Zero
Our hearts have been far apart
Far apart for far too long
A coldness has stretched in between
An absolute zero
Like the deepest of space.
– A. Garcia
Our hearts have been far apart
Far apart for far too long
A coldness has stretched in between
An absolute zero
Like the deepest of space.
– A. Garcia
You think you know
You think you know
All the days go by
The wind blows
The sky opens up
It lets out and cries
A pondering look is left behind
Bewildered, a stale question remains
Where do I go?
Where do I go?
– A. Garcia
This is how it is
This is how the story goes
One day you’re born
One day you pass out and die
It’s the story of the world
A gyroscopic myriad
Waiting for an end to your all
So savor the key-lime pie
No need to sit around
Waiting for death throes.
- A. Garcia
A paradox:
The mind can get stuck in a never-ending loop, it obsessively, compulsively, overthinks. It tortures consciousness and leaves no room for mistakes.
Yet it’s gasoline on a raging fire. The constant thumping inspires desire, creativity flows from the cracks. It breaks down walls, little by little pressure building up. Ideas rage like a rampant truck tire, loose on a busy city street, smashing windows, crushing fences, and broken noses on bewildered faces, all wondering what happened.
Chaos is left behind in its path,
all for the love of art.
– A. Garcia
Don’t know what happened
One day we were born
now we’re all tied up in steel knots
and concrete forms.
The new gods have decreed it
we are to be forlorn
Do the stars not align anymore?
What will one day be told?
Freedom was our only shout
So scream it out now
because they’ve burnt the books
seared the truth
All that’s left is doubt.
The black screen swallows us whole
the hive mind reaching out
Whats left of your humanity
in the name of progress
hollows out your core.
Mesmerized by distractions
decrepit fingers pointing out
oversized billboards
the shiny lights
and glamorous dresses
When we turned back
all that was left were ashes.
Don’t know what happened
Now we are numbers in a machine
it consumed the mind
and spit out shadows
What’s left is a mock of energetic souls
Trapped in a bag of bones.
– A. Garcia
That heart was forged down below
where the fires burn;
a soul languishing
and it doesn’t know.
– A. Garcia
I was reading through some old notes and writings on my computer, much of it incomplete, written long ago, forgotten thoughts splayed out on a screen.
Some of the musings are short and to the point, many of them with no point at all, simple ramblings of a wandering mind.
Flipping through the titles, wondering where my heart was during each space, one in particular catches my attention, it was just one word.
It called to me, like a fading voice in a deep well, like an old lover from a forgotten past.
The title, "Future"; with much anticipation I opened the folder and searched within for my own inspiration, from a day I could not remember.
It was empty.
– A. Garcia
It’s always the fear
that gets you
To pull off those heavy
blankets
And take reality for what
it’s worth
To cash in time to face what
is not under your control
Every morning
The story goes
We reach into the closet
Pull out a costume for the day
Pull it tight against our soul
Wrap it nice, sealed shut
All of this
To go out there
And be able to face the world.
– A. Garcia
I’ve assembled my sharpest words
composing them into a letter
the words are cutting and strong
they bite and savor what’s left
they burn through it all
like acid in a plastic bag
I’ve steel-plated the paper
folded it up nicely
straight lines
perfectly lined up edges
It’s a steel-plated paper airplane
ready to cut through the air
ready to cut through with no scare
slicing through the sky
blinding your eyes with its glare
It’s off into the ether
sailing on its thin metal body
racing to catch all lost time
dashing through cotton-white clouds
it will surely rip the distance apart
Its pointy edge finding you amongst shadows
Hot steel-paper landing on your chest
its words spilling over
melting the skin
like hot iron touching ice
like a shark fin cutting through water
its words shaking you to the core
Like a dagger through your heart.
– A. Garcia
I’m counting the blades of grass
Counting the stars
One by one
Trying not to go to fast
I don’t want this moment to pass
take it all in laying in a field of green
Amongst patches of brown
Counting the blades of grass.
– A. Garcia
I threw a bottled-letter into the ocean
hurled it with all my might
thinking, the harder I throw,
the faster you’ll receive the message.
Emptiness hangs around me now
I think the bottle is still floating in the ocean,
or perhaps,
languishing in the acidic stomach of a giant whale
Glass slowly melting,
the paper a squishy mess
It’s now a paste with messy markings,
a decaying soup of stomach acid
has swallowed my intentions.
If you are looking for my letters
the whale blew them into the air
jet-streamed into the ether,
Thousands of letters scattered in the wind
If you are looking for my message
it’s all around
scattered about
Piece it together if you want,
I’ll be waiting by the entrance.
– A. Garcia
An empty piece of land sits empty and lonely; one day a building starts to go up in a strange journey A foundation is laid, a frame is put up plumbing, electrical and ducting, some more framing and sheet-rock to tie it together Lights come to life, they start flashing paint and ornaments appear slowly, the day arrives, the building is open in a grandiose ceremony; it is done, some would say No; the carcass is up with functional capabilities, the structure itself needs maintenance and care, if left to its own accord, the earth will reclaim its life, leaving it battered and torn, short-fuses will happen, walls will crack and pipes will burst.
Same goes for your mind, body and soul Constant work, one push here receives resistance on the other side Do we give up? No, we just give it a good try We grow, correct and maintain a steady pace, until our own walls and pipes burst, until the ground swallows us whole, until the earth reclaims our body As to the mind and soul? I have no idea where they go Another day will arrive, time finally catches up and we are no more. It is tedious, relentless work, but life is beautiful even when it’s an eternal chore.
– A. Garcia
Notes on paper
Notes on screens
All around
Notes that never seem to reach her
Notes etched into hearts
Notes painted on other souls
Notes thrown as if you were special
How do I end up in the dark?
How do I end up with nothing to say?
Guess I will continue to roam
All around this iridescent dome
Etching hearts
Leaving mine alone.
– A. Garcia
On a rainy day, in another life,
perhaps we will meet again
We’ll look into the sky with our wondering eyes,
We’ll look beyond the fabric of space and time,
into the future,
into the past,
through the vastness above,
and all around
Until then I sit back,
waiting for a reply,
knowing you choose to always run away,
I pray my goodbye.
– A. Garcia
Click-clock, click-clock
…
The ancient, weathered clock goes,
on and on, it never ends
The passing of time it has managed to escape
Its skinny hands never seem to slow
Old age comes and goes,
all around it the world continues to grow
The clock never tires,
its clicking and clocking synonym to the old
Like a venerable church bell,
its sounds bounce off the walls,
leaves your brain sitting in a mire
Profound sleep never reaches the home it inhabits,
there is twisting and turning,
at the bells of midnight
you will awake like a startled jackrabbit
Darkness is its dearest friend,
its embrace warm and peaceful;
punctually death comes by to visit, people come and go,
but there goes that clock again
Click-clock, click-clock
Does that clock ever stop?
– A. Garcia
I wish restoring hearts and souls was as easy as restoring an old, weathered piece of wooden furniture. To gently clean away the grime leftover from all the heartache, to sand and smooth away the imperfections, apply a coat of stain, bring out the vibrance of the individual, the grooves and veins that make each of us unique; and finally, to apply a coat of gloss, with a careful touch, slowly and with care, and pop the bubbles of doubt that will surface. Reapply, leave it shiny and new, without hiding the knots and grains, but to highlight them; because each piece of wood is particular, it is rare and unlike another, just as we are as humans, each of us, a world apart, with an exclusive story to tell, seen differently by everyone.
– A. Garcia
A wormhole opened up the other day
right in front of my face
it taunted me to reach further
My hands quivered with dismay
still my head I dipped into the black space
my body felt light as a feather
The stars in front of me danced as if in a ballet
I know this isn’t my place
yet, it’s all so wonderful and put together
I’m being stretched into disarray
laws of physics launching me someplace
can’t go back, the noose broke apart on my tether.
-A.Garcia
I’m singing a song
dancing lyrics stuck deep inside my brain
not one tune makes sense
music has never been my specialty,
it’s all made up as I go
a strumming guitar
a deep bass
a rocking drum
following a melody,
and I just sing along
for all I care you can sing this to your own tune
make it happy or sad, drown in grief
but at least sing along
just don’t say goodbye
I don’t want to find that you’ve been gone
If a giant swell could come through and wipe it all clean,
a swell for the wicked and the damned
a swell that would dig up the bodies of the vicious
make them pay for what they created,
for those that came up with this life
within these towering structures
made up of concrete and bones
and intricate systems creating replicas,
gargoyle statues with hearts of stone
another cog in a gear
a bee within the hive
a thoughtless creature
the likes science fiction never imagined
A hurricane so mighty,
it would rip the roots out of the nature of our being
wipe our consciousness clean
so we could live in an eternal dream,
but such is not,
because after all
we are still swimming upstream
and I’m stuck singing a song that doesn’t make sense
drowning in fears,
and showing no signs of repent.
– A. Garcia
Something in the ether I’ve been trying to find
all my senses on high alert,
a radar pinging in the depth of the ocean
Why do I still feel blind
my touch comes back cold
all I taste is a flavor that is bland
the smells are empty and dry
I’ve been trying to reach you
where have you been, my muse
all I sense is darkness
even the power of the sun
not enough to light the fuse
life is short, time is running by
where have you been, my muse
all you do is confuse.
What are words if not feathers in the wind
the world could end right now
mountains crumbling from top to bottom
I could say I love you
weigh it down upon you
like an ape on an ant
heavy like a heart in angst
The earth would still shatter at our feet
an ocean of fire burning our core
into oblivion we go
our souls floating like feathers in the wind.