Poetry and prose from the heart.

Love, magic, and the immortal warrior.


“Love, magic, and the immortal warrior”




My kingdom lost and buried,

My heart and mind poison carried;

So I dared follow the lonely path,

The violent and destructive inner wrath.

In times where magic had taken all possession,

Family, friends, wise teachers and all connection,

In my life there was not any hint of hope or light,

Or even a romantic and noble poem I could recite.


In my madness I was blind for needed I to make him fall,

My feet hurt, my mind exhausted, but he would pay for all;

And then it happened for a vision of perfection my eyes beheld,

She upon a tree smiled and my heart was instantly compelled.

My wrath quelled for a time because there was magic in the moment;

Her voice, her beauty, her aura, she connected with my torment.




I was a wretch swallowed and haunted by violent visions of the past,

She saw it in my eyes, in my broken spirit, and she didn’t need to ask.

The connection between us grew, we engaged in conversation for hours,

She became my partner and she, to my surprise, held great powers;

I needed her love and her aid in such quest so we were one and the same,

We shared personal experiences, made meaningful love, expanded the flame.

Then I learned deeply her ways of hating the same evil-spirited foe,

Her family and village utterly ravished under his dark magic and twisted law.




Once we planned and analyzed with precision our steps to follow,

We ready were to attack, we penetrated the fortress and his hollow;

However, powerful light and dark forces, great magic met,

His dark soul was ready to conquer us and we fought a real threat.

Yes, we almost died, I was beaten badly and she severely wounded;

But light and love finally won, hell took him, and it concluded.




I took her swiftly into the woods and treated her wounds with deep love,

Aloe and guava leaves, she was cured, angels sang to my ears from above;

Then we ate and got merry because we remained together,

For ever and ever, warriors in love, Sir Alketas and His Lady Saether.

                                              I WAS IMMORTAL NOW.



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Poetry and prose from the heart.

Real magic.


Real Magic.”


It was a dark and fateful night

When I paced myself back and forth in pure plight;

I destroyed things and felt utterly lost

Angered, stressed, and deeply crossed.

You see, you had not done to me any wrong,

The world had not been the destructive song,

But in my own petty problems I was stranded

For the darkest recesses of my ego were expanded.

That night there were storms and quakes within my troubled mind,

No sleep I gained, buried in my own guilt, dead sentence signed.

After hours passed of excruciating pain and serious depression warning,

Then I saw through the window the beautiful morning;

There were trees smiling at me and birds singing rays of hope,

And in me something powerful arose with all the stress to cope.

It felt as if the burden was light and small

Because now the night was gone, I was transfigured,  I stood tall.

This energy kept giving me understanding and love most pure,

There emerged a peace and essence of life which was the cure;

See, now I connect to all which is good and bad through my heart,

And that energy within me grows and grows from the start,

For I am all my expressions of true bliss and things that are tragic,

I can choose darkness or light, and that is the real magic.



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Poetry and prose from the heart.

The Best.

  The Best


As the deep and powerful reds of the sunset at first light

And the incredible moonlight tucking the dozy wink,

It fills the essence of my cells and mind with such delight,

It becomes my best thoughts and intentions as I deeply think.


Beyond the deluded starlight and ill impersonations of others,

It remains rebellious and unique in my gaze pure and profound;

Beyond the narrow highway of provocation of my brothers,

It increases in brilliance and wisdom far passed the earthbound.


I just need to feel that I am alive and swimming in the very bliss,

For my soul and heart knows I am here to conquer the untamed creature.

Life is both the field of truth and the narrow path bordering the abyss,

It can be the darkest night or the lightest day and greatest teacher.


The sights and sounds of the very day can be the sharpest knife,

The dreams and visions of the night can rob me of healthy rest;

But that is the great purpose of living the challenging life,

To find the truth behind all the hurts to finally become the best.



Poetry and prose from the heart.

The most important choice.


The most important choice still is yours to make,

To reach all great success and happiness in life,

Is not confined to your voice or to the action you take,

But it is in the magic beyond all strife.


Some choose good looks and some skills for sport,

Some choose vast wealth and some a sense of duty;

But I enjoy powerful imagination and all that sort,

You know me, all my being is about creating beauty.


Which one of those would you choose before birth…??

Good looks are fine but may increase your self-admiration.

Skills for sport are great but limited to this earth.

Vast wealth does not work for me, I want spiritual elevation.


See, I wanted all, so I fought like a lion before birth for this:

I fought for unlimited imagination because it is the greatest power,

Our very existence and the natural magic which creates all bliss,

The deep sea, the intensity of the skies, the blooming of the flower.  



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Poetry and prose from the heart.




The divine darkness of my mind ripples and flows,
Never-ending vastness, eternal ocean of the Soul,
Such universe of universes and portal into Brahman,
Which does not represent a past or a future itself,
Which does not divide and conquer my foes of old,
Where the pendulum of pleasure and pain vanishes,
Where happiness and depression has no meaning.
And there is no wake or sleep, no movement or stillness,
No delusion of ill thought and roused emotion;
However the smoothness and the dynamic ether,
It is just the allowance of being of what is being,
The essence of freedom and liberation from hues,
From forms, from comparison, from symmetry,
From the chains of lone-perception and trick-belief.

The most profound recesses of my mind fall into Brahman,
Such God be the eternal ocean of the Atman, the Soul,
Like raindrops into the vastest ocean, one is all, all is one;
By branching out the mind touches one drop of the ocean,
And the ocean be me for there is no body-mind, two are one.
The ego cannot poison the waters, it cannot soil the existence.
But the unity is light and yet it has no qualities of light as such.
But the darkness is the light and they are no opposites.
Where is the world of man…??  Where is the misery of man…??
Where is the aging universe…??  And who took it away…??
What has happened to my beliefs, preoccupations, needs…??
All the worries and illnesses have become one with me,
There lies no reserve or disorder, no confusion or riot within;
I have been revived into undying peace, which is Real Love
Beyond the senses of man, beyond such Mara the Tempter.
This is what they call the ultimate reality!  Ultimate beauty
Far beyond the known thoughts, emotions, and actions of man!

Here is Brahman, of no time and space, of no dogma and creed,
Endless joy and peace which has given ability to a body-mind
To know Being, to see beyond the illusion of the senses.
Nothing is separate from me and nothing can affect me,
The illumined no longer sees the limitation, the end,
This mystical wisdom feeds me and fattens me, the Real Me.
But I must return to consciousness of the objective dual now,
Knowing that this is just an appearance, a glove of The Infinite,
A form of thought and emotion to swim these unreal waters
And to experience the lessons of pleasure and pain of illusion.


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Poetry and prose from the heart.

The hidden substance of it all.

“I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge.  That myth is more potent than history.  That dreams are more powerful than facts.  That hope always triumphs over experience.  That laughter is the only cure for grief.  And I believe that love is stronger than death.”  ~ Robert Fulghum; American author and Unitarian Universalist minister.

This is an excerpt from a book I am writing, titled: “Inner Wealth.  Outer Wealth.”  About wisdom to reach spiritual, emotional, mental, and all financial success.


Once,  eternally  before  and  beyond  all  recorded  history,  eternally  before  and  beyond  all  space  and  time,  there  was  one  unity,  one  power,  one  ALL,  one-ness;  and  so,  as  the  condition  was  one  and  the  experience  existing  was  one  with  this  condition,  the  potentialities  for  further  growth  were  rich  and  vast,  the  very  essence  of  all  beauty  and  design  flowed  freely.  This  substance  of  incredible  creativity  and  imagination  was  all,  and  beat  as  one  heart  which  was  all.  There  was  no  strain  and  no  limitations.  There  was  no  concepts  of  material  or  immaterial.  There  were  no  different  creations  as  we  now  know,  but  there  was  only  the  essence,  the  very  Thought  of  Creation.  The  Great  Mind  was  all.  The  Great  Mind  still  is  all.

     And  then,  in  this  Mind  which  was  all,  in  this  Thought   which  was  all,  experience  sizzled  in  itself  and  the  very  heart  for  beauty  and  life  could  not  burst  or  transcend  itself,  for  this  substance  of  beauty  and  life  was  itself  beauty  and  life  and  it  did  not  have  an  end  to  reach  out  and  bring  about  creation.  There  were  no  walls  to  break  down.  No  rules  to  break.  No  competition  for  the  development  of  ideas.  There  was  no  duality.  No  two  poles.  No  love  and  no  fear.  No  thought  and  emotion   as  we  know  and  experience  now.  But  imagination  and  its  potential  was  just  one  and  all  that  existed. 

     And  then  it  created  an  image  of  itself  within  itself,  it  unselfishly  craved  the  experience  of  itself  within  itself;  therefore,  space  and  time  appeared  like  a  magic  trick,  and  this  substance  divided  itself  within  itself  to  thus  create  another  substance  of  life,  of  dimensional  and  qualitative,  of  experimental  and  dual  existence.  From  the  corpuscle  it  began  work  throughout  billions  upon  billions  of  years.  From  the  micro-world  onto  the  macro-world.  And  the  creations  were  many  and  rich,  creative  and  destructive,  beautiful  and  ugly,  of  light  and  of  dark;  and,  so,  life  was  competition  now  because  it  was  dual—i.e.  two  poles,  two  opposites,  better  and  worse,  rich  and  poor,  God’s  Eternal  Mind  and  the  lower  beings’  mortal  minds.  But,  still,  imagination  maintained  existence,  the  very  essence  now  covered  in  matter,  now  covered  in  different  flesh  and  thought,  limited  by  flesh  and  thought,  and  expressing  itself  within  flesh  and  thought.

Hard  to  imagine  this  substance  we  now  call  imagination,  isn’t  it?  Back  then,  before  time  and  space  were  born,  this  entity  had  no  qualities  or  concepts  to  speak  of,  like  ‘genius,’  or  ‘prodigy,’  or  ‘gifted.’  Our  human  brains  use  images  and  concepts  to  experience  and  think  about  something  clearly,  so  if  there  are  no  images  and  no  exact  concepts  in  my  description,  then,  our  intellects  stress  over  it  and  might  even  deny  such  existence.  But  what  is  important  here  is  not  the  description  I  give,  but  the  very  essence  of  this  substance  is;  hence,  this  incredible  substance  is  our  flesh  and  thought,  it  still  exists  within  each  of  our  cells,  it  forms  our  consciousness,  it  sustains  our  body  and  mind  which  are  in  fact  the  substance’s  shell.

Always  remember  you  are  imagination  and  creativity,  the  building  substance  flows  within  your  cells  and  mind,  no  matter  who  your  thought  says  you  are,  the  education  your  mortal  mind  has,  or  the  age  your  body  reflects  in  the  mirror;  ergo,  as  you  experience  it  yourself,  you  only  have  to  bring  that  energy  or  marvelous  substance  out  and  use  it  to  create  in  the  material  world.  So,  create!


“Everything  you  can  imagine  is  real.”  ~ Pablo  Picasso;  Spanish  painter,  sculptor,  print-maker,  ceramicist,  stage  designer,  poet  and  playwright.

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Poetry and prose from the heart.

Secret Valley (30-sec. read)

My poem and painting from the heart…


Secret Valley


The secrets the whisper hides,

The beauty which is never ugly,

The love essence which survives,

The honest heart which is lovely.


Of other worlds and dimensions I know not,

Of traveling beyond the stars only in imagination;

But the spirit remains like a flame within me hot,

There is greater purpose in inner contemplation.


My character and temper are often ill and quick to explosion,

And my violent anger and rushing fear then become who I am;

But there exists within me far beyond thought and emotion

A bright and powerful substance which is no heated sham.


True nature is the greatest love and the most profound peace,

And is discovered deep within me and apart from my rebellious thought;

Secret valley of greens and blues, waterfalls and birds which do not cease,

Unpolluted paradise, life itself and the loving experiences it has brought.



Poetry and prose from the heart.

“Ashes of love.”

“I’ve learned that when God promises beauty through the ashes, He means it.”  ~ Taya Kyle; American author, political commentator and military veteran’s family activist.
Ashes of love

That wondrous night I left the ashes of my love in your heart,
Oh beautiful creature!, for you will carry me in your thoughts as I part;
Within your deepest desire and most prominent illusion,
Divine chemistry, our heated souls were beyond nuclear fusion.
When dawn awakes you gently with its glowing rays as such,
My ashes of love, your heavenly body will still feel my touch.

That special night we engaged in meaningful connection,
The purest love, the most profound communication.
Beginnings are sensitive, thin like wire, soft as snow,
Tongue as sharp as sword, it is better to build slow;
Oh my love!, I am sorry, that night words did damage,
And my incessant, false insecurities our love did ravage.

I don’t want to lose more tears or be lost in this distance,
For I choose not to seek but to find you within my existence;
But I stare alone at my mirror now, see your beautiful reflection,
I deviate my stare, try to hide my boundless affection,
For my heart has become cold like this room, sadness is my foe,
But so intense were the emotions, ashes of love, remnants so.

Still you are kept within my deepest thoughts, we are one,
And my heart keeps the ashes of your love, you are my sun:
That memorial night you embraced me with your passionate sigh,
And every inch of your skin was the most wonderful paradise;
Layer by layer of clothing, now yours, now mine,
We made it into a game, and to you I built a shrine.

I walk away now from my mirror with these ceaseless memory,
I hold on to a few ashes of love which are sweet reverie.
If I can remember your angelic face I shall not pass away,
But my freezing heart still aches and my whole world seems gray.
And what about my emptiness and this disordered life…??
My blank poems, ill soul, the broken heart in strife…??

But I know all these are false fears meant to carry isolation,
Keep us apart, wound our love, spawn dire frustration;
So, I will come back to you and to the ashes left in your soul,
Mend broken hearts, build our spirits, give back the love I stole.
And when we are finally together we will unite the fires within,
Ashes of love, twin flames, far beyond all thought and skin.


Poetry and prose from the heart.

Poetry of the muse.

“Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.”  ~ William Wordsworth; English Romantic poet.
Two of my poems and paintings to set the mood.

The  Warrior  of  Light


Of the thousand wounds which the mind’s eye can observe,

Of the powerful hurt which the heart’s memory recalls,

Of the unpleasant occasions in which there was no reserve;

The character of the warrior within me suffers no loss.


Oh, how beautiful the horizon for the faithful warrior of days!

And how wonderful the very sights of nature for the true sage!

Oh, the spirit of this warrior lives in the perceptive gaze!

The fine disposition, the honest intention, and the radiant face!


A whisper of love among the screams of hateful tension,

A sliver of sunlight in the pit of wretched gloom,

A grain of courage in the vast harvest of apprehension;

It is all The Warrior of Light claims to give bloom.


There is heavenly energy in the purity of the warrior,

There is wondrous depth in the clarity his mind,

There is unique beauty and strength without barrier;

For to his devotion there is no joy he cannot find.

The confidence and power which dwell as unabashed currents of fire
As the warriors with glory and fury in times of old and awe,
The same fire which lives inside my heart and lifts me higher
Beckons The Warrior of Light within me resolute and outlaw.

Dark  thoughts

The loud cries of two confused conditions

Within the intensity of my prevailing muse,

The hyperactive violence of ruthless visions

Which darkens the conscience of the news.


The poet writes what the soul delivers in passion,

But my mind bleeds painful and hidden thought;

The demon stands his ground without compassion,

The angel persists with kind and heartfelt plot.


Peace and freedom may be found in the wise part,

Passion and truth may deliver in honesty most pure;

Quarreling ideas may be conquered by the heart,

And of the ways of this poet this is the cure.