The Praying Mantra

The Praying Mantra
I forsake to ever spend a minute, a time or a day,
Looking at rear mirrors, the sight paves new way.
Accepting “what is” turns into living, while expectations flake.
Your skin falls off, shell-less, you crawl.
The caterpillar turns to snake.
For new beginnings,
This mantra prays.
If you don’t believe in God, make your own personal mantra and pray for/to yourself.
Who said caterpillars can only become butterflies?


When a Tree wears Feather

Fluency in languages is no reason to brag.
Do not boast about that fact.
Humans speak internal dialects.
Every communication imparts interpretation. .
Learning this lesson. It nearly drove me mad. Being able to understand the words people use does not mean you know what they intend to convey. We all have this rule where we assume we understand. After all, communication could not flow if we had to check what does “love” / “lazy” / “simple”, etc, means with every person we speak with. This assumption has helped ensure the creation and maintenance of our social bonds. It can be quite cathartic to meet someone who speaks your language, when you find yourself in a country that does not speak yours.
Yet, words are not as straightforward as you may think. Plus, we speak through body language, non verbally. Add to it, energetic language… Some people are more sensitive to another’s energy. While others doubt its existence. Sure and the Earth used to flat at one stage. ­čĄúPlus, the context someone heard “X” word the first time. If someone uses a word with a specific connotation and tone, that tends to stick on the listener.

Well, this was a sore lesson for me. I knew I was not understood. But Oh how I wish I could learn their dialect.That is why I overstayed. This is why I am decoding my own dictionary, now. There is no Google translator in this case.
*I found this bony structure when I was on my errands. It looks like an alien frog.

A ta c h ed 2 No ne

Delete this as you walk on. It is starting to work,
It does not matter anymore.
Erasing connections, no reply button,
Out of service, you are holy.

May the gorge swallow you all.
Into the serpent, may you be devoured.
What was once life, now, no more.
No need to even rhyme, sipped words hollow.
No ripples on your skin. Just autophagy.
This transformation has been complete.
Finally, here you are, an evaporated soul without a heart.

Riding Life

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Riding Life
The ride that was not chosen.
Perhaps we do so, at the starting line.
For we ought to get impulse
If we want to soar high.
And for every high, the fall comes following,
The jump propels, it is a byproduct.
Of further growth, that goes by, nudging.

However, if you exit that cargo,
Defeated and tired of being low,
That is when you stop the spin.
Though you have stalled, your motivation to live.
Becoming an invisible bystander, watching others on their trip.

The Rabbit Puzzled Hole



Alice Series II – The Puzzled Hole
The rabbit has once taught this girl:
To enter a magical world you must first pass through a hole!
If only she had known, she has been digging this all along.
And the mountain has toppled over on
She has been buried since she had a fall.
Not in Wonderland. This is the “Never Ever More”┬á home.
Into the well you reach to dwell
On the beheadings of the quelled.
Slayed by the Queen of Rotten Hell
Orders that the Queen of Hearts yells.

At the blackout couchless lair,
You hear the Caterpillar say
“Who am I?” She asks again.
She wants to know,  nothing.
The answer is where you dive in.
But “in” is where I have mostly lived
Who are you? And which movie is this?
The echoes rewind on repeat.
This world has become obsolete.
To find myself on their cemetery,
Pieces of me, they all carry.
In order to finally taste the fuller truffle. “See yourself in the other” that is how we fit these inner puzzles.
*I did not invent the concept “see yourself in the other” I have heard it in the psychotherapeutic and spiritual fields.


I got bit by the wanting bug and it keeps hurting.

Sick and tired, this is too much.

How to hide from what is fronting?

And this moment that is nothing.

Being spent inside a cube that Kubric* cannot solve.

I am here and I am not,

I forsake of it all!

I am the-void. I want to vacuum.

This vesselling spaceship is the only piece that has not departed.

Please let me go, for I am done with this gruesome restarting.


*not a typo – my unconscious knows what is doing and what it proposes to say. Things are never as straightforward as they may seem. Look beyond and you will figure out the referencing. I had to think for a bit.


I Hope you read this one day, Kyoko. ­č弭čĺ×­čĹ»



When I go to the beach
I seek shells on the sand,
So I can send a message,
To your far end.
The whispers vibrate inside that shell,
My voice reverberates: I wish you well.
The answer, nonetheless, is liquid language,
Echoes of waves, repeatedly languished.

One can only stand and watch,
When the Asian star, paths, cross.
For present time gets spent at a cost.
And once it goes, that moment is lost.