Complicity

I like when he walks by my poems
he does it for years

I can see him passing through my door
every other day
saying
Good Morning… I am here again…
to see your face of words!
to see how are you
to say i care

I had a book in my hands last night
in a thrust i stopped to read looking my fingers
they are so childish

as if the two rings never had existed before

So i gave to life

Hands and Faces

Hands and Faces

one more day

as He gave to  me …

waiting for my face of words

with  my  tireless childish hands

The Grenadine Inside

GrenadineSome people, the mostly, they see all with blue lenses

I envy them….

I love the blue too you know

but i am unable to find my contact lens

As others do….

I am always banging my head

or stumbling and cursing

sad or feeling bad ~  Grenadine Color ~

slamming all doors as i was the angry wind

Blind

problems with the clearness too

i spend more than i can

i drink beer and i love sleep until later

I left people crazy with my silence

indifferent to people’s feeling

I am sarcastic, ironic

 

Alone in this world!

 

I pretend and i lie too

just to complete the story

 

this hole inside it is so big and dark

that sometimes i feel as it should swallow me

at once
and i’ll never get see the other’s blue
again

But then i envy all this, emerging from my color

i hit my head, i stumble, i curse

and sometimes, just sometimes

i open my heart

damned!!! It burns……

AWAKENING!!! By Mr. Bob Bevard

 

The velvet blackness
flecked with gold
Slowly, oh so slowly
Turns velvety purple
And into deep, deep red
Her rich blood courses hotly
The sun begins to rise
The day emerges
And the love,
The passion,
The Joy
Envelop her as she slowly awakens
Knowing that she is safe and at peace,
Yet still
A thousand dances and a million adventures to come
And uncountable number of firsts yet to be shared
As his heart touch her mind,  her heart, her spirit …

 


A man with flowers on his head by Mr. Bob Bevard

bobbevard@aol.com

http://bobbevard.blogspot.com/

All rights reserved

Baby Fish River – Chapter three

Baby Fish RiverBaby fish

The mother become a river.  Encompassing and drowning everything and everyone. Time later the villagers gave it a name. Baby Fish River. It is there where the place  once was a house once was farmer, once had a family living together……

And the mother there, lying on bed, flowing  … Not one regret  coming from her just waiting for the others  babies and pouring crystalline water, violently ….. She was a goddess creating life.

I could see her expectation. She knew as she  died. She  gave to me a last smile and the stream comes to birth. A source, a spring of a river from the womb of a woman. I did not know what was more spectacular the river or the child…….The brook  birthed and his name was Baby Fish. One Baby birthed together with a river and his name was  Baby Fish.

I just needed  a few seconds to realize that had not longer any children to be born …. That what I was witnessing was as  a gift from nature …. The birth of a new species . But i had no time to discuss that, not now…. all happening too fast . My scientific mind picked out the baby … The theory of Evolution, fields and applications, social implications…. I had to do something and quickly….
I ran out of  the flooded room and started to get  looking for the baby ….. I went downstairs ,rushed  and found  him  suffocating in a puddle …. My God!  he was drowning  at full abundance of oxygen …. I reviewed my concepts quickly and I figured out that  he needed water to survive….. I ran to the kitchen and found a large bowl,  took it and filled it with water. Praying to God for him… Please God sustain his life! That little thing, that little strange baby . I put him on the water and he instinctively dived the little  head into it. He stayed,  gradually returning to normal color ….And i get my breath again. Slowly it comes to me……

I heard wails  coming from upstairs! i saw a water fall falling down the stairs! I had an undetermined creature in front of me. Swimming and breathing under water.  And  on that moment i was the single person who cared  about him…  I was getting crazy !!!!!

I had to leave that place or i’ll die drowned.  I took the child with me.

I took a look behind and what i saw any man on earth saw.  I witnessed the birth of a Big flow. A wonderful flood.

Suddenly i understood. A violent  blow,  further than the first, shook me.  I realized that here, this wonderful place , where i planed to live my life  .  The place that gave me shelter from disputes of land, shooters, violence and destruction that i left behind….here,  was another world. Not my reality, not your reality but their realities….. And still stunned  and trembling my mind could discern… My escape  lead me to this unreal domain… Inside a world that my simple science don’t fit… I had to live for that moment and i have gratefulness for that.

Oh! I have so much more  to say…. But after…  you know. What happened …. But not now. I have to write again to you and others to know what is absolutely necessary know. But not now.

He is alive and there  exist  the   river called Baby Fish River. That is important!

 

Baby Fish River – Chapter Two

Baby Fish RiverAs he born –

 

I had a good life at this time …. A good house , my library with almost one thousand titles,  a garden and a special fireplace…. Beautiful and so huge as a in castle place…. I don’t know why i always loved the fireplace i think it is cozy…. As i never had someone by my side…. Yes i was  a solitaire man. A scientist and a observer of life and people. Taking my notes all the chance i had. For what? I don’t know. Maybe to be here, writing again.

I  cant give  more  details   about the time or the real place, where we lived , the real names, the city… because some peoples still are alive.  I hope you understand…. All you have to know is was a long time ago and in a place without resources as we know on this times …. Farmers and home maid and kids playing in that dusted road.

I’ve heard about my neighbor pregnancy …. People talk about that on the old gas station a bar open all night long. The  only place to talk, find friends and drink a  good local beer to  refresh for the sun…  They said She was expecting 3 or 4 babies …. The doctor  had heard the characteristic  sound of four heart  and affirmed…Yes they are four…

I knew her… When she passed in front my farmer  riding a horse every day as crazy woman as a Amazon…. With leathers, hat and a big smile freely  to all to see as  she were a man…

Well,  the last two months  i did not see her anymore and i thought was because she is  on  at advancing stage.. by this days at the end or at the new beginning.  Anyway i did not care…. I was  an intruder, a traveler an observer  just that… Never interfering just observing… I was a scientist a searcher for news species …. That give me pleasure!  The study, how  the social implications of a new species or the cause of their destruction impairs the environment . How can i  fix it…. I was a man trying to define  and why not to say bring a certain balance at this land and i worked very hard during all my life with my research …. But there again, it is not important….

What its important to say that was a place very very strange. A place where some families were  very religious and they had unfounded and irrational superstition….. Was very common to see in each ranch a traditional and old tree… In the front of the yard….

the more oldest the tree the more important the family and respected  they were.. I am not mentioned about money although all the families there were  wealthy. No, what really mattered was the name, the tradition given by the ancient tree. Who  came first, who fulfilled the doctrine believed as divine authority…..Who produce the “best fruit” . So we’ll see my friend, we’ll see….

And when he birthed they asked themselves… Who failed? Who has not realized the duties? Who deserves such anomaly?

And alienated of all questions and terror He came to the world.  In all that downpour. Soaking the bad, the Ipê floor, in waves, water springing up from the mother as a uninterrupted source. I  had to run out  from the room  to  try catch the water baby…. He was thrown with such  and indefinable force out of the room as if  he were surfing on a big wave.

They don’t told me.  I was there…. I saw  the baby birth and i remember very well…

.

 

Baby Fish River

Baby Fish RiverIt is a new attempt to go ahead, to change, to draw strength from inside. Please forgive me my cruel imagination and my grammatical errors. 

Prologue to a Freak – Chapter One

He birthed  swimming in water,  literally ,  from  4 placenta … They were  in four … But just one lived….  the people who as there , witnessing the birth  they said  he chewed the others 3 fetus . He ate his brothers to survive inside the mother’s womb.

He had to take place of his brothers. That was his nature. He need to stay alive to plant a new species around us. What is the new about this? None. All the time nature change, transform, give birth to strange lives. And we do not care. I care . As a scientist i care….

They don’t know  how to explain years ago and until now … or forgot or they were forced to forget and just accepted the reality… As i did.

My opinion?  Maybe  he  just needed more room to grow. But in the deep of my heart i had a theory…. About involution not evolution of species. I have some wrote on my notes i just have to find….

He was never a freak to me as he was for his mother, father and the world outside …. Was not his fault… no, no, no…. Someone had a extra pair of chromosomes to share, to interfere in the evolution of species. He just was there, close   as I in that memorable incident….

Was not  Darwin that said ” It is not the strongest species that survive, nor the most intelligent, but the most susceptible to changes” ? Ok guys i am a fan of Darwin… If he is still alive that would be the definite evidences from his statements…
This boy skipped the evolutionary scale in several generations and managed a mutation …. Born from his  brothers using the others 3 different placentas  to organize, to evolve and to freak us out….. Until  these days ….

I bet you never heard about this in your life…. I bet my heart, my name and what left of me…..

The  fact is :  since he was born  he is called Baby Fish. A torment name to carry on his entire life … I always thought like that.   A boulder, a sin on his shoulders until he dies …..

The  family wanted to hide this story because they think it was a freak story and it is…. But i was there and i did my notes.  I can say;  ancient notes… Very and truly…..And maybe, just maybe i can clear all this things and honor his memory.

He was innocent from all accusations. He simply  fought hardly to live and followed the nature travel.
I dont know what happened with me to remember  after all …. Maybe because it is my latest days  in earth and now i don’t care anymore…. And i think he is not guilty from anything…. So i took my old note book, called my memory and started to write.

I’ve lost my job, my reputation my money all because i was there. And by chance …  Now… i really don’t care about me…. It is done…. If you want to read the real story just sit down and take a breath.  A long my friend and deep breath …. If you don’t agree or think i am a liar just close these notes.  They are only notes from a old man…. There is why i started the story in that way to give you a chance to not read it at all… Just judge me as a crazy man and close it…..

Rage against the Night

Hello my friend
The title of this Poem  would be solely  Rage….

Thinking in Dylan Thomas…. Rage, Rage against the dying of the light

In my case…. against the night

People that are the night itself , that have no sun but darkness inside
dressing up themselves as the sweet dew at morning,,,,
For their entire life

That is primitive … always inside and never evolved…

Primitive to hurt, to discriminate, to shout out, to put their hands around the neck and finally kill someone…

or kill totally within….
To fright … Has something more painful than fright?

Do you know how is it?

An autumn leaf at your last days but raging against the fall…..
stirring up , arousing the courage to fall down

For  be kind or gentle has a massive price
Better kill, easy to kill
thinking that you are the truly tree and never the leaf….

But i am the rage itself
I am my words … that is mine and my only….

No one could claim for yourself what i originally write

or  what  derives from  my grief
Rage on hands and on fingers….
To cast out, to put a spell …  to revenge….
That is your Poetess …

being barbarian but in words and assuming
So bringing Dylan again….

Rage, Rage against the Night!!!!

For all my life…British_Night_Sky