Fernandez-Reyes Ynez - 2 Poetry Books in 1: the Mind Would Know & If I Could Do For You

ISBN: 9781483540894 BANANA PATCH FANTASY PRODUCTIONS www.bpfprod.net Watercolors by: Joel E. Timmins www.bpfprod.net/honoluaskizzler/ This compilation of 2 Poetry Books in 1 were written together. One dark, the other light. In my mind they complement each other. Both have pulled me thru rough and sleepless nights of silent hysteria and rage. I finally made a break through and learned to just appreciate every moment of my life, and not allow myself to be victimized anymore.

I don't have to cry and write poetry and suffer defeat of spirit. I can glow and keep on glowing. I can breathe the love I feel. I don't have to withhold it....I'm free now. Just a little more cautious though. Hope you can relate to the poems.

What started me writing these 2 books was a recurring dream in which I found my tormentor, and gladly inflicted injury (a family member who betrayed me), one whom I once loved dearly. The ugliness...the actuality of the act, so upset me...I had a nervous breakdown. From that I learned that revenge is never worth it, even in a dream, because of what it does to the one performing such meanness ...especially inflicting great physical harm. It isn't worth it enough to dream about it! (smile) That's THE MIND WOULD KNOW poems. After the dream I wrote EVEN IN DREAMS and IN THE HUMMING. In The Humming inspired the book IF I COULD DO FOR YOU Book #1: THE MIND WOULD KNOW c 12/2006 yfr INDEX THE MIND WOULD KNOW Thirstily the mind seeks knowledge of It's Self; The heart....understanding.

In silent darkness waiting, Some glimpse of Truth awakening...some dimension, To orient to center, so to reveal to me, my heart's intention. Upon what alter is my heart's intention placed? What pitifully weak and desperate motive Unforgivingly hides, beneath the splendid foliage here.... That I would hope stay hidden!? What impoverished grasping, futile path Have I chosen, and pompously parade about in...! I persist, as if my self deceit is invisible to others...though All can see thru the flimsy facade I place, as a brace, Against the fierce wind that penetrates my unadorned disgrace. The icy, unloving, unforgiving face....is it really mine? Is it madness then one finally sees, not Grace Divine... Not infinite wisdom, but finite fanaticism?! We are truly, the "poorest of the poor", Destined to repeat...in endless cycles, Through rain, hail, cloud and snow.... Until we give it up to knowing....that Love Is the wild fruit that grows within the heart....

The ancient fruit, that inspires humanity to embark On a path that meanders and windes... Embodying a teaching that is flexible and wise. Such things the mind would know. NUCLEAR WINTER What will become of Man.... Who will survive?....as Massive ice sheets melt, and Huge ice storms arize? Ancient Elders from the Dawn of Man, Knew this truth of Truths, that All beings have hand In maintaining Sky and Land.... Just through our Patience, Love and Understanding.

Yet so close to understanding We're unable to turn the key; The mystery of liberation lies, Just beyond our reach. Technology itself, cannot, improve upon The infinite perfection still existing. So can we expect our great distinction, To be, that we create...our own extinction?! Nuclear Winter, our death wish come true... We may see in a decade, though we begged you (In the '60s), not prove it! But ears couldn't hear, what the heart doesn't feel, So plunging ahead, creating upheaval.... Who can defend us from our very own demons?! In our arrogant desperation, so cleverly defending Our biologic and mechanical creations... We're denying every clue that Nature sends.

By mirroring our own extreme behavior, She wrents and rages to portend disfavor... How our outrageous posturing spends, Her loving patience, to a brutal end.... What were we thinking...What shall we do? Can we ever recover...we....the generation of Well meaning, but irreverent fools......? EVEN IN DREAMS Awakening reluctantly In the muffled anguished groaning Of my mind. Alone.... Trembling in confusion. Where is the song for which I long; Instead, this anxiety and delusion.

Awakening uneasily from the shattering Battering, fracturing of my dreams; Running, stumbling...hiding In the chilling moonless fright; Calling on Saints and lost loved ones of old To deliver me from myself this night. I was dreaming of escape.... Of liberation; dreaming of being...loved, Just because I am alive. Confronted, Striking my tormentors back, I "feel" the wound inflicted As if I'd struck myself! Nauseated, I crawl away to hide.... Dragging my shame, I cry.... knowing, That now, the heart is stained, And no matter how one scrubs One cannot wash away.....a dream. WATERCOLOR: The FISHERMAN by Joel E. WATERCOLOR: The FISHERMAN by Joel E.

Timmins c 2004 BROKEN If I can only fail, Why should I try? Why was I even born! Why does the Universe Mock and scorn me? I'm no fool and I'm not a joke... But the joke's on me! All I ever hoped for Was normalacy. But left with the residue Of my Mother's madness, Trying to digest the unpalatable Reality, from which I was conceived. The promice of my life, broken... Like bloody nails, scratching dry earth, ....I do not smell the flowers... Or see the trees....

But often, after dreams... I beg my God to give me Faith To know all things are possible thru Grace, So for as long as I'm alive, Unless Truth is derived from lies, ....I'm fixable! BEGINNING AGAIN Can one still begin again? But where, and how...and when? What of the piles of miles of pain... The dreadful knowing, one was only Tolerated, with distain. Knowing I'm not wanted here, If I go there, or anywhere Would it not be the same?! Never wanted where I am Move I must across the land. I get their backs instead of hands; What makes them sore to understand? and So unwilling to share the blessings. To take up my bed and walk....to trust, At this late date...? What Fate awaits?...

What date in Time will I arrive To greet the unknown Dawn And hope to there, fit in....?... WATERCOLOR: SUNSET CRUISE by Joel E. Timmins c 2004 FREE Freed from the suffocating echoes of my life cycles, The backdrop of the starry sky, illuminates my tears. The dark fingers of the Night sift them away...like sand... And the moment is very clear, vibrating everywhere... My soul is lit now, like a big boat in Harbor, Revealing my ardor...shining in the night...through all...

Comprehending It's Self...the textured intellect Penetrates, and finding course, the purified heart Is ready for the Wind. What a gift Is madness, for it lets lovers of Love pretend. Now we sail forever in Starlight, again and again and again... Following Love's Course, with the Faith...of a comet sent. THE MIND So whiley this procrastinator, Craftier than crafter. Let it see from floor to rafter, What contrived reality was casted Unashamedly and natural, that This Self embodied and adapted.

To truly witness nakedly, reality unadorned No fascinating, fabricating, to diffuse or storm; There would I care to be. That would I care to see! IN DREAMS... In dreams there is no peace, 'til All reservation about Truthfulness is released; Then will the Pearl of the Self be realized, And contentedness be reached. End of THE MIND WOULD KNOW Book #2: IF I COULD DO FOR YOU c 2004 yfr INDEX