Tripping

Think I must’ve been tripping
No other way to describe it
Heart hectic like a woodpecker
A sweet nectar that is intoxicating

The warmth on my hand
I knew it all just had to fit
Smooth lips that beckoned
My soul had a big bang

Heart raced forward
Bursting through blood and muscle tissue  
It sprung wings and raced towards erudition
An hallucinogenic spell made of a word

Oh, lord almighty
Save my soul from all that is vicious
The sidereal like fever of affliction
Guide me, holy ghost in a translucent nightie

Found my hands white from gripping
Found a way out of this rationale prison
Found a path that led to acceptance
Even if it felt like I was tripping.

-A.Garcia

Meaning

Life has no inherent meaning.

I do not find that statement cynical or disillusioning. On the contrary, it feels me with hope and wonder. Even when existence can be bitter like the cheapest rye.

For if life has no assigned value, no simple definition, no mathematical formula that can sum it all up perfectly, then it means it’s flexible and malleable. An extended hand always willing to say hi.

A mirror reflecting infinity, a labyrinth that fulfills an ending full of surprises. And it bends, it twirls upwards like a vine climbing up an ancient oak tree, an oak tree that goes on forever into the sky.

-A .Garcia

Contradictions

Reading through my notes realization smacks me in the face,
it is riddled with contradictions
A messy mind set loose on a screen,
on paper and all around
I don’t even care anymore if what I write or say makes any sense, when in the mind’s eye it all arranges perfectly,
no matter how it’s bent.

And maybe I write all this for dramatic effect,
that although I’m as confused as a horse on a balcony,
puffing to release the pent up breath in me
trying to make sense of all the cacophony,
knowing full well the feelings that still remain,
sentiments that will never change.

Hoping you read this one day,
to sway you
convince you
any of you
that confusion discourages at times,
it's hard to let what's inside flourish
hoping your path crosses my way

-A. Garcia


The Mind's Anvil

I do not call myself a poet
Or a writer
Or a smith of words
Even though I like the sound of that in particular
Hammering away at an anvil of the mind, forging elusive words out of nowhere.

I merely place heart and soul on paper or a screen.
I speak of my heart’s desire.
Do not look for truth in what I write
Or fact or whimsy
Do not look for answers or solace for your soul here, my dear.
I only know of anguish and fear.

-A.Garcia

Fluff

I love walking

I love reading

I love writing

Still I struggle to do these, to accomplish one more step, one more chapter to read, one more line to jot down.

I love my friends and family

And I don’t tell them enough.

Why must I be so cold, if warmth runs through my soul.

I fill the days, fill the time and space with stuff, fill my head with not much substance, mental pillows, it’s all just fluff.

Is it like that for the rest of the world? For our feelings, our guilt, our joy, our love

For everything we’ve been bestowed

We love so much and do not show.

– A. Garcia

Autumn

The sun is shining again today

The sky is painted with hues of orange and red, the trees reach up and match the color above.

Wind lightly blowing, crisp and firm

Cheeks rosy-red from an ice cold shower

My friend the sun helps darken their color

It’s so peaceful and zen

Richness is all around and all within

What else could we ask for in this heavenly bliss?

– A. Garcia

Pictures On a Wall

A room, all must and dust

A thousand pictures adorn the wall

Ten thousand memories grow old

Once high and mighty

Now leaves you crying

The site of it all makes you want to fold

Into a million creased lines

Sharp and cutting

To dig deep and let it out

To let go

A series of recollections

You just don’t want to hold.

– A. Garcia

Please

Don’t let me down, You.

Please, whatever it is that out there, at one infinitely small point, put in motion every single atom in existence with a fury none could ever imagine.

With a force that is incomprehensible, all you see, feel and hear, was blasted into existence.

Please do not let me down, in all your wonder and earnestness, I know what my heart desires, please, do not drench this fire.

– A. Garcia

L

I don’t want to write anymore

about longing and desire

or unrequited circumstances,

because I dare not write the word again.

I will live, languish, and like,

but that other word,

I do not utter

I do not write

It’s not that I gave up

My soul is full of fright.

– A. Garcia

Not Here

Here is a cow, it moos and eats grass.

Present.

Here is a dog, it barks, sleeps and eats.

Present.

Here is a turtle, moving slow towards erudition.

Present.

Here is a bird, flying high and free, searching for prey.

Present.

Here is a human, it ruminates, digests and builds incessantly because it’s afraid of death.

– A. Garcia

The Myth of Scarcity

There is no scarcity.

There is abundance galore.

Cynicism, greed and division, rulers of all.

There is an overflow of love and peace that has been hijacked by a dark force. It pulls at our strings and untangles us whole. And, when we are on the floor, aching to blame, fretting and shivering, strings swept away by the wind, it will take our shriveled, motley finger and blame elsewhere.

Your neighbor, your coworker, your boss. The abuse you suffered and the loss. You’re to blame your lover and your child, or the stranger from another land looking for hope and finding shame.

And while we fight amongst ourselves, the planned coordinated fight, the event of a lifetime, a heavyweight bout, other mouths eat and laugh at our expense.

And while we point that finger at our neighbor’s face, laying on the ashen floor of a dead world, we will say, “we did it! we did it! we conquered fear and evil.” We will look around at ruins and scourge, wondering what happened in those moments of blind, irrational judgment. The cause of it all will be high on the mountain laughing amongst the gold that it stole, the prayers it misguided and swallowed whole, broken hearts decorating it’s core, all the treasures it took from our souls.

– A. Garcia

Letter to the Ether

Damn you, Baader Meinhof phenomenon! Cognitive dissonance has now gripped my soul and holds me down. My face is red and hot, fiery with unmet desire. I saw the signs once and see them all the time now. My brain assumed, “there is a reason you see all this and that.”

A message from up above.

Or down below.

Or all around.

And now you tell me it’s a psychological term, a neurological connection that was formed. It only made me see what I wanted to see.

Let me!

Let me believe what I want to believe.

Do not flutter my heart with needless facts. I want desire, longing and rapture. Nothing but earnest fervor. In this world gripped by insecurity, some cling to science, others to faith and most egregious of all? Some cling to fear.

Which do I choose to tranquilize my heart?

In a past life, perhaps erudition,

Yet broken hearts speak and feel differently

I choose faith, my dear.

– A. Garcia