Other Poems by:

Felino Soriano

Architecture of Probability

Awaiting
sans historical knowledge,
attributes together teem
in an attractive awareness
  where methods intertwine
syllables, tightly, mending fractured fractions
of specified devotion
  among current implicated 
occurrences. Several eyes oscillate in well mannered,
horizontal 
  elements, philosophy posits 
  dialectical,
spiraled existences among the rarified understanding
of esoteric vernaculars,

away from the cultures popular among probability
toward
exacting popular mindsets of monetary
  recluse,
an existence vis-à-vis conversations
with topography of delineation regarding
ensuing historical knowledge.
  Said blindly
because tongues torn from dried mouths
realize
  dusty language dissipates before definition
puts forth analogical perception.  

Craft of the Finished Want

Visions are interpretations of others' keepsakes,
granted by way of boredom or genius.
Immaculate legacy, sincere theory
of the mind's global epiphanies, 
able in such translucent style to translate thought,
vernacular, spatial circumference 
within tonal interaction,
allowing conscience to specialize in aerial contact
with abstract instructions.
Many find static within the referential
speech, deleting compromise
from exhaustion of negotiation,  
simultaneously
enveloping myriad of required newness,
simplifying landscapes of the mind's 
undulating craft  
fixated on functioning
as bilingual modes
of manmade mementos.

Scenes From Beneath Normality

Paradoxical,
night breeding with unaware departure,
creating then a semblance of inward
reaction, reflecting hesitance,
an antithetical exhibition
gauging metaphysics to be that of nihilism,
an unwanted facial feature mixed with disregard
for knowledge of predetermined acts of wandering
pin-holed eyes.

Cold air highlights holograms 
held by the silence of disregarded
skepticism, fundamental doubt
child of critical thinking attribute
severs all leaning and straight pointing
sarcasm,
reminding dedicated to spiraled existence
life excites only if humidity resides within the mouth,
and the tongue speaks several foreign detriments
towards company
and complexity rivals common sense.

Trumpet's Many Tongues # 16 —after Walkin' – Miles Davis

In reaction to the mind's
will to incorporate various
vernaculars, the need to communicate
with all but the silent and historically deceased.
Across paths man and organically
formed, the unobstructed stroll into 
beings of leaves, of flowered rising
reaching toward oxygenic gasps,
—the gathering into light's mouth
and humid undulations
foretells what the ensuing scenery
represents through faculty. Of
the branded gorgeous, society 
with crowned diversity, we walk
and commune with several, specific
transformations: the mind's welcoming
of delineated creatures.

Trumpet's Many Tongues # 17 —after Yesterdays – Clifford Brown

The earth has ended
its tributary weaving of
glass images, the wings 
borrowed from formational breaths
angled into sight's favorite stilled
obligations. The entrance of door's
dichotomous exit folds into fashioned
old fashioned wants, leaving the blood
of forgotten thought atop the invisible
threshold. Days in multiplying
births upset the pattern of calendared 
outlines. Hanging
where examples of touch 
touches its own happenstance, the body
of time aches into its motional
innateness, claiming tomorrow will always
be betterment, pronouncing the philosophy 
of yesterday as the bag of old clothing, unwanted,
spread over the wounds of preconceived 
cynicism.  

Trumpet's Many Tongues # 18 —after A mis Abuelos (To my Grandparents) – Arturo Sandoval

Societal translations
forming unspoken attachments,
the bond to and enveloping 
familial circumstances. The
many miles between visits and
improper contact connecting voices—
spreads the labor shaped guilt
written across the welcoming
of golden covet. Specified launching of
sporadic communication, the unmeant,
tarnished history. Death now your visible
surname, rewritten documents containing
verbal embraces, translates now
to the memory language
of universal pining. 

Trumpet's Many Tongues # 19 —after In a Silent Way – Miles Davis

Rain spelled its new name as Ballerina,
twirling in allegorical light
  where
stages of incessant colors combined
the translucent wings of abstraction 
with
 fashioned circles of
conceptual elaboration.
  Voices
amid thunder's ovation 
spoke the revered speech of
magnificent respect.  
Various 
winds spoke amongst selves of
satisfactional aliveness, high
above the streams of dancing accolades 
for the birthing of
avant-garde delight. Silence
  holds
in tightly woven patterns
of visceral voices,
proclaiming the sight
of the falling
  dancing
comprehends landing as
musical confession. 

Trumpet's Many Tongues # 20 —after Wild Man Blues – Nicholas Payton

Wandering
where night isn't the dichotomous entity
to day's solid reign, he
the afterward of thoughts' leaking residue
among the left behind, left for decompression.
Away into the compressed room of
solitude, decorated
in mirrorless theory and
the monotone ennui of white walls
glaring against self-insufficiency. Coaxed
into leaving life's prior
handouts, heirlooms
with language codes called threatening
demeanor.  
Satisfaction distant in
possible surfacing beings
within a life now built
atop
delusional wants to reenter past 
reciprocation, the questions of
ensuing possibilities draw answers
of inability
where the eyes hope to never
ascertain.

Trumpet's Many Tongues # 21 —after Snap Shot - Dusko Goykovich

City settled atop its knees,
resting, recuperating 
prior to alert and interpretive mayhem
shrouding ability and corners used
to hide the visibly incoherent.
Birds in their aerial language visit
the quiescent, landing to feed, understand
neglect, for the concrete in which
holds the many multiplying feet
houses indentations of possible
deceit. Lights wink in flickering
flirtations toward the vehicles
amorous through coax. Signs 
marked for sellable concepts
beckon with neon tongues, widened
embraces toward turned backs
and the flying praised. Enough 
is never the symbol of movement,
for reaching toward the constant stirring 
remedies only the slightly
alive and accompanying 
limping Shadows.

Vagabond's Vision #124

Her grandeur was not a        certainly
                a bouquet of apologies
        stack of gift cards
                reminding recipients 
            to overload on unneeded 
                        extravagance--
her grandeur        unorthodox:

        a leaping forward into plaid, head of blue
            orange t-shirt expressing images
    similar to
that of         abstract cyclonic overdosing-- 
                    "normality" existed in denim
                pants
                    streaming into bright red
            sneak-
ers.  

Pallid skin highlighted already hefty
choices in curious colors.     

Her grandeur, visionary enough 
for my eyes
to gaze-burn her path,
festoon colors
interesting conversation
my mind-tongue
subsequently spoke
with patterns
aloud to a bland pigeon
who landed pecking 
a speck of wheat before
vanishing into vacant
disappearance.

Vagabond's Vision #125

Vertiginous voice
from mangled man 
screaming
kneeling keenly professionally 
most indeed indicative a stance
of prior visiting
instantly recognized
praying perhaps
unbuttoning a wish
maybe
realizing a shouldn't have 
possibly
centered he was
dressed in curious gazes 
passersby passing out
freely
from charitable visible walk-a-ways
yet
while doing so
eyes, as if glued
adhered to the praying or wishing or realizing
man
doing so centered in the un-cluttering 
aspect of Main Street's 
thinning evacuation.

Vagabond's Vision #126

They--possibly pre-teenagers smeared themselves
across        and
        stomped into lustrously 
hand-carefully created
garden
        with loud screaming feet 
obnoxious     vulgar yanking hands        and
                    expletory 
themed wishes to destroy burgeoning
color
    consideration
            toward
                                     crying from behind 
diaphanous
kitchen window,
her unattended
mornings' devotion
destroyed    fortune misplaced
beneath feet of youngish  
maladaptive
razor toothed         discolored 
non compos mentis. 

Vagabond's Vision #127

The surveillance of repeat never ceases.

Circle converts into square housing the mind
of affecting itself; affection into memories
a padded room
softly a place to rest         and 

                hold a hand of recollection.
"Here" enunciates a gift-greeting-spice-of-reassura
nce.
    Wandering         wandering         wandering
the waterfall of such a metaphor         the explanation 
of this stylistic series stepping atop my same-size


shadow, the fall never reads the yellow-black symbolic 
stop ending of something dead.

This is good.          The wanderer obtains license
renew     without retest         or original test 
becoming landscape upon eyes     before brandishing
pencil        to dislocate reality from the focus of  unneeded

                    untruths.

Vagabond's Vision #128

Full-body gestures 
oaks swaying hardily 
in blizzard-strength wind
protected-I beneath covered concrete
see-through prayer.

        Then, rain. Voices, too.  Yelling.          

            Comma shaped, spinning
dizzily around light poles    before
suicide
        spelled
their obituary        across kin's colorless        blood.

Earth has many features,
fortunes, counting them
remains time consuming,
and in between tasks 
I
undertake during serenity
flattened                    smoothness of peaceful
                stones
arranging them softly
between forefinger
and thumb
nuzzling each
as a seed does naturally 
in mushy soil
before sprout takes hold
shooting forth burgeon--                near a favorite sitting still
                        lake I throw one at a time    stone
                    watching their bodies 
                leap up and beneath
            water's liquid spirit
mirroring in a quieter 
fashion
raindrops    feeling wonder
if I contribute to the death
of harmless    once sitting still
stones. 

Biography:

Felino Soriano lives in California where he is employed as a behavioral assistant.  
Through this wonderful profession, he is allowed the blessings of counseling, 
caring for, and learning from developmentally disabled adults.  Classic jazz is 
a muse.  His poems have appeared in Ygdrasil, andwerve, edifice WRECKED, Megaera, 
Penniless Press, and others.

C)opyright 2007-09 Felino Soriano - All Rights Reserved

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