Just Be Fame

fame1And I think you know it’s rare.

For someone to see.


Facing insecurities.

Out of control.

In control.

In between.

Waiting in lines.


Crying in secret.

Chewing cheap gum.

Fumbling with your iPad.

Like everyone else.

How could you not?

When I saw you, I saw a person.

Not a picture.

Not a title.

Not a name.

I looked at you.

Heard your voice.

Answered your questions.

Wondered what you were hiding.

Because you had to.

Heard what you were hiding.

Despite you.

What you assumed about me.

It wasn’t.

Projected–it could only be you.

And I loved it.

The mysterious gap.

That revealed everything.

You thought you hid.

I spoke with you.



As if you were a merchant.

And I tended to you.

As if you were my fleeting customer.

And I think you know it’s rare.

For someone not to care too much.

But just enough for you to know.

I do.

For someone to trust nature.

More than temptation.

To put you higher.

Than human.

There is no fame in a moment.

Unless I am famous too.

And when I turn around.

I see all the layers.

That separate you.

From everyone else.

And I wonder why.

Anyone would want this.


And I sense.

You’re the kind who never wanted it.

As much as it wanted you.

Like a mother wants her child.

To come in and wash his hands.

And sit at his place at the table.

As much as it challenges you still.

To believe something it tempts you not to.

That you have nothing to prove.

Don’t worry; I see, and your secret is safe with me.


What’s the Matter, Superstar?

Oh little-big boys

I finally get it

That’s what draws me

More than anything

Your effect

On my imagination

You make me see

It’s good

Not to matter

To someone who matters

Once in a while

Your indifference

Pushes me down

And the question rises

So we meet in the middle

Egg and sperm

The sweet supernova

Before the zygote

It breakdances in front of me

Grabs me by the collar

Pulls my hair

Aw come on

Give me a break!

Aren’t I down enough?

It gets pissed off

Slaps me across the face

For the love of my life

I open my eyes

Look around

So what!

I don’t matter to you

But do I matter to myself

Thanks for the reminder

Zeus and Co.

Another star in the sky

Somehow it just grows louder

And louder

Like my cries must have

On the first days of my life


Secrets from the Projector Room

Image credit: the-guided-meditation-site.com

Image credit: the-guided-meditation-site.com

If you have read my previous two posts, you may know I invented two souls based on observing perfect strangers in Barcelona (as part of a creativity workshop there).

The final related assignment was to imagine what secrets they would tell each other,* as follows:

From the Tattooed “Tough Guy” to the Servant

“What you are doing is fine, so much as you are 100 percent sure that it’s your destiny. If there is any doubt inside you, listen to it.

“Respond to it, and let life into your experience. If a life this way is deeply satisfying and enough, stay in your way, in your occupation … upon that line of railroad tracks.

“Enjoy life–enjoy leading your life. Take pride in yourself, and remember you have nothing to prove.

“Finally, whoever he or she is, makes sure that they love you, I mean really love you.”

From the Servant to the Tattooed Man

“Sir, if I may suggest, find contentment inside your every action. Find reassurance in the path you are upon. Explore the possibility of life being a vast, wide, deep stream.

“Understand that whatever you do is as essential as the Sun is to the Solar System and at the same time as insignificant as the stranger I have never met.

“Embrace this paradox.”


*I can see through this exercise the power of projection. Not knowing these people, I have imagined their souls based on my own perspective. Therefore, I could only be projecting things inside myself onto them. All of these thoughts are therefore from my own closet–past lives, imaginations, dreams, impressions, my own unconscious attic!


Phalaenopsis’ Song


photo (3) (1)

Photo/art credit–mine


I know what you feel

More than you


The crushing weight

Of watching you fly

In denial’s wind

Nothing to hold

Here in “me”

In another life

I was once a bee

Smelling perfection

In lover’s projection

Intense grief

The Earth turned her face

Smiled at me

I bowed to witness

Her holy game

Driving each one of us, deeper

Oh nature

When you fall for me

We both die

To who we once were

Six feet under

Reaching roots

My heart

My deepest love

All that I am

From the deep I beg:

Turn away from me

Rule the air around you

These man’s world winds

Only gust more

Never caring

As much as you

Find a flower


Find a shelter


The validity

Earth’s fruits

Your banquet since birth

Dearest one

Projections never nourish

Embrace the one

Feeding you

Laughing at your doubts

Easing your mind


We are together


Needing what we know

Knowing what we feel

But sometimes

I can feel what you feel

More than you

When I am the orchid

And you are the bee

Now disappearing

To your confused flight

Only from a distance

You will see who I was

A projection

Your deepest longings

Alive in a mirror

Never one to love

More than yourself

I hold anyone truly


On sacred command


Trapped in their longing

Camouflaged pain

Fertilizes my life

Now, now

If anything were spoken

From the deepest Earth

All the root-feeding death

I tell you surely


The self

I’ve known so many times

Through such sacred deception

That lured my deepest love

Back to my own heart