Remembrance?

I remember  loving her a lot...

life had changed as new love cried for a new fresh path
Bringing back those memories / just make my life struggle endlessly.

One thing is certainly clear...
nothing like time to erase previous unwanted hurtfully loved ones.

You used to sting my feelings
like a black rouses's thorn
My mind got lost and intoxicated.

You make my love bleed for so long...
like a hungry wolf asking for more.

So rejection has come and taking over
to release the stress you put me under
sterile new angels had already been sent
To pick up my pieces to start living again.

Hands..

Hands..

Tools furnished by the heaven impulse of creativity..

Sometimes sublimely soft..Sometimes harshly strong..

The same hands that constantly provides under the influences of the "higher" electric king.

Hands destined to build or destroy..

Hands venomously crafted by the ancient evil..or preciously conceived to massage your inner soul..

Hands..small, big, deformed, or mutilated, no matter the life's threatening circumstances, yet useful.

Hands that are held up in a significance gesture..or pinpointed at the miserables to let culpability fell upon.

Hands..that debrief mortal secrets or hold the crown to bestow dictators and heroes..

Hands..erotize and filled with lustful meaning..

Hands..playful mechanism of allegro celebrating notes..or fill with lugubre scales for a funeral soundtrack.

Hands..the body's motor expression that beyond the imagination are design thankfully for the better or the 

worts.

 G.

Coloring Prague.

This is Prague in black and white

The suspicious humans silhouettes undergoing a declaration of love and hate on the Charles Bridge seems to be oblivious to the foreign eyes..might be the salacious magnetism coming from the obscure ancient cobblestone layout...
                                                      This is Prague in Oranges and Blues

I walked on... and suddenly I resuscitated from the forgotten truth..the concept of beauty just lied there you could sense it in the air..The blessed city that survived from the destructive evil cannon is now giving me the unique opportunity to discover her sinuous urban state.

                                                     This is Prague in Greens and Yellows

I succumbed to the charms of the green fairy who's graciously watching me from the bottom of my absinthe glass. The reality seems to be distorted but still enjoyable..as the laudanum progress in my system I spotted a somber shadow watching me from the corner..
- It's me don't you recognize me? he cried in an agonized blurred speech.
not sure yet but Toulouse Lautrec just sent me one of his "tremblement de Terre" creations. 
Am I comfortably Numbed.. perhaps..

Coffee.

Coffee...daily extravaganza of the happy addictive.
Estrange affair of the unsatisfied souls,
wanting to satiated theirs thirsty from the magical nectar.

Coffee.. Black possum of the selective and privileged..
that are ready to summit their will to the ultimate divine tasted.

Coffee...impulsive adrenaline rush..that prevents restless from falling down to the earth line.


Coffee...fulfilled dream of a zombie nation, that doesn't want to renounce to the flavored numbness of the senses.

Coffee..harvested once by the gods, befitting forever by the men.
the supreme "punishment" of the taste.
Guido♪

N. Y. C

Una vela prendida..

Una vela prendida para los que ya no están y estuvieron.

Una vela prendida en consideración al recuerdo inextinguible de aquellos que fueron amados.

Una vela prendida que no justifica el cariño albergado pero considerado un acto de buena voluntad.

Una vela prendida que perpetua la imagen amarillenta y rota por el tiempo..

Una vela prendida para aquellos que escuchan nuestros lamentos por la perdida, donde quiera que estén.

Tribeca NIght Colors