smile of a partner.
The marble floor cracked and the shards turned to dust
As I opened my eyes where I'm slumped on the couch,
And finally rise to remove my tux.
The sheets of my bed are calling me home,
I lay down there and make an attempt to succumb to sleep,
But my mind won't let the events of the evening go.

Julio

Check out my latest track I've uploaded to soundcloud. Its a electro-remix of Mark Summers' piece "Juli-o" written for cello. Listen, follow, and tell me what you think.

It Should Not Have been Written

Sometimes I wish
that the authors mind
Would find a way to stop,
That Jane Eyre
With all her hair
Would suffer from writers block.
The very foundation upon
Every chick flick has gone,
(Oh to you Jane Austen)
How I do wish
That you had failed English,
And then completely lost it.

Fire Thoughts

I had sat by the fire
Its glow merging with my subconscious.
Above me the flash of an airplane light brought me into spectrum,
And reminded me of friends on other continents.
It had been long since I had slipped the surly bonds,
If not in body then in mind.
I've discovered that sanity occasionally requires
You to let loose the reigns,
And leave all reason to thoughts behind.
So I drifted away, not concerned with were I would end up,
Or with where I was going.
Vacantly wandering, moving in the shadows.
Imagining the impossibilities to test my luck.
The clouds moved on, blown on by the wind.
fleeing from her and her hidden strength.
while the moon watched, unblinkingly,
Hiding half of his face.

Whether it was the growing cold,
Or some reminder of sleep
That broke my dreaming stare.
I let the fire die,
Leaving only the smell of smoke in my clothes
To attest to the time I spent there

Dreaming

You know that dream,
Where everything is yellow
And sun circles chase her hair?
That was mine last night.
But instead of everything being yellow, they were mellow.
Because I'm me, and it was my dream.

I think we walked on the beach,
Or may be we paused and talked on West Park st.
Where that cafe is?
Because they grind their own beans,
And i like it.

I thought I would be able to remember it,
The dream that woke me with a smile.
But the cobwebs of my mind wouldn't give it up.

     -pangun

A Painting

At first I took no notice of it, and walked right past it.
But my wanderings eventually led me straight up to it.
How could I have missed this beautiful work?
It seemed alive, yet its life was muffled by a brown haze.
As I stepped closer a face emerged, staring back at me.
It was not a bad face, In fact I think I liked it.
It had creases where it smiled,
But its deep eyes reflected the knowledge
That there were many things of which it was ignorant.
I could see its whole life.
The struggles in hardship, Happiness found in the sun,
Fear of the future, or was he just questioning it?

I've heard that Art is "capturing emotion
And thrusting it upon the observer. Forcing him to identify with it"
This painting then was true Art, For I had seen all of me in it.
My failings, accomplishments, victories and defeats,
I saw my everything.

Pulling away from the grasp of the colors I noticed a plaque below it.
And read.
                         "God's Temple (In A Mirror)"

-pangun

Tears

This was a painful night.
A night where I remembered a forgotten thing.
A night I'll be kept up late
By life's caffeine.

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

I ignored the tear
As it rolled down Her cheek,
Thinking She deserved it,
And that Her love was deceit.
It had been hard
And I had suffered pain.
It was Her turn now
Because I wasn't doing it again.

And then It fell.
And I saw reflected there a three year old,
Given a hot drink,
After a play day in the snow.
I saw a five year old,
Who, as the doctor threaded the needle,
Had a hand to hold.
I saw a twelve year old,
Who after moving, life, love and everything,
Cried on her shoulder because he had no friends in this new city.
A rattled teenager,
Who felt responsible for a wrecked car.
A young man,
Given permission to accompany a morning star.

I sat by Her and hugged her.
Now repentant for pressing her,
Catching those tears on my arm.

     -pangun

The Hill

Alone I stood
Up on  my hill,
And contemplate the stars.
I reach for them,
To bring them down,
But they remain quite far.
They to would like
To come down here,
And rest their weary wings.
But "Alas" they say
"I can not come,
I would burn up things."
So still I stand
Up on my hill,
And contemplate the stars.
I've reached for them,
To bring them down,
But they remain quite far.

-Pangun

Then And Now

Do you know that feeling?
I hope you do.
You look back at your past
And laugh at the things you knew
Petty arguments,
Pointless conversations,
And childish crushes.

All of this is in my history,
I've grown up an those days are gone.
Till, a year later I open this book to this page
And laugh at what I thought,
Cringe at my poetry,
And smile at how much I've changed.

Endtimes

The nations are ruined.
The city streets became canvases for the wind
To paint master pieces, with loose paper and dust.
All representation has been lost.
The people who lived, all that are left,
Tried to make the best of things when the worst had happened.

The smoke was choking us,
But we still stayed in hope that they wouldn't reach us there.
Only, false hope burns like the buildings around us,
And no where seems to far for their powerful arm.
I pressed my hand up to yours,
touching it, but for the glass.
Searching your eyes
Trying to grasp onto anything in them.
I watched powerless as they took you away.
I screamed, I tried to fight for you,
Until their needle pushed me over the rim.

Her love was free.
Boy you'll have to find her.
that girl in a dying world,
Who's eyes leave a trail of tears behind her.