Rants. raves and ramblings from celestial circles . . .

Archive for the ‘POETRY’ Category





A pagan killed a Jew

A pagan killed a Christian

A Jew killed a Christian

A Christian killed a Jew

A Muslim killed a Christian

A Jew killed a Muslim

A Muslim killed a Jew

A Christian killed a Muslim.


They all bowed to pray

to the same ignorant God

with deaf ears

and a passion for killing.


Dear God forgive them.




circa October 2001






There’s always music playing in the air everywhere

Everything you hear

Listen closely 

Music in the air 

Sometimes it’s the snare and drone of the machine

Sometimes it’s the song of the wind

Or of the air

Or of a machine somewhere

Music always in the air

You have to stop and hear

Music in the air

Music everywhere

No matter where you are

You can hear it

Because music is in the air





God said love

then he said

do it again.

Man said when?

God said,


I did it again.

Man said where?

God said where not.

Man said why?

God said look at the sky

look at the Earth. 

all you see around is birth. 

Look in between,

God said,

all you are is why.

Man said when?

God said,

again and again.

Man said where?

God said in the desert there,

and there. 

Man said who?

God said,

everything inside you. 

Man said how?

God said,

everything around you.

God said,

everyone around you. 

God said love.

You have my Word.




I love the deserts and oceans.

It’s pretty deep this poem.

It’s not how long you live, it’s the quality of life that counts.

The world is a drug.

If you live a good life

you should never be afraid of dying.


Now . . . I can’t remember what I said.

Is that New Wave poetry?

The deserts are deep.

How much is hidden below the sands?

How many worlds past?

How many places and people we could never even imagine?

We know the world of the water.

The ocean is fish eat fish.

Do we really want to be able to swim underwater?

Ask an octopus.

Beautiful blue and green

and then black

and then iridescent.

And it’s still fish eat fish.

Beautiful world of water.


The desert is death.

Nothing lives.

Except camels

drinking at the oasis.

A lonely sand worm.

Nothing else lives in the desert.

For miles and miles

dunes and flats.

The beauty of the colored dunes

in the sunset toward night.

The desert is a beautiful place.

Except at night.

Life lights up.

The lonely scorpions and snakes

own the desert at night.

Nothing lives

where there is no water.

Except the camel I embrace and clutch

every step of the way

through the sand and the wind

to savor the drop

of moisture on the rock.

The desert is a lonely place.


An expanse

as humble as the sea

on a remote island

or in a boat on open water.

A deadly place.

The oasis of cool trees and fresh cool water

along the long stretch of desert.


The camel is my boat.



Know thyself.

Life is a moving dance 

connected by a thread 

to every musical note 

ever created. 

On every island 

are hidden treasures. 

And for every 

hidden treasure found

musical notes 

will inspire you to dance. 

So dance often.







In a small cafe in Rome

sit I in my latte espresso,


The streets are hills

where all roads lead.

A gas pump


pumps the smell of petrol


young girls in their skin tights

old men dream, cry

reshape a future

no longer theirs.

In business they give nothing away

the begging is stealing

and the prize vanishes

once your hungry fingers


a sparkling light invisible.


Where do the signals

of the hustling bustling strada

direct the lost and wandering

without direction?

Without stars or visions

or love

or money?

Without the future of an anchored past?

Without a cigarette to hold

between two fingers.

Without smoke to hide

heated passions

never found.


Buzzing boys on scooters

and girls on motorcycles

swarming worker bees

pace the afternoon air

directing the incessant

active backdrop stage of noise

for ice cream eating aging beauties

tongue licking spinning ice cream cones

spinning vanilla upper lip memories

of once best nights satisfied

yet even now

never happy.


Where did your gas pump stop spinning?

When did it stop pumping

fairy tale novels romance?

Holy sister keeps the steeple bells ringing

where all else pulses silent

hushed by the smiles of bright blue skies

turned dark and cloudy black.


Where did your pump stop pumping?

When did your wars become death star battles?

Why has the diamond sky never lit your way?

The graffiti walls do not conceal any answers.

The petrol smell pump

keeps every designer baby carriage rolling.

The pulsating sirens gift only more questions.


What does the business meeting want?


What does the endless night desire?


What does the greed of possession refuse to give?


Where do you buy your next human touch?


From pigeons lonely for the next crumb.




f. j. llorente

Rome, Italy

April 7, 2017


Exciting news!!! ‘The Treasure of Forgotten Island, A Poetry Collection‘ is now published and available to the public on Amazon.com. The collection of over 60 poems and 11 paintings is a treasure . . .  packed with treasures for any poetry reader or art lover. Order your full color copy of the book today, or if you just want to read the poems, order the black and white paperback, or pick up the Kindle e-version. Then let me know what you think. Enjoy!


Full Color Version

Black and White Paperback

Kindle Version

cover image





In this turbulent city

the shrill alarm of the sun

awakens me

to kiss a new morning sky.

A thick brown cloud of smog

tickles me

to open my dreary eyes

and smell the rising dawn.


Roaring motorcars

and boisterous buses

sing a brutal song

to my distressed ears.

Grueling heavy metal

in a crescendo

of muddled thrash.


Soon faces in the traffic

snarl viciously at me

with all the shortcomings

of the previous

disenchanted evening.


Tall looming skyscrapers

stare brooding at me

dark shaded windows


Traffic lights

are yelling at me

in enigmatic code

only gods can understand.


At the close of night

the roads are deathly silent

and I

have yet

to say a word.




They run like colts
in river beds of colored wines
flicking whatever berries
at each other

or something.

They both understand the language
wondering with each other.

and knowing

when they hurt each other.

Suffering for each others pain
and crying
when they dance

in each others rain.



I herald the trumpets

vibrating hills

tremble on mountains

rushing rivers and churning the seas

there is a better way

you don’t have to suffer

you don’t have to kill each other

then all i hear is silence

silence can be loud

silent can kill

rumbling herds of elephants echo from all directions

grasslands and valleys

they blow their trumpets for every ear to hear at any distance

each note loud


angels and demons and wizards gather

I summoned the drummers

the trumpets keep coming

nothing to stop them

suddenly the sound of an

electric guitar

then all i hear is silence

silence can kill

there is a better way






I’ve experienced the operatives of deceit throughout my life in many different forms and in many different media. I was destined from birth to seek and share, Truth and enlightenment, wherever and whenever. So it continues to be a constant struggle. A consistent challenge where they suppress all forms of achievement and advancement in any way they can.

I can not stress enough how ingrained and integrated they are in every aspect of our lives. They are especially most dangerous to those that attempt to reveal them and expose them to others. They are masters of disinformation. They use politics, religion or any personal topic they can to fulfill their deviant agenda. Or worse.

Be aware. Call them out whenever possible. Don’t let them divert your focus from the sharing and spread of knowledge and enlightenment. They are powerful and very wealthy. They are the concealers of artifacts and learning from the past. They are in hiding in lands and countries throughout the world. Their modus operandi is to use conflict and violence to control and confiscate the world treasures they haven’t already confiscated and concealed for themselves.

Be aware!

And in secret warehouses, underground caves, bunkers, castles and mansions . . . millions of artifacts dwell in darkness, few in the limelight. Many in crates and boxes, compartmentalized. Few records of their existence and fewer still, those authorized to open them to verify if their recorded contents actually still exist.




I like the white witch of the west better than the black witch of the north.
that might make me racist.
i like my white shirts white.
i don’t like those black stains around the collars.
that might make me a racist.
I like to whitewash my picket fence.
paint my ceilings white and whitewall tires.
that might make me a racist.
i don’t like all the black at funerals.
that might make me a racist.

but I like dark chocolate more than I do white chocolate.
that might make me a racist.




violin on a metro skywalk



on the tattered street by the sidewalks of diversity

lies bare and broken the remnants of a civilization’s dream

discarded and no longer significant to the progress of the modern era.

the streets of silence howl with night, they feel the brittle fingers of the bite

………………………..of the lost entrails of the fading sun

they feel that comet on the run

like no longer dying

……………….but no longer fun.


……………………..The bright illuminated headlights of the planets sun

………………………………………….shines above the city like a darkened plum

…………………….the skins of the city dirty come

………………….for a breadth of pleasure to fill their sum

……………….but the dreams of the mortals are not soon over run

………….for they savored bitter, sweetness of the silent one.


…………………..broken and shattered you can hear them plea

……………….salvage the remnants or they’ll never see.


……………………..and back on the street the wheels still roar

…………….as the fire of the sky above does burn

………………………..so the wheel of the killer still does turn

…………..as the remnant on the street feels the rubber pound

……so the motor and the earth felt the burning ground.


………………………….bells ring         souls sing

……..and the remnant and the sky didn’t hear a sound

…………………..they were happy for the silence

……………………………………in a dream

……………………………………….they   found.



fj llorente – Texas Max King – circa 1996




castle in ruins

Religious choice is not an argument. Religion is not about rejecting. It is about accepting. I have seen and met many Christians and Muslims that are very devout and go to church, or pray five times a day. They all follow all the customs and traditions. Yet most of the time they treat other people like dirt.

Religion is a set of doctrines that outlines a belief system. In the end, even though religion does provide a crutch, and even though it does offer solace and charity to many around the world, it is also a major source of divisiveness, hatred and violence.

Religion is mostly a behavioral system. But you don’t need religion to abide by a valuable behavioral system. The most important behavioral values are as old as mankind and will continue to be valuable in perpetuity. They never change and they never diminish in importance, no matter what else is going on in the world.

The 12 Lakota Virtues are a very good example. Prayer is one more of the virtues. If you read these carefully, you will recognize how they are embedded in the parables and teachings of all other religions.

Religion is also a meditative philosophy. The Buddhists consider meditation a form of prayer. Christian, Muslim and Judaic prayers all strive to achieve a unity with God or a higher Divinity. Prayer is a powerful life force because it focuses energy on positive results. Which is also why unselfish prayer very often does work.

Judaism, Christianity and Islam are all based on the Old Testament Bible. Many of the core stories in the Old Testament Bible are based on Sumerian mythology. The Old Testament Bible was also based on the writing of at least 4 different authors, rewriting the work of other authors, and then edited and interpreted by more authors in the early Vatican. The New Testament and the Quran were both interpretations of oral or written perceptions both authored, well after the deaths of Christ and Mohammed. And then reinterpreted by the Vatican, or Imams and religious leaders over the centuries.

Ascribing to a religion is less important than ascribing to a behavioral code. Buddhism and Hinduism believe that what you do now will determine the position you will be in when you return to life on Earth. Judaism, Christianity and Islam all believe that what you do here on Earth will determine your salvation in ‘heaven’ or ‘paradise’ after death. They all employ either reincarnation, heaven, or paradise, to influence how to behave while here on Earth.

How you treat others every second of every day is more important than doctrines, churches, Mosques, Synagogues, heaven, the next life, or paradise. How you treat others every second of every day is more important than religion.

Several years ago an ancient manuscript was found in two different places that claimed to be the Gospel of Mary Magdalene. Although pieces of both manuscripts were missing, it revealed an amazing Truth. Mary Magdalene was very close to Christ and after Christ died she told the other Apostles that Christ had revealed to her a message that he had not revealed to the others.

Several of the Apostles did not at first believe her. It illustrates how women were often judged not equal to men in preaching the Word of the Gospel. This continued for generations, supported by the Catholic Church and up to this very day. But it also provides the most critical revelation. The importance of the teachings of Christ is not so much about the ‘resurrection’, nor is the primary importance about ‘eternal life and the abolition of original sin’. The most important revelation from the teachings of Christ is simply ‘to learn how to teach others how to teach enlightenment‘.

Religion is a personal journey. It is a personal revelation. Religion is enlightenment. Knowledge is enlightenment. Knowledge combined with wisdom is true enlightenment. Research all religions. Understand why they believe what they do. Show compassion for others and for their beliefs. Learn to develop a conscious dialog with the Divinity of existence. Treat other people with respect, kindness and compassion . . . always.

Learn to do these things and you will never need organized religion. Yet you will feel comfortable in any religious gathering, assembly, or structure you will ever visit.

RIVETS AND BUNS (A War Story of Love)



Her soft hands
warmly knead my flour
a precious cargo
booming to land another flawless mission.

To Paris on her smell.

He doesn’t feel the final rivet snap
blooming foreskin
shielding the butt tip of his cockpit
as it rips apart
on his final approach
to her runway.

He smells the Paris of her hands baking.

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