http://slow.writerscafe.org/MarkMendoza The original writings of author Mark Mendoza en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775974870 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Powerful SuchnessFingers, Type something beautiful,Not what words can't do, But what they can,Like taking the mind on a journey to the hip minds of fancy folk in ireland, To their cool assured tongues-Joyce's "The Dead",Words...carry me through rivulets of letter that talk about "The.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2807513/ Dream : leaving I am free, my last words. In an institution where mind manifested everything, sometimes it was your own thoughts, sometimes it was others thoughts...but your fate. But all the time responses to the fast thinking mind. Every detail. Everyone stumbling around confused. A lot of symboli.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2805609/ Advertisements enticing and revolting,Today I said I would do this,Who are you??Some points here points there growing,But what do we grow for when baby boys sleep next to big brothers, big mothers, big fathers, big sisters?Everything is happening on it's own time,"Oh but you must mat.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2782397/ From the title track of an album I made recently : https://markmoosemendoza.bandcamp.com/track/all-encompassing :) http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2357764/ Poem I wrote after reading the Gita. Here is the music: https://markmoosemendoza.bandcamp.com/album/faces-of-atman-single http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2357668/ Of Prose And Poetry...The hand holding The Langauge Pen,The word itself,Knows no difference;Either way,They sing of Complimenting Infinite Meaning. Of Van Morrison's Flamingoes Fly cut on The Philosopher's Stone...The piano is the wind,The guitar is the seagulls soaring above,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2171171/ Some of us will be stripped, beaten, thrown away, forgotten on the way to Peace. Haranging minds inundated with useless information will drive them to shallow graves of misery. They will be alone in their sorrow. They will lay, finally, to rest with the sound of laughter and play surrounding their p.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2167334/ I cut her scrawling short, and pleaded that she speak from her heart; writing always was the fence separating me from her. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2161599/ Although his mind cascaded with anxiety-ridden thoughts,He was moved for a moment to view the form of his body:Left arm stretched across his midsection, clutching. His right arm stretched across his opposite arm, onto his shoulder, caressing. His head was bent to the side, nuzzled in the same sh.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2160419/ Yab-Yum Yab-Yum,O the distance,I will go for some. Yab-Yum Yab-Yum,O how that game,Is never done.Yab-Yum Yab-Yum,My lady sweet,Dissolving fear.Yab-Yum Yab-Yum,The Heart's treat;To know you are here. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2159750/ Pen holders,Typists at the ready,Knuckle to facers,I am with you now,Then, And again. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2159749/ I could work out infinite ways as to why your poetry is an amazing thing:With no effort at all,Those words tell all,Those words are me. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2159747/ Somedays,I'm the most boring person I've ever known. But, that's no crime. So, I sit bored;With a heart still beating,Eyes still seeing,Mind still streaming,Ears still hearing,Feeling...bored. A peculiar feeling...Just as peculiar as a sudden motion of creativity. Bored is .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2159746/ A dream story. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2159110/ Promenade to The Square with guitar hanging from my shoulder. I sway to music along sidewalks, cemetary, streets, grasslands. No band,Just one man,Playing a energetic blues.Dollars come and go,But mindless me-The I with Nature, in Everything-Is wholly now. Return home,Eat delic.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2158969/ Over here in the u.s.a,Mind may only desperately say: "Make it, or lose it."That's American blues.Out in the East,"Living is no feat: eat, drink, sleep."So brain is pulled both ways. Some days I try,Other times I wish and push to die.And so I push and pull back like the oce.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2158967/ Back and fourth,They cast fading breaths of remaining sweetness; Love songs. All day,Immersed in Greatness,They simply can't withdraw from praise.Their soft voices speak Greatness into the world... Finally, The night claims the children of the day. Rest,Silence,Dreams light and.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2158337/ "People all look like each other...like me. Their faces...are just as mine."'Mother' showed me Love in her pain. 'God' showed me Love in release, devotion, surrender. Love made itself known with a reflection of me. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2158133/ For Kisses, hugs, kisses, hugs, warm Being, Lovely as Lovely can be. This maybe will be in a book of mine. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2157347/ For...Me...For...You...For Song...To make you smile,Is to give myself one for awhile.Selfish me,Loves selfish you. Some days...A blue me rejects kisses,Instead wishes,To be enveloped by bitterness-Another matter of Wholeness. Where are you Joy,Without Pain?Sweet things .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2157256/ A simple love song,Unveils the heart,A simple love song,Shows the truth,Unfolds untold.A simple love song,Turns tragedy into a laugh,That is all,We have,That is all,We have. So blind,We find,That grace,That saves.And time,Breaks down ,Into Eternity. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2153980/ Lyrics, from a tune I recently recorded, that I feel reflect my fond feelings of the universe's playful Nature. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2150503/ For The Eternal Birthing http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2150298/ Pastoral scene in my mind,What do you wish to tell me with that elusive view of your countryside? Is this remembrance of home of my soul?Do I belong to the affections of a southern novel yet to be told? Are Twain and Grisham to blame?Or the trees of Georgia, withholding forgotten dreams?.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2146346/ There is no art, Without heart,No heart,Without art.When spiraling into madness,Name-and-all, forms into some storm of a vast ocean of sadness, crackling with explosive light that glistens. Oh but when the heart listens, The whirlpool of emotions motion anew; languid like a feather.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2145053/ Art TatumHe played tunes,Not with lyrics to sing to you,Not to show preconceived moves,Not for the game of fame,He simply played the damn thing;To swing with the jazz of life,With uniquely spontanoues strides,Stretching far and wide,On 88 keys,He sung and danced,All of what b.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2135491/ OhioShot down dead,Words that pierce as the bullets themselves."What else must one do?" one thinks. In a single blink,Flowers rise,In another,Flowers lie.In this bowed gesture,Scents of feeling,Sweep over all.We shall all fall,To be held up by the ground,Staring at sky wh.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2127058/ Caught in between...O the joys of a tender love song,One that moves one merrily along.How quaint,The very tune,Could be of the pained heart,Just as soon.Ripped from worlds,Mind holds to a beautiful fantasm. Love exists always,Even if casting glory through an old lover-By .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2123741/ Art For The SongbirdMany thanks,To the musicians I hear all through the day,For they lead me to a serine place,Of effortless effort-Floating in your wave.Many thanks,To the writers who open those gates,Of personal vision,For they bring a wider sense of color,To my painted lin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2121228/ What a sight to see, Moonlight white with a face in the sky,A sparkling rigid road made just for me."Sit, why don't you, please."Wow, even at 2 in the morning,Life songs madly: "eeeee-eeeee-eeeee!"And cars make far fading faint roars.And wisps of wind whistle. And greenery stands t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2108247/ Flying instantly-hyper travel.Into the imaginative world of a troubled Poe. How the demon he faced in the poem "Alone" pains me.Hyper travel, once more to the filthy-yet entirely comfortable-dream of Ginsberg's Chinese decorated room.Hyper travel again, to an enraged-yet silent-Bukowski, cursi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2103221/ A Moment of Us, We, It, Now.How beautiful it is;The white of my eyes have begun to permeate with outstretching lines of pinks and reds.When the poet writes,What does the reader wish to read?A moment of truth?Beauty?Reality?Or perhaps likewise to reality,Honest fiction?Well,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2102316/ The hours of the day press on, As a panting camel,Who carries treasured jewels to awaiting kings, on a romantic moonlight night. The walls of my bedroom are beginning to drip a slow motion- a vacation overdue. Whether my eyes see or not,The walls will unburden to the floor below,Crea.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2101856/ How I love the simplicity of the primal being's stroll. What a shock it must of been to awaken. How he traveled gracefully, without a clue of what a job is, what poverty is, what was the name of the fruit eaten , the name of the being that walked along side him, what a car breaking down is, what p.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2100178/ I ask for the attention of divine aesthetic,Flow into each letter,Each word,On page. As paint would ooze from the greatest masterpiece,Dripping from the canvas onto hardwood floors,Creating a pool of new color that alarms the artist;For now he is lost in a new piece,A once impress.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2093685/ The clouds are still smoke,Against ocean sky,Tiny ships create a chasm above,A blue just as the tribulations of bills piano.Sorrowful, but sweetOne sky high,Another low. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2093678/ Cement sea,Teach me,As I listen to the soul mans truth,Throw me for a loop,Bringing me back to you...Sky today,Appearing as a painting of my youth,growing roots.As I walk down sidewalk,I hear a thought,Not all ideas are great,Yet some scream,"For God's sake, write me".... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2093646/ Breaking amplifier,Break my soul,Only to reharmonize an octave above.Screech your primordial existence;Uncover my hiding heart with your ancient voice.May the jungle drums beat like the hunters prey. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2090741/ Down the dark, mystical road,I see changes.A new world to behold; from spinning characters, twiriling on sacred holy records,To deep damp grasslands in carpet floor. I hear friends greeting me off in the distance.Their words simple,However forever beautiful:"The condition for this pa.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2090736/ The sky has been crying this past week;Some days with glee,And other days,With a pain pondering on a future appearing bleak.I pray for the clouds to part ways,Allowing light to disarray the disarrayed.Shine on a face made,Anew. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2086688/ A quiet place,To lay melody;Creating a soothful trace,Of ancient remedies.Here spirits shall dance,I, rejoicing,In a collective trance.In a once quiet place,We are all,Reborn in the trace. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2085736/ From:Common Oversights By The Common People http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2084681/ In my Colorful spree, Of streaming imagination,Sailing winds and seas,Staying clear of resignation,A storm beyond belief,Strikes me,Bringing hesitation.How must I greet thee?Another day spent,In the labyrinthA world, so old,Filled with a love bold,And humanities sold... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2084359/ Now a days,Glaring on pearly whites,When a time far away,They cared for comradery in the night.Shiny plastic smiles,Go away for awhile. Remember the sincerity,In yellow staind teeth. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2083662/ You Say Mystic:You say mystic,As if higher than thee,Where would the light be,Without your eyes to see?November Day Mask:Quiet, cold november day,What sort of face,Do you hide,Behind a mask,To be pulled away?What strangers, acquaintances,Will I find,Where will my .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2081041/ Pen And Page For Verse:Pen And Page For VerseI call to theeStrike Me,With coarse words,And revive imagination,Once more.Paint your songs galour,That of Vivaldi's Four Seasons,And nothing short.Bring me a crescendo of emotion,Only to fall with a spiral;Landing softly to .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2080417/ A Stamp, Of What Seems To Be Love:A Fiery being wraps its tentacles,Around his frail, tepid neck,Oxygen he once knew,Ceases .Perspective as he knew,Rearranged, to a painter's new set of tools."What is this eccentric warm embrace?"He pleaded.Love.Unidentified,Utterly con.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2080036/ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2079993/ Rapture is not followedAs water has no path The air in your fish bowlMay seem hollowHowever, there is a world Full Beyond the reflective glassPeer throughIf you mayIf notIts okYou'll dieSomeday http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2079269/ With eyes closed and clear sightI let wind softly caress and carry soul Spreading arms for flightSwinging and swaying lightDancing like embers of a firey coalOne without a tie, This kite flies high http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MarkMendoza/2071024/