Ronn Michael Salinas (aka) . Born in the Philippines. Currently living in Florida. more »
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- Wintergreen -new-
Robert Lansing Poems
Come trail my love to its tracks While they still keep off rust, While they still ignore the cracks, And while they still dread the dust.
He waited. He waited... But waited too long.
Auburn hair in the wind flowing Burns like a memory- The highway disappears and the afternoon sun dies out In a flurry of blackening consciousness and vague
¿No tú sabes? Como de tu mano. Como el aire viene desde el mismo acto de comer. Mi lengua roza suavemente en tu palma; Dientes como labios, labios como dientes.
Why do you look sad, little wintergreen? The sun is shining, the clouds are gliding along The bluest sky.
Who is that girl playing in the garden- So carefree, so young, so fair? Or is she older, but with An unaging zeal or fire?
I see you Eschew feeling. I'll keep mine And I'll help you find yours
SOS No love found 404 Mayday
Sometimes simplification equals further complexity, or complication. Sure, it's always been about fighting- but why defeat the purpose? Always hit critical. Ideas do run this world... unless we're really that mindless.
Enter the Net
Welcome to the internet, Where transient moods become immortal; Where anger is cocooned into grudge And interest is smoldered and balled into obsession.
The days bled While I lay here in sleep Like a specter, shapeless... pointless... A dead lizard, a broken penny;
An Oven Light
Where the flesh goes, The mind follows. The body is weak.
Chanson de L'adieu
Paalam bayan, Pag-unlad mo'y aking inaasahan Alaala kita hanggang magkalapit muli Magsasama tayong nakangiti.
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
Come trail my love to its tracks
While they still keep off rust,
While they still ignore the cracks,
And while they still dread the dust.
And trust, love,
That life is too finite
And so much like a dove
That has no real right
To perch still for a cure
That hides from sight
And makes unsure-
That tires of trying to see
That darkness in the corner
That fears to free
Itself- and boldly enter...
But it's silence
That I still hear;
Tempts hoarsely in my ear...