A Hunger

"A Hunger"
By David V. Cortez

I've bandaged these fingers of which I type,
to close the rift of flesh.
Like crown of thorn these markings read
as serpentine healing cuts.
On glass from unsung painted dream
I've coated them, acrylic.
For as yet not I bring to life,
Idea mine, idealic.
For still I try,
for that I vie,
To finally make a mark,
on painted world, my painted plans,
by painting light and dark.

With me my brush o' stalwart mate
to craft my wicked world,
of hues I choose,
and stoic muse
my art won't satiate.

But new day brings much better thoughts
that cavort inside my mind.
And new ways sing of better tune,
than that of former chime.
In frame from captured moment wrought
by love in some degree,
Is art not love in simple form,
and in that truth, aren't we?

For art do I, and Love, I try
to understand that spark,
that glitters ever patiently,
in me and in the dark.

Allow these eyes, permit them free,
and in that journey speak,
of pigment soul,
in wading shoals
of expressing all of me.

If I leave world and never feel
the sand beneath my toes,
or the many lovely feelings
near my heart each beat echoes,
than surely I left without a life
of meaning in repose.
And none should be there at my wake,
instead, alas, alone.
For in me breath of fire leaps,
to create, of art unknown,
And lays with me serenity,
to name such works my own.
For when come I to build that name
of marvels which I've sewn,
then finally at rest I be,
my soul may travel home.

The World of Echoes

The World of Echoes
By David Cortez

To dust! To dust!
A fine mist, rust,
it paints like covered sheet,
and leaves a naked path behind,
if chance, a finger meet.

Oh dust! This dust,
I knew it once,
a recognized debris,
of standing walls and decor'd halls
hath change come errantly.

We dust, we dust,
of grand repose,
long past have taken sleep,
and long since stirred, perpetual,
this ember in us creep.

Shed dust, shed dust!
in crack and flume,
all shadowed digit curl,
as once again the ember glows,
move gears, in clockwork world.

We rise, we rise,
the ground a sea
of writhing metal forms,
as life anew, breathed life into,
dead metal eyes transform.

To war! To War!
We march in flame,
and all around, more dust,
behind us, Time be-wing-ed, fly's,
for forward on, we must.

And leave a carcass world behind,
and so convert to dust,
as haunted chanting stir of ghosts
sing on, "to dust, TO DUST!"

If Bands of Light Could Shadow

By David Cortez

The bands of a purloined sun,
bright hands breach canopy,
to bathe the rib cage tree trunk,
in light on the Tarwood tree.

Her legs, like winged butterflies,
grace wind like sweet Chablis,
and just as intoxicating,
is this Miss under Tarwood tree.

Here Faye-like, She, be swinging
in the early morning wee,
unlike nymphs and fairies might fear it,
she loves her Tarwood tree.

And if like with human passion,
in return, as lover would be,
in comfort, forever guarded
in the arms of her Tarwood tree.

And No One There Can Stop Me
By David Cortez

And so, I travel a windy road,
the moon at my back,
the sun, below,

With me, my soul and my hope and my dreams,
to hell with this fear,
With me, belief.

And though I may walk with impermanent cane,
My held held up high
and confidence feign.

And soon with this heart, like Icarus, bloom,
I'll walk to sunrise
and challenge the moon.

And when it is done, what stars will become,
when I take the heavens
with me as I run.

And no one there can stop me...

The Circus and the Elephant

The Circus and the Elephant
by David Cortez

Come all ye children,
ye men of young hearts,
ye starters of fire,
and creators of art,
Let's burn what we knew of,
remake ourselves new,
begin from beginnings
from the seeds that we grew.

We'll build this world circus,
fly flags from on high,
this big top our playground,
the ceiling our sky.
Some few of us dancers,
others juggle, some soar
above lions and tamers
and spotlight lit floor.

Some load into cannons
and aim for big nets,
while some bring in laughter
with balloon animal pets.
Me, I want the high wire,
and no other than,
but belief comes not easy
when you're the elephant man.

The Allure of Imperfection

The Allure of Imperfection
By David Cortez

Come one come all feel welcomed here,
to witness grace and love but via
the Chantilly pace and wrapped leg lace,
of our imperfect ballerina.

Set Me Free

I wish with words my heart,
but what can do,
when that burning thing,
has forever belonged to you?

The Boy Who Flew Despite

The Boy Who Flew Despite
By David Cortez

I attached myself,
to red balloons,
awaiting
freeing flight.
Since God nor man,
had thought to give
a man
a Robin's right.

Some had said,
"you fool, how trite,
you think
that you should fly?
Why, you have no wings
no flighty things
to send you up that high."

Another said
"you simple boy,
it's time
to be a man.
Make pastime
of this silly wish
forget
your silly plans."

But maybe it's
the stubborn part,
this boy who
wants
to soar.
I closed my ears
op-end my heart,
attached
three thousand more!!!

Head dress designs

These are some sketches of some elaborate headdresses I created for a fictional culture that one of my story protagonists would encounter in his travels. The idea is a mixture of fictional and non-fictional ideas regarding what head dresses represent. These would represent, power, royalty, sexuality and engender ideas of anonymity  of the wearer, similar to a masquerade. 

This Child of the Stars: Love: Astronomer

This Child of the Stars: Love: Astronomer
By David Cortez

When we look to the moon at night,
dear ever watchful eye,
encircles patient mother earth
by day it says goodbye.

On surface rocky carapace,
dear Luna's nightly smile,
this little orb that loved the earth,
for ever more beguiled.

And like this moon of constancy,
our eyes fixed on the sky,
each night the stars and waning moon
are loved by watchful eyes.

My Father, Myself

My Father, Myself
By David Cortez

Is a man that stalk,
with shoulders like pauldrons,
defending his heart
as his keep?

Is he that shell,
opalescent mask sturdy,
that protects his
heart like a pearl?

Is he one, and twenty
more strong men,
his mind his shield
and sword?

Does he follow
in footsteps of fathers,
some known and others
still ghosts?

Or does he forge,
his own way,
through brimstone
torment and hail?

Does he leave it all left,
his soul kept bereft,
of failure, instead,
he dreams?

No, man is not men,
he is heart and is pain,
because man,
refuses to die.

And one charcoal day
when life string is frayed,
he passes the torch
to his son.

By father inspired
breeds debt of desire,
a new heart kindle
for fire.

And what, will new boy
decide, when facing the tide
in the deeds his father
has made?
In the life his father
has made...
in the shadow his father
create...

The Butterfly Reflect

The Butterfly Reflect
By David Cortez

I see myself reflected in your colored wings,
the two of us cocooned
in spiraled quantum strings,
when comes the mornings auburn breath,
we leave and yet
we never left.

Bleed Me Now

Bleed Me Now
by David Cortez

Bleed me now,
and see my heart beats fast,
quickened by, the ghosts inside
my soul, that linger in the past.

If I permit these tired eyes,
to see past old debris,
I'd forge a man much better than
my thoughts could ever be.

I once saw, the future dark,
a cloud of hanging doubt,
because I faced the world alone
and didn't venture out.

And now the clouds are gold
dust bright, the sky a brighter hue,
and all has changed within, without,
because I changed the view.

I Loved Her in the Spring

"I Loved Her in the Spring"
By David Cortez

And off, we're caught in wild wind,
young winter breath depart,
to welcome new enchanted March,
white painted hills to part.

Cool listing air caresses hair,
entwined with changing breeze,
and now, begins the lovely dance

which bows the humble trees.

A lark, at perch on warming eaves,
sweet honeysuckle kiss,
we frame this hour to save the time,
when winter comes, be missed.

One to keep the fire going

Kindle, in voluminous rupture, betrays itself and transforms into a fury of violent sparks, turning the quiet dim of twilight momentarily into a luminous heart of flame. Had this not been a dream, with the same brilliance as that of a newborn ember, my heart and body would have been my own. But, I, being of deluded thought from the culpable ink of sleep, felt the turmoil within as I bit down gently onto the warmth of her lips and tasted a strangers lipstick. If in dreams, we are susceptible to the machinations of lustful passion that ignite our souls, are we not kindle?

I dreamt of adultery. 

For you, My grandfather

How brave men march,

One click and turn,

And each ones brings them closer.

This caustic spark,

O’ light in dark,

Your warmth is generations.

Each born man burns,

From end to end,

By day a little dimmer.

How brave men live,

And free from fate,

To sculpt their incarnations.

Old tepid soul,

In sheet cloth bare,

You fight still lonely creature.

What blind eyes see,

When silent sleep,

Reveals the stars and ages.

How brave, how brave,

Your branches spread,

In this you’re ever after.

Fight still firm,

Relentless man,

Your life adorns new pages.

The Absolutely Nearly True Account of My Week

The Absolutely Nearly True Account of My Week

By David Cortez

I haven't left in seven days,
these walls my eyes, this screen my face.
I haven't seen the real trees,
nor changed this shirt of wool or fleece.

I haven't left since Monday past,
when I locked my doors and held them fast.
I haven't smelled the crisp spring air,
since I sat my ass on this here chair.

maybe I should see the view,
if not by window, put on my shoes,
and take a stride and wave hello,
as strangers pass while off I go.

I'll check for rain or sleet or snow,
can't roam in humid afterglow,
not wet nor dry, the sun still shines,
oh but won't you check the time.

I'd love to go and see the world,
outside my door where paint has curled,
how 'bout next week if I can luck it,
I'll see, maybe, but really, fuck it.

We Progeny of the Stars

We Progeny of the Stars
By David Cortez

We'd travel long in darkness for a pilgrimage of the stars.
from polluting light of cities, streets, and night's of busy cars.
A glowing haze that fills the eve with waves of clouded sky,
This turbid din of nescient earth blocks the heavens from our eyes.

For beyond this matte of gloom lit dust, a world we'll never see,
if all our heads are cocked and turned away from humility.
Have not we eyes the same to see a heart shared on this plane,
we bards of wonder, love and awe, we travelers germane.

We end in night so wholly bright, by the strokes of stars and moon,
of canvas painted starry sky will, all our minds, consume.
And know in this with solvent bliss, we tremble in our repose,
that from those distant twinkle stars, we progeny have grown.

Man

Enter man,

last to stand in line,

first to be of mind,

trades for steel and flame,

exit man.

The Sun and the Sun

The Sun and the Sun

By David Cortez

The morning came too soon,

To wind chimes pleasant tune,

‘Comes with no surprises,

The sun sets before it rises.

The family’s gather at the river bank,

Popcorn, sandwiches and lemonade drank,

Children sing Ring around the Rosie,

And pockets full of posies.

The clouds change temperate hues,

To reflect the darks and the docile blues,

As the light crescendo ends,

It magically begins again.

Back the way it came,

All at once the same,

But more reversed,

As if rehearsed.

The people watch in wonder,

As the moon it travels under,

To dip below the silhouette,

Of horizon lines and tennis nets.

Men and women holding hands,

‘The sound of crowds and welcome bands,

Who performed and celebrated,

As others danced, inebriated.

The longest day of summer,

Everyone came to wonder,

And none afraid,

As children played.

It zigged then zagged,

Behind the flags,

The day the sun returned,

To 48 hour burn.

Alas when the hour late,

Came and light disintegrate,

After full of fancy fun,

One more year ‘til the 2 day sun.

Silver

Silver
By David Cortez

I would love to paint with color,
edges of hues of reds and blues,
thin blade of feathered hush,
on the soft swish of a painting brush.

I would love to paint the setting sun,
when moon is up and sun is down,
to see the blue of water's shimmer,
but i can only see in silver.

Goodnight to Man

Goodnight To Man
By David V. Cortez

And old the dust of fallen stars,
as looked upon by brother Mars,
with whitened fleck as snow on hair,
to bleak horizons new we stare.

No sovereign nation, lord nor king,
has lived beyond such reckoning.
no peopled fog remain in this,
as lain to rest in ardent bliss.

Thus spiraled arm hath flung its birth,
we young-ling offspring ignoble earth,
as oft as bird relinquish babe,
Our sun has set and warmth escape.

Indulgences

Indulgences
By David Cortez

In the coolest morning since twelve past two,
I’ve thought of things, of me and you.
And in those thoughts of you and I,
I came to know the reasons why.
I can.
I will.
I am.
You too.
All these things are answers to.
Yet none the wiser I become,
As where I put the little one.
The one with locks of black and red,
The one I dream of in my bed.
The one that will not leave my head,
The one whose eyes I meet instead.
For long I hid that one inside,
To realize it’s me that hides.
What can one do, when answers clear,
Have hid like sheep and disappear.
Can they be herded from such fires,
That boil blood and fuel desire?
To that another answer needed,
While thoughts of her again receded,
Back and fro like morning mist,
On the coolest hour since ten past six.

The Princess and the Sea

The Princess and the Sea
By David Cortez

Our tale begins along those lines of mystics, kings and lore,
a love unaided, reverberated, of a princess on the shore.

A dance in twilight by the sea while stars so brightly glistening.
Perhaps a moment on the sand of love’s embrace and exploring hands.

What thoughts described and words imbibed to fill one’s mind with wonder,
deep and overwhelming flashes come before the thunder.

A fight of brave and honored knights, a sailors’ reluctant swagger,
a clash and clang of shielded bang by sword and mace and dagger.

A sailor called to fight a war, across the stretching blue,
he boards a ship on deadly trip out beyond the hue.

He left a gem in love with him when he was called to fight,
her countenance and elegance was lost to him that night.

Months have brought the sailor not, but still she waits so true,
even during day and night she always keeps the view.

She waits so gently, permanently, for a sailor to come home.
Years have passed while sails fast, have come and left on foam.

And still she hopes, her hands still grope the faded dress she wore,
that day when sailor left her there, to wait upon the shore.

Men came calling, she kept stalling, a glance far out to sea,
never slowing always going the ships and reveries.

A stunning vision every day, her figure on the grains,
her sight angelic, perfect relic, and her loveliness remained.

The dress is older the air is colder; it wisps her hair around,
tattered edges, rocky ledges, and her upon the ground.

Through storm so howling, ocean growling the spot she never leaves,
news of death, of the sailor left, passionately she grieves.

A pain so deep, she faintly weeps, a sorrow on the water,
so fragile, broken, alone she is, this once royal daughter.

She loves so sore, but evermore, she waits along the bay,
her love at sea, though patiently, her heart begins to fray.

She dreamt of he so eagerly, a swim across the world,
to return to her as promised, this princess made of pearl.

She thinks she hears his voice so faint, calling from the deep,
but with love and pain, those weighted reigns, she sat still on the steep.

She cried as long as time itself, her heart so full of sorrow,
her eyes so grieving but never leaving horizons’ coming morrow.

Lost at sea, so actually, the sailor never came,
to save the girl who loved so dear, no other man could tame.

The sobs grew silent, her weeping quiet, her eyes begin to glaze,
she drifts off slowly through the holy of dieing’s graying haze.

And at the moment that her life ended on that lonely shore,
a figure stands there, her sailors’ hands’ there, he kisses her once more.

Ages pass and there it sits her impression on the sand,
of woman left still waiting, while sailor left the land

A Place For Us, We Kings

A Place For Us, We Kings
By David Cortez

There is a place, on a moon far away,
where the water glows and glistens.
from under the surface, of unmoving water,
the fronds extend and sway.

A sliver of moonlight, of purple and blue,
carves through the forests and trees,
And in this cool midnight, the gold ribbon tresses,
all follow the wind over seas.

The birds are all fragments, angled flashes and sheens,
the rocks are crystalline tears.
and we stand together, in the velvety flutter,
in the valley of butterfly wings.

and as they all beckon, with cheer they all sing,
we sprout little wings of our own.
what a magical place, as we all fly away,
it is here that we know we’re all kings.

One Million Day Funeral

One Million Day Funeral
By David Cortez

And when the saints saw what they had done,
They shone their blades up to the sun,
With down cast eyes and sorrow creep,
They drove the ends in hearts so deep.

They gazed upon the world ablaze,
And felt the pain of world razed.
As we looked up with hands held high,
We prayed for God yet cursed the sky.

They reached their hands through stratosphere,
As we reached up with fingers near.
They all looked on as we drew close,
As we like them both felt remorse.

They felt hope that they could save,
The ones left over after shadow paved.
All around thickened fires burn,
The world in ashes after embers turn.

And yet through chaos hope holds fast,
Among remains of humans passed.
The saints above look down on hell,
That claimed the Earth as buildings fell.

Machines that tower over clouds,
Have breached the darkest poisoned shrouds.
Those survived escape mottled ground,
To leave the Earth where death is found.

The clouds erupt in light and flame,
As engines blast machine overcame.
And I look on, up to the high,
Where human ships traverse the sky.

I watch them all as they grow dim,
Each light left Earth in heaven’s rim.
I hope they find what peace they seek,
In furthest reaches of space’s bleak.

For us on Earth, who stayed behind,
To rebuild home and resurrect our kind,
At times we look on distant stars,
And wonder if just one was ours

A Tale of Perpetual Moon

A Tale of Perpetual Moon
By David Cortez

I came upon a moonlit clear,
that vanished with yards and lengths.
Not once thought I, nor did but try,
to affix the moon to banks.

And so to water’s edge I roamed,
assumptions of the drink,
that far below serenity,
moons anchors all but sink.

For n'er did the sun return,
to tell of where 'twas been,
and none had sought for searching’s sake,
to bring the daylights kin.

For cold and chill the night until,
I traded with the dusk,
and bought my way to heavens brink,
and daffodils sweet musk.

An o'er again I laughed but then,
no other were of ears,
for when I left at last I fear,
my lover cascaded tears.

how could it be, "oh woe is me!"
I shouted at the stars.
For never before until this day had bore,
my soul traveled so far.

Ah but beauty’s gift along the rift,
of time and space and tear,
alas I'm joined by sweeter things,
my love, my grace, my dear.

And set the moon to bring the light,
of sun o'er Triton’s sea.
For forty days of sunless sky
the Earth preferred the night.