Poetry and Writings

There is a kimono I used to wear back in Japan And people surrounding me Were kind enough to let me be I hope I shed no fear, back then, On that foreign land, I trust my guts  That I have had only courage to be shed Now, that the time has passed I still wear a kimono When back to Japan I draft

Thousand cussings return to one Your mind is vulnerable Hence you are still a Padawan Make it clear, word is just a word May it be a sound or a thought It is a by product of this world Enlightenment is beyond the concept  So free yourself, observe, That's what you truly deserve

If I ever to choose between  Bottle of whiskey and bottle of H2O I'd choose water  Because without it There is no destination I can go It gives life, it sooths pain, It protects us from the vast emptiness That will always remain

Angel, oh angel, entering my life Angel, oh angel, taking me for a drive I hope we have the same destination I hope we both arrive The world is not a friendly place But with you I feel always brave

Gotta go swift and slow Gotta fly high and low Gotta dream big and small Gotta beat them, beat them all

The window is open  And the dreary thoughts Are lurking around I look outside  And see the calm sea I wonder if the fear will die Inside of me When I wake up from a dream That questioned me I close the window I no longer see

Nowhere to hide Nowhere to run I am a kilo-terra-megabyte Wasting space and time Hard to define Warrior of 21st century mind No proclamation Only sedation One thoughtful preparation For a final evaluation of human kind

One dog is black One dog is white And there is a chick that marches In the dead of night I wonder who'll go first The dog that fights another dog Or chick without mommy or ounce of hope?

One plus one is three Because humans multiply If you let them be May be even more than three or two Because who will stop 'em, Not me or you! The real question here,  Is how one will find another one  To do what both of them ought to?

What is a sword without a sheath, If not a burden to every land? What is a sheath without a sword, If not misery at hand? Like a mirror without a face, It is useless, it is without a grace. I beg you not to seek, I beg you not to lose, I beg you only to ease  Upon condition of those That you already use.

Many things are common To a mind on a path To great success That will impress the mass Now, the failure is bitter And many thoughts with actions Went astray, there is one miracle however, For you on your distant way, It is the resurrection of the fallen From graveyard of mistakes They all will take a part in a bridge building On your path to glory and hoorays

Once upon a time On a wooden porch of mine There was a chick pecking corn It was long before Z children were born I played harmonica blues And the chick danced  Like it had nothing to lose In the end of the song Baron came along and used the chick For his soup, now, that's sad chicken blues

One last remark  Of sleepless mind It says 'oh, stop please!  my thoughts unkind' Now I understand  The myth of Buddha man, It is to serve a bright example Of sleepless men land

Little doberman dog Trying to break the bones of a frog Like nothing else is so absurd I get intense with a prelude And then I blow it all on women And food like a bizarre fake Robinhood

Remember the last time  You put all your cards on the table? It wasn't the missing piece of the puzzle To complete the picture, was it? Somehow being cunning trumps being true, Screw it! - I say. Give me the chocolate chips Not the chili pepper. Lest the world suffer for your openness.

Passion is a lie. It takes you nowhere. Nowhere real. Reality is inside. Inside is the truth.  Truth is the key to all of the worlds. All worlds are everywhere. One must keep the truth as a light. 

She is a remarkable woman Beauty and grace Makes every man's heart skip a beat And race towards her blue lips Pale cheeks, bronze faith, I wonder if all that is just a mistake?

Part time a poet Part time an advisor Full time tough nut Noncompromiser  I wonder what futute holds I care not for the thunder bolts

There was an old Zen master  Living in a hut by the river He was living alone And sometimes he would get help From young nuns and monks Once a monk saw the master  With a very deformed face He instantly inquired 'What happened, master?' 'I'm old and my back hurts a lot' 'I wish you could give me your pain'  Continued the monk The master instantly retorted 'Don't wish for that, sky is blue and grass is green, I will die someday and the pain will go away' The monk understood. Now he was in great pain.  Master would leave this world and he would stay alone until one day he will have great problems with his own back. 

My eyes, they seen many things, Alas they are too tired of seeing The same shapes, the same people I beg you not to bestow upon me Age full of darkness, I still, wish to see In hopes, one day, I'll see something new Something one of a kind Some diamond in the rough Some matter of a kind, a miracle Worth seeing