Russian Caravan

With gentle intention and loving heart 
He wrote a story 
One where the four of us lived with harmony and higher spirit 
The world in flux, the road untraveled 
“Endeavour!" 
We will
He fathomed, fortified, but unfinished 
Studying ancient Rocks 
He suggested that we, like he, build a mountain of tomorrow 
For yourself, for us, for all of us 
Father, Mother, Daughter, Son 
Following you 
We transpire to greater selves 
Together

Beyond Fleeting Moments

He Wrote A Story

Prudent 
Like waterfall cascading 
She saw with clairvoyance the coming and the going 
Allied with astuteness 
Steadfast with solicitude 
The thriving tree she planted branched out in the wilderness 
It is only natural that she ventured in veracity 
Outwitting the vicissitudes of so many of our lives 
And so, Mother, she became 

And so, Mother, she ennobled 
Weathering the rocky trails and smooth sailings 
The formidable family of four found favour 
The towering tree she planted branched out in the forest 
Characterised by compassion 
Accompanied by auspiciousness
She saw with clairvoyance the blessing and the blessed 
Like wine overflowing 
Prudent

Michelle

The race began with a bang 
Whether it was propounded with purposeful precision 
Or whether it was a rambling man’s random resolution 
Equivocality endured 
Henceforth
One’s words became one’s wonderment 
And one’s search became one’s surety 

Running the risk of hubris 
Independence came to be a prerequisite   
“Where is your vanishing point?”, they asked
“Hoc opus, hic labor est”, they recited
Quarrel, quagmire, qualms
Face futility or foresee fertility 

Ultimately, the symposium
Weaving through and weathering on 
You implored 
Denialistic to perfunctoriness 
A conceivable magnum opus 
A body of celestial magnum opera 
Thou mayest! 
Thou mayest!

And so, you run 
Possessed 
By one of your many poetic pursuits

Independent Background Research

My room is a country 
Founded upon inviolable self-righteousness 
Built upon individual stillness 
Its constitution is its existence 
Four walls, one table, one bed, one chair
A safe haven of personalised meaning 

In the dim warm light of reflexivity 
I listened to the sound of my echo chamber 
Self-reassuring
Imagination and creativity were sought 
We loved and we dreamed 
With rapture and without failure 

From time to time 
Thoughts of alienation trespassed against one’s supposed determination 
A missing limb
A desperate grasp of benevolence 
Sleeping for tomorrow’s assuagement

But always I return 
Patriotic, never betraying 
My humble abode 
My Peace Palace 
Declaring a thousand years of solidarity 
My room is a country

My Room Is A Country

Pretty 
A Figure 
Of speech 
Of first and second and third impression 
Of astute observation 
Of an aesthetic guiding force 
For your sweet indifference has questioned me:
“If my looks change, then a part of me changes too.
Why shouldn’t that affect your love?”

I promise 
You will not be Laura or Beatrice
And I will not be Petrarch or Dante 
We live beyond fleeting moments and fanciful memories 
After all 
Why can’t we see each other again?

I listen with an intention to act 
Yet my opened eyes beseech me to acknowledge 
Your Age of Bronze 
A suspended moment of human awakening
Pretty
Can I not call you? 
Can I not call you?

Pretty

Along the way
He found novel narratives and moving pictures 
Capturing what he will soon reimagine on his canvas 
A tasteful addition to his open library of curiosity

Ambitious and often impetuous 
His inner bohemian guided him to inevitable dishevelment 
However, delirious, he did not become 
No

Despite his mood swings and injudicious judgments 
His head floated among the clouds unscathed 
Call it divine intervention or fortuities of a grandeur latitude 
It is undeniable that he shall remain 
An anomaly among the many 

His pride led him to ponder his forthcoming potentials 
Self-declaring them in a Napoleon-coronation like fashion,
For he has yet to reach Borodino or encounter Wellington
No 

And so, he said he will become a matador 
Not realising that he soon became blind to red 
Falling for instead a kind of blue
A slow and delightful exchange of improvised motifs 

Accompanying me from lucidity to solidity 
He drew me closer to affinity 
A sense of accomplishment worthy of commending 
His erudition, his imperturbability 
Forever to triumph over the worldly misanthropy  
Yes

Reader's Eclectic Companion

Teo wandered 
With his eyes 
Glued to the ground 
He heard a holler 
As hollow as a deserted tunnel 
It echoed in slowness
Traveling from harsh to hush 

Teo walked 
Luck-bound 
He tried to make sense of the rain 
Fondling with the notion of parting the clouds 
"Walking Man", they called him

That is until, Teo waltzed 

Teo waltzed
Stood in the limelight of temerity 
He responded 
With unheard-of delight 
A quiet triumph
Outshining the incompetent, the incomplete 
Bouncing as the music like muse 
Indulged his restless soul

Temerity

Shrimps and Sparkling wines 
You feast on the moments
Joyous, they live long and prosper 
Create clairvoyance with clarity 
Vision vicissitudes with veracity 
Paint the town red and Orange 
You become the Essence and in turn the Existence 
Of the Provider, Providence and Produce 
Delay the Nostalgia 
For there is more time for us To Be  
Do not cross the border is only but a temporal agitation 
Propound the Peace, State your Say 
You are after all prima facie the bona fide 
Pisey

Delay the Nostalgia

Endless Summer

Heart

My Heart Is So Satisfied

Love You With All My Heart

Know that there is still tomorrow, know that you can wait.

There Is Still Tomorrow

Yes, I tripped but I fell in love. This is how much I adore them.

Imperturbable People

Does It Matter How I Walk?

May our fluid thoughts set in the most profound reality.

Thoughts Beyond Your Window

Flowers

So Love

Naima

"I will see you in the future", said the little man in the yellow raincoat.

Endeavor

Acknowledgement

a man with an immense capacity for the enjoyment of existence

imperturbable

Windy

Transmute

Funk

ultimately about our unfettered capacity for credulity

Prelude No. 1 in F# Major

Prelude No. 1 In F# Major

What novelty is worth that sweet monotony where everything is known and loved because it is known?

Imperturbable People

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