A video of my poem, Beyond the Pillar of Hercules. Written, edited and performed by Marc Alexander Valle. All photos from pixabay.com
Tag: Poetry
3 Poems by Marc Alexander Valle ©2017
Branches, buddings, purple wrens,
landing, chirping, bouncing,
over battlefield trenches
Desert, moon, white, dunes,
sand, blowing,
unearthing limestone ruins
Thick mist clears,
hot air balloon armada
blots the atmosphere
The Dunbar Number ©2016 by Marc Alexander Valle
First published in The Lehigh Valley Vanguard ©2016
If you keep your mind open and listen to someone’s view, you can believe anything.
People on the ‘left’ always seem right, logical, thorough. People on the ‘right’ always seem right, thorough, logical.
Clinging to their views like a cat to its master’s when it’s about to go into a tub.
You second guess yourself.
You figure it out again,
you come up with new points, arguments, philosophies,
you tell yourself that your view is free from the influence of experience,
you tell yourself that you’re not free from the influence of experience, but still must be right.
Like you happened to have fallen out of a womb that landed you into the right time, place, race and class in history.
But have you ever met someone that admits to having the wrong point of view? I have. The person’s name is ___________. The person has asked to remain unidentified but has this to say: The momentum of cause and effect acts on us all, acts within us, acts without us. Don’t listen to me. Don’t give up. Don’t ever give up.
3 Poems and a Photo©2016 by Marc Alexander Valle
These are three poems of mine from an untitled series. They have been published in Beechwood Review (http://beechwoodreview.com), a minimalist online journal. The attached photo is also mine.
Branches, buddings, purple wrens,
landing, chirping, bouncing,
over battlefield trenches
Desert, moon, white, dunes,
sand, blowing,
unearthing limestone ruins
Thick mist clears,
hot air balloon armada
blots the atmosphere
All poems and photography by Marc Alexander Valle ©2016.
Phenomenon ©2016 by Marc Alexander Valle
*A poem that I wrote 10 years ago. Also the image is mine, taken this year.
Cowards are those with nothing beautiful to share
except the scent in the air
that represents something
running our life in the ocean
despite this great notion
that we are all one
sitting inside a small sun
that’s void of emotion,
exploding
inside of our hearts,
thinking how life really starts
without a beginning
and without our proud sinning
which makes us real hard
apart
from the fact that we gasp
as we run real, real fast
on our toes
and come to respect all our lows
in the past
fast
and curt when we learn
from this yearning inside of our mind
that we tend to remind
ourself in concern
firmly, but curtly like a flower
since we’ve only the power to blurt
all that works
like when we say in these hours,
“Cowards are those with nothing beautiful to share.”
The Bargain by Marc Alexander Valle ©2015
A piece from 10 years ago. I don’t see myself publishing it as I don’t feel that my work from back then is strong enough.
The Bargain
If what you see is what you get
and what you feel is what you fret
then what you’re dealing with is death.
Right?
But first,
I will say it twice
that karma is the weight of the universe
wearing a mask called ‘your life’
that knows there is no worse
than living on the blade of this knife
that is a gift or a curse
hanging on the roll the dice.
Second, back to the top:
The human heart’s yearning can not be stopped.
Why?
Cause we are who we are cause we are who we are.
What more do you need to see the stars?
The ones beyond the wrath of Mars.
Is it possessions you need
or to see someone bleed?
Is it to want what you watch
or is it a life without a blemish. . .a blotch?
Is it a dignified name?
Maybe to drive your foes insane?
Is it to justify your grudge?
To justify the verdict of who ever you judge?
And is that all we’ve got?
A complex knot,
non-stop
saying how life is good with a lot?
Maybe.
But let’s suppose, just supposing,
that we were meant to go neither fast nor slow,
wisdom is loving what we’ve yet to know.
Let’s suppose we are toy soldiers
to gods, who push feathers and boulders.
And gods are merely metaphors
for a meaningful life when the weather pours
the world’s illusions after begging for more.
That would mean, greed is betrayal.
It’s what you decide to become when you fail.
to set sail
on the sea of your dreams. . .so you bail.
But this is what you call a hypothesis
and I am just an obnoxious twit,
who still believes that a Superhero-type God exists.
So I am not looking for converts.
Believe what you must and what you feel works.
But if you take any heed to this unproven theory
Then there is one more thing that I want to state clearly:
Choice is an extension of individuality
that, of course, comes with its own duality
where the world says, “I am your life’s totality,”
and the true self whispers gallantly,
“Know your heart and you shall know reality.”
by Marc Alexander Valle
Mixed Media Artwork by Marc Alexander Valle
Ghost by Marc Alexander Valle ©2004
This is a poem I wrote in 2004. It’s my own lyrics to John Lennon’s Imagine. This isn’t my best work, but I’m not inclined to post my best as I might want to have those more recent pieces published one day.
Ghost
Knowing that you’re never here
makes life hard to bear.
You are the one that sees things clear
even though you’re not there.
You are the one I dream of.
I find you anywhere.
Knowing that I’m torn apart,
I’ve had to make my due.
You sit inside my broken heart
and that will have to do.
You are the one I think of.
If only I could find out who.
In my eyes you’re a hero.
You know everything I should.
You make all the tears go
and you see I’m understood.
But this dream is so heavy.
If I could give it up,
my life would be so ready
to be lived and won.
You are the one I know of
that sits above the sun.
Why must I let these years go?
You are only my pain withstood.
Cause I’ve never let my fears grow
and I’ve done the best I could.
by Marc Alexander Valle
Deep Thought by Marc Alexander Valle
Deep Thought
by Marc Alexander Valle
She told my co-worker
that I was just in deep thought
after he asked why I don’t talk.
Deep thought.
So often labeled ‘quiet’
Deep thought.
that I started to get used to it.
She said that co-workers referred to her as a ‘dolt’
when it came to judging character.
But maybe she just needed a euphemism.
Like ‘deep thought’ for ‘odd’,
or ‘good-natured’ for ‘dolt’.
But I never said anything.
I was in too deep of thought
to realize that I should.
Mavthewriter 