Poem Number III LOST IN PERCEPTIONS found by: LFlorez

July 2021

After find out

the birds are revolting the air

the air is revolting my breathing
the breath is getting shorter
the song is changing slowly.

When would you like to be born

when would you prefer to start swimming
what kind of stuff you want to do
with whom you want to be.

Why are you asking yourself questions now?

why the ocean inside you had disappeared?
when had you became what u are now
why ourselves cannot see the differences
whom are we waiting for?

After your dead, whom do you think is going to be next to you?

After you accomplish all the task in your list,
where are you going to fly to?
Did you see the horizon yet?
Are there any birds flying over there?
Are they revolting your atmosphere?

Many songs are ringing in the ears

many songs are already dead
many hospitals had no even one song
the sick ones just lay there
the sleepy ones are just dreaming and follow
the new dead ones don't have a good-by song being sang,
by no one…

Some are hidden behind cloths and masks

some picked up elements of jewelry
some high-hills
some low hills
some hide inside their empty hearts and contradictory minds
some inside their accumulation of inputs
some... are just dying without we notice it at all,
the hills are empty
they running on empty.
The school of the last nomads had started
the schools are opening again
a vibrational new future is appearing
back there onto the horizon
back there into an open perspective.

Echoes of different nomads are appearing

echoes of new songs are heard
echoes of different echoes are passing by
why do they cling a different song?
Why do they smell like from another garden?
Why I am the only one asking questions?

I walked the other day through a park

the park was full of trees
and the trees were full of leaves
the leaves all have different sounds
some sounds came from Summer
others from Spring
many from Autumn
none from Winter.

A magical conversation
had become like a repetitive sonnet,
the ideas and dreams
had vanished behind the obligations,
the survival kit
had being implemented as a guard vest.

It is difficult to accept the advantages of the other

it is hard to accept we make mistakes
it is almost impossible to said sometimes: I am sorry
it is like the paths are moving in repetitive circles.

Part 2

The poetry booklet, had broken in thousand pieces

the words had flown away
the poets were gone.
There were not audiences after all,
no one reads nowadays.
The heart has a test
and had not passed the examination
it needed to stay balanced
at all times
but the waves from the islands
were hitting hard mother land
making convulsions of thoughts,
that way, the other listeners were silenced,
because, no one could take a hold of their mouths
and the words get confused
and the poems get dirty
and the poets went death… so,
the poetry booklet, had broken in thousand pieces, and
the words had flown away, and
the poets were gone.

An terminated alley

Walked inside the darkness

it was the deepest “darkness” of my body,
there I found the answers on the other screen
it was the screen of the desires.
I begin exploring all the options out there
found the right elements of hidden longings, that I
been visualizing in front of my eyes
until, they materialized in the shape of a body,
an unknown body of satisfactions
an unknown sequences of actions
that bring out the most hidden secrets,
and I claimed that hill
where the monastery of my saint is living
and it all connected to a clear sensation of state of mind
soaring all inside the sea of my cells
like pack of birds hovering in a cloudy day.

Now I have that obligation to anchor

all the new images, not into my brain,
but inside the new earth,
because everything there and in here,
is just a part of a series of downloads
that keep on pushing me outwards
into an immense ocean of the unknown.

I am down
like a wounded warrior
in times of war,
here, is not a galactic conflict,
is more like an interaction issue
with a system of equations
and those that follow.
They got me down,
but I´m not death;
the hidden message, is,
that the glory comes with a tender temporally submission
the victory is supervised by the higher self
so the results in the line of life,
are coming soon, meanwhile
I remain down on my ground
exploring the alternative solutions
of how is standing up, using all the inner powers
and, at the same time,
sending the codes out there
to keep on breaking the foundations
of that system of doom.

Besides the door at front

I keep working
on the survivor schedules of money,
doing odd jobs
doing unnecessary functions;
as just been a part of the program,
called: pay the bills.

I heard not long ago:

that Love is the only angel of survival,
from a song
from a movie
from: Natural born killers.
Prepare, I wonder what it means,
Repent, wonder what they mean.
The Soul is preparing, that I know.
You don’t know me from any wind
I didn’t write the bible
I heard nations killing each other
species kill each other
so is the human race,
the devil is inside the murdered hands,
nothing is there any more
the soul can handle all these repentness.
Where are the souls gathering?
in the silent nights when there are not stars.
No one seems to see the near future.
Which direction are we driving,
this coffin of us?
The bodies need to follow
the crowds of souls leading the race
the turbulent race outside the ugly defected matrix,
I don’t hear any song any more
the future had approached the present
and the time line began a new dance.
Where are the burning walls?
that the Judas had constructed,
where are the dead martyrs?
that the Cesar had sent to the death road?
Repent or die.

My perception of “reality”
went different direction,
so I left the train of comfortable numb
and took a backpack out of the turmoil
and went my own direction.
Most of the spectators, are just holographic images
of an integrated software inside this background,
and they look at me,
some with anxiety
some with anger
some with confusion
some within their ego trip
some like I came from a different planet,
few, with respect.
Even animals respect me
even plants, respect me
even the sun, respects me
and I do respect all of ya
even we are in dissonance
just different lyrics on the papers
just another dimension of experiences
far away observations
far away introspections
far away ways to love.
Natural selection of another species,
natural born alive to survive their incompletions
all those frictions are unnecessary.
Another frequency
Another ocean
Another vibration
Another broadcast.
Different ways to heard
Different ways to understand
Different ways to love.
Make your own choices human friend
you own your own process
you are the owner of your reality
you need to see later, the mistakes
we need to learn, from our failures
we have different awakenings.

I tried to open a cartel of light,

instead, a flash of circuits started opening up
I heard the sound of a new horizon
I smell now the aroma of a different bread
I could walk all the train stations
looking for my ticket to eternity,
but I could find only a segment of invisible railroads
heading to nowhere land,
I find death sleeping in one of the virtual rooms
it was actually, the passengers waiting room,
I took a solo to new lands
new undiscovered fertile fields of trees and flowers,
the sun was behind me
watching that I get everything in my system
…I returned to wonderland,
I couldn’t hold myself anymore playing be a normal guy,
so, I open up a bottle of magic dust
and I drink it all,
then I blew air into nowhere lands
and all the trees and flowers begin to feel the new colors,
the colors of the invisible rails
the colors of the last rainbow.

Last episode

I was observing the fields

the fields of thoughts
after the birds of destruction flew away.
Found nothing by pretentions
so, I run a cleaner program from end to end
and it detected all the imperfections of pride.
I walked away, left a virus within
I couldn’t put up, needed it to look back the scene,
knowing I would never see again
any thought of retaliation.
I wasn’t the man who create the computers
I wasn’t the renegade that hack the corporations
I wasn’t the man whom spoke wisdom
I was, only the delivery boy
bringing the dooms of destruction thoughts
down into the oblivion of nothingness.
I did mess up the whole party
I mess up their desires for glory
I was the dog
I am guilty of the executions
I am taken out my winds of transformation
and apply for the conservation of a race
…they said, they need to survive;
so, the candle died
and the light went off for some time
expecting the clouds will bring
tomorrow:
the new gates for eternal light. TheEnd