Beleza pura
Is the nature
That my Father
Had made with
His holy hands
Before he made
The human beings
Here on earth
And after he made
The human beings
He had placed us
Here on earth
To live
I don't know if
The other human beings
Appreciate the beleza
Pura
That is the nature
As much as I do
I must tell you Father
You had done a fine job
Making the beleza pura
That is the nature
That I enjoy so much
During the Summer

If you take a minute
To look out
My kitchen window
You see colours
You bathe in them
And you hope in them
You praise them
Pain becomes,for those few moments- Nothing

What is life but a series of unfortunate events
And,a series of beautiful moments

What is life?

Eyes slimming and painted
In organ red, saliva dripping
onto the gentlemen, lying down
on the cool table, gas mask
fastened around his head.

The scalpel in my fist I used
with precision the salty drip
from my heavy brow splashed
on incision. Muffled breathing
hid my excitement and tongue
Slipping out in concentration.

Another body, useless without
my help. Quicker than lightening
I swap my tools for another. My
long white coat whips like the
wind in a rain storm.

The sands are pink
just as advertised.
We get a boat
to Komodo Island.
The captain is grizzled
but friendly and a fount
of amazing facts about
the isolated beach where
sun abounds, and the
turquoise waters are warm,
lapping over our feet.
Suddenly, a voice, sounds
loud in the desolate island.
It is the nurse bringing me
back to the open heart surgery,

analogous to where
the fountainhead of knowledge
gushes forth unstoppable
as a result after Atlas shrugged
his head and shoulders
loosing bits of esoteric material
(and hairs - i.e. fluff
as the spouse would say
caught up in the shower drain)
handy dandy blue's clues
deemed more valuable
then fine spun gold
retrieved with tweezers
filaments randomly stitched
into indestructible raiment
and remaining threads
woven into tapestry,
where weft and warp webbing

Six months ago
Bruce convinced me
I was enough,
enough for everything.
I accept it.
I acknowledge it.
I apply it,
on a daily basis.
He did the job so well
that I became tough,
able to endure
and rise above
the mediocre
which comes into my life.

So now I have a hard veneer
which protects me
from a negative onslaught.
I open my heart and soul
and give in to feelings
for my own benefit.
It makes me whole.
It makes me complete.
It just makes me feel good.

In the soft putter of the rain,
secrets of the Earth are unveiled
without a hint of disdain.

When skies are gray and
time feels strained,
the rains are embraced
and hope is regained.

I wait here in the fields, a wee lass,
to see how well the rain brings on the grass
longer than a man's life.
I am praying he makes me his wife.

A symphony of love divine
though cloudy skies align
in the rain's embrace, so fine, we leap
two souls in love forever deep.

In the soft putter of the rain,
secrets of the Earth are unveiled
without a hint of disdain.

When skies are gray and
time feels strained,
the rains are embraced
and hope is regained.

I wait here in the fields, a wee lass,
to see how well the rain brings on the grass
longer than a man's life.
I am praying he makes me his wife.

A symphony of love divine
though cloudy skies align
in the rain's embrace, so fine, we leap
two souls in love forever deep.

NEW RAYS
A kiss and a dream
injured
in the corners of the night forgotten
Colorful golden chrysalides
silky
confused phosphoresis, prisoners
The streets naked
the eyes can not escape
I'm looking for light
Angelic creatures with braided hair
at the end of pleasure of the divine bodies
bathed
On the outline of the circle
New rays
in the swan the white ones
wings are born
at the beginning of the day

He walked a path with broken ground,
A silent storm, no cheering sound.
His head was troubled, heart worn thin,
He bore the weight they carried in.
Gave all his light when skies turned grey,
He'd bleed for peace, then walk away.
But no one saw the cracks within,
He fought for them, forgot for him.