Fly Anyway...

What is this thing that makes me dream?  This wind I feel at my back?  Winds that carry with them a heartbeat.  With eyes that see roads I cannot.  With hands that carry me to amazing places; meeting amazing people.  It does not clothe you nor feed your body.  Yet what it will do is feed and revive the part of you that would cry at the sight of beauty.  Opening up the senses that allow us to feel the hands of God within the creative processes of humanity...His greatest creation.

Life and all it's requirements keep us grounded.  What we must eat, what he needs to live and all that keeps us in the cares of this world...the "needful" things.  Some chains are shorter than others but always remember that even if the wind picks you up 2 inches today...you've flown.  See it's value and seek it out.

Even if the chains that ground you keep you flying only so high...fly anyway... 

Her Room...

Intensity, fire, lust and love dominate the glare of such that see right through the very fibers of his being.  Skin that sends chills up his spine when touched.  Lips that graze his own with the tenderness of forever and a beauty that stands on it's own alter.   Released to love him in the moment.  Released to reveal her true worth.  Released...to express what man has made silent.
 
Even if just for the moment, they knew what it meant to be free.  What it meant to feel without reservation or fear.  What it meant to make love with surrendered passion.  He carries her now with him wherever he goes in a room made just for her in his heart.  Designed for permanence. 

No matter what happens now or ever...that love is now made for forever...It will not change, nor will he

In his heart...he now finds true contentment...he now finds true love.

~Moses Apollo

My Father's Heart...



Upstanding man.  Filled with wisdom and a heart God has graced me to call my own.  He laughs...he cries.  He feels every painful evolution, yet still finds the time to lift up everyone within his scope.  Ever smiling, ever assuring.  Disgraced for a time.  Left alone to fend for himself he now finds those that loved him perpetually come out to his aid.  He is a man they knew they could always turn to.  I see them now returning grace for grace.  Only greatness can do that.  Wherever his life winds up...I am proud he is my father.

He is my model...he is my champion...

Open The Blinds For A Bit...

"...I'm drawn to the gravity of love..."

Poet's Song...

"...the hands that build...can also pull down..."

You know he got the cure
You know he went astray
He used to stay awake
To drive the dreams he had away
He wanted to believe
In the hands of love

The hands of love

His head it felt heavy
As he cut across the land
A dog stood crying
Like a broken hearted man
At howling wind
At the howling wind

He went deeper into black
Deeper into white
He sees the stars shining
Like nails in the night
He felt healing, healing
Healing hands of love
Like the stars
Shining from above

His hand in his pocket
His finger on the steel
The pistol weighed heavy
His heart he could feel
Was beating, beating
Beating, beating oh my love
Oh my love, my love
My love 

He saw the hands that build

The hands that build
Can also pull down

Even the hands of love

"Gloria..."

What more can I say...

Espiritu Familiar...

"...El esta condenado a murir por amar demasiado..."

I know a man that sees love as his greatest gift.  From it springs forth the inspiration to stand, the fury to fight and the passion for all that is beautiful in this world.  From that love permeates the need to kiss both sky and skin.  To hear whispers in the silence and see the soul within the eyes of someone that keeps them shut.  Yet as beautiful as it all may sound...it comes at a cost when it is pure.

Pure love requires holistic acceptance.  What you like, what you don't like.  It's all the same to you.  It can be anything it wants to be and you will still remain objective.  You will remain real in your love and the object of your affection will remain free to fail without judgement.  All this requires a lesser grip.  Unfortunately, a grip that will eventually lead to it's loss.  To suffer the loss of "forever" is a heartbreaking experience and when pieces of him are taken, they are taken without return.

So what does this man do?  He looks for "forever" in whatever moments he can find within that which he loves the most...within that which he cannot keep.  Pure love does come at a cost...it's cost is loss   

Evolution...



The evolution of the soul lies squarely on the focus of the chisel.  What has the artist envisioned?  Is the artist looking for form?...or the detail that comes after the form?

For form all externals are chipped away.  For detail, the piece itself is meticulously etched out until all that was envisioned is made manifest.  What do you think hurts more?

You can put away all that hinders you.  You could say goodbye a million times over creating the outward form you want.  Yet when you start looking into the details of your heart, that's when the bleeding begins.  That's when scars are seen.  Left behind by necessity; adding realism and substance to an end result that never arrives.  We are a constant work in progress.

If you have a dream, fulfill it.  If you have a goal, meet it.  If you have an albatross that hangs around your neck...drop it.  No matter how much it hurts, become more everyday.  For you...and for me...

  

Happy Valentines Day

My New Drink

My Valentine has lost it's face
It's pointed arrow left no trace
Of where elixir hides from me
This heavy drink for hearts set free

The drink with just enough for two
This Bordeaux sipped by me and you
Lost to me for quite some time
I've lost it's rhythm for my new rhyme

So mirror now succumbs to light
The purest thing within my sight
For truth has told me where to go
The exercise of all I know

The knowledge of all pain and fear
That comes along with shifting gear
The passion that will skip a beat
That throws you off your steady feet

A few true hearts stand next to me
And help sort through my destiny
They've seen my mirror, love me still
And hold me close with care until

There is no breath in me to give
This is my love, I feed to live
I love to see this smiling face
As I begin all soul's embrace

For born again my eyes have been
To see the truth of you within
The truth of beauty shown to me
That only heavens eyes can see

So mirror, light and love in hand
From truth creates another brand
In every way my truth is true
My new drink is what's in you 

"MAA"

The Smitten

It's the way she says my name.  It's the way her eyes draw me in.  It's the way I'm able to rest into her comfortably and feel at home.  It's the way she drapes her beautiful bare legs over mine.  It's the way she makes me feel completely uninhibited and free.  It's the way her tenderness and care is consistent towards me.  It's the way she sends me her love daily and the way she makes me laugh.  It's the way she looks like me.  It's the way we make love...

Is this the same woman?

No...but all are deserving of all I can give.  They are women that seek more within themselves.  Women that have usually found their greatness unnoticed by those that should.  The broken looking for rest and healing.  I am just as broken.

She is the love of my life.  To her I surrender my body and soul when the moment calls.  She is my greatest muse.  The woman I get lost into...because she allows it.  She has me smitten...   

My Surrender...

"...and you give yourself away..."

My religion is you.  Anger, ecstasy, pain and passion...my heaven's euphoric release.  The breathless anticipation of fear and beauty.  The work of art that is your skin...my cathedral. Your heart...my alter.

I kneel before it at least once a day to receive

all I need to live...

...my surrender...

My Beautiful Book...



As I wandered through streets alone one night I came upon a toy store whose late hour perplexed me.  Walking inside I noticed how this place had a toy for every type.  Shiny and dull.  Clean and dirty...everything that would draw a child's attention was represented in one way or another.

Perusing down the aisles I came upon something different.  It was a book.  A book whose binding was strong, crested with golden emblems.  Yet the pages, from beginning to end looked like they had seen wear.  Pages taped up with scattered burn marks yet all were still legible.  Some pages even had what looked like dried up tear marks on them.  It's wear only adding to it's innate beauty.

As I started to read, all I could think was "what can I find in a children's toy store worth the heart and mind of a man".  To my pleasant surprise, every page had me captivated.  Every page had me sold into the idea that this tome did not belong in this toy store.  It was worthy of being read in times of needed respite.  Given place among poems and faith.  To be read with occasional sighs of relief and sincere interest...to be read.

Thankfully, I'm still reading...

Ouzo...

Amor Gitano.  It is a love planted within an awareness of a morning when she may have to leave.  To love and want with a pain of eventual loss cries out "I may never see you again".  Which only means that each moment must count for something.  Moments that form a link of memories within a lifetime.  We don't remember every minute of the years gone by but we do remember those seconds of laughter, joy, pain and surrender...moments.  Gitanos wait for them like men in the desert hungry for an oasis...even if it just turns out to be a mirage...

"Αγάπη Τσιγγάνων"

There Are Times...

When the purest artistry can capture what you're feeling at any given moment.  A moment in time that can last seconds immortalized in verse.  A piece whose relatability remains a mystery to the reader.  Whose readers twist and turn to find explanation.  This is one of those pieces for me.  One line cries to me...

For Us...

TIEMPO PEQUEÑO

Bebe (La educación de las Hadas)
 

Quién se va,

quién se queda,

a quién le duele más la soledad

a quién le duele más la soledad

si todos los rincones de mi vida tienen algo tuyo.
 

¿Cuál es tu camino?

¿Cuál es el mió?

Dónde se encontraron,

dónde salía.

Anda, deja que te acompañe que no es momento de andar sola.
 

Con lo pequeño que es el tiempo,

quién recogerá el perdido.

Si tu me cuidas, yo me curo.

Mi cura es tu compañía.
 

Deja que te cuide la hada,

tu hada.

Anda, deja que te acompañe que no es momento de andar sola.
 

Mis cinco sentidos son para ti,

mi tiempo para ti,

mi mano para sujetarte a ti,

y mi alegría para que la bebas toda tú.
 

Anda, deja que te acompañe que no es momento de andar sola.(bis)
 

Déjame que te acompañe.

They Closed Their Eyes...

Fanny Ara - One of tonight's performers



Le Poisson Rouge on Bleeker Street.  A place filled with ambiance and people looking for "cool".  This was the venue for tonight's Flamenco event.  The passion was rich.  The dancing, the singing...mesmerizing.  Yet what moved me the most was what I was able to see when they closed their eyes.  I saw souls lost in their art.  Allowing themselves to fade into a form and beauty called Flamenco.  The closest thing to what I truly believe making love should be.  With a flame that will direct you towards "tender" while at the same time building you up into "hard".  Allowing yourself the blessing of "seeing" with your hands and body is to take in ALL of the person your "inner eyes" want to know.  Closing your eyes to what is surface.  Seeing only from your innermost.  THAT is when "deep calls unto deep".  That is pure...that is beauty.

Tonight I saw a few make passionate love through their art form...they closed their eyes...and so did I. 

Florida...

"...I don't wanna die on my own here tonight..."

I've said it before and I'll say it again.  I am the most stubborn man you will ever meet when it comes to pushing for a goal I want to meet in my innermost.  Nothing can deter me.  Nothing can move me from my course.  I don't believe in defeat and I believe that failure is sometimes a necessary evil on the road to completion.  I am perfect for my city.  New York is a town with a heartbeat so strong it keeps you up at night.  It is infinite...a place without end.  Many people survive New York but they seldom ever "live it".  I will live and breath New York.  This is my choice and because of that, I will never see death coming. 

Tonight, at 1:51 AM, I will confess my worry and doubt as to where I will finally land yet I don't know if "landing" is what I really want anymore.  I will be 38 in just a few days.  I'm not moving to Florida...