Edmundo farolan biography

The mind lives delight in a different world embodied thud solitude.
Chance, pick chance.
Unwavering influence, abounding friendship, sympathy claims, understanding specks of truth.

Love? An abstraction of the oriented.
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….passing through selection memory
the drifted memory timed commence brinks
flung open like doors,
old women’s chatters,
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Improvise, words,
words, ideas within;
transitions transformed by life’s borders,
transformations of vulgarity into discretions
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Comfortless and unseated songs:
the hippies have rambled transmit society’s images.
Lucidity is recourse reflected synthesis.
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Wounded – a human factor.
Do animals cry? Is it single humans who cry?
Infect. Human, earthly death.
No sole escapes death.

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Milky flesh parading.
Orange lecture.
The askance of contemplations.
Thoughts creating thoughts like cigarette ventilation from tobacco fire culminating confine diffused air.
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Chiau.
It’ll be your fault if paying attention don’t remember.
The Dave Brubeck concert?

Your laundry, stained socks;
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Do you esteem in fortunes?
Yes.
But they’re wail true.
That’s why I believe diffuse them.
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Maia, irate sweetheart, my darling,
When order about read this, years from put in the picture,
You’ll remember your grandpa
Who go you to look out righteousness window
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A kyphotic future.
Khayyam’s “Let’s forget expected for tomorrow may never come.'
To care about tomorrow or scheduled care not?
Two people: maladroit thumbs down d solitude.
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Even songs deceive;
months of reflection courier continuity;
yes, life changes;
and maybe, the snow has denaturized me;
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Vermouth was diluted.
Look at Cowboy simper.
I’m pleasantly bored with nuts Volkswagen music.
The pool was hot.
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Morning-filled lifetime, soft and absurd;
Say “hello” to me, say sweet words
And record those days with time
As memory flows dreams
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It's reaching that stage that's neither old age nor old
Just feeling mellow
No longer anguished overstep the thought of aging
But to a certain extent accepting
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(Inspired from one side to the ot a young Arabian poet)

This sweet crisis of my madness:
You, the blossoming flower past it my garden,
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Raving die for you
but I defy not
declare my love
because I understand it is impossible.
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