BOOK ONE ‘X’ – Notes On The Wasteland
Posts tagged ‘stars’
THE PLAN, THE ROAD AND THE INVISIBLE
Last week I introduced on Facebook and on Twitter, the Seven Lost story and film project. The stories will be exposed as a reveal over time. Exactly how they were meant to be exposed. The link from my main page is at fjllorente.com. From there you will find the website for the story and the blog. There are clues hidden within the pages.
I also promised to share the public debut of a short film I created and produced. Originally released on the short film award circuit, I am now releasing them publicly. The first one I will release tonight, but only to a limited audience. The other two I will release in the next several months.
I cherish people and artists that are true and sincere by their very fabric. These individuals are rare. I gravitate toward them every chance I get. And vice versa. You see, many people that consider themselves artists, are not sincere and true to themselves. They seek strictly fame or riches. They are often shallow and hypocritical.
This is why I am releasing these projects as public reveals. They are not meant for everyone even though they are being released publicly. This is more than just an artistic venture. The worms have been following me since I can remember. They attempt to feed on my mind and ideas like parasites. As a creative, I enjoy others being inspired by my creative endeavors. What I have never tolerated are the creatively inert that must steal from others to justify their own sad existence.
For many years I fought against very powerful vermin that would attempt to rape and pillage both my mind and body. Sounds like fiction, right? It’s not. The good thing is, I was warned by even more powerful forces. They guided and protected me throughout my life. They gave me unique powers to sense both good and evil.
At first, I was confused and had no idea what was happening inside my mind and my body. But over time I learned to develop these powers into something I could use to my advantage. The one thing I learned most of all is that they had to be respected, like the Oceans. Beautiful, yet powerful and possibly deadly.
This is how I was gifted the Revelation of Seven Lost. It is why at this point in time and History, the story must be revealed. But revealed first to those that will understand and act upon the important message. Have faith. There really is a plan. And those that are too busy immersed in the vanity of wealth or fame will be passed over as if they were invisible. Because they are.
On that note, tonight, March 7, 2021, I am publicly releasing my short film, The End Of The Road to a limited group of my friends. Since I continue to be pursued by less than noble entities, I will release it once again on my personal Facebook page that is right now being suspended by the shadow puppets.
If you would like to see the short film, please visit the sevenlost.com website and click on the CONTACT link. Or send me an email me at Contact@sevenlost.com. I will send you the link and the password to view the short film. I will continue to release creative projects on the internet to a small group before public release throughout the next few months. Consider yourselves the very vital crew on our continuing journey through the stars and planets.
Adelante.
ROAMING RUINS
‘on the streets of Rome the roads are paved with desire’
In a small cafe in Rome
sit I in my latte espresso,
bonjourno.
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
touch
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?
Love.
What does the endless night desire?
Love.
What does the greed of possession refuse to give?
Love.
Where do you buy your next human touch?
From pigeons lonely for the next crumb.
***************************************************
f. j. llorente
Rome, Italy
April 7, 2017
PLACID ANIMATIONS IN A RED BRICK SHELTER
The animals need no love.
Weather is always adept to fornication.
Mother’s breastfeeding milk never rises.
When do crickets have time to dance?
Plant specimens grow faster than human specimens.
They shake and grind at the first sight of trouble.
Where do the stars hide during the day?
Does the moon ever really cry?
Every core of burning meteor someday grows cold.
Where does the butterfly buy color?
There is no vault.
There is no permanence, anywhere.
Ever.
I once met an old man without a face.
His body was no longer his own.
It had molten into another cocoon.
He was forever trapped in his own shell of gold.
He was always trying to take someone else’s face.
He was a man of many faces. He was two-faced.
He wasn’t a man.
No one called him for advice.
He never needed makeup. He was ugly.
His gold cocoon kept him happy.
He would spin webs of gold around everything he ever wanted.
He had the finest cars, beautiful women, boats, planes, castles and armies.
He would spin webs of gold around all of them.
He had no silver. His cocoon was hollow.
One day his web ran dry.
He couldn’t save face.
He died.
His cocoon shrivelled up and melted after the first rain.
His gold ran back into the rivers and buried itself deep in the Earth.
No one ever remembered him ever again.
His children became butterflies and flew away.
Butterflies without any color.
The crickets had no time to dance.
The moon cried that day.
Every mother’s milk began to rise.
A bright green meteor fell to Earth with a tail of gold.
Two worms fornicated in the rain.
And the stars came out at night.
_______________________________________
11-11-15
MOVING PICTURES
You have always been a movie to me
knowing I could never touch you.
Now you sit and stare at me
through the other side of this bottle
setting on the table here between us.
I feel as if a magic is missing
you are not the star I dreamed of.
Once you were the shining light
of my heavens dreaming
in a momentary wish.
Now I can see what I am left with
is not what I had hoped for.
I see what I am watching
is not what I had once enjoyed.
You have always been a movie to me
now my life plays in reverse.
I never could quite touch you
now I know
I’ve touched too much.
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THE CIRCUS . . . . . . . . . AND THE ZOO 