Archive for the ‘Expressionism’ Category

A Believer (Satirical Poem)

Sunday, January 17th, 2010

Humans are such beautiful animals, artistic animals
They wonder and they appreciate
And as beautiful animals,
Were endowed with imagination to ideate
The ultimate beauty
All that you can be but can never be
They labored and enslaved to build the most beautiful,
Many a sanctuary
Creations that for the passing humans can only be a fantasy
Leave them in awe and wonder about reality

Almost unbelievable
Thousands of years ago
Symbols the size of mountains
Designed most artistic, the inconceivable
Façade carved out of pink stone, like magic
Erected magnificent columns and lifted beams on top of them
Without the aid of the hydraulic or the electric
Places to worship the intangible
Made them face the sun
Or watch over a running river
Or sky high on a precipice
Peak up to the clouds
And peer down over an abyss
Like Neuschwanstein

But humans were also unruly
They needed discipline and order
We could not always rely on a human being’s good will
To always do good
How to refrain the brazen when he becomes a brute

So humans designed religion as a solution
Inferno to those who don’t obey
And reward to those who follow the command of the day
And then some more intelligent humans
Were able to use this for their own power
And why can’t humans sell more religion
So new ones from old ones were to flower
Either unintentionally, a man who just preached goodness
Or intentionally,
One that wanted to instill a system of rules and principles
Politicians turned religions into polarizing systems
Are you one of them or one of us
Missionaries, conquistadores and militants

And so, what was supposed to be a solution
To curtail the problem
of the good and the evil in every human
Itself became a problem

L’amour

Saturday, October 10th, 2009

…An intense positive energy that one feels towards another person or persons that leads to positive acts and behaviors such as courage, generosity, sacrifice. It is ecstasy, a celebration of humanity. A feeling that there is meaning to life, a purpose.

Are we Mere Figments Of Each Other’s Imagination

Monday, September 7th, 2009

People hundreds, even thousands of years ago, who have long perished, have written about things which are today still very relevant and logical to me. This proves that indeed my brief existence in history is part of the human race, and cannot exist outside of time, so I am granted a window of time, just like all others, and it is not all my imagination after all.  It is not all in my head. There is an existence outside of thought. Those things actually exist outside of us…

The Call

Sunday, October 26th, 2008

Oops I called too soon
Was it that two or three days should pass
Otherwise I am desperate, not busy enough, without a life
Is there a place for those who choose not to play this dating game
Is there a rule also for spontaneouty in your book of rules

I am about to give up on u
Just thought a final chance
A simple call…
The last thing i want is to
Pursue a nobody
A romantic idea
Don’t get me wrong
I am a hopeless romantic
But for the right reasons

Tired of vanity
Of social insincerity
A game of ego
Over interpretation
Let my ego be silent forever
No, your phone will not ring

Maybe when you are older and wiser and less attractive
You will come to me
And tell me how silly we were

How silly
But it is too late

You’d rather be lonely and haughty than lift up the phone to call back
Who tought you that game

I don’t want to be your option #5
When the city that never sleeps
Runs out of options that night

I thought we had some connection
When we met
But I guess I only saw what my eyes wanted to tell me

Thoughts at 5 am

Wednesday, January 23rd, 2008

Guilt or shame, of the unquenched hunger for adventure and excitement,
Stagnation, doubts and paranoia, or when
Life unexpectedly turns cruel as when friends or family pass away,
A sense of time wasted, a life wasted
Something as simple as sitting down or standing up now causes pain and the bones to crackle,
My teeth are falling off, eye sight blurry, people take me for a dolt
What they don’t know
Is that i don’t hear so well after all
My body is slowly decaying
Freedom… huh. When jail inmates are given that half hour walk outside between the walls
This relative freedom from being in the cell
We are subject to the rules of nature
Of the heavy unstoppable march of time
The less time you have left, the more things you want to do, but the heavier the bags you carry with you
Existence outside of time

He always liked to draw pictures in the sand that sooner than they were finished the waves wiped them out. No one knew what he was thinking. They could only infer from the pictures he drew. But the pictures he drew only caught people unawares. They could not stare at them for too long, and when they looked they were careful not to be seen by others, for the pictures exposed them, naked, mirrors, sides of personality.
Even professional art critiques felt the pretensiousness of their words when they attempted to describe his expresions – it is always easy to throw words like genius, brilliant.
Then run away – those pictures were haunting

Football & Orgasm

Monday, July 10th, 2006

I think for me as well as for most people, one of the most exalting moments of ecstasy, dare say intense enough to make one forget about everything else including the rest of the world and its triviality and vanity, to cause oblivion of mortality, is to have an amazing orgasm with a very desirable woman who simultaneously and with synchronicity quakes and quivers and euphorically elevates and pleasurably explodes. Then subsides into a trance-like disconnected careless and ultra relaxed state… The intensity of ones orgasm, not merely from the physical sense but more so from the metaphysical self-gratifying sense, is perhaps often proportional to that of the partners’ – the mutuality of the feeling makes it all so much more meaningful and powerful.

Well, not to get too carried away into this, I would imagine that the feeling of scoring a decisive goal in a world cup game is similar to a metaphysical moment of orgasmic explosion, with a disproportionate immensity of a reciprocal orgasm from the entire crowd of thousands in the stadium, and millions in one’s country and the watchful eyes of the world. Thus fifty thousand people’s hearts start beating as one. They clench their teeth and fists and sigh and grope and grapple at the same moments as if they were one organism.

A ball penetrating through the net of a goal must necessarily be felt by the goal keeper as nothing less than public rape.