Playing marbles

The singular marble of energy, infinitely dense,
Elected to expand towards inexistent directions,
Creating space to unfold volatile carpets of navy
Blue time, on which to develop endless potential.

Light ignites for particles to amalgamate reflections,
Evolving energy into matter, for atoms to compose
Spinning molecules assembled, filled with purpose
Pulled by force, of gravity building fusing stars.

Refractory minerals travel unnoticed and afar,
Leaving home to shower dust on spheres aligned
Orbiting a sun, where ingredients perfectly meld
Hosting falling comets and chondrites, water in disguise.

Suddenly life.

As the marble now exceeds measurement possibilities,
Perpetrating its expansion, outdoing light speed limits,
It decides to visit itself and its creations through the eyes
Of a species with a mind. Consciousness rise.

From a remote planet lost in its meanders,
Inhabitants of Earth slowly challenge their perceptions,
Reflecting shadows of primitive light to comprehend
Their role in the marble game encompassing all.

Suddenly the Universe.

[Featured painting: Aikiiah IV by Emma Lindstrom]


Mr White

Mr White carried out the crime, it must be so.
Police caught him cleaning blood off his lips and though
He said it came from a last desperate kiss the anchormen
Disagree. TV knows the truth, has given him a life sentence,
Public opinion bets on his guilt, odds are now six to one.

Only he could have free access to the family abode,
Approach Mrs White so close. She must have trusted him
And ignored, he had lost faith in her when he saw, her flaws,
In the arms of an unknown improbable lover, to both
The handsome tennis coach.

He must have premeditated the vengeful actions,
Bought the rope in the grocery store, be it with her
Credit card. He must have obliged her to write the note,
It would explain the shaky scribble she left behind. He must have
Handled the neck loop with gloves, no killer DNA found.

The house is full of his fingerprints, yet it’s his own,
But none on the rope. His tears must be fake, his fright,
Cowardice. Mr White carried out the crime, it must be so.
He must have staged the whole suicidal show, he must
Be guilty, it must be so, prosecution says so.

But do we really know, beyond any reasonable doubt?
What if she had lost faith in him when she saw, his flaws,
In the arms of an unknown improbable lover to both,
The handsome tennis coach? Bought the rope with her own
Credit card, placed the loop around her neck and let go?

[Featured painting: Trial of George Jacobs of Salem for witchcraft by Matteson, Tompkins Harrison, 1813-1884]

Inexorable awareness

Within walls and filaments I spin, rushing
Towards infinity in expanding space.
Through memories of eternal time I mutate,
To witness evolution provide fertile grounds,

For consciousness to rise from mesmeric worlds,
Permeated with indisputable truths, abiding elegant laws,
Concealing particles able to twist
Energy into matter, create creatures with a mind,

For the Universe to become,
Inexorably and increasingly, aware of itself.

[Featured painting: Starry Night by Vincent van Gogh, 1889 @MoMa]

Sugar cane

They flow in the meanders of streets and bars, warnings
By enslaved sugar cane harvesters from afar. The produce
As dangerous as lashes on disobedience, from sloshed owners
Of plantations delirious, over greed-resulting drunken folly.

Known to colonists for driving drinkers mad,
“Le rhum rend fou” they whisper in France, gulping
The brutal inebriating substance of wrong doings,
Turning blind eyes to ancient ports of human trade.

He was a descendent of those who stayed behind,
Only to later emigrate to the Metropole, unwanted
Reminders of ungrateful history. Parents working
Hard to fulfil disillusioned dreams of opportunities.

His amber bottle, his best friend, able to turn white
Sclera red, smiles into raging smears and slurs, be it
Not a swear word, using lexicon to hurt as pupils
Dilate, for looks to stab and offend, cursing blessings.

Easier to be a victim than take responsibility, blaming
All exception made for the precious liquid, bashing
Intentions with statements of futility, projects with
Sentences of failure, as the last drop burns a sore throat.

[Featured painting: Slaves cutting the sugar cane by William Clark, Colour illustration, 1823]

Blue moquette

Perceptions of my body disturbed, me
With consciousness. Unable to relate,
Recognise myself in others, irrepressible despair,
Frantically ridding of clothes, jewels, makeup.

Hardly bearing the touch of feet to ground,
Blue moquette, craving annihilation,
Cancelling body to erase thoughts.
Little did I know I would learn to love all.

[Featured painting: The Purge by Jennifer Ford @saatchiart]