On a Business Trip, a Poem

Thought it was love, but it actually, wasn’t, it was only the female manager’s, looking after the male subordinate, because he’d fallen, ill, nothing more, translated…

Once ALL the Prerequisite

Had Been Met

The Love Began

For Instance————

The Single Female Office Manager without Offspring

Met Up with the New Employee with Too Many Mistakes on

Her First Business Trip with Him

First, He’d Lost His Passport

Then, Started Getting Sick

Food Allergies

From that Swollen Red Head that Became So Swollen

Tears Fell So Very, Pitifully form His Eyes———

It’s Brought Out the Never-Before Maternal Instincts She Thought She Had

Opened Up Her Enormous Wings

Took Him into Her Arms, Like He was a Child in Distress

Allowed Him to Take Any & Everything from Her

Until the Very End of this, Truly, Disastrous Trip

The Two Returned Back to Their Own Individual, Realities

Although, He Was Still with the Worshipping Means Looking Up at Her

Her Love for Him However,

Cooled Back Down, as He’d, Slowly, Recovered from His

Illness

And Once the Means Such as the Temperature, the Humidity are Reached

Love Started, Growing

Just Like, the Germs

And so, thankfully, this INFECTION was only for the time of the business trip that they took together, that it’d not, lasted, longer, because had it lasted longer, than, this wouldn’t have, ended up, well, so, the female manager WAS, really wise, in SEVERING it off before this feelings of her being needed by the subordinate got out of, control…

Luxor Avenue, a Poem

Just, trekking around, not yet, ready to, settle down or in, for the night, yet…translated…

No Need to Show Off the Knowledge of Egypt

The Horse Shit on the Road Still Had the Heat from the Myths

And, as They Accumulated, They Still Wouldn’t Turn into, Obsidian

“Ferrari, One U.S Dollar, One U.S. Dollar”.

The Stagecoach is Selling the Fatigue of the Merry-Go-Around Horses

The Egyptian Pound is Falling Too Fast

You’d, Kept Saying No

Refusing to Get, Taken Back to, the B.C. Eras

The Nile is Not Far Off

Passing Through the Dried Up Bodies of the Countless Travelers

Up from the Eastern Shores an Arm Raised Up

Placed on the Sinking Western Shores’ Shoulders

The Few Sailboats, Awakened

Walking Deeper into the City, the Sphynx Passage

The Gates to the Tower, the Halls

That Doorway Praised by Homer Once, with a Row of

McDonalds to the Side

nothing to keep your attention, to make you, stay, put…

the streets of Luxor, photo from online

Heated Coffee, and the Double-Cheese Burgers

Reminding Us of the Archaeology of the, Bodies

Thinking about the Island with the Six-Hour Time Zone Difference

People are All, Dreaming of Getting Ready to Work?

The Opened-All-Night Super Convenience Stores

Welcome All

The Night Prayers Sounded in the Nearby Mosque

Pulling Me Away—————

Distancing Me from the, Asian, Continent

So, there’s, that sense of, wandering around, aimlessly, like you’re, trying to find a place to situate yourself down in, but your legs, they keep on, moving, and you’re not at where you’re headed to yet, because when you’d reached that location, your legs would, let you know: hey, we’d, arrived.  But you’re still, on the road…

An Insomniac Spider

Tossing and turning, and no matter what, I just, can’t, fall, asleep, sheep don’t work either!  Translated…

The Multitudes of Snoring Sounded Off

Sometimes, the A Segments, at Others, the B\

And Most of Times, I Can’t, Really, Tell

Repeated the Notes, But I Don’t Know When to Start Listening, in

This Ineffective Hypnosis

The Stars All Came Rushing Towards Me

The Moon Fell from the Skies, Gotten Flattened & Bent out of Shape

On that Newly Weaved Bed

A Spider Came

can’t fall, asleep…tossing and turning…photo from online

Stepped on the Slanted Long, Legs

Constantly Tripping Itself

Perhaps, He’s Just Like Me

Tossing & Turning, Can’t Sleep?  And, It Bears

Close Resemblance to Me, Yet

It Seemed, a Bit, Different?

I’d Gotten Nearer to Take a Closer, Look

A Single Dew Broke it Down

The Shattered Light from the First Ray of the Sun

Poured Down

Another night of, tossing, turning, mind running that marathon, and you’d found no rest, because you can’t settle your minds down, to make it stop running, so you can, finally, rest, and, another morning has come, and you get, STUCK in this, endless cycle of wanting to sleep, but the more you think about sleep, sleep stays, far, far, F-A-R, away.

Staplers, a One-Lined Poem on Breaking Up

Nothing is over at goodbye…translated…

Securing the Two of Us Together, but, After We Both Dropped, there’s, that Trace that’s, Left, Behind…

like this…artwork from online

It’s always the memories, the love we once had together, that’s, the hardest, to get, over, and we try our best, but sometimes, we can’t.

Goya’s Witches, a Poem

How the paintings are, magical, drawing the visitors into, an unknown, realm…translated…

<The Black Spain of Franco>

In the Centro de Arte Reina Sofia there’s that Book Under the Spotlight

As the Male Witch Lorga Died

Nobody Saw that the Corpse was at the Corner of Andalucia

the Witches’ Sabbath by Goya in the museum, from online

Burning Bright, Until Salnuda and Dawanshu

Went to Borrow a Light There

The Light Brightened the Jester and the Monkey Face Painted by Goya

Led Us into the Large Sleeves of the Huge Robe of, Death

But the Witches Stripped Themselves, Soared Up into the Skies

Becoming Torches

As the Rulings of Franco and Religion All Crumbled into Gravity

“The Three Witches in the Air”, by Goya, from online

Those Breasts that No Longer Lactated

The Golden Lines Seeped Out from Them, to Decorate the Shattered Goya

Lorga & Salnuda

Dawanshu & Our Plaided, Socks

How we are, becoming the art itself is what this is, we get too into viewing these, works of art, that we allowed the stories behind these, masterpieces to take us in, to another, time and space, that is, what good art does, engaging those who are, looking at them.

From the Ancient Port in Genova, a Poem

There’s something magical, about these, old places, with the mythical tales, attached, a place of the, epic stories…translated…

Poseidon Posing as a Pirate, Leaning Towards

The Missing Treasure of the New Age

The World, a, Gigantic Aquarium

Sailing Out on the High Tides of the Coastlines of Liguria

Disregarding the Golden Glows of the Setting Sun

Ever Since, the Distant Lands Turned into, the Motherland

Every Columbus Remembered

Childhood as Being a Journey into the East, Nothing More

the painting of the seaport in 1752, from online

Poseidon Always Has a Way, of Making Breezes

That Made the Mermaids Surface

To Give The Weary Time to Breathe in the Wandering, that’s, More Aromatic than the Feasts

The Zebras, Refusing to Rest, with Their, Gothic Forms, Erect

Alone and Weathering the Thrills of the Seas

And When the Masts Got Stuck on These Zebras

They Will Turn into the Tunas, Riding Off with the, Waves

And so, this is how things, shape-shifts, and nothing was the same, things you think was, wasn’t actually what you perceived, and that, is how a place with too old a history can be…

The Fiddler Just Loves to, Boast

A Poem about something that’s, too tiny, yet, with an, GARGANTUAN-SIZED, E-G-O, translated…

The Fiddler Loved, Raising

Its, Right Clamp, Called Out Loud

To the Skies:

actually, foolish enought to believe, that IT OWNS the beaches, the tides too! Photo from online

The Seas, is At My, Feet

Sunrise & Sunset

The Rise and Fall of the Tides, All Followed, My, Words

This is something that’s, so very tiny, and yet, with such, an enormous, EGO, because all it can do, is to, RAISE up its, clamps, as the tide comes in and out, to catch its, foods…this is, really, something that knew how to, BOAST its own, E-G-O all right!

Rose Aromatherapy Candles

Giving off the wrong signals, we don’t want that, we’re just, two, friends, sitting at a restaurant, enjoying, our, meals together, nothing more!  Translated…

It Wasn’t Until a Long Time Later

Did She Discover, that He’s Been, with Her,

This Long a, Period of, Time

Looking at How She Kept on Falling in and Out of Love

He’d Given Her a Ton of Advice from the Mere Observer’s Point of View

For Instance:

“What Made Your Relationship Failed, Was that Both of You Confused Friendship with, Love”

“My, Such a, Precise Read!”

like this…photo from online

She’d Started, Nodding Like, Crazy

Vowed that the Two of Their Relations, will NEVER

Be Destroyed by this Awful Thing Called, Love

And so, this Became a, Ritual for Them

Whenever She’d Lost Love

She’d Found Him to Come out to Dine

At an Elegant Restaurant

The Waiter Who Didn’t Know Them

Lit Up a Rose Aromatherapy Candle on Their Table

“Ha!  It’s Rose!”,

She’d Said to Him Casually

Didn’t Let it Go to Her Heart

And Yet, He’d, Raised His Brows

Without another Word

He’d, Pinched the Flames

Of Suspicion

Out in a Split Second

when this, was what they are, and he didn’t want to, ruin it…photo from online, like buddies!

Because, the two of you wanted your relationship to stay, platonic, because love and romance is what will, TAINT everything, change everything, and that’s why, the man quickly, put out the flames, ending this “romance” before it ever got a chance to, start.  Hopefully, they will, continue to, stay friends, to support one another, like they’d been doing, all this, time…

Mayflies, a Poem

To prevent all those regrets from piling up on us, live like, mayflies!  Translated…

We are Also, Mayflies, Knowing the Differences of the Seasons

And Yet, We Only Live for One Day in the Summertime

Worked Our Best, to Turn that Solitary Second from the Galaxy into, a Lifetime

Turned the Day into a Whole, Dynasty

Turning the Night, to a Place Where We Rose Up Toward Post-Mortem

Turned the Ripples of the Pond into a Huge Tidal Wave

the cycle of life for the mayfly…illustration from online

That Puddle, into, a Big, Ocean

Can’t See the Coming of the Spring

Then, We Shall, Wear that Solitary Golden Ray of the Sun Like a Brand New Dress

Can’t Live Long Enough to Know Love

We’d, Turned the Dews into Our, Unbroken, Hearts

When We Interpret the Gentle Breezes into the Raging Winds

The Lotus Leaves into Islands

Seemed that Only the Shadows of the Trees—that Shadow in Our, Eyes

the cycle of life for man…silhoutte from online

Prayed: May the Leaves that Fall from the Trees

Share Our Same, Spirits

Using its Lifetime, to Hold on Tightly to the Split Second Moments

Keeping the Delusions of Flight, Intact

This is how we should all, live, treating the seconds as, our lifetimes, because, life will end, whether or not we like it, and if we think that we still have so much time, then, we would have the tendency to squander away the minutes and seconds of our lives, until, we are, running out of time, then, we lie on our, deathbeds, regretting, that we should’ve done more with our short lives………

Auditory Hallucination, a Poem

The love that’s died, but how we’d, hold onto it, wishing that it’s still, there…translated…

In the darkness, the box which was black, still glowed of the silvery aluminum.  As the wind blew past those rings and, earrings.

So, even though the love is no longer there, you can, still feel it, because, you still hadn’t, gotten past what’s already, dead, and, gone, yet…