Tuesday, December 22, 2009

tears to be shed

all the oceans
all the rivers

all the waters
in the world

are the tears
to be shed

before we know

The Timeless Moment

“Timeless” is the moment when thought disappears
And all else stops.
The essence of timelessness is found
In the silence of the mind.
Thought and Time are twins that sustain each other.
One can’t exist without the other.
Once No-thought is attained Desire expires.
And so does Time.
Desire is always in the Future which

Can only be understood in terms of Time.
In timeless moments we can merge with the object
Of desire without desiring it.
We could perform the most demanding tasks
Without feeling the stress.
We could enlarge or reduce the length of Time
At our whim.
Timelessness is the magic key
That opens the portals of Bliss....

Don Quijote

He had always preferred the challenge
Of his own impossible dreams
To what is called “the facts of life.”
His fantasies caused him to bite the dust
Of humiliation and defeat repeatedly.
However, maybe he naively thought

That he was shaping his own destiny
By carrying out his “heroic” deeds.
Was he a madman or a fool?
Could it be that he was neither?
Ostherwise, how has he survived the laughter of
The centuries? Why do we still love him?



Time is cancelled

Your luminous

There is no Time,

But there is

Monday, December 21, 2009


What a coquette you are!
I see in your eyes untold
Delights and invitation
To their possession.

Your body’s message
Positioning front wise!
Your urgent pelvis
Enticing mine!

And then “that” smile!
Your sensual charm
Egging me on
To get the prize!

But oh, coquette!
When full of hope
I claim the trophy,
You “smile”again and.... walk away!

Power and Love

Power - like Love - is blind.
While Love is unaware
Of the beloved’s sins,
Power solely acknowledges
Its own self-seeking schemes.

A lover’s heart is tender.
It gives untainted joy.
Power, by its own will,
Can’t help but to destroy.
But Love - by loving! - builds!

The power-wielder wishes
To raze all for himself.
He rapes the virgin forests.
He tries to scorch the fields.
But with his venal pride,

This sightless slave can’t see
The abysses at his feet.
And when he falls, he falls,
Destroyed by his own Greed
Which is his only God!


the morn is gone
darkness has come
amidst the storm
that hides the sun.

i stand forlorn
missing the form
that went along
forever gone.

i miss the dawn
and radiant sun
whose joyful song
my veins did run.

and now alone
i miss the form
that went along
never to come.

amidst the gloom
making hope bloom
there is a light
narrow and white

tiny but bright
and a still voice
mellow and poised
that says: “REJOICE!”

A Midsummer's Long Night

The moon is slender tonight.
The sky is dark blue.
The stars quiver with delight
But the night is not on cue.

The breeze is loving tonight
And the waves yearn for its kiss.
The air is fresh, the foam white.
But there’s something amiss.

The sea is gentle tonight.
A sweet song is in the air
With cadence tender and bright
Yet....without her all is despair!
The moon is slender tonight.
The sky is dark blue.
The stars quiver with delight.
Joy and beauty dance on cue!

The breeze is loving tonight
And the waves relish its kiss.
The air is fresh, the foam white.
How heavenly the sky is!

The sea is gentle tonight.
A sweet song is in the air
With cadence tender and bright.
Love is back! Life is fair!

Sunday, December 6, 2009

O Death, Sweet Lady!

Did come
When I was there.
I didn’t
See her.

Her presence.
It was
A joy to feel
Her nearness.

Was she aware?
Or was her clay
Stronger than her
Did she ever
Look within herself?

Did she
Know there
Was something
In her
And undefiled?


A vacuum reigns where love once ruled.
Let’s fill it up with Reason.
Progress advances by opposition.
Thesis, antithesis, synthesis.

A man, a woman, joy and sorrow.
First, the upturn.
Then, the downturn.
These things brighten up the world!

And then the rule of sanity
Brings back the pendulum.
With the return of prudence
It’s time to say bye-bye!


Again, we are like strangers.
Was not her fault but mine.
I once saw her wondrous Self.
....I lost the vision!


Let’s not have this “thing” anymore!
This sickness of the soul!

This “deification” of the human!
This absurd idealization of the imperfect!
This mad pursuit of the unreal!
This trap of self-deception!

This wildness of the senses
That leads us into false peaks
Of utter happiness
To relentlessness hurl us back

Unto inhuman pits of black despair!
How this destroys our common sense!
Let’s no have this “thing” anymore!

Happiest, Saddest, Night!

It was one of those nights when there are
Bright stars, a shining moon upon
The sky - a soft, cool breeze in the air.

One of those nights when there is music
Coming from afar and the perfume of
Flowers swoons in the arms of the night.

One of those moments when the soft wind
Whispers endearments, rapture and love.
None of those things were in my heart!

No music, no romance, no tender words.
Nothing....was there!

And as to love, yes, there was love!
Unhappy love! Unfulfilled love!
That kind of love!

Because my fair, sweet lady,
With shining hair - dressed up in red,
Her shoulders bare,

Begging my kisses though unaware,
My vibrant belle! - was going to meet
Her newest lover!

It was indeed one of those nights!
Amorous nights? Her happiest night!
My saddest night!

Reason to Lov e

I loved her for her unique
Seductive feminine grace.
Was that reason enough to love?

More than that
Much more.
It was a command!

Who’d try to stop a hurricane?
Or the ocean’s ebb and flow?
Or try to block the sparkling sun?

To resist her tantalizing attraction?
Only a fool would have done it!
And yet the bells were....tolling!

Her Hands

I enjoyed watching her
Hands on the screen of
My mind.

They were so small and soft - so delicate!
So expressive of her inner self!
But then,

With her absence,
Her hands dimmed into shadows.
And when one night,

We met again at a soiree,
While sipping her white wine,
I saw her hands again.

This time I couldn’t
Recognize them
....any more!

Friday, November 13, 2009

Saturday, November 7, 2009

The Hidden Sun

In love it's better to give than to receive!
But in order to give you've to love yourself.
And due to the ruthless competitive culture
That we carry in our consciousness,
It's easier for us to protect ourselves
By fighting battles to turn defeats into victories.
We hide behind the mask we "feel" we need
In order to survive in a whim or a battle.
The masks mutate into each other. We call "that" living!

But Love comes from a heart free of masks. It never
Springs from a mask that "steals" your soul.
It is an irony that the One hiding behind the masks
Is a divine Self whose name is "also" Love!
Yes! The same Love you cannot "offer" because
You're still searching for It outside yourself! Wake up!
Destroy the masks! They are not real!
That's why they are so easy to dissolve!
You'll see then you "are" the Love you cannot give!


I love You in her.
In her I miss You.

When I touch her hair,
It is Your hair I touch.

When I hold her hand,
It is Your hand I hold.

When I kiss her,
It is You I kiss.

Traveling abroad,
Longing for her tenderness,

Yearning for her eyes,
It is for You I long,

It is for You I yearn,
It is for You I hanker.

Please grant me her love!
Your love....Narayani!

The Lake

When I looked down I saw the lake.
It seemed to be extremely deep.
Its surface was serene and clear.
A shining silvery light hovered

Upon its waters. I was ecstatic
Admiring its monumental
Beauty though could not tell
The source of its uniqueness.

I could have dived from where I was.
Although way down there were rocks
Jutting out I could easily avoid them.
It was a dive I had to take!

Feeling I was not mentally prepared,
I postponed the attempt for the following day.
I went back home determined to return
Thrilled by tomorrow’s adventure.

The following morning I went back to
The same spot and looking down into the
Abyss, to my surprise, I did not see
Anything below resembling a lake.

Only a huge empty space covered with
Rugged rocks, brambles and briers.
And, in the distance,
Large lines of more and more trees.

I saw no sign of water anywhere!
The lake had disappeared into thin air,
Carrying away with it
My dream of diving... .

Two Things

There are two things
I never saw

Nor heard

The nuance in her smile.
The cadence in her voice.

I wanted to kiss
But never did

And wanted to caress
But never could

Her naked voice!

Life's Springtime

Like the swift flight of an eagle
Life’s springtime fades away.
And while it stays
Most of the time our attention

Is fixed upon the future.
Hence we miss youth’s vision,
Its invincible hope,
The boldness of its dream.

And when we try to assess
The true dimension and splendid
Sheen of those venturesome years,
Alas!, they are already gone....

A Twice-Told Tale

The love I felt for her was a twice-told tale
Forever told. Exciting at the start,
Quite boring in the middle
And, like smoke in the air,
At the end vanished without flair.

And then new loves are quite exciting though
Destined to die in the darkness of night.
Yet, without these repetitions,
What value does life have
But time-consuming tedium?

Friday, October 23, 2009

Meaning of Desire

Desire may have the sheen, the shape,
The color of genuine pearls.
Believe me, it is made of glass beads!
Our desires are luminous lies,

Hiding the truth about the fear we have
That we might be the last remnants
Of what was once a blessed Whole:
A circle whisked away by unknown forces!

To desire is to accept Limitation.
It is to admit that we are incomplete.
Each admission reaffirms the
“False” truth that we are powerless.


Beethoven, a cathedral.
Mozart, a minuet.
Rachmaninov, a thunderbolt.
Chopin....a heart.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Ley cosmica

La vida es siempre joven.
Nunca cesa de fluir.
Es eterna.

Esa eternidad
se expresa
a través de nosotros.

No hay

El paradigma del desapego


Ya no es amor, tan solo inclinación.
No muy severa, nada profundo.
El sueño terminó. La honda pasión
que ayer embellecía mi mundo,

huyo por fin como fugaz ficcion,
dejando en cambio el semental fecundo
de un nuevo paradigma de razón
que nos predice un nuevo mundo.

Un mundo nuevo en donde el ansia
del yo con su usual avidez
pierde su indecorosa relevancia,

cediendo el paso a lo que ahora es
la gran realización de que el Señor,
y no nosotros, es el único Actor.

Lo absurdo de la cvida

A veces los opuestos producen
resultados idénticos.
¿No conduce el amor al odio
y viceversa?
¿No es la angustia alegría que vibra
en una escala menor?
¿No esconden la guerra y la paz
un afán de unidad?
¿No es el principio fundamental
de la medicina homeopática
que un agente viral en proporción
microscópica sana
la enfermedad producida
por el mismo virus?
¿No precede a la luz del alba
la más profunda oscuridad?
¿Puede el placer sexual ser
ansia espiritual sin salida?
¿No produjo la revolución
humanista del Cristianismo
persecuciones fratricidas?
¿No empuñó Mahoma la espada
para convertir a los infieles?
¿No enseñan las grandes religiones
que el sufrimiento y el martirio
conducen a la purificación?
Después de analizar estos detalles,
¿no es absurdo todo esto?


lejos de los espejos, de los espejos
y sus reflejos....

de los trinos de pájaros - del sol ardiente,
la brisa silente....

de limones y fresas y de las olas esas,
olas tranquilas,

de amor humedecidas - olas gigantes
orladas de diamantes....

lejos de peces de colores
que del mar son las flores....

lejos de valles, de colinas sensuales,
de lirios tropicales....

lejos de los cálidos y dulces besos
que da el aura amena

a la blanca y frágil azucena....
lejos....pero.... muy lejos....

El regreso

No se retorna con algarabia....sino en silencio.
Cual fue el fruto final? Solo....experiencia.

La guerra se combatio en el extranjero.
Alli “ganamos y perdimos”...fuimos heridos.

Al “ganar y perder” tambien a otros herimos.
A veces hallamos la paz, a veces la discordia.

Amamos, gozamos y reimos.....tambien lloramos.
Que nos llevo al exilio? La aventura, la riqueza?

El renombre, la gloria? El estruendo del triunfo?
El poder de las ensenanzas de Maquiavelo?

El secreto del Cristo? El saber del cientifico?
El inescrutable psiquismo del yogi hindu?

El aun mas inescrutable amor de pareja?
Fuimos a conocernos a nosotros mismos?

Fuimos acaso a buscar la libertad?
La libertad donde el deseo no existe?

No se retorna con algarabia
....sino en silencio.

La imaginacion


Por la imaginacion dejate deslumbrar.
Cambia el pasado que ya no existe.
Las horas idas de belleza reviste.
Que perezca el ciclon dentro del mar.

Que se alce hasta el sol nuestro cantar.
Olvidemos las lagrimas, todo lo triste.
Rechacemos aquello que de luto viste.
Invoquemos el noble arte de amar.

Todo es posible para los creadores!
Que la armonia sea nuestro cincel
para labrar en marmol esplendores.

Niega las penas que abruman en tropel.
Si alguna vez te vence la obsesion,
domala con humor y precision.

Hay bellezas

Hay bellezas que no dicen nada.
Son munecas sin expresion.
Mascaras de piedra cinceladas
por un rudo buril sin corazon.

Hay otras, quizas no tan hermosas,
que reflejan profundas emociones,
simpaticas promesas amorosas,
tiernos y amantes corazones....

La ilusion

La ilusion simula ser
lo que no es.
No existe salvo
en apariencia.

Correr tras la ilusion
es ir tras una sombra.
Vivir en un vacio
sin resonancia.

Es buscar a Dios
en la carne.
una estrella.

Es lanzarse tras
la dicha
para encontrar
la desdicha.

La ilusion
en mujer
puede ser bella.

Puede cantar,
reir - bailar -
a amar.

Pero al final

La sonrisa de Isis

(Para I.C.)

La sonrisa de La Gioconda
es la esencia
el alma
de todas las sonrisas.

La sonrisa de Isis
destila miel.
Es pura


Bella sonrisa
de ternura.

No devela secretos.
No sugiere misterio.
Es luz diafana

Luz que revela
un alma de mujer
que ama la vida
y acepta su verdad.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

Is God Really Dead?

God is ‘dead’ whenever He is ‘absent.’
He’s ‘absent’ in the Past already gone,
In the ‘non-existent’ Future and within
The ‘perishable' instant of the Present.

Almost always, with our minds, we dwell
In one of these vacuums of Time.
For all intents and purposes we spend
Our lives ignoring Him.

The Drunkard's God

`The drunkard at the bar was saying:
I find it very hard to agree
With God if it's true that it is
His will - not ours - what actually
Governs us. I am not surprised
At human discontent - from A
To Z I disagree with Him.
When we want something and get it,
Again and again He turns our joy
Into distress or even worse,
We never get the wish at all.
We fall in love with hopes of
Reciprocity dreaming dreams
Which promptly disappear.
If we realize our hopes, watch out!
Because that heavenly feeling
Might be the road to hell!
This cruel game goes on and on,
With wealth acquired, power achieved,
Pleasures enjoyed, the list is long!
How can we speak of God’s love
When we hardly ever get it? -
Nursing his drink the sad drunkard
Remained silent. At last, I said:
I also disagree with such
A God. He’d deserve my anger.
Why don’t you fight Him? You could
Defeat Him by ignoring Desire!

We Are All Pawns

With our mind and senses we are
Aware of the phenomenal world
Of time, space and causation.

Because of our mind and senses
We fall into the “illusion”
Of name and form, cause and effect.

It's then that we become Time's captives.
In Time we “exist” and that fact alone
Is our "only" certainty.

It is a riddle that could be solved
By understanding Time’s mechanism.
Thought, Time’s alter-ego, insists

On ‘”dividing” the Undivided
Into names and forms in order
To “ name” the Unnameable, give “form”

To the Formless and “reduce”
Infinity into small parts.
All in an attempt to “cancel”

The terror of the Unknown. It can't be done!
Instead we fall into the trap of Name and Form,
Creating the Illusion of Separation from the Whole!

Like a Shooting Star

It was all true! The words of love,
The radiant youth, the joy of pleasure,
The happy cheer.
But brief...like a shooting star.

It was all true! The happy marriage,
The loving wife,
The children’s mirth.
But brief...like a shooting star.

It was all true! Flattering promises,
Hopeful ambition, some goals achieved,
A lifetime lived.
But brief...like a shooting star.

It was all true! Death of illusion,
The death of hope, the death of love,
The death of death.
But brief...like a shooting star.

In the Flicker of an Eye

In The Flicker Of An Eye
I fell in love with
Each one of them.
We frolicked, lost hope.
Some of them even
Before their
All this for more than sixty
And when that atom of Time
I felt that not even one of
Nor I
Had ‘really’, I mean, ‘really’
It was Life, never-ending
Passing by like a flash


So many things I could tell her!
So many things!
But I shall never say them!

Because the moment I utter them,
They will be lost forever.
Words will destroy them!

Thursday, October 1, 2009

About Love

I asked the old poet about the meaning of human love.
He had written beautiful poems about it.
He had loved and romanced many women.
His experience was vast - he certainly could tell me.

But he laughed and said that love is like God.
No one can understand either of them!
We affirm that both exist - then we're forced to deny them!
Everyone talks about God and human love!

Ask a psychologist and he will tell you
“How” love is born and “how” it dies.
A mystic will connect it with the sacredness
Of divine manifestation.

A poet confuses it with his alter-ego.
An average man will tell you it’s all sex.
Some women will say, "No love without equality!"
I insisted on knowing the poet’s personal view.

He lighted up a cigar and took his time. Then, he said:
“Love is like Life! One thing is to 'know' that we are
Alive and another to 'feel' that we are living.
When we 'don’t' love we still 'know' that we exist.

"But when we do love we 'know' we're alive and 'also' feel it!
There’s a difference between knowing and feeling.
The first comes from the intellect, the second from the heart.
To love 'confirms' our existence! Thru love we can say 'I Am!'"

Empty Illusions? Errant dreams?

Reality only an “appearance” on the screen
Of human consciousness?
Our world just a fanciful “mist”?
Our pleasures, our joys, our triumphs:
Empty illusions?
Errant dreams?

That we miss what seemed to be but never was?
Yet it was something "real" to us,
Moments so unforgettable,
That we tried to eternalize them:
Empty illusions?
Errant dreams?

Our hopes, achievements, loves and
Triumphs which we so much enjoyed and
Whose glory we feel with deep delight
When they return to our memory:
Empty illusions?
Errant dreams?

I don’t think we can doubt life’s events.
Although there "is" a mystery!
A mystery unresolved from the beginning,
And probably forever unresolved.
What is clear is that all is evanescent:
Joy and Sorrow! - Love! - Living!

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

A Toast!

The golden softness of champagne.
Her prompt availability.
The tenderness of her response!

Here is to Love!
And in the midst of passion
Let's search for

The sacred
The profane!

The Morning Star

After its appearance the Morning Star
Leaves a promise of Joy.

And on my life's sky, with its magical wand,
The Star flirts with my dreams.

Then It reminds me that that the Kingdom of Love,
Like the light of the Star, sparkles forever!

To Know

We are so proud of our knowledge
That we forget how to love.
Therefore - we know nothing.

It is not a matter of loving more
But loving well -
Without barter, without demands.

Loving with your ego can be destructive.
But love that flows directly
From the heart is not.

This is the kind of love which does
Allow us to sense Infinity
In the beloved!


She is the artist of hip-hop gyrations.
Who would not look at her with admiration?
Her beauty - of sunny days has the splendor!
Her swaying - passionate desire engenders!

She's the five-star and fetching Beyoncé!
The queen of rhythm - a modern Salomé.
An empress of the stage who with her charm
Conquers the heart, discontentment disarms.

She is the essence of which legends are made.
With her radiance and talent she does prevail.
She won five Grammys in two thousand and four.
How can we possibly ask her for more?

Won't I Know!?

(For NJ, young female composer)

I see that Love has hurt you!
Won’t I know!?
Breaking up - a shocking blow!
Knowing it’s over - a deep abyss,
Relentless pain, a frozen void!
Something that was and is no more
Now.... is an inscrutable shadow!

To grieve for a lost affection!?
Instead let's dance “merengues”
To enjoy the rhythm of the universe!
Uncalled like wind love comes and goes.
It then returns to leave again.
I know it's difficult!
But....without love we slowly....die!

About Ev e

Not all has been said about Eve.
I confirmed it when I met her
At Cherry Creek, Colorado.
She was a pretty photo-journalist
With curly black hair, radiant skin
And the sweetest dark eyes
I've ever seen.

We met not long ago.
When she told me her name,
Spontaneously, I said:
“A name that fits you well!”
She did revive in me the elation
I always feel when I am near
One of Nature’s best conceptions.

She projected the loveliness,
The striking fascination,
Of all the symbolic Eves.
I felt like Adam probably did
When he strayed from the Garden
On account of “his” Eve.
I’d have eaten the apple, too!

It Was Fun!

It was a gathering of witty people.
There was gregariousness and joy.
I saw this young unknown woman
Coming my way smiling and then

Telling me something so hilarious
That I couldn’t contain my laughter.
When she attempted to leave
I blocked her feet with my own

Making her lose the balance but
On her way down she grabbed me by
The waist and we both fell on the
Floor roaring with laughter.

We stared at each other.
She inquired with her eyes:
Who might you be? I told her and
Gently kissed her on the eyelids.

She closed her eyes.
I kissed her again.
She asked, “Why on the eyelids?”
Once more she offered me her lips.

It is a blur what happened next.
It was then that I woke up.
But it was fun!

My Island's Highlands

There is no deer to hunt
In my island’s highlands.
No giant waterfalls.
No grisly bears, no jaguars.
No elephant herds.
But there is something else.....

There are no snowy peaks.
No immense, breathtaking rivers.
But there is something else....
Is it the mildness of the wind?
The scented breeze?
The splendid sun?

The silver nights
Softly caressing
The valleys and the hills?
Yes, yes, all of those things!
But beyond that
There is still something else....

The Ultimate Frontier

There are bold souls whose purpose is
To search for wonders, riches and
Knowledge which, once found, are proudly
Presented to the admiring world.

These hunters look for dazzling preys:
Explorers searching for geographical
Marvels - deep-sea adventurers diving
After sunken treasures and precious jewels -

Mountaineers climbing the highest peaks,
Defying the frozen winds where the
Magnificent eagle soars - physicists
Sending hi-tech rocketry beyond the

Limits of space to untrodden lands.
Mystics tapping the mystery of
The human soul hoping it will yield the
Answer to the riddle of life

And the conundrum of God - that Ultimate
Frontier! That alien and nameless Unknown
Which cannot be reached at all by
The assaults of the rational mind!

Beyond the Illusion

I am watching the film,
“My Life’s Story”,
In which I’m also the actor.

Consciousness is the screen.
Director and writer, unknown.
No one in charge!

Yet, though it is “my life,”
Things seldom happen
The way “I” want!

The Anguish of the Void

(For Sofía)

Has God abandoned us? An Indian sage once said
That the wind of Divine Grace is always blowing.
All we have to do is raise our sails! But we have not
Done it and have abandoned Holy Ground,

Bringing about a disconnection from the Whole.
This alienation is the Anguish of the Void.
It is the fall from grace, the severance from
The unity of the universe, the believe that we are

Cut off from the rest of humanity and that there is
A barrier dividing us as natural enemies
Planning our mutual destruction. This insecurity
Is the beginning of despair, the existential Fear

That compels us to see ourselves as pitiful,
Endangered species isolated and driven
To wage preventive and devastating wars
Which, by their dynamic nature, never end.

Thru love and hate we attempt to make contact with each
Other hoping perhaps for mutual understanding.
But, unless we divest ourselves from our Fear,
We shall never be able to recover what we lost!

The Undeniable

It’s undeniable that we are unhappy!
Nothing ever satisfies us.
We want more and when we
Get it it is never enough.

It’s undeniable that we live in bondage.
Conditioning and fear imprison us.
We are forever tortured
By insatiable lusts.

There's no pain nor bondage in God's kingdom.
But we dwell outside His realm.
We could've followed His sacred path.
But we've chosen to walk alone.

There's a split between God and us!
A heart-rending alienation!
An abyss and a void! But...why?
Is it because we want to take His place?

The Escape

Silence is our nature.
Chatter, our mind’s bent.
Deserters from the Source
We exist in a mental world.

Not knowing we have broken loose,
Caught in Time’s deceitful net,
We strive and crave convinced
This world is all there is.

What do we hanker for?
All things that fade away!
What do we worship and love most?
The Golden Lie we call “our world!”

The Function of Life

We are irremediably alone! Despite
The palace of Illusions we have built,
Made of desires, relationships, beliefs,
In truth, we are alone facing the Unknown.

The function of life is to destroy this
Overpowering Dreamland! To tear it apart,
To crush it so that - at last! - we can behold
The astonishing beauty that shines behind it.

And when we have been stripped of all
The make-belief, of all our dreams, desires
And expectations - then whatever remains,
Is that which ever was - is! - and ever shall be!

Time tied her....

Time tied her to my memory.
But Time is also a flood carrying away
The delight of her kisses.

Time is conclusive when it decides to kill.
It is the enemy of joy.
The deceiver of dreams.

It is fleeting when we try to hold
It to its promise of happy moments
And the sincerity of love.

I hate Time but....I love It, too!
We seem to love or hate that which
Always turns out to be evanescent....


That night I walked along the shore.
The moon was gleaming and a soft breeze
Caressed the air as the surf played
With the white shining sand.

Silence was deep, trance-like.
I noticed that nothing
In nature was paying
Any attention to my person.

The moon, the breeze, the waves, the surf,
The sand, the night itself, didn’t see me at all.
Didn’t even ‘feel’ my presence. Nature itself,
Was an immense, awe-inspiring enigma!

What If?

What kind of truth is that which once it’s known
Whatever we have lived for is forgotten?
How does it feel to exist without hope?
Without the golden promise of success?
Or to realize that what we have always
Considered to be gold,

Eventually will be turned into ashes?
What if those things we yearn for and cherish
Are just facades hiding a mystery
Which is brighter than hope,
Truer than success,
Richer than gold?

Love Happens

Love happens when
The lover
For a moment
Brings to the beloved
A portion
Of the magic of life.

Time and Eternity

I always wait for her!
There isn’t ever
An instant when
I stop wanting her!

And when she stays with me,
I desperately try
To reach eternity
Thru evanescent Time!

During the night’s long
Hours when dreams are
Real in the alien world

Of friendly imagination,
I feel that she is mine.
But then at dawn,

That cunning thief of joy
And bliss that is called Time,
Flies away with the Dream!

The Goddess Illusion

Illusion is a powerful goddess!
Some say that Woman is her best weapon.
Woman a weapon? Where is her power?
In her brain? Her will? Her eyes? Her smile?
Is she awesome enough to inspire fear?
Heroic enough to cancel our will?
Does her force spring from her beauty?
Many are radiant, many are mighty!

Some connoisseurs affirm that her power
Comes from her sexual disposition.
I disagree! To me,
Her sorcery springs from her genius
To mystify, to bewilder, to inspire!
She dazzles us with the witchcraft that flows
Directly from her enigmatic nature!
She is.... Goddess Illusion's best metaphor!

Human Desire

Human desire craves omnipotence.
It is destructive like a demon’s wrath.
Yet we let it rule the world and us.
We know its poison but choose to ignore it.

It brings temptation to our intemperance.
Hankers for pleasures and mental thrills.
Demands nourishment for our passions.
Ruthlessly encourages our sins.

Still without this demanding human hunger,
Civilization would stop on its tracks.
The foundations of our world could crash.
Because desire is a knife with two edges.

We need this driving force to challenge in
Ourselves the pure, astonishing power
That dormant lies in our souls waiting
To be awakened so that, at last, It can rule.

Sinatra's Blues

I like to hear Sinatra’s blues.
They heal my moody solitude.

Swiftly I rush to get back home
There to catch the homey hone.

Do you hear the croon flowing?
Could it be the birds humming?

Or perhaps it is the jingling
Of the Christmas bells tinkling.

Could it be the cooling breeze?
Or the soft touch of a kiss?

Or maybe it’s the hone of bees
From the flowers drinking bliss,

As my dreams go free and loose
When I hear Sinatra’s blues.

Dice Games

That night I rolled the dice and won.
Indeed it was a joyful ride!

Once more I got a five - and five
Again on the third try. I was

With her - she was my golden prize!
I had won her by a risky bet.

But....who said this is a just world?
I lost her and as hard as I tried

I could not win her back. There were
Nights when hope was high and luck bright.

It was the ruthless Time!
She left....like the wind....like the night!


Forever isn’t an island or a place.
It is a mindless state.
They say that Time does rule.
It can’t - Time is an absence.

Forever isn’t a crown for our heads.
Neither is it the light of our talent.
Or even the love of our lives.
Forever is “each” Timeless Moment!

Monday, September 28, 2009



I love to go back to the ocean
To observe the sighing waves
Dancing with each other,
And tread the shore and golden sand,

Singing a haunting song,
Of tender sadness and joys gone.
I love to go back to the ocean
And look up at the blue sky

To watch the flow of dreams,
Emerging from my total being,
Ascending the cerulean night,
To be transformed into bright stars....

The Same Splendor

It was a timeless splendor that she brought
During my early youth.
But, like all else,
It grew dim.

And now once more I see the same
Old splendor sharply intensified
At the conclusion of
My years.

It is another woman as
Luminous as before.
Hedonistic, brilliant,

Irrevocably mundane.
The same glowing light
Is filtered thru her skin.
The same....sweet smile!

Shooting Stars

Honestly and in the last analysis
I must say that like with
All the other loves in my life,

You’ll turn out to be a brief interlude,
An apparition crowned by light
With soft expressive eyes.

We are led to believe in deceptive
Edens destined never to be fulfilled.
However - if I could - I would pluck from

The blue heavens the brightest star
To place it at your queenly feet.
All this I would do for you,

Although I know quite well that you
Are just one of the elusive
Daughters of transient Time!


She was not sophisticated
Nor completely educated.
Not by a long shot, in fact,
She seemed to have a pact,

With the forces of Nature,
To ignore the nomenclature
Of things rhetorical
And deeds historical.

Her knowledge was restricted
To what was only admitted
In her circle of friends.
And that, without amends.

However...she sang like a nightingale
And had the charm of a fairy-tale.
She was a temptress with no erudition
But....with a sensual disposition!

And, all-in-all,
To seduce and enthrall,
She had that shapely grace
Which a man loves to embrace.

Her power of attraction
Didn’t allow a distraction.
With Fate did I concur,
She was both bliss and....hell!

What else could I then say
About this Salomé?
This exquisite female
That principles derailed!


That night I hit a bar in the West Side.
I was half-drunk, depressed and sad.
Because, you see, my sweet Doris,
That precious glowing gift,

Was gone....forever gone!
She was quite young, Doris was,
Pretty and kind but, above all,
She was joy, pure joy!

(That Sunday afternoon at Central Park she was
Wearing a white hat, white gloves and a white dress....
She had a tender heart, a sweet smile, soft hands.
And, in her child-like way she was in love with me.)

So I told the bartender, “Doris is gone!”
He didn’t know who Doris was but he understood
As bartenders always do. He served me a double
Martini, then I switched to Scotch and drank and talked

About sweet Doris - that absolutely wonderful gift
Which Life had offered me but whom I
In my search for the flesh was unable to appreciate.
You see, I was young, too!

Remembering Monique

Why did I love Monique?
Witty she was but not a beauty queen.
Her eyes were not unique.
Her life was ruled by discipline.

But she had charisma and pride!
Her words were dazzling gems!
What brought her sunny side?
My tales of clowns and nerds!

She used to laugh “if” what I said,
Was not unwise nor amateur
But was intelligent instead.
Then I could see a sparkle in her.

Why did I love her? Why does night
Love the moon and day the sun?
Is not because their light
Does spray the space with song?

Life's Springtime

Like the swift flight of an eagle
Life’s springtime fades away.
And while it stays
Most of the time our attention

Is fixed upon the future.
Hence we miss youth’s vision,
Its invincible hope,
The boldness of its dream.

And when we try to assess
The true dimension and splendid
Sheen of those venturesome years,
Alas!, they are already gone....

Mischievous Love

Love smiled at us
When we were lovers.
Love strolled
With us.

He whispered words
Near my ear
Which I in turn
Whispered to hers.

But Love is naughty.
He is a rascal.
Yearns to play tricks.
Loves to mislead.

He traps us into
And then he scorns us.

Love is a nuisance.
Certainly a rogue.
A drunken scoundrel
Stalking us constantly.

Ready to play
His wayward tricks,
Roughing us up.
Mischievous love!


Take advantage, take advantage,
And love!

Take advantage, take advantage,
And love!

Life is short!

And when Death

And proudly

I’ve lived!
I’ve lived!
I’ve loved!

This Gift of Life!

This gift of life: roses and thorns!
Accept the roses and refuse the thorns?
It can’t be done for much too long!

Accept both or refuse both!
Pleasure and pain if we accept them.
Distress and boredom if we don’t.

Enjoy the roses, bear the thorns!
One without the other surely is wrong.
Let’s kiss and smell the roses!

As to the thorns let’s smile at them
And thumb our noses!
The so-called devil has no horns!

Do Trust

(For my son John)

Do trust your so-called “fate!”
Watching a videotape we know
That we can’t change it.
But, if we observe the tape of our lives,
Who knows - “perhaps” it can be changed!

On the other hand,
If it was written beforehand
By divine hands what could go wrong?
If God wasn't involved let’s trust the universe.
We only have to know that life “is” change.

With total faith - from one instant to another -
You do the best you can with the conviction
That that’s all you are required to do.
Then - by all means - don’t interfere!
Let the universe dance to its own drummer!

That’s all there is.
So, smile, be calmed and satisfied.
Enjoy the show.
It is “your” show! You can control it!
And, above all....Do trust!

I Am

I am a person who seems to
Have endured all the required tests.
But I’m still without redemption.
My dreams have been forever dashed
By dualism, that cunning little god,

Which makes us forget our divine origin.
I’m also the eternal dancer,
To good and evil prone,
Who saw but can’t forget,
God’s smile!

Twentieth Century Man

You lived too much and agonized too long.
Your rash technology was life-defying.
The horrors were too much for you to bear.
Your burden was a terrible nightmare.
You were a cipher in a hell-bent world.
And just a number in a prison cell.
Such was your fate in a moribund age.

No doubt you tried to make things work.
You thought you were conducting your own ship.
Your will as law! That was your flaw!
At last you said thru your enlightened prophet:
Maybe we have to let life flow!
Contemplating your navel you retired.
What kind of fate awaits the heirs you left?

While God Dreams

“All that we see or seem is
but a dream within a dream.”
-Edgar Allan Poe

The Teacher said: “And while God sleeps,
He dreams this phenomenal universe
Of planets, stars, constellations and
Us on earth as His dream figures.

“So immense is His imagination that we,
Though fictions, have assumed our own reality.
It is an unreal existence which looks
So factual that we believe we are free agents.

“We insist we are real, not dream figures.
This assumed self-volition is our bondage.
It creates the enigmatic world we inhabit,
On a perennial cycle of transmigrations.

"By dwelling on this absurd 'tangibility,'
We’ve become exhausted by pleasure and despair.
At the same time, we have turned into prisoners
Of what we have defined as 'right and wrong.'”

I asked, “What will happen to us when God wakes up?”
He replied: “When you wake up from your own dreams,
Aren’t they absorbed by your own consciousness?
Can God do less?”

Saturday, September 26, 2009


If by the example of my life I must
Pronounce a judgment, reluctantly, I say this:
Free will a fiction is!
Human events seem to be shaped
By unknown hands.

I’m not the captain of my ship;
The arbitrary wind is!`
When I recall my loves there isn’t
A single one whose life and death
I could decide.

They carried their own beauty.
Their own storms they produced.
They brought with them their sadness.
When they left they vanished
Without once looking back.

All I could do was watch
These fleeting shadows dancing
On the stage of my consciousness.
And, when they were all gone,
I found myself again facing the unknown.

Yesterday - Today - Tomorrow


I wrote your name upon the sand,
But then forgot to erase it.
I hope the waves will write it off.
Otherwise, heaven will recognize
My heart’s handwritten signature
And strike me with Its thunder.


Your written name upon the sand
Escaped with the waves onto the ocean.
Since then, those who understand the language of the sea
Marvel at the perennial beauty emerging from the depths
In never-ending songs.


Today I saw a hawk gracefully dancing in the sky.
But there was also a raging storm approaching.
Last time this happened....nothing was left.

'Cause in Her....

(‘cause in Her all of them coalesced)

The mirror looked at me and said,
Unhappy mortal that you are,
In love with Aphrodite.

I’ve no complaints – I said at last.
Never have I myself seen Her
Or heard of anyone who has.

However, I must tell you that
I have felt – I have felt....the smile
Of Aphrodite!


All of them were daughters of transient time.
It was a joy for me to dance with them.
They put accomplished rhythm in their dancing steps.
Their moves were meaningful and had much charm.
But, above all, they had inimitable grace.
Even in their fierce and relentless advance
Their grace was memorable.
Their subtle movements were simply sublime.

Some were light, loving steps or slow, romantic,
Like affectionate sighs.
Some steps were funny, devised by humor.
But there were others,
Whose violent gyrations a whirlwind couldn’t match.
Their mad choreography brought to mind
The ruthlessness of devastation.
But we must be courageous and bold dancers,

Ready to look Death in the face.
If our steps are steady we are bound to be safe.
The dancers guided me to think about
The existence of an Ultimate Dancer,
Who can destroy a world with a swift motion
Of her hips or save a life with a lovely
Minuet of her thighs. All this the cognates of the
Ultimate Dancer revealed to me and then they said:

The only way to win the uncommon favor
Of the Ultimate Dancer is
To become a bold and skillful dancer always
Prepared to dance the Warrior-Dance with Her.

Inexorable Time

What can I say about the women I loved?
I lost them all and they are gone forever.
Only vague memories remain
Of fading faces in the haze of the past.
Of voices whisked away by the merciless wind.
Of smiles forgotten in the mist of time.
Of luminosity lost in shadows.
Of words of love turned into ashes.

I have not kept mementos of my loves.
All I can do when I wish to evoke them is,
While sitting on the shore,
To write their names upon the sand.
And when the bubbly waters erase
Each cherished name I bring it back once more
Upon my sight by writing it again
As challenge to the ruthlessness of time!

Let's Dance!

Let’s dance the warrior’s dance!
I am ready to match, step by step,
Every move you want to invent.
Don’t spare the danger nor the pain!
I’ll be impeccably aware and shall
Advance in whatever direction
It pleases you to go and will be ready

To match the vigor and intensity
Of your rhythmic steps and outlast
The hustle of your moves and be prepared
To die, if necessary, in this War Dance!
I know this is a ruthless combat.
But I intend to play the game
Until you fall directly into my arms!

Aurora - I and II

She came
Like the sun melting snow

Like the breeze
In the heat of the summer

Like the spring
With its promise of love.

I felt the dazzling
Radiance that revealed

The Eternal Feminine
In her and in my heart I bowed

The Eternal Feminine

Is a queenly quality
And she is a queen.

A Simple Woman - IV

She is not identified with the conceit
Of the sophisticated and the effete.
Or the so-called civilized ways of the rich.
On the other hand,

Her knowledge of the obvious is gigantic.
Things that would drive an artist frantic
Or that confuse an intellectual
Making him ineffectual.

Or trip the professorial crowd
And prick the vanity of the proud.
You know - those simple things of life
Of which dire existence is rife.

All that she can explain
With rare common sense
And without any vain
Or fanciful pretense.

A Passionate Woman - V

She is an earthy woman.
Like a vintage wine
She luxuriates
In the full bloom
Of her womanhood!

None can resist her gaiety.
The caress in her voice.
Her sultry moods.
The pride she feels
On being a woman!

The ripeness of her form.
Her sensuous walk.
The fire in her eyes.
All this a harvest is
Of love and passion!

A Luminous Woman - VIII

She has the luminosity of sunrise.
But sometimes sadness
Dims her splendor.
It’s like beholding a superb
Flower bent under
The lashing rain.

Occasionally - like in a firefly -
Her light is on
And then is off.
When it is on there is an irradiation
Of inner joy
A beauty surging from within

Which flows over her features
Like champagne spilling
Over a brimming glass.
Sweet joy pours out of her like fragrance
From a flower - like a sunbeam
Reflection from the sun.

I love her without jealousy.
Without avarice.
I love her like a poet loves words.
Like a painter loves color
And a composer sound.
I love her like the billows

Love the shore
And the eagle the heights.
I love her thus....

Regina: Laughing Water

(Sonnet Variation)

Laughing Water, where are your moccasins?
It hardly befits you to wear high heels.
There is in you an air of the untamed frontier,
Of swimming in the nude on mighty rivers,
Of the flight of the eagle and deep woods,
Of the smile of the stream and the song of the lark,
Of the lure of the hunt and the elusive sunbeam.

Let’s fly away together on a moonbeam
To the land in your eyes which I feel in my heart,
Where the scent of the pine caressingly intrudes.
Let’s leave behind forever all the diverse
Contraptions of the culture we hold so dear
And from your prairie’s freedom let’s climb the hills.
Laughing Water....where are your moccasins?

Regina: A Promise

(Sonnet Variation)

You departed today going homeward,
To your sunset, your mist and your prairie.
Once again you have left me behind
With my dreams and the general madness.
I shall miss your sweet smile but I know
That once more within time we shall meet,
Since the expanse of your home is a circle.

We shall watch once again the bright sparkle
Of the sun at high noon on its summit,
And the nights when the moon joins the snow
On the far distant peaks with its silver caress.
We shall meet at twilight and enjoy unconfined
Your domain which is freedom’s sanctuary.
....You departed today going homeward....

Helen of Milwaukee

(An instant in a hotel elevator)

I saw Helen today.
Eyes blue, black curly hair.
A smile beyond compare.
Skin like translucent light.
Her glance was sweet delight.
Rose petals were her lips.
Voluptuous her round hips.
The contour of her body
To my memory brought
A silken velvet touch
And summer’s sultry heat.

Brief vision of sweet joy,
Fragile as a caress,
Which in a sudden ploy
My senses did obsess.
Daydream of form and color,
Sweet metaphor of love!
Bold Paris and doomed Ilium
And dogged Menelaus
I heartily condone
Because a prize like Helen
Surpasses any throne!

Friday, September 25, 2009

The Goddess of Love and Beauty

(“The power of love is something
neither I nor you can resist.
Zeus rules all the gods,
but is Aphrodite’s slave”.
-Helen, in Euripides’s “Women of Troy”)
Flower of lovers is the rose
Colored by Aphrodite’s blood
When in her quest to save Adonis
She cut herself.
Symbol of love her blood is.
Since then,
The rose carries her message
when we love.
(Hyde Park, Chicago)
The ocean gave her birth,
An island her abode,
A dove perched on her hand,

A red rose near her brow.
A wryneck was her messenger.
This florid auric goddess

Throughout my life
Has been
Invisible companion.

Long-Lost Loves Remembered

The breeze caressed
The cupped breasts of the hills.
The golden sun
Like potent Zeus
With lusty embrace
and passionate desire
Made love with holy joy
To willing earth.
It was a day of long-lost loves

The night was soft
Like a young maiden’s thighs.
Perfumed like the
Breath of a child.
Luminous like
The green eyes of a panther
In readiness to jump
Upon its prey.
It was a night of long-lost loves
The mirror looked at me and said,
Unhappy mortal that you are
In love with Aphrodite.

With deep amusement I replied,
You must be mad there is no such
Thing as Aphrodite.

Timeless Moments

It is not that death ends it all.
It is that life is always short.
We live to be a hundred and
Predictably we never find
Peace within us - always afraid
Of Death, never reaching the goal....

And never feeling near safe port!
If we could only ‘feel’ the death of Time,
We would not mind dying at all.
To grasp the timeless moment
Is to find Infinity in us.
This occurs when Time stops!

Life’s but a stream of self-contained moments.
Trillions - as many as there are stars!
Each one is complete in itself.
It’s born, it dies and it’s forgotten.

But some of them,
Though they last but one second,
Seem to be shaped by Divine Hands
For they possess
The timeless beauty of perfection!

Ana - In Memoriam

Softly, my love,
Wake up, sweet one!
Rise when the moon
Rounds up the sky
And while the stars
Send us their light!
The day is not
The time we share.
We hardly meet
Under the sun.
We never dance
Under its light.

We laugh and sing
Near the hills
Feeling the breeze
Of the cool wind
And at the sight
Of the night stars.
Sound of guitars
Carries the wind.
It is the time
Of the young wine
When our hope and
Our love shine bright.

The sky adorned
By myriad stars,
The tender nights,
Are divine gifts
Given to you!
Given to me!
Softly, my love!
Wake up, sweet one!
Under the moon,
Under the stars,
Let’s dance in the
Arms of the night!


(In Memoriam)

The City roars and sings.
The taxi speeds.
Vitality crackles in the air.
Music at your apartment
As I, totally fascinated
By your sensuous beauty,
Long for forbidden fruits.

And I dream about loving you!
About your firm, unbent breasts.
Your smooth, unblemished belly.
The opening of your spring flower
Between your soft and tender thighs.
And as I look at you, my darling,
I smile thinking about those things.

However, that is not all!
There is much more to ponder.
It is the enigma of
Your luminous beauty
That tantalizes and impels me
To go deep unto you hoping
To find the dwelling of the sacred!

Now it is too late to know!
Too late to understand! Oh Death,
Cruel thief of loveliness and youth,
Once more you have taken away
Another of my loves!
When each one of them dies,
Something in me dies, too!

Sonnet to Marina

With you I learned about passionate love!
The storm and stress of Nature’s savage song!
The zenith of delight - of pain the dross -
The allure of beauty - of agonies a throng!

It was a world commanded by your splendor
Which blunted my perception to excess.
A world of gloom and cheer which dropped and soared,
In a discordant dance of joy-distress!

It was a living at white heat - a fire
In the blood - idyll and lust strong and bold -
Measureless joy - all-conquering desire -

While youth governed with its scepter of gold!
It couldn’t last, it did not last. But at the end,
Life’s bitter sweetness I could well comprehend!

I thought I heard her voice

I thought I heard her voice!
It was the wind cavorting in the forest....
It was the gentle rustle of the leaves....

I thought I sensed her presence!
It was the running brook
Singing a song to the cerulean night....
The wind, the trees, the running brook,
The night, are all still here.
But....my Marina is gone!
Lisle, IL

Dark-Haired Evelyn

That night I brought you
The Andean gold.
A queen you were so
I placed it

Around your slender neck
And on
Your small exquisite wrist.

You wept because it was
A parting gift.
Not much later however
You had found

A new love and once more
You were happy.
Perhaps you knew too well
The longing of the lonely.


On the wire her voice seemed
And tired.

The echo
Of her words died down
Leaving the memory of
The sound.

The rain kept falling
Like bright confetti under
The moving lights
Of cars.

Told a tale of strange

While impossible dreams
Hovered with silver wings
In the air.

And I, no longer merry,
Dreamed once more about

Eros Triumphant

Soft as ballet. Rough like football.
Lethal. ... like poison.
Life-giving like a mother’s milk.
Such is the Game of Love.
It gives and takes away like a
Capricious god mocking the mortals.
But it transforms thru pain and heals with bliss.
It builds by deep affection.
Rearranges by destruction.
Don’t love if you expect only delight.
Don’t love if sorrow scares you.
But love if in spite of the perils
You feel the magic of its mystery,
The thrill of the pursuit,
The attraction of the unknown!
The lover is a warrior
Who turns defeat into a song,
A broken heart into a poem,
An unrequited love into
The awareness of an inner Self.
He plays the game with charm and grace.
Old age doesn’t deter him.
His motto is: If I survive
This war I shall fight the next one!

Monday, September 21, 2009

Mas que arcilla

Más que arcilla eres esencia.
Es la esencia lo que enciende
la luz que todo trasciende.

Cuando tu esencia se ausenta
tu hermosura y tus encantos
sólo son un antifaz.

Más cuando, al fin, en ti se une
la esencia con la hermosura,
me abandona la cordura,

se abren todas las compuertas
y caen todas las defensas.
Todo es tú....

El nacimiento

(rima interior)

Era una noche helada de sombras coronada.
Noche tenebrosa, sombría, quejumbrosa.

Triste y atribulado, con el ánimo hastiado,
le rogé al Infinito el regalo bendito

de alguien como tú. Así naciste tú,
tal como eres ahora, dulce y embriagadora.

Lucero que destella una luz tierna y bella,
y las penas desvia con su dulce alegría....

La cancion del silencio

En el silencio
hay muerte

y también hay canción.

el pensamiento muere
y muere el tiempo

pero nace el amor....

Eras tan virginal

Eras tan virginal que una luz amorosa y
sutil se desprendia de tu cuerpo desnudo,
levemente alumbrando el aposento oscuro
con un suave fulgor.

Parecias una diosa desprendida del cielo,
transformada en un bello animal terrenal.
Absorbias mis besos y fogosos anhelos
con ardor pasional.

Tu subjugante entrega, tu sonrisa traviesa,
acallaban de prisa tu pudor natural.
Con tus tremulas manos traias a mi boca,
tus dos senos lozanos

y, con gesto ferviente ofrecias a mis ojos
tu embeleso escondido que ya no estaba esquivo
y en cambio reclamaba
mi total atencion....

La vendimia

Princesa mía, a mi regreso,
recíbeme totalmente desnuda.
No pienses mas.

Amorosa, acogeme en tu seno.
Déjame entrar en el recinto
de tu feminidad.

Me deslizaré entre tus muslos
Y entre gemidos derramarás tus
dulces jugos de mujer....

Al fin comprenderás que la hora
intemporal ha llegado.

La noche oscura


Todavía recuerdo cuando aquella noche,
en campo abierto, se detuvo mi coche.
Se apagaron las luces, todo quedó a oscuras.
Nunca pensé que iba a ser una noche de aventuras.
Sólo sé que de pronto un zumbido creciente
me hizo mirar hacia atrás - vi que velozmente
se acercaba un auto azul que se paró a mi lado.
¡Eras tú! ¡Me dejaste pasmado!

Tanto alumbraba tu resplandor la noche oscura
que por un momento dudé de mi cordura.
Te pregunté si eras luz disfrazada de mujer.
Te echaste a reir con muestras de placer.
Después de examinar mi coche decidimos
que debía irme contigo - así lo hicimos.
Para hallar un mecánico tiempo habría mañana.
A tu lado esperaba que fuera una semana.

Amándote esa noche fallecí de placer.
Desde entonces te llamo y no quieres responder.
Lo más que siento es no poder jurarte
que mi muerte en tus brazos fue una obra de arte.
Todo lo que en mi vida había de inasible
esa noche contigo se hizo posible.
Y, sin más que decir y sin ningún barniz,
del mundo de ficciones me despido feliz.


Bajo tus ropas permanecía escondida
la joya que anhelaban mis deseos profanos.
Respondías a mis obvios reclamos
con sonrisa traviesa y ansia encendida.

Me encantaba acariciar tu perla humedecida
y cabalgar en los prados de tus llanos.
Gemías feliz en tus goces tempranos.
La pasión te sacudía desinhibida.

Agraciada con físicos primores,
dotada de gran capacidad sexual,
destinada para inspirar amores,

eras la esencia de la mujer carnal.
¡Análoga de la diosa Afrodita!
¡Estremecedora! ¡Inaudita!


Tigresa y gata eras al mismo tiempo.
Mi gatuna traviesa y mi fiera tigresa.
Amaba de tu cuerpo el movimiento
y de tu ingenio callejero la agudeza.

¡Por cierto eras bien terca y tan sentimental!
¡Cómo porfiabas por ridículas tonterías
que luego terminaban en algo emocional!
¡Cuantas veces te vi llorar por fruslerías!

Cenábamos en restaurantes suntuosos
gozando de sabrosos vinos y manjares.
Fue en uno de tus momentos caprichosos,
en medio de congojas abismales,

que narraste con pena de ilusiones rotas
la triste historia de tu azarosa vida.
Al hacerlo lloraste en medio de las copas
del vino añejo en la mesa florida.

Al derramar las lágrimas quebrandose tu voz
y la difusa luz suavizar tu belleza,
en un momento eterno tu juventud me habló
y mi gata-tigresa se convirtió en princesa.

Seductora inconsciente

“Se han mostrado las flores en la tierra,
El tiempo de la canción ha llegado.”
(Cnt. 2:12)

Eres recién venida.
Apenas tu fragancia despuntó.
Pero ya se adivina
en tus senos en cierne
lo que Eros prometió.

Ya hay en tu voz,
en la forma en que miras
y, tal vez sin querer,
en el ritmo sensual con que caminas,
la letal suavidad de una mujer.

Cuando al bailar tu cuerpo giras
y tus ojos me miran sonrientes
(quizás pensando en cosas pasajeras),
siento que, a mi pesar, me inspiras
delirantes quimeras,

que recorren mis venas con fiereza
y me abrasan la frente.
¿Qué pasa por mi mente?
¡Vaya simpleza!
¡Es absurdo dudar de lo evidente!

La mujer hermosa


Una mujer físicamente hermosa
que es a la vez muy bella interiormente,
lleva en sí la tristeza del vidente
que sabe que la estela luminosa

de su ideal conduce no a la amorosa
permanencia de una dicha luciente,
sino a la realidad doliente
de una aurora fugaz y caprichosa.

Penoso despertar que comunica
a la bella mujer ese misterio
funesto que aunque siempre multiplica

su poderoso e implacable imperio,
le da además - a esa mujer - agonía
en el amor y a su faz....melancolía.



De Afrodita resumes en tu ser
su irresistible y fatal fascinación.
Como una copa que da a beber pasión
con un añejo que acrecienta el placer.

Pero tu arma secreta de poder
está en la exquisitez de la ilusión.
En lo que inspiras en el corazón
con tu hondo misterio de mujer.

Es algo más que promesas veladas
de emociones y deleites sin par.
Son atisbos de cosas sagradas,

en la ciencia y el arte de amar,
que trascienden los goces eróticos
y revelan Edenes exóticos.

En la playa

Reías reclinada hacia atrás
mientras tus piernas


se abrían y se cerraban
al recibir sobre tu sexo

la caricia insistente
del sol resplandeciente....

El ojo del huracan

Oh, mujer caprichosa,
no solamente hermosa
sino amorosa.

Huracán desbordante

con recurso fatal
para vaciar
el poderoso mar

o de flores poblar el desierto
sin ningún desconcierto
y admirable acierto.

Aquí me encuentro
huracán adentro
en tu mismo centro.

Aun aspiro a tu amor
al calor y el ardor
de tu cuerpo.

No hay constancia
en ti y esa es mi ansia
lo que da relevancia

a mi lamento.
Tu ensañamiento
es voraz como el tiempo.

¿A quién deseas amar

Aquí me encuentro
huracán adentro
en tu mismo centro....


es amarte

tu hermosura es la flecha
mi corazón el blanco

mi deseo es la atrevida

completemos el círculo

mientras el mundo feliz
da vueltas.

Lo nuevo

No era un mundo nuevo
sino una nueva forma
de ver las cosas.

Nuestros dos ojos ven
todo de una manera.
El tercer ojo ve lo nuevo....


amor trasciende
el tiempo

es campo
sin fronteras


donde no existe
el “No.”

espalda y ojos

es tu espalda desnuda
un lienzo vivo

donde pintan mis ojos
con pincel halagueño

el delicioso cuadro
de un amoroso sueño.

dicen que son tus ojos
el mítico portal

de un sendero olvidado
hace milenios

el cual conduce

por hondos abismos
y hoscos desiertos

a la dicha soñada
de un algo eterno.


hay algo en ti exquisito
que tu cuerpo alumbra

da luz a tu mirada
y a tus senos brinda

dos hermosas abejas

que jamás vuelan porque
en ti encuentran

miel más sabrosa que la
que existe en el Paraíso.


¿y tus manos....
qué decir de tus manos?

palomas cautivantes,
cálidas, tiernas,

que al extender sus alas
son como aves errantes

que en el aire dibujan
nuevos mensajes

nunca escuchados
jamás pensados

que sólo alguien que
ame como yo amo

descifrar puede
sin uso de razón

o pensamiento....
en el silencio.


tu voz
en persona me encanta

su tierna melodía
suaves matices

la dulce armonía
de tus palabras....

más si es posible oir
un sonido perfecto

es preciso escuchar
tu voz en el teléfono

pues es allí donde impera
tu encantadora gracia....

percibo alli quién eres
a través de las

ondas del aire y es
tu voz en total desnudez

que revela el secreto
ya que es

la voz sin cuerpo
el sonido del alma....

Mujer del tropico

El mal tiempo del trópico es azaroso,
huraño, sombrío, amenazante.
De pronto, se transforma en fuerte tempestad,
con lluvias torrenciales y arrolladores vientos.

El buen tiempo es un regio diamante
anegado de luz que orgulloso
alucina con su brillo radiante y
fascina altanero con su raro esplendor.

Así eres tú también, mujer del trópico,
cuando apagas tu luz
en aciago silencio y hieres la ilusión
con hosca frialdad y glacial impiedad.

Un instante después resplandece tu sol,
sonríen tus labios,
brillan tus ojos y brota en tu corazón
la mansa fuente de un claro amanecer.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Vida y mujer

Vida, eres femenina, eres mujer.
Fuente abundante de la mas dulce miel!

Pero injusta en amores y quereres.
Mas, ay, que bella y fascinante eres!

Cuantas veces, oh Vida, al mirarte veo
un pedazo de hielo
un tenebroso velo
que reduce la luz del sol a un parpadeo!

Que terrible temblor suscitas en mi alma!
Mas de repente
muy sonriente
veleidosa me devuelves la calma!

Si, eres asi como mujer que eres.
Casi intangible
generosa en placeres y dolores.

Vida, que a manos llenas das de tus dones
y que luego arrebatas
mientras desatas
el vendaval de las desilusiones:

Que hacer con tanta duda e incertidumbre?
Como llegar
como alcanzar
tu prodigiosa y peligrosa cumbre?


La alcanzare, como con una mujer,
tu profundisimo ser?


nada más el rumor del placer y del dolor.
El acento que ríe - el llanto de la pena.
La aflicción de la angustia.

nada más el estruendo de las cosas
como quién oye las ondas del océano
allá en la lejanía.

nada más ignora, olvida la pena que te
causa lo que oyes o la dicha que existe
en lo que sientes.

¡Escucha.... nada más!
Hay en el fondo de las cosas
un silencio profundo y apacible
que es sabio y poderoso.

que revela su faz
a quién....escucha.

Los guerreros

La batalla fue cruenta.
Al volver al terreno solo hallé los escombros.
El cielo estaba gris, el campo desolado.
Los muros destruídos, la sangre reseca.

Dolíanme las heridas.
Aun más la derrota. Miré a mi alrededor.
Furioso, grité: ¡Mordiste el polvo, incapaz!
Asi fue, pero sobrereviví y estoy listo

para una nueva guerra! - Alla, en la lejania,
se escucha el clarín victorioso de mis bravos
guerreros y el casco de sus corceles
que imperiosos estampan el terreno baldio.

El poder de Leucotoe

*(Leyenda romana)

En dulce cautiverio el resplandeciente sol
se prendó locamente
de la bella Leúcotoe.

Fue tal su ofuscamiento, su hondo sentimiento,
que de alumbrar al mundo
el astro se olvidó.

Y, mientras la admiraba feliz y negligente,
los mares y la tierra
el sol obscurecio.

Esta vez no fue la noche la que se interpuso
entre la tierra y el sol.
Fue esta hermosa doncella quien

con raro esplendor trascendió la luz solar
y finalmente cegó
al magnifico sol.

El poder irresistible de la fragilidad

Hay lágrimas en tus ojos.
Tu frente está ensombrecida.
Es tu voz una plegaria.

Tus hermosos ojos mustios
me contemplan angustiados
sin esa luz que es su gloria.

¿Dime, mi amor, qué te aflige?
¿Por qué esa extraña congoja?
¿Qué causa tu pesadumbre?

¡Como me olvido de todo!
¡Tu falsedad, tu inconstancia,
tu ambiguedad desdeñosa!

¡Ven acá, no llores más!
¡Refúgiate aquí en mis brazos
y olvidemos lo demás!



Mujer con aire de dama inmaculada
y suaves movimientos de pantera;
de risa fácil, hermosa cabellera,
mujer-misterio de la boca encarnada.

¿Eres de hielo o sensual y apasionada?
Llegar hasta tu alma yo quisiera
a ver si eres auténtica o quimera
por mentiras luminosas cincelada.

Con sonrisa sutil te desvaneces
sólo dejando el misterio de tus ojos.
A mis frases de amor tu alma oscureces

apresando a tu ser entre cerrojos.
¿Es que el amor no entra en tu morada?
¿O eres un sueño que surge de la nada?

Saturday, September 19, 2009

El vacio de Beckett

-Quizás la razón principal
por la cuál hemos nacido
sea aprender
que no somos
ni ésto ni aquello.-
- ¿Cómo así? ¿Es que
no somos nada? -
- ¡Nada somos! -
- ¿Pero....qué podemos ser? -
- ¡Ya lo dije, nada! -
- ¿Nunca....nada? -
- ¡Nada, nada que
se pueda

El bumeran

¿Acaso somos un bumerán lanzado del
Infinito por la mano de Dios?

¿Podemos entender que la Tierra es solo
una ‘apariencia’en la dimensión onírica?

Dicen que el Infinito dónde no existen
fronteras no puede albergar en su seno

ni la finitud ni la imperfección. Alli
no hay sufrimiento ni pensamiento.

¿Entonces, que es la Tierra que habitamos?
¿La región negativa de los sueños?

El sueno

Sabía que dentro del tiempo y el espacio,
en este mundo de nombres y de formas,
es imposible comprender
el Gran Misterio.

En mi sueño una voz me dijo con humor:
Disipa tu avidez y no habrá más
imagenes ni opuestas dualidades.
Hazlo - no trates de entender!

El Todo Incomprensible te honra,
al usarte como fiel instrumento de un
destino muy tuyo que aunque lo ignoras,
llevas grabado con firmeza en tu interior.

Diviértete y disfruta en la pantalla
tu interesante historia.
Alégrate con la dicha y sufre la desdicha.
Y ríe, ríe entonces una vez más.
Es todo cine.

La gran danza

El universo se rije por el equilibrio
de fuerzas opuestas.
Esa tensión parece ser necesaria.

Observemos pues y aprendamos
el arte de la armonía y el ritmo.
Vivir no es combatir sino bailar.

Es importante estar claro y resolver
ese acertijo antes de entrar triunfantes
en la gran pista de baile.

Estudiemos la extraordinaria danza
universal al compás de su acorde.
Pues bailar sin saber daña la danza.

La diosa Ilusion

Una diosa peligrosa es Ilusión.
La mujer es su arma mortífera.
¿Un arma la mujer?
¿En qué forma esa flor subyugante

alcanza ese poder? ¿Con su mirada?
¿Con su sonrisa?
¿O quizás con su cerebro?
¿Puede ella inspirar tanto temor?

¿Se halla esa fuerza en su belleza?
¡Vaya, qué muchas
mujeres hermosas viven y mueren
totalmente exentas de poder!

Otros sugieren que la inmensa potestad
de la mujer proviene de su sexualidad.
Quizás se pueda considerar bastante
esa opción pero resulta exagerada.

El dominio de la mujer reside en su
talento para crear ilusiones.
El hombre lo hace con su imaginación.
Pero la mujer las proyecta con

su Presencia carismática y
su Misterio indefinible.
¡O quizás sea que la ilusión en sí
sugiera un no-sé-qué...tan femenino!

La amada ausente

¿En dónde está mi amada?
y nunca la encontraba.

No está en el mar, no está en la brisa.
Ni en el rumor de las plácidas olas.
¿En el romper del alba o en el mediodía?
¿ En el atardecer o en la honda noche?

¿En dónde está mi amada?
y nunca la encontraba.

No está en la flor ni en la ilusión.
Ni en el fulgor de la pasión.
No está en la rima de lírica poesía.
Ni en la región de la melancolía.

Ni tampoco en la pena de los sueños perdidos,
Ni en la desilusión de los amores idos.
No está en el monte ni en el ave que vuela.
Ni en el horizonte de quién febril espera.

¿En dónde está mi amada?
y nunca la encontraba.

En una noche azul mientras me acariciaba,
el aura tropical me dijo sosegada:
Tu amada está muy cerca más no la puedes ver.
Calma tu mente y explora....el fondo de tu ser.

La sombra de la Fuente


Estabas conmigo.
Tiré los dados y gané.
Eras mi premio, mi galardón.
Siete y once - seguí ganando.
Fue como un sueño.
Saqué un cinco.

Repetí el cinco.
Dos tiros más de suerte.
¡Que noche de emociones!
¡Como gozaba junto a ti!
Pero....no es eterno el placer.
Ni tampoco la dicha....

Comencé a perder.
Te perdí a ti. En vano,
traté de recuperarte....
Juego ahora sin cesar.
Gano...y pierdo.
¿En dónde estás?

La Ciudad de Omar

Un hijo adoptivo de la ciudad de Omar
me dijo lo siguiente:
Al principio creía que el curso
de mi vida dependía
de mi libre albedrío.

Consciente de mis limitaciones,
hallaba que mi existencia estaba
restringida por los cercos
humanos carentes de poder.
Pero al ver que todo en este mundo

emana de la Fuente,
poco a poco fui librando
a mi mente del peso
de la responsabilidad
activando, a la vez, un manantial

personal de inmensa energía vital.
Comprendí entonces que ahora
ya que no es el género humano quién
impulsa la acción sino la Fuente.

La ciudad de Omar, I

Aqui en la ciudad de Omar todo
se hace de acuerdo al libreto escrito
por la mano incógnita de un autor

Todos somos actores con roles
ya asignados de antemano.
Aun cuando querramos nunca
podemos cambiarlos.

Nadie está programado para
variar lo que ya está en proyección.
Así vivimos todos en esta
hermosa ciudad de Omar.

En el cauce del rio

-En el cauce del río-

Serenamente el caudaloso río
se desliza en su cauce.
No lo impulsa su propia voluntad
ni su gran poderío.

Es la Fuerza del Destino que lo guía
Y es su Origen que ordena el
retorno a la Fuente.

Siempre buscamos
pretéritos comienzos.
Mas es la presunción
lo que nos pierde,

haciéndonos creer que todo
depende de nosotros.
Aunque estemos en cauce
nunca hallamos la Fuente.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

La fugacidad del tiempo

La peregrinacion comienza al nacer.
El camino es impreciso, la batalla cruenta.
En la misma se espera descifrar el secreto
de la fugacidad del tiempo.

El amor de pareja deslumbra al comprender
que uno se esta alejando de sí mismo.
Asi nos aproximamos al secreto
de la fugacidad del tiempo.

Pero no existe una respuesta racional.
Solo se sabra la verdad cuando
el Ego acepte su derrota al realizar
que nuestra identidad trasciende el tiempo.

'Blind Date'


Bailabamos. Me miraba a
los ojos mientras sus dedos
huian de mi mano,
obligandome a oprimirlos
para no dejarlos escapar.

Asi se divertia mi princesa,
sonriendo con su boca de fresa,
retandome con su afan,
mientras sus dedos eran la presa
y mi mano el gavilan.

El poder sumo

Todos conversabamos.
Ella estaba sentada en un divan.
Tenia una blusa sin mangas.
Una falda abierta
Acariciaba sus piernas.

Fue entonces que la vi de aquella
manera tan particular.
Su rostro, sus ojos, sus cabellos,
el color de su piel, sus brazos,
todo irradiaba fulgor.

Era la mujer de mi amigo.
De pronto mi deseo por ella asumio
una urgencia irresistible.
Asombrado, saque la pitillera del
bolsillo y extraje un cigarrillo.

Me dirigi al balcon para fumar.
La ciudad estaba cubierta de luces.
Recorde un cuento corto de Somerset
Maugham que se desarrolla en
una isla del Pacifico.

Un misionero ingles - moralista
exacerbado de hondas convicciones -
resiente la presencia de una
cortesana y trata de provocar
su deportacion.

Pero sucumbe a la atraccion sexual
de aquella mujer indescifrable.
Comprendio asi cuan fragiles son
nuestros valores morales,
nuestra fe religiosa,


al enfrentarse al misterio
del tremendo poder
que vibra agazapado
en el cuerpo alucinante
de una bella mujer.

El brindis de Casanova

Busqué inmortalidad

en la fragilidad

del amor.

En la fugacidad

de una flor!

La ultima palabra de Casanova

El viejo Casanova sonrió:
¿Que si mi vida fue exitosa?
¡Claro que sí, sin duda alguna!
Se echó a reir al anadir:
Nunca fui rico...en dinero.
Vea usted,
dijo al saborear su vino:
El azar siempre rigió mi destino.
Nunca vi a mi vida como un medio,
sino como un fin.
¿Quiere usted saber
lo que el azar me trajo?
Oiga usted a mi corazón
que en dos palabras responde:
Sí, siempre se escucha
ese estribillo en mi pecho:

El Senor Sufrimiento

(Para Sofía Stolberg)

La humanidad siempre ha tratado de unificarse.
Lo ha intentado a través de genios militares como
Alejandro, Julio César, Ghengis Khan, Napoleón.
O, por medio de filosofías absolutistas
como el nazismo, el fascismo y el comunismo.
O, por el imperialismo económico y cultural
de las democracias occidentales. O, a través
del poder espiritual de las grandes religiones.
Pero todos han fracasado.
Sólo un inmenso poder ha logrado
esa unidad en forma espectacular.
¡Ese poder es el Señor Sufrimiento!

La raza humana, desde la pre-historia hasta el presente,
ha sido siempre victimizada por esa mano brutal.
Todos hemos sido miembros de esa hermandad.
Hasta los indigentes han sabido pagar su cuota.
El ubérrimo Señor no conoce barreras.
Su abrazo prepotente abarca todas las naciones,
todos los credos, todas las razas.
Su legítimo instinto democrático
es incapaz de excluir a nadie.
Ni tan siquiera a plantas o animales.
Nadie puede quejarse del cuidado de este Señor.
Incluye tanto a virtuosos como a corruptos.


Todos somos víctimas de este azote omnipresente.
Su omnipotencia es devastadora.
No hay quién no sea, forzosamente, su devoto
consuetudinario. El Buda, ese gran biógrafo
de este munificente y extraordinario fenómeno,
afirmó en una ocasión que si todas las lágrimas
derramadas por la humanidad pudieran
recogerse serían más abundantes que todos
los océanos. Sin embargo, si se pudiera
detener en seco a este dinámico Individuo,
las columnas que sostienen nuestra civilización
serían irremediablemente destruídas.

El Sufrimiento es lo que enlaza el andamiaje del mundo.
¿Qué sobreviviría su desaparición?
No habría médicos, ni hospitales, ni abogados.
Los políticos no tendrían nada que prometer.
El aburrimiento devastaría los matrimonios.
Las religiones perderían su razón de ser
al no poder seducirnos con sus paraísos.
Pero lo más terrible sería
no tener ningún incentivo a nuestra
disposición para trascender nuestra
autoindulgente condición humana y
nos viéramos obligados a morir de placer.


Invitacion a la Vida

¡Ya podemos bailar!
Aboliste, para mi beneficio, tus condiciones.
Te arrancaste las máscaras.
Renunciaste a tus personificaciones.
Al engaño de la ilusión.

Cancelaste tus 'falsas' promesas.
En aras del humor, con mi buen temple,
dejame suavizar tus arrebatos
y disipar tus celos
con mi conducta ejemplar.

Quiero aliviar tus
estados de ánimo con mis canciones.
Tus ‘pesares’ con mi sonrisa.
Deseo endulzar tus ojos con lealtades.
Tus iras con caricias.

Permiteme, antes que nada,
invalidar tu poder devastador
con la fuerza incontenible
de mi sinceridad.
Bailemos, pues....

El miedo

El miedo es saludable en dosis moderadas.
Es una ayuda para la autopreservación.
Es ingrediente de la prudencia.
El hombre cauteloso, aunque héroe improbable,
puede alcanzar mayor longevidad.
El miedo es disuasivo de la mala conducta.
Propicia la humildad, doma la arrogancia.
Refrena la disposición tiránica.
Es piedra angular de las religiones.
Dice la Biblia: “El principio de la
sabiduría es el temor de Jehová.” (Pr. 1:7)
Por lo tanto, el miedo no es siempre negativo,
aunque en su negatividad posee
una enorme capacidad para el mal.

El miedo es una emoción creada por la mente.
Es un vacío, un subproducto de nuestra
separación voluntaria de Dios y del resto
del mundo. Es una desunión del centro
de nuestro ser y esa dislocación crea
su propia disposición para la malevolencia.
Esto hace del miedo un suelo fértil para la desdicha.
El ser humano temeroso es un esclavo.
Son muchos sus errores y fracasos.
La vida lo rechaza porque el miedo es muerte
y, por lo tanto, antítesis de la vida.
El temeroso adora la deidad equivocada.
Es siempre castigado por la vida misma,
diosa celosa que exige lealtad a toda prueba.

(El miedo, p 2)

Aunque el que teme vive físicamente,
espiritualmente está exánime.
Esta condición metafísica
provoca traiciones inimaginables.
Juntos, el miedo y el mal son amenazantes.
El miedo disuelve nuestra autoestima.
Paraliza nuestra capacidad racional.
Envenena nuestra mente.
Deforma nuestra personalidad.
Deshumaniza nuestra percepción de lo real.
Es foco de injusticias e infamias.
¿Cómo curarse de este virus mortal?
¿Enfrentándonos al mismo y abriendo
nuestro corazón al amor inclusivo?