Rafael Lancelotta

samasara #2

SideStyle — Tue, 31 May 2011 12:56:48 +0000

the Rorschach inkblot on the kitchen table
read in a peculiar way,
when the thought of you echoed sideways,
there was not alot to say.
singing loud on a sunday,
they expected to rest,
but the thought of imagining
was too hard at best.
so today we wrap ourselves in wool,
and put cotton in our ears
in the hopes of one day rising again,
with no work some day those fears will be
revered.

the fourth dimension

SideStyle — Fri, 27 May 2011 19:03:36 +0000

nostalgia, it grabs you like the fleeting glance of flirtation,
twisting the sinews of the heart as you are transported
backwards in time,
while the present ticks onward ever so consistently,
irreverent of your position.

la belleza repetitivo

SideStyle — Wed, 18 May 2011 13:11:59 +0000

tengo sueño en mi corazon, mi mente siempre tiene evolucion, el amor yo encuentro cada dia cada vez, en el momento colgado en el espacio entre los organos que tocan nuestros canciones

black friday

SideStyle — Fri, 13 May 2011 02:05:42 +0000

there used to be a rabbit’s paw
that became a black cat,
you watched from a distance
cut your fingernails on sunday
now they hardly see you
wet rags on the countertop define
lines arbitrary to my sign.
send money please
depressants in the breeze
bilingual moccasins cannot breathe
if only you knew the struggle to
succeed.
warm green tea moments
are dreams dreamt in anger
or confusion,
distinction is not
your forte anymore,
it’s what can happen,
after they knocked down the door.

SideStyle — Fri, 08 Apr 2011 12:29:29 +0000

with an open mouth do you stare shocked at the world as in presses on, as it rolls onto tomorrow like a never-ending song? you can’t forget yourself as the clock chimes one, when the new day has begun. take yourself to the limit as you can’t restrain the timid, it’s your choice to grab today or to let it fly past, limited.

Kensho

SideStyle — Sun, 27 Mar 2011 17:47:06 +0000

you take another step into memory’s lane through the window panes displaying landscapes of magistrates incarnate, beauty devout to fidelity perceived through the iris of the soul as it soars uncontrollably to what you believe is the most holy. and it is in this moment you stay, be blessed in your life.

SideStyle — Thu, 17 Feb 2011 15:23:10 +0000

the discharge made them feel dirty in the dawn before digging up disaster memories for the better or the worse, destiny knocking at dusty doors for the duly delinquent, don’t reach for the darkness if you are filled with delight, daggers don’t distress enough the alarm of daylight.

Right here, right now

SideStyle — Thu, 13 Jan 2011 16:25:55 +0000

I yearn for dark, empty roads through forests,
crisp with cool air, lit by visionary headlights.
Solitude at it’s most peaceful best,
a sanctuary, like the
early childhood memories
fleeting in the strobe of
consciousness,
illuminated by the candle of love,
lit at the very conception,
like the first note of beautiful song.
What no one can touch nor take away,
only nature takes it upon herself,
as mountains only gradually
concede to be brought to their
knees.
Each breath holy,
each moment sacred.
Calm in the mind,
Restful in the body,
Peace in the heart.

Picture

SideStyle — Mon, 22 Nov 2010 15:50:51 +0000

In concrete jungles
With street corners of cold asphalt
Yin-yanged with white lines
Dividing lanes,
A man standing solitary,
Able only to cry from one eye
As he watches a sunset of utmost beauty
Blazing across the sky.

Rebuilt

SideStyle — Fri, 05 Nov 2010 10:20:17 +0000

Humbled, to the lowest stoops of the tenement flats
of life,
losing all built on shaky foundations,
lies, deceit, messed-up situations,
the riches massed leaving like sand in the eroding dawn.
Thought I had been building up,
when instead my investments teetered
and tottered
threatening to topple down.
With a blind eye to foundation,
an eagle’s eye view, looking only from atop
of this tower of babel,
I grew falsely, and let time slip
like the few tears that slide
down the side of my cheek
as I look at what was,
crumbled at my feet.
The anguished cries echo
over and over again;
over the sand dunes of time,
over the sound of the new beat
of the new drum,
over the gasps of wonder,
over squeals of delight,
over new empires that shine gold
in every light.
Humbled,
brought to kneel on the dirt ground,
to accept and to know and to feel.
From only this ground can new life be
grown,
from only truth and virtue
can true fruit be sown,
that will nourish the soul
and toughen the sinew,
that will give will to the heart
and strength to the hand,
that will lay firm foundations
of a new nation.