I dreamed a dream that I belonged

A giant cold brick wall, tall as the stars

Strangled by time, pine tar legs only went so far

A parrot with holographic colors nipped at my head, smirking as it suddenly spawned

Pecked me dry, bad thoughts and all.

The lights that shine in the deep black sky came crashing down, illuminating wandering hands

A feverish pace upon the wall, line upon line composing the same damn song

Every word came out wrong

Same twist and turns, same haunting chorus, to dust and crumbs go the best laid plans.

A ceiling meant for giants, a vast space broad as an infinite hall, never-ending like all that you long

A digestive tract swallowed me whole, I could not jest.

“There is no use, give it a rest”,

said a mouth on the wall

It is a dream of a dream, nothing belongs.

-A.Garcia

Perpendicular

Every atom flowing through your body, the very component of stars. The expanse of the universe, perceiving itself and coming into awareness through you. An expansion that has always been and will be.

Still our paths crossed. Perhaps, gods-be-damned, they only touched at one point, each line transversing again into infinity, never to meet again. How sad. How grand. How so encompassing of all that it is to be human. It can be so cruel at times, you want to lash out and scream, let your eyes weep and cry. Rewarding too, I guess. You have to stop more, observe more. That is what they say at least, and I do not know who ‘they’ are. Another star pulled in by gravity to live out, in a fraction of time, the terrifying and majestic reality of being alive.

There is an understanding out there, a self awareness that comes into being in the circuits of our brains. Consciousness we call it. And through those electrical and chemical reactions, desire wins; longing burns a hole through the soul. Saudade. More hurt than satisfaction, I concur.

It all takes form in such incredible ways, love for example. The most telling, in the glint of the eyes. Or in that smile. It was heaven sent, the very make-up of all that is above, below and around. Now all in my mind, it slowly fades away. The picture that was formed, now a page with frazzled, burnt edges, slowly eaten away.

That is all that is left to say.

A mere passerby, aimlessly wandering and just happened to trip right by you.

-A.Garcia

Yarn

A twisted thread of fibers is chasing after me

A red ball of yarn, I’m the honey to a bee

I toss the gnarled sphere as hard as my arm allows

Infinite it seems

Every time it’s thrown, it tumbles back for my eyes to see, curled and tangled, mixed up between twigs and leaves.

It bounces through legs, up red brick walls, threading a devious route and crossing busy car riddled streets. One glance over my shoulder, the red ball of yarn is chasing after me.

I tie one end to an old withering tree, toss it down a cliff, off into a deep, dark sea, to frolic and be spit out on a distant beach. Or maybe it will drown, swallowed by a passing whale, it’s sure to never return, finally to be free.

One night I awoke to peculiar sounds, step-tap, step-tap, then a tip-tap on my bedroom window. A sailor named Ahad screamed through a thundering rain, “I have a gift for thee! I tossed a spear and a line to catch a big white whale, all that came back was a red ball of yarn with your name etched in its fibers!”

Madness!

I have tied it to a tree! Attempted to drown it in poison tea! I just want to scream!

How could it be, this red ball of yarn always finds me.

-A.Garcia

Alive

There is magic in being alive

Smooth how the snow falls

Warm how the sun feels

Blessed be your cheeks, for they have felt the stinging cold

Blessed be your eyes, for they see the moon shine

That is it, what more can be said

The heart pounds against your ribs

You give what you can spare

Even if it’s just breath escaping into air.

-A.Garcia

It’s a tender sort of pain, a quiet ache that engulfs the heart

A longing with nowhere to go, a cup full of water that overflows

Dead-end streets and cobblestones lead straight to a locked door

Stand under the weeping rain, the entrance has no key, no answer, no fix for your broken part.

-A.Garcia

Forever

How do you hold on to forever?

Your head, how it fits perfectly in the cup of my hand, perfectly framed and rested. To feel your warmth, your wet, cold nose searching for comfort. Your body curled up between my legs, burrowed as you should be. You had a rough few first months of life and it showed the moment you turned up at our door. Your grittiness and survival instinct alert to dangers that were not there anymore. That's okay, I'm the same way. Perhaps we are kindred souls. Constant vigilance because life was not fair at one point.

The insistent desire to indulge in fine food, cold or warm, found on the street or in the space inside your bowl. Long walks and sun bathing in the park, doesn't it feel so nice? I know you love it. Green eyes or something, they always seem to change. I could never stand when sadness seemed to glisten from them, two eyeballs held in a glaze. Your paws tip-tapping around, such a sweet sound. Can you please give me one last gaze.

How do you hold on to forever?

-A.Garcia

Gnossienne

They feel so silly, all these words. Otherworldly. How they are typed out so nice and sweet, perfectly arranged, a cadence following a piano in my head. The soul’s Gnossienne. A reflection of an imaginary world, a refuge for when reality hits like an approaching brick wall. Solid and cold. So I scoff. Brick walls fall too, and then?

It was said at one point, no whimsy here on this planet, no spot for rhythm or blues, give your inner desires to production, straight lines doing what you are told, “don’t you see that it leads to heaven?” I could laugh at the absurdity. What of the quiet sigh at the end of the night that betrays a yearning for something more? What if heaven was skin against skin not above but here on earth. Think, all you ever held was nothing in every sense of the word, even the breath you hold.

All along the tempo of the heart was not meant to be found but composed. Here I leave contentment in notes, a symphony of unrelated tunes placed down in written form. Because if not now, when?

-A.Garcia

I want to love you

in a gentle, mundane kind of way

When light dances in the swells of your hair, watch it sway

Terrestrially, feet grounded on this Earth

Frills and excitement, drift away,

but not the twist, the dimple in your gentle smile, the glint in the eye when I say, my dream became true, when I saw you.

-A.Garcia

My Muse

Ohh, Saudade!

How you haunt my dreams and disintegrate my soul. You build me up and lead me on, such high from happiness, such crumbling lows. Every corner I turn, you stand before me and undress me whole. Saudade, my muse, my heart, is this all? Towering heights my vision holds, just for you to leave crumbs on the floor.

- A.Garcia

How Else

Hello, you,

I am writing this letter today, in the same manner I’ve written countless others before. Same rhythm and tune, like composing a song.

It will float in the ether, waiting for a fire to start, dust particles lit aflame from friction, burning words because they never belonged.

That’s how it feels, when words escape a weary soul, a bow and arrow in the hands of someone who doesn’t know what he holds. I shoot the arrow until my arms go numb, sorry if it lands near your heart, while you were dreaming of a beyond. How else could I describe the affliction one suffers when words fire your soul, a fever with no threshold, burning for far too long.

I have crafted a world like none before, all in my head with these fingers and hands full of holes. As much as I try to grasp, it slips through like liquid gold.

So I cut it short once again. Another one in the books, another one with no end, just a sudden stop, never making it past the last bend. Perhaps I am wrong, blinded by foolish make believes, same rhythm and tune, I compose the same damn song.

-A.Garcia

Wish I could write all the better words

perfectly stacked and arranged

trail of papers tipped over

discarded and burned

or feathers crimson red from blazing birds

Some of them meant something

A towering fall, even the gods looked

A giant pillow, my face headed towards

-A.Garcia

Untitled (not found)

A subtle whisper, it titters at the edge of sound, its there

Barely, minuscule in its presence

Ever-present, like air

A touch, so fleeting, never enough

A question, should I dare?

Lay it out, if you must

That the soul conspired a rampant affair

I said with an earnest nod

With a flame so bright it burnt my heart.

-A.Garcia

Flowers sprung in the month of May

Winter frost evaporating away

What is meant to stay?

Can I peek at what you view?

Can I listen to your hearts tune?

Can I marvel at what is meant to be true?

I know, its desire cutting through

I set free the stone in my shoe

I set free my love for you.

-A.Garcia

Color

What is it they say? “What you seek is seeking you.”?

And what if everywhere you look, it’s all the same color, the color blue?

As far as the horizon, once painted red, orange, many different hues.

And, look at your hands, same as the horizon, even the bird that past your eyes just flew.

How to differentiate, what is meant to be true?

If what you seek is stuck in a limbo of color, where confusion reigns, results the same across an eternal view.

-A.Garcia

Perfect Heart-Shape

Why the tears?

Why the weary look?

The heart, heavy as a block of cement

Why the fear?

Why the page from a dreary book?

It’s the soul, leaded with lament.

Do not bite the perfect heart-shaped pear

Do not silence words with despair

Do not sit and wait

Release your shoulders from the weight

If it’s a heart you are meant to sway

Pray to heaven nature finds a way

-A.Garcia