Sunday, January 20, 2013


An orb crashes upon the shores of creation, an orb of one shape and pure color pulls away from the monotony of silvery whites to find its will and way.  Forming from the whites and grays of its past splashing now among the swirls of curves and lines of intersecting contradiction perhaps tempting it to seize a moment from the sea and form in its infancy, the ancient pillars of imagination and find the simple lines of all kinds of beauty entwined, forming the perfect amalgamation of creation and chaos all for our eyes to settle upon.  Forever frozen perhaps somewhere along nature's design existing as a mastery of imagination.  An orb dripping lines and swirls of silvery whites and grays creating only what our mind can paint, it settles among the monotony of life and finds time has stopped and given memory to this piece of art.
-Armando Torres


Its not like a line of cotton thread or that of small lines from ink and pen where we discover all the things we find to ponder.  Perhaps it is the fabric of wonder where these lines of pen and pencil stay entwined to stay in place as a piece forever for our eyes to follow upon the splendid designs of fine lines.  For there exists upon the fabric of wondrous elegance a balance of real world design and artistry of reality on the very tips of imagination.  It is here where we find the threads of fabric to reality to pull upon given to our eyes to look upon and notice that time has stopped perhaps forever just for this beautiful composition that lay at the precipice of existence.  Hand to paper leading with pencil and pen erasing all the restrictions we face upon peering over realism we finally realize its not like a line of cotton thread or that of small lines from ink and pen but instead only that which our mind can paint.
-Armando Torres

Monday, January 14, 2013

Not for me,

"Not for me,"
Love it seems is not for the weak, not for the ones looking or seeking or hoping. It would seem love is not for me.  I hate to remember because I can still find your face and when the distance from my hurt and your soft face is the same I find time serves only as a reminder that love is not for the weak.  I heard you moved away, loved again but why is it I can still feel your tears on my cheek after I left.  I made a mistake and now watch as you go, walk that distance of my regret.  I try each and every day to forget and yet, here I am still loving all I have left, a memory, a shadow of a life I gave away.  Love it would seem is not for the weak, not for the ones scared to see it, not for those seeking for a moment of bliss or a kiss or just a single day of happiness, love it would seem is not for me.
-Armando Torres

December embers

"December embers"
There's a cold gray stale feeling of icy wind slicing pass my cheeks as I stand inches deep in snowflakes lost in the monotony of empty trees and white sidewalks, inside the low snow falls and rocks of all shapes.  A ghostly visage of silvery remains waiting to be painted throughout my mind and I am reminded how gray this time of year becomes with tears of splendid designs. The smoldering ash of this dying fire fights among the icy chill and I forget where it is we were.  Its hard to find where you and all the rest end and my life begins inside all this December white.  Blended all together in silver and gray floating a midst a winter breeze all those moments that were seized on the elegant splendor of icy diamonds.  I have not yet found those seconds again I thought we spent together hidden somewhere behind these flakes of snow, however although I may have had your kisses on these empty benches I now only feel the dreary somberness this time of year brings for me. I stand beside our dying fire and watch again as the embers of this white December wither its last glow and instead now left to watch fall all the snow.
-Armando Torres

Friday, January 11, 2013

Full Inside

"Full Inside"
I have a demon inside of me.  It lives without much of anything as it lingers on the deepest things of me, salivating on the simplest of secrets.  I have never had it shown, for the world would never again have me but as the years hang heavy it becomes even more simple for this demon to find the things it needs.  I would never show but I feel I lost control a long while ago and now this demon perhaps has a soul with no control living inside of it.
-Armando Torres

The Demon from My Dreams

"The Demon from My Dreams"
I see him everywhere now, the demon from my dreams. 
Its not always real or perhaps 
its what it would have me believe 
leaving me to ponder the course of his will 
beyond the confines my wonder. 
Reality it seems has abandoned me; 
for all that is 
feels a blur 
and from the corner 
his searing red eyes are fixed upon my torture and pain. 
Alas, for he and I know 
I can feel the pain no longer 
but only that of 
the horrible emptiness of the void. 
The mind 
was never meant to find the vastness of hell 
or that of beyond, 
never meant to linger about 
on the edges of madness 
there at the cliff of all sanity 
to tumble over far beyond the lines in our mind 
to fall and find the demons of the void 
to be real. 
I fear the cracks are beyond repair 
and hell has found me 
but perhaps 
it is what will bring me back. 
The dreams have blended into reality 
and the horror of hell sits in the room with me 
waiting for me to take the tumble. 
I have failed in my madness 
to find the edges 
and perhaps that will cost me more than my soul. 
I think however, 
the infinite void 
is far worse than all the horrors of hell 
and now begin the talks 
with the demon of my dreams 
to perhaps find any kind of salvation 
from the torture before me.
-Armando Torres