The Dichotomy of Life

An afterthought of nothing, The sequence of a dream while wide awake, an infinite decade in less than a day. A fast moving car with no tires. An overhaul of them all, in an empty sack. The dichotomy of living among the undead. Monstrous merriment in a peasants ballroom, gilded by nailpolish meant to look gold. A stasis in evolution, paralyzing the survivor. The eternity of the unanswered query, “Why?” Vacuous Echoes resonate amid still life. The lightness of being in the heaviest anchor, the colloquialism in poetry scribed in calligraphy. Epitaphs orated at a birthday party. Monologues memorized by one who is mute. Winks and kisses in playtime of an Elder stoic. Refugees encampment on front lawns of mansions. A whirlybird hovers above a resting cemetary. A ballerina battlement interrupts a quadriplegic ward. Everyday has a tomorrow when tomorrow’s never here. Chaos has a battleground electrified by whispers. Lightening projects in a very arid desert. Life becomes buried below dirt while remaining a seed. A tragedy disguised by comedy while tapdanced on water. A metaphor does not compare a simile in still life. Epochs ejected in a sing-song voice while conclusions announce overtures. The solemn whir from a tykes pinwheel in the wind. Ghastly icons disappear and reappear in a color-splashed flower bed. Smithsonian displaying relics from a refuse erected landfill. Symphonies of Echoes reverberate in a tune-filled of crickets’ hollow chirps.    Thus creating this dichotomy of life.    L. Faustina M.    

The Quiet Man, Who Often sat in Back, during Church, Well, I’d catch him- Sometimes texting, Or even napping, (He ‘dubbed’ Meditating”) Always, he was Praying. This quiet man, often Seated in back, Was a self-titled “Loner With Trust Issues”, YET…When he fell quite ill One day, Lives he touched Began showing up. A few soon grew Into too many to say. He awoke to eyes Unable to see; Mike’s wisdom of Worldly and universal Ways, Came from his Vision, And not his gaze. His truths are Ever-Present, Effer-Vescent, Ecclesiasticaly Eternal. As we awaited Your return, we put into serious practice, Tools from you We learned. As you continued Praying, Offering wisdom With a deeper view. This quiet man, Often seated in back, Departed this plane, Again….No words or concrete Verbiage to say, Comes even close to The emotions and Feelings, I wish to convey…Thousands of Conversations, Millions of words Swirl around me. You stood by me During my strife; Teaching me to take Command of my life. Mike, Are you still quietly seated in back? I can still hear you say, “All we have is this Moment, The here, The now, Make the best of Your today”. I’ll always try To honor you. The next right thing is what I’ll do. No matter what chaos Is around, I’ll maintain serenity I’ve found. Yes, spirit goes on Forever… “One day at a time”, “This too shall pass” This journey is merely part of our endeavor. You vacating us. Has been most Rough… I still hear you say, “Process your trauma, Give all to Creator, Maintain your peace, There is nothing Greater” Mike, not if, Not even when, As we trudge the Road to happy Destiny, We will surely meet up with you again. L. Faustina M.

Forget-Me Knots Ahoy, thar, Matey! Heard any news, lately? I’m drowning in a pool of waste. This frothy, chartreuse film permeates my mouth. So acrid is the taste! Hell furiously flamed the force of a guy; under his mask- a demon, disguised as a human, eating up truth, replacing with lies. A life preserver got tossed towards me. It was cracked & moldy; crumbling into the sea. Six months already… How many more are destined to arrive, washing up on my shores? Worse than a life sentence or any death penalty. The thread I held onto was so tattered; finally falling apart. Horror has taken over. My life is now shattered. Someone, please pull me out. Hold onto me. Take me down a new route. Solo & cold, Battered & broken, Added some years. Physically, I’ve taken a toll. I feel like a busted up puzzle, haphazardly, scattered, missing pieces. L. Faustina M.

Mother Earth’s Miracles, Uncurling the Leaves of a soon to be withered Oak Tree, Regal stance of Elegance has ripened this into past tense. After the first bird sings its morning hello, When dewy drops of night elixir stand erect to greet the mighty magical orb of golden life, while Mother Earth lay slumbering, dalliances of dotted. Morning-Glories, open their eyes welcoming a not so wide awake world. Blankets of fallen leaves, cling en masse, hoping for a little more support. Dawn cracks a smile, hoping to bless this undiscovered day. Crickets have retired, slumbering; taking their rest until the next Moon-Rise. Dandelions weave a spray of their encore, applauding the terrain with whom they smother, comfort as. Mother Earth breathes in deeply to ready for another bustling day. Birds of every size commence their flight, soaring on invisible trails unseen by any human eye. Whipping night winds have relaxed into a breakfast time breeze. Critters of the night have nestled to bedtime attire. Hills give pensive wonderment behind their sullen sides. Gasping, quietly bemusing days gone by. Fluttering wings of Monarch graze the Mighty Oak, wanting to inspire. L. Faustina M.

Where the Roots Go to DieThe antipathy of equanimity, creating a world of solvency, Resulting in ambiguity, blurring lines- the facade of unity.Resegregating by the boxes we now check- crying our ethnicity, Paper trails, littering society,Triplicate forms identifying our sovereignty. Ironically, repetitive cultural isolation.Once lost in what was known as “the great melting pot”, crumbling foundation begat by genocide & slavery.Ancestors wail from a scattered field of nebulae, the wind whispers to them, slowly cradling to a lullaby. Our Universal wisdom, watered down, drowning out echoes of Elders past their wails of retribution, Still there solution; time, frozen, etched in permanence, not impermanent.Never ending, Unrelenting, Time becoming warped, Unbending.Lest we ever forget how eons of solitude & silence had been met.How many tears of blood have been wept.Is patience our precept?L. Faustina M.

¿Y Que Mas? Before the blink of an eye, poured forth a single tear drop. Tiny, yet so full. of microscopic tragedies. The breath, gasping its Announcement, “Nevermore!” raspily, gathered a weakened force, uttering minute consequences of a lifetime of scattered & fatal decisions, created multitudes of major catastrophes. Once, the Stork came to cry out this new life’s entrance, like troubadours amongst palisades of dismal, apocalyptic bliss, enraged by the fueling of nomadic weariness. So blythe, yet so tender. Entrapments evolving kaleidoscopic turnstiles going nowhere, circling in repetition. The Rollercoaster in the devil’s backyard, a playtime fancy, evidential – peeking rusted corners of metallic Swiss cheese. Bent, broken & weathered, memories of a yesteryear gone acrid by sweating, profusely thirsting for refrigeration in an arid blanket of thermally outraged lilliputian kernels of Our Mother. La Tierra se fue.¿Quien es Esa?Nadie. Ninguna. Nada, Por Supuesto. Lo Mismo es MI Vida, Mi Vida se fue. Se fue. Se fue, ¡Ya Basta! L. Faustina M.

The Edge of Nowhere. Transitional times tunneling through tumultuous terrain, trying to gain a foothold onto higher plane. Topsoil getting looser with every step I gain, tripping over shadows, never being quite the same. I ran into a wall one day. I slammed into a solid concrete barrier with no exit. I crashed into solid & dense hardwood. I rammed into a vast plane of eternal steel. Bricks overlayed & mortored with the metal of infinite strength, impeded my path. My trail, littered by the most colossal debris; unmovable by any brut force. My horizon blackened by the murkiest & muddled cloud coverage, making impenetrable ebon mist from wavering any direction. I pirrohuetted while plummeting over gargantuan boulders, wider & higher than Mt. Everest. I catapulted blind & crazed into flames from hell. I tornadoed, traveling farthest down a tunnel into abyss of what I came to know as a shark’s open-gaping & snaggle-toothed, hungry for my demise, mouth. I bounced with trepidation into the panoramic bounty of the bounty hunter’s lair. I washed away to shore; lifeless & limp, lilting into nothingness, becoming one with the sand. The gales at sea scattered my ashes, of the “once” me, out of reach, touching the furious waters amid my ocean, screaming froth on the lip of the Pacific. On the sharpest edge of a most imperial scythe, crisp, raw, unencumbered, unweathered by rust producing mist, floating inland, from the longest journey at sea. Vessels float atop icicle unyielding bergs, gliding as they skate this oceanic seascape. Froth settles into a whisper, murmured atop mirrored metal. Buoyancy gently simmering them as they nestle in the warmth of a soothing cup of loose tea. L. Faustina M.

Accolades To Them All. Accolades to them all, To Whom I gave credit, Watching me fall.… More years I’m alive…. Wisdom peeks its way inside, Understanding, The Universe is behind my continuance to thrive. Our Sun sneaks in a ray or two, Between broken cracks along imminent black skies. Knowledge whispers into my spiritual mind, answers, innately writing scripts of my life. Scrolls unroll forth like water cascading from up high. Tears speak the language of what I truly have inside. Vacuous turns, empty words, spoken by many. Surrounded by a “mouth-piece” society, trying to dig its way out of a quicksand, unearthed by a multitude of lies. Letters form words, simply put- symbols creating statements that go unheard. L. Faustina M.