The Quiet Storm

"I am the quiet storm, 
tumbling and turning on nothing at all, 
a leaf free-falling on gentle breeze, 
a raging inferno inside the lit wick of a candle." 

S.Gonzalez

 Love does not test the limits, it surpasses it. Love does not offer sorry, it heals every wound. Love stands the test of time, the very mover of humanity. Love does not bind people and yet it interlocks us for it's own sake, which is our own will.   S.Gonzalez

Rhythm

By S.Gonzalez

The rhythm flows through me,
the dancers are lively,
their bodies twist with the speed of my thoughts,
smoke is reeling, spurning my senses,
the ale flows and always makes
my thoughts turn syrupy slow,
breath is measured and in time,
the rhythm moves me again,
The room is shaking, spinning, turning,
feet starts it's tapping,
my heart now quickly rapping,
thing's look so very simple,
causing time to ripple,
the rhythm flows throughout the world,
the melody creating pulses,
the very jaws of creation and destruction,
the music is in my heart,
and with this, it shall never part.

Inside the Paradox

Inside
the
Paradox

By S.Gonzalez

There is a palace with many rooms and countless they are and often astounding.  There are inhabitants and each are different from the other.The people are called Many, and are spoken to by the Owner of this dimension. Yet mere specks are they, in the mansion called Paradox.

-It is said;

"The rooms are all different, 

in size and shape and inspiration,

They are unique as are their makers,

And each maker is a Character,

Each Character has their own room,"

If that is so, then those who dwell within are unknowing or keeping silent. In this grand ancient mansion, only called Paradox, it's own secret.

"There are some that call it heaven,

While others damned,

 feel only hell." 

This too say the monks, it is often quoted. 

All fear the demons, of that everyone knows to be true.

They are hunters,twisted by the demonic lords of Power and Greed. No one has ever seen them and lived. And yet, those who do are often they're mindless servants.

There is a leader to their Kind, he rides on spectral mount. "Beware the One," ancient tribesmen of the desert people have spoken. "He wears the Golden Mask, he rides in a swiftly fashion and keeps souls alive within his chest."

Each character is vulnerable and strong, just trapped by the splendor of each room. Yet venture on a darker path, and often it is said, many have been trapped. Trapped and bathed within the mansion of many rooms.

till the Huntsmen come. Either they kill you or they take you to the Golden Mask; and you must always learn to fear that day.

If you die within Paradox, you are returned in to the World. In the World you are a worker, and life is short. Often enough, only a very few souls come back from that. It's balanced and predictable,

in fact quite ignorant."You improve your character there,

Or destroy it," As again, the ancient tribe of hermits say.

"Until one day you find again,

That door which only waits,
 when ready made you,
and you escape,

Tossed and tumbled,

a Character again remembers,"

 "Many always remember,
how they got there,
 upon waking,

In those mazes, 
In that Mansion,

 in that twisted wonderful spiral,
called only Paradox."

Nightmares suck...

Nightmare

By S.Gonzalez

You open your eyes, and ask aloud ,"Where am I?"

The memory of anything before your arrival seems a fog of distant feeling and yet it escapes as you try to remember. Looking down, you are only dressed in brown rags and no shoes. All around you, wails seem to rip and shred themselves against you seeming to vibrate the cell.


While glancing around you notice that the white polished tiles do nothing to silence the cries from the doomed people beyond them. The muscles in your legs start to twitch in anxiety, the breaths coming on slow and ragged. Sweat beads down your forehead and stings your eyes in salty fear. It's hot and the moans with dueling dimming screams echo from beyond the door-less cell. Counting your breaths, to ease the mind; one, out, two, out and suddenly the lights flicker off above you.

The darkness though quick leaves you shaking in it's embrace and in front of you a hallway appears. You escape the cell and run towards the dimly lit hallway, it's lights on the ceiling casts your shadow on the walls. You are a fleeing form in yellowish light, running in a slumping gait. A door can be seen, metal and corroded, a hope rises giving renewed strength in your flight. You notice the square window on the door, showing at first a faintest jade glow then a head of black hair rising.

Her face seemed a woman with pale blueish gray sky, as if drowned, her raven hair wet casting down to her shoulders. The eyes are closed and for ill reason they are sewn together giving vent to the scream building in your throat. Again, the lights go off, and in your confusion you noticed, you're suddenly in a courtyard. The sky dark and storming, clouds churning, and the dust dervishes sweeps across your feet.
The screams have stopped, even if you can't remember when and there she is again. She is dressed in a long yet tattered black dress. She is taller than you, much taller, her hair in a shroud covering her face. Nothing but silence crossed the distance in the walled space outside the hallway, just dirt packed and cracking beneath your bare feet. You can't move as she float towards you and your body shakes with a cold chill. Now she is at arm's reach with her head lowered as if looking at the round and reaching for you.




She looks at you now a face of pure despair, blues lips in a shape of pain and agony. Nothing behind her sewn shut eyelids, as if no eyes were behind them, her fingers reached now for them. The darkness rushes in from each side of you, leaving the grotesque act in front of you. A strange rotting smell invades your nose and mind, rooting flesh and bile assaults every fiber of sensation. The cell crashes against the darkness, reforming itself around her prying at her eyes as if gouging them out instead of removing the wires. The walls seemed vastly taller and enclosing, your breath catching as her hands lower.

Face to face with your paralyzed body, staring at the ruin of a beautiful face and the hollowed out eyes. Empty and forever is the dark in those eyes, a void so deep that it devours at your very soul. Her pale blue lips opens wide to show a shadow inside there, liquid and alive, rolling at your observation. You finally scream as sickly slick tendrils of black wrap themselves around your head.

A scream as teeth ,from across it's length, bite at the tender flesh of your lips, nose and ears. The pain of having flesh brutally removed and blood gushing into the evil form destroying every inch of skin it can..and then the lights go out.



...

You open your eyes, and ask aloud ,"Where am I?"

The memory of anything before your arrival seems a fog of distant feeling and yet it escapes as you try to remember.

Posted 15th June 2012 by Steven Gonzalez

It comes from the Void

by S. Gonzalez

Sleep comes,

and brings forth its stains,

The inky darkness trembles my eyelids,

my body feels  light and weary,

Sleep comes and rides across my true nature,

Somewhere in my mind is that haunting  stream.

A fantasy,

An ecstasy of imagination!

Be my dreams wise, I will wake enlightened.

Be those dreams nightmares, I will be frightened.

Let not the darkness hide the light,

nor my dreams leave me in fight.

Let my visions come boldly and let the Void come slowly,

towards my soul's descending flight.

The Apostle of Dust

By S.Gonzalez

To exhort, teach, and make ready the way,

Use simple rhythm and prose as a play,

To those who seek wisdom in this flesh of dust,

To those who hear, whisper and trust,

Words of caution, just to the weak willed,

run away from here, stop reading, or be stilled,

Reality is just word play,  

and nor is it simple,

What is born mortal, 

encased and created,

From dust we came, 

our bodies mere Daysman,

The soul will return to the dust once again,

Nothing living cheats death,

All life here must end,

Hear now dear Soul,
 feel no sadness,

I'll show you the plan,

To reach towards the firmament,

Beyond all mortal merriment,

Reaching way deep inside,

Finding that unique knowledge,

 and to use it in stride,

You remain you,

And that is a truth,

Just a change in perception,

 a sort of different roof,

The sky is the limit and even there still,

You create the landscape,

 and exist in one still,

It is a world where light creates light,

Sound produces sound, 

and the impossible made possible,

The energy flows there without time,

energy, space and you entwined,

It is the paradox, the collection of dust.

From it we may have came,

some say there is no justice,

some give it no name,

it is our spirit's destination,

creation and mission,

to reach into that world of ideas,

make it real and shape direction,

Sad as it is to say,

words can not show you the way,

only contemplation and it's experimentation,

can make clear the lamentations,

it is the writer's bane, and the reader's irritation.

The Veil

by S. Gonzalez

 I am standing before the dark curtain,

A veil of such vast night that no light may escape it,

It has existed beyond my memory,

and my human lifespan will never understand it's magnitude,

It has always been there and shall continue forever,

The Veil is everlasting,

A pure, quiet, almost peaceful infinite night,

My existence is thrown before this monolith,

All that I see has no reach or depth,

I stand before the darkness,

Once the dawn is gone.

Ride the Colors

By S.Gonzalez

He found himself surrounded,

He felt the walls of his soft jail, 

Finding the walls to be flesh,

Inviting and strangely responsive,

A pit of warmth and vastness he could not reach,

Suddenly he felt the tremors,

 in which,

Ignited his very senses,

He was blind, of this he knew,

And yet with every sensation came the colors,

Some bright and vibrant shining pink,

Every touching across his naked self,

Brought the hues of steady pounding red waves above him,

towards his very form a low and humming green,

 each could be felt and seen,

This ocean of sensation gnawed at his core,

Inward suddenly,

an increase in pressure roaring,

The waves of ecstasy shaking in him,

Rocking him to and fro,

a white hot light suddenly washes over his tense frame,

Shocking ,delighting and plain,

With little hints of pain,

The greens come to a louder hum,

 and the pink steadily increases,

Both squeezing the wet sticky sweet light coursing through him now,

Then the pulsing red finishing the orchestra of pleasure,

A volcano of feeling quaked with in him,

He rides the colors,

impacting his rolling stride,

And on all of this ,

He laughs and rides,

The light he shoots forth into the darkness,

A stream of light as he's coming,

Coming to the end of a long and breathtaking high,

The colors of the passionate embrace burst around him,

Light on light encasing all,

As he starts to sleep,

A tired slumber,

in that pocket of velvet darkness,

Quiet again all around,

He waits and coos,

Until the lights call him,

To come again.

Flight

by S.Gonzalez

Oh that I could fly,

to reach into the very sky,

bringing down in my decent,

the sun's rays of light,

only further to enhance my flight,

towards you I would soar,

and my heart,

my eyes, my soul,

yearns for more,

Oh, that I could fly,

to only see your smile,

when I arrive.

The Crossroads
by S.Gonzalez


Standing at the crossroads,
between sentiment and remembrance,
paved road with stones of experience,
harsh and beautiful memories unload,
at the bittersweet crossroads,
last call yells the bartender,
demons inspiring temptation's flair,
solemn friends standing far from me,
can they not see the road so shining,
clear with a lack of sobriety,
decision and opinion hardly remaining,
this somber glow reeks of feeling,
exposed soul left drying, peeling,
nourished by the wetness of a worthy life,
with a touch of storming clouds of strife,
those rays of golden sun's opportunity,
graces to shine down on me,
 at this intertwining crossroads,
present condition escaping me,
at the crossroads of my humanity.