Zen and Blood

We could sit on mountain tops

You and I

somewhere ancient

and play with the sky

we could create a universe

and blow existential bubbles 

shoot them with cosmic fireworks before they pop

and imagine the invisible colors

we could go big and bigger

or collapse into thumbelina daydreams  

            I could show you the math

we could breathe ,

it’s a start , a slap on the ass , a gasp 

- exhale .

slowly …

we could flounder , crawl or walk uprighteously

we could dance

to hashmark rhythms , the maybe of freewheeling fate


a bell ! - let’s run out of time …


we could be afraid 

stab ourselves with the pain of needless how come’s

and why

did I do that

or never again

- love

?

come closer

taste this

it’s honey . golden ambrosia 

delicious - it’s a curse , waiting to drip from begging lips

- I want more

- again 


you like my eyes


how they are pried open by the tease of

the unknown

the

swirling in the clouds

for something new against

the odds on favorites , just now chances

as yesterday swallows today and the glass is half dirty 

"another round barkeep" - they’ll have the same 


how boring …


we could save ourselves

unfold the world and rub our fingers along its origami creases

ugly ducklings  waiting to fly south to

glittery avenues of something better than 

we could reminisce

we could read palms , eyes and hips

we could make up words and wear them like veils


we could sing


we could fall on our knees

just to hear our self talk 


we could give up

to forsake arguing for the sake of

crossing ourselves in layers of that ‘let them eat cake’

fondant history smoothed to each others taste


just a small piece.

of something to believe in


we could get away

naked to the sea in a blue mood

watch her explode before a postcard sunset

feeling the ‘wish you were here’ of everything

as sands shift between wiggly toes

and footsteps disappear quietly under the moon


we could


dive in , feed our hunger for air

and disappear

behind closed eyes

fall asleep to a lullaby of riddles

wrap ourselves in emptiness - vacuity

candela obscura mirrored in the paradox of duality

rewind dreaming

shuffle skips and hops

warped vinyl spinning

the music of silence


we could be buddha and jung

we could be ourselves  

the spirit is elemental and elastic

the soul misses home


we could touch 

and kiss each others soul 

cradle each other’s face

and find a truth I to I 

and spiral in a bejewelled moment

electrifiying a trillion double helix 


we could make love …


we could sit on mountain tops

you and I

I could take wing

and you could follow

we could be immortal 

because we breathe

because we are

Zen and Blood 





copyright 2011 Robin Christopher Amaral

Brave

Perhaps …


I was once a Prince 

heir to a garden  

where flowers spoke of seasons 

and the trees faced the Sun 



maybe …


I became a King  

who held hands with Angels 

shone the secrets of the stars 

their pages woven within

my circular language 

of blended  senses 




uncounted saint  

I have the holy books 

in my pocket 

next to a stone 



I listened to the wise ones 

nod , and then look away 

and learned from a sage 

where truth burned within her eyes 
 


I bare this heart 




 





copyright 2013 Robin Christopher Amaral 

Nightsong

maybe it’s the scent of midnight 

of spring grasses and cool air 

feeling more than alive 

or the sleeping moon 

in a quieter sky 

where I can listen with open eyes  

finding Saturn nestled in Virgo 

an old man and redemption 

reaching toward the pristine finger of God   

entranced in the swirl of the stars

swept into a mystic dream 

dancing on the edge of everything 

my essence bleeds into the night 

my heart beating in rhythm 

ethereal and grand  

I am a whisper 




copyright 2011 Robin Christopher Amaral 
 

Skin

I have stood on this edge 

between soul and circumstance 

between sun and storm 

where scars and ink 

circle the night 

in a silent prayer 

of love 

and compassion 

moved by the mystery  

the silk wings 

of a sunshone ray

guided by the whisper 

of the poetic moon 

where the spirit moves gently 

to the kiss of 

freedom ~ 





Copyright © 2012 Robin Amaral 

Eidetic silence  ~


Her name was a poem 

drifting upon a garden of secrets

of tears and passion 

of fear and loathing  in a  brave new world 

I felt the shadows fall across her eyes 

restless veils 

the black lace of a naked summer 

I , her prince and staret 
 
her retreat 

our bed surrounded in flames 

the candle ~ Anastasia

flickering eve 

yearning for the moon 

we never slept

like these memories 

entangled souls

bending time 

eidetic silence 

under the crush of love 






All images and writing property of Robin Christopher Amaral . 
Do not copy or use without expressed written consent . 
All rights reserved.  Copyright © 2012 Robin Christopher Amaral 

Koi

She followed the Sun 

and let her thoughts

pour into the night

as She slowly closed her eyes 

and opened her heart 

to the wandering 



to find a place 

silent and still 

led by lucid grace 

to the water’s edge 

where She knelt by a pool   

     

    as black as any lonely night  

          as deep as any lonely thought 



and She raised her face to the sky  

to scry the flickers of wish-filled stars  

their song echoing in every heart beat  

and in her gentle hands 

a moonstone glowed

polished by time and the tumble of the sea 

connecting the chiromantic lines 

of heart 

     and fate 

         and a dream 


She smiled as she slipped the jewel 

quietly into the water 

ripples sparkling before the rising moon  

and in her reflection  

watching  below the dancing surface 
 
a shimmering  Koi  

to which She offered her palm 

the touch of a friend  

the acceptance 

of a beginning  

with a humble gesture  

feeling the magic  

of transcendence 

the peace

            of love 






Copyright 2012 Robin Christopher Amaral  

Rush

Rush

Crash

they gather on fire

in the flames of

valhalla and chrome

the spiral roar of memories

a lynx cradled in a torn photograph  

in the hands of a little girl

and her mother , in motherly rote
 
near their old wooden home 

under a spider web and a tree 

the ghost of her

wearing only my unbuttoned shirt

her tears against my cheek 

drowning in her cage of crushed dreams   

a suicide club

on a red raft , back stroking across twilight

and in my hands

a crumbled note of useless explanations

her voice writing fortunes in blood 

and a plate falls , and the night shatters 

and I felt her , there

still wanting to touch  … me

watching , hoping

as the wall collapses

into broken secrets 





copyright 2012 Robin Christopher Amaral

photography by Robin Amaral

I do not want to hear the words that wish to impress my heart , give me the words that express yours
Robin Amaral