Reason as the Leading Motive

Archive for the ‘My Poems’ Category

Dervishes In Words


Posted by Jerry on July 5, 2007

I stand alone in an empty room
Where on rusted nails on barren walls,
Memories once hung by a noose

Outside these hardened walls,
A thick smog belches violently 

It seeps through the thin sliver of light 
Beneath the locked and latched door
Breaching the threshold of my sanctuary

I stand watching its predatory movements
As it licks the walls with salivating greed

I become alert to what I feel
And it is neither fear nor dread
Just a resigned indifference to what awaits me

I gasp sharply at the stinging touch of its hands
On my skin, crawling inside my lungs

My mind is soundlessly screaming, like a drowning child
But my body is rigid and poised,
like a hermit in a trance

This cannot be my last breath yet, I say
Not here–not like this.


Read the rest of this entry »

Posted in General Work/Life, My Poems, Personal, The Best of Leitmotif, Uncategorized | 3 Comments »


Posted by Jerry on June 1, 2007

Now, are etched with forsaken dreams
Dewy, diaphanous images of
Unrealized worlds
Like thoughts trickling down
On wrinkles of skin
Abandoning the cavernous recesses of the mind

Like a map of little lanes and side streets
Sorrow asphalted with concrete indifference
Black and opaque
Save for a golden river that cuts across my neck—
A slender glint of gold; a talisman of your love

Beneath the hardened, asphalted skin,
A torrent of memories gush, flow, and whirl
In rapid response to repeated summons
Tired and weary of incessant replay
Only to carve yet another crevice
Of a dewy, diaphanous, forsaken dream
Trickling down the surface of my skin

Posted in General Work/Life, My Poems, Uncategorized | 6 Comments »

An Epitaph for Memories of You

Posted by Jerry on May 18, 2006

I am scared to think of you.
You have become… a memory

Like so many other things bygone –
A mere thought.

And that thought scares me.

I am alarmed at the fact that you are
Only an ephemeral firing of some neuron
That bears your name in my mind.

Your images
Flicker rapidly,
Moving too quickly for me to grasp
Memories of you jostle against each other
Blurring the chronology of events
Smudging the precision of your face

I am petrified by the sight of your
Ghostly image projected on the walls of my consciousness

I cannot have you haunting my soul
I cannot have you addicting my mind

And yet, you are there… somewhere…
Inside the dark murkiness of my head
I wish I could gather your body into the fold of my arms
I wish I could admire the mirthful gaze of your eyes
I don’t want you in my thoughts
I want you in the body

I do not wish to forget you
But I do not wish to make you a memory to think of

How grotesque it is
For a being full of life and vigor and animation
For a being that exemplifies “laughter let loose in the Universe”*
To be twisted, chained and locked in the chambers of my brain,
To be tangled among a sad mess of dendrites.

Will my body ever shudder under your touch again?
Or will memories like translucent dew
Be all that I will have left
Of you?


*Ayn Rand used those words to describe the paintings of her husband.

Posted in My Poems | 12 Comments »


Posted by Jerry on March 31, 2006

The jolly-light jingles of TV commercials seem awfully contrived at this time. It’s trying woefully hard to generate cheer, but I only feel a very detached indifference to it; maybe not wholly detached, because I do ponder its efforts with a resigned, hopeless amusement. I look at what it’s trying to entice me with, and I search myself for what to offer in return; nothing comes.

The wind is bellowing its angst outside. Why is it so twisted in its torrent? What does it ask of me? Why is it so violent? I hear your pain, the anger in your gust. Stay calm.

It’s a staccato moment that has now so tragically manifest. I’m suspended above the blankness of the moment – between the richly textured past, and the fuzzy blur of the future.

It’s unbearably quiet inside my head. The sounds of this world does not seem to reach past the walls of my mind. Words like feelings, emotions like sounds, violent like restraint, they are all so loud, all urging to get out – but my mind is occupied in some quiet meditation:

I think of grass, and blades of grass, and beads of dew clinging on blades of grass, and that’s the form that my memories take – faceted, ephemeral, diaphanous.

I am only waiting now, for the imminence of the hours; for it do with me what it must. It’s a quiet Gethsemane in which I am patiently waiting; I’m utterly petrified. But I’m ready.

Posted in Culture, General Work/Life, Left Behind Series, My Poems, Personal, The Best of Leitmotif, Uncategorized | 2 Comments »

Love, Me

Posted by Jerry on March 22, 2006

I can’t command your tears to stop flowing
I cannot demand that your soul stop weeping

I can only pretend to not see it
Or see past through them
And offer only
A stony silence in response

So that through your blurry vision
You only get to see the stoicism
I borrowed from the girders
Of this city I so love

Donning their cold facades
Their reticent heights of pride
Vicarious expressions are
All I permit myself before you

They stand proud for me
And I do the same for you
It’s the way they show the best that can be
And I offer all their best to you.


Posted in General Work/Life, Left Behind Series, My Poems, Uncategorized | 2 Comments »

Dervishes in Words: Nature’s Song

Posted by Jerry on February 20, 2006

Dervishes in Words: Nature’s Song

I wrote this poem after watching “Brokeback Mountain“, a movie which I liked very much.

It’s a beautiful, sincere movie that depicts the tragic imminence of death and despair facing the two gay characters, set against a backdrop of luscious life, nature, action, and dynamic energy. I thought that the contrasts of the character’s lives losing their souls into the currents of the river (“river” for me symbolized the culture of their times, akin to “mainstream”, and having to “go with the flow”, having to drown in the strength of the dominant current in the river) evoked the images in my poem of the “sad river“, “torrent of tears“, “soul sinking“, and finally the last line of peaceful redemption symbolized in the line “the river stops a moment to sigh with me” — conveying the death and the stillness of what was earlier dynamic, the opposite of movement in culture and society, etc.

Posted in Homosexuality, Movies, My Poems | 1 Comment »

Nature’s Song

Posted by Jerry on January 18, 2006

On ebbing crescents
of silver waves, I see
memories gathering

It's mournful sighs
whispered to pearly pebbles
like faded stars twinkling

Every blue memory reflected
every stony silence rejected
it's gushing sounds
echoing through Van Gogh's clouds
in muffled hearts
weep a lover's Psalm

Mine eyes add another drop
to the torrent of his saline tears
my hands reach out to grasp
his soul
in dark nights of fear

Under the grey moonlit mantle
A sad river reveals my passion
water-colored paintings
of pearly smooth pebbles
with every smile for your thoughts in me
The river stops a moment
to sigh with me

Posted in My Poems | 6 Comments »

Living Like Gods

Posted by Jerry on January 9, 2006

Morning searing
Of tea-table talk
Eyes jabbing
My delicate heart
My soul itches
In rapid flashes of motion
A silent sip
Of brewing emotion

His naked thighs move
Mountains of air
The bath water yearning
In steamy despair
Seconds pass in moments
Of time
My quivering lips lusting

Tasting the pungent
Warm vial of life
Drinking like wine
The dark opium of night

My twisted tongue
His succulent spine
My burning palms
Our legs entwined

This morning waits
Its jealous turn
To see, to sin,
To lust, to yearn
His flesh-laden secret
Between those thighs
Drenched in decadent bath’s
Violent cries

The love is too large
For the walls of this home
He must ascend to the heavens
And demand God’s throne

Posted in Favorite Quotes, My Poems | 8 Comments »


Posted by Jerry on December 30, 2005

You broke the morning sun
On a flat non-stick pan,
The searing sound hissed in my sleep
Your milk and eggs,
Or, your health and strength
Such discipline you demanded
Even the yolk knew better than to seep

In my dreams I wondered
How your hair would look today
Not that I cared too much,
Or that I could care at all,
While you stepped out the door
Into the bathroom, I walked
Squinting at that sleepy-cute face
Admiring me watching myself

The cold breeze kissed you Good Morning
The cold water slapped me wide awake
You walked a short distance,
Carrying the earth behind you
I dragged my towel across the floor

I did not wonder, only for a moment
Where would you be
Would you be waiting for me
You couldn't wait
Nor could I wonder
So, I thought,
how is the weather?- 36 degrees!
Did you have your jacket on?

Surely enough, as I stepped onto the train
And caught your glance glancing at me
I knew why the morning seemed much brighter
Your hair told me of the dream I had
Your warm jacket invited me to your corner
So I sat with you,
Tightly huddled next to you

Our separate mornings had just ended
Our silent poetry had only just begun

Posted in My Poems | 5 Comments »

Come Up Here With Me

Posted by Jerry on December 8, 2005

I cannot see beyond the flakes of white snow
Singing their soft blues outside my office window
My yearning eyes shielded by the porous art
Searching… gleaning… a lonely lover’s heart.

Down below, you sell your sorry plight
You lose your joy, your passion and delight
Melancholy sojourner, your head dips lower than the setting sun
Your feet are heavy and yet you try to run

If you could only make an upward glance
And lose yourself in the movements of the trance
If you could stop your steps and spread your arms
Then raise your head and sing a heartfelt Psalm

From up here on the thirteenth floor
The ominous number of many a lore
I would swallow the songs of your rising voice
And add to the chorus of snow’s mirthful noise

Together and apart, separated and joined
Our souls would balance on a delicate point
Between you below, and me above
Embraced by the valiant sunset of love

We can dance to the tune of our own rhythm
Smother their shrieks of any Christmas hymn
You can let yourself soar high and take flight
Come up here and let’s waltz under the city lights.

Posted in My Poems | 11 Comments »

A Lover’s Death

Posted by Jerry on September 12, 2005

Along with every passing minute
As you lay still on stranger’s bed
I stood watching,
With scales for eyes,
No room for emotion,
Only attempts at inadequate expressions.

The emaciated hands of that clock on the wall
Peeled away an hour, and then another
I felt every deliberate pull of time
Tearing tiny fibers of my heart.

Maybe you noticed,
Or maybe you heard the soft sound of muffled pain
Because you mumbled something.

I jumped at the feeble sound of your voice,
Anchoring the possibility of my life
On the very strength of those words –
Every breath you took
Pumped air into my lungs

I focused on the rhythm of your heaving chest
And learned the art of survival.

I never loved you more as
I had loved you then.

In some time,
You woke up and looked at me.
It was a curious gaze –
Like one would look at a fish in a bowl:
Not important enough to contemplate
But fascinating enough to stare

Perhaps it was the scales in my eyes
Or perhaps that is how I always seemed to you:
An object of simple fascination

I should have known this day would come.
But how could I have seen through my scaly eyes,
They reflected nothing else but you.

How could I have heard the sounds of the siren,
When I was drowning in the depths of viscous emotions?

While time had further bruised my tattered heart,
You struck the final blow –
And no, not a loud and violent blow; No.
Just a sharp, precise, and gentle sting.
Like a needle in the hands of a surgeon,
You pierced my heart–
In a swift surgical act
I had not even felt the blood oozing.
In fact, not blood, it was
Love oozing.
Pushing out through that tiny hole you made,
Slowly but surely it kept flowing.

Then the slow poison of indifference
Crept into my head
It was only then that I noticed what had happened
I had felt no pain – just the void where love should have been
I felt indifference where burning passion should have been

The blow was struck
And I had not even known.
You had drained all the love in me
And I had not even known
You killed me so gently,
You did it so lovingly.

Posted in My Poems | 3 Comments »

Untitled — Your Eyes

Posted by Jerry on August 8, 2005

You try to hide your love
under those long lashes
That shyness flirting
at the edges of your eyes
That innocent glance
Giving voice to all unspoken words
Broadly smiling at me in gay abandon
It beckons me
into the satin-cool fabric
of your woven dreams
It sweeps me
into a fragrant world
of beauty and peace
It kisses life
between our moments of breathlessness
It tires me
with an unending ecstasy of timelessness

Any longer… and I shall die
Any shorter, I’d rather not live.

Posted in My Poems | 7 Comments »

Seek and You Shall Find

Posted by Jerry on August 8, 2005

I looked at the mountains to feel His power,

And I found my own strength.

I looked up to the heavens to see His face,

And I discovered my sight.

I went on a search for God,

And I found my Self.

Posted in Favorite Quotes, My Poems, Personal | 23 Comments »

Silhouette Romance

Posted by Jerry on July 5, 2005

This morning,
I didn’t know if you were preparing for battle,
Or just accepting your victory.
You woke up early and quietly walked to the threshold,
Dragging my sleepy gaze behind you.
I saw you looking out at the sun
With such careless disdain,
Like it was some silly joke.
Its blazing flames
licked the edges of your skin,
Taunting you, and burning you.
But you were so much brighter;
And yet I could not see your face,
Nor the details of your naked body.
I only saw the shape of your angular form
Standing defiantly at the edge of sunlight
Sheilding my eyes from its stinging rays.
I held my gaze
In vacant stupor
And witnessed the delicate orchestration
Of light and shadows
Conspiring to create this burning effect;
A seductive silhouette.

Posted in My Poems | 4 Comments »

Stolen Music

Posted by Jerry on June 30, 2005

One day he offered to crystallize his love disguised as pain onto a flat disc.
With such timid eyes and anime smile he spoke of the
mountains and valleys, and streams and rivers, and cascades and lakes,
jolted alive by the beats of his viscera —
rhythmic, pulsating, modulated vocal stresses that named the emotions gone unspoken.
He gave it to me.
I held it for a few moments, contemplating all that this flat, round piece of plastic contained.
I was distantly shocked at the brutality of such a manifestation: of seeing all that is so pure, and so benevolent, and so profound, being bound and burned on this disc.
Nonetheless, the moment I pressed a little button,
it all gushed out with the force of a storm and assuredly subsumed my being.
I sat looking at nothing, but looking still, staring… like as if I saw those mountains and those valleys and those streams and those rivers, and those cascades and those lakes…
I saw them all before me.
And he stood above them all, like the glory of a messianic second-coming,
he stood — his hair still a moppy mess, his anime smile and timid eyes.
I wondered, is this possible? I know its not a dream because I’m not asleep! I know its not real because I’m here in my home.
But what is this state of membraneous time warp I find myself happily trapped in?
The vision lasted for as long as I could hear the sound of his love.
What does love sound like?
Like this, I thought:
Like the sound of his heartbeat in your ear even when he’s not around.
Like the whisper of his breath that you can hear even in the midst of a storm.
That is what love sounds like.
Soon, the vision was blurred
until it fully disappeared
and I was transported back to my drab living room couch.
I turned to see
who was sitting next to me,
and I saw a different person.
He sat perplexed and enraptured,
like as if he had witnessed the exact same things I did —
or did he just see them reflected in my eyes?
In any case, he must have felt some enchantment from that experience within himself, for he slyly paced around contemplating what his next move should be.
He waited stealthily and patiently in the glare of bright daylight,
for he knew he shouldn’t be so obvious of his intentions by lurking in the dark shadows.
And when the time seemed right to him,
he grabbed the rivers of melody with his bare hands,
shrouded the radiance of its tormented love,
and left without a word;

Stolen forever…
mountains and all.

Posted in My Poems, The Best of Leitmotif | 6 Comments »

The Dream — by Daniel Olvera

Posted by Jerry on June 30, 2005

I had a dream
Of a dark and cold place
Where every word that was spoken
Would freeze in mid air
And fall into a million pieces
A place where the floor
Was a mass of tattered hearts
Each beating its own story of pain
A place where children’s eyes
Have been sewn shut
Only to be ripped open
By the “truth” of the world
This place so horrid, so cruel
This place so seemingly far away
Is where I live when I awake
If I awake…

Posted in My Poems | 2 Comments »

Deafening Silence is Death

Posted by Jerry on June 29, 2005

Empty vessel
Sound of a hornet
Weeping tears of silence
Fiery flames of a flamenco


Like seconds, water drips
Moments pass
Into bleak oblivion
Clinging, crying, hoping for survival
I remember, beyond the miles
Distant screams of stinging pain
Approaching quiet thunder

Shudder… Shudder…

Life slips, it slithers away
Like a wretched snake
Hissing… whispering…

“Death. O Death. How imminent, O Death!”

Posted in My Poems | 2 Comments »

Feasting on seconds

Posted by Jerry on September 2, 2004

Moonlight dripping quiet fog
hovering shadows never letting loose

In the vastness, I walk…
in s l o w thinking movements
crushing the tired grass
ripping their hearts

I ponder the ominous air
And swallow the timorous sky

gulp in…
breathe out

The wind is mocking me
its taunting laughter
its foreboding cries
close to my ear

I open my lungs
blanket the wind
and smother its density

They watch me bare my chest
My bleeding heart…
I know they see
with salivating eyes

In hungry patience they await
the silence of my being
to smell my decaying body
to gouge my succulent eyes
and drink from the vial of my glands

I look right back at them
with eyes as terse as steel
but my thumping heart
rises in decibels deafening my ears

And they see my shivering limbs
Their tongues
lick off the streams of my seeping blood
Their low rumbles reek of impatient greed

Only seconds more… I think

The moon watched in embarrassed silence
And hid her sadness behind her curves

Let me not know the manner of my death
I pray

Only seconds more…

Posted in My Poems | 3 Comments »

God was having lunch at the Picasso

Posted by Jerry on August 23, 2004

When beams of rapid brilliance
sliced through the belly of heaven
It stood still in shocked reverence
And the clouds
grew giddy…
Languorously crawling
Their lowly bodies, their meek spirits
Hugging the cold skin of sandblasted glass
Writhing around swollen girders of vertical dominance
Their long necks breathing in the misty fog of pride
And yet their knees bent
Touching the earth
They worshiped the hallowed ground
Where the waters pucker their lips
In anticipated frenzy to
kiss the waltzing breeze
And humbly bowing – they knelt
In revered homage to royal countenance

– God was having lunch at the Picasso –

Posted in My Poems | 1 Comment »


Posted by Jerry on August 3, 2004

Come like the wind
Floating o'er the fields
Like a lark
Entice me,
Intoxicated by your opiate voice
Take me with you
Where I might feel warm light
Burning bright
Soft and gentle,
Like touching the surface of water
In the stillness of hypnosis
Let me know the resolute strides of
Unwasted movement, swift and strong,
Like a leopard chasing his prey,
Let me be
The indifferent sleep of a jaded cat.
Take me… just take me
And the Rest will come.

Posted in My Poems | 1 Comment »

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