A Match Made On Earth

as we strolled down…
stepping on pine tree cones scattered on the green lawn

taking in the little bit of nature around town…
observing geese and squirrels living in unison

said she wanted a man who knows how to have fun…
but could also take control and get things done like Genghis Khan

and I never once claimed to be the one…
but I suppose she’d never met another ‘half dust, half diety’ under the sun

so she promised to bear me a daughter and a son…
as long as I agreed to build us a home, in her name, sorta like the Parthenon

© Heath Muchena, 2016


If set on modalities of a similar order, an artist’s works, like nature’s, have their foundation laid in the subconscious for he does not have a tabula rasa from which to work. Also, he does not necessarily always consciously direct most of his inspiration and is often, in actuality, subject to the seemingly timely ideas… always having to bear the burden of genius.

© Heath Muchena, 2016

Purple Passage

Total recollection of the past can impede present effort, and the indolence that results from ignoring the latency of inherited psychological faculties serves not to hinder endeavour, but to sufficiently guide it; since those that are fully aware of palingenesis seem to encounter the challenge of a conscious incapacity to pursue their aspirations. And if man is privy to his fellow’s suffering, and accepting of the minimal progress thus far achieved – in light of time – with consideration of the fact that the dead outnumber the living, he’d discover that only the realisation of collective consciousness will bring about an end to evolution, which suggests that his existence too, ephemeral and fragile, is but a passage through universal movement.

© Heath Muchena, 2016


Wherever instinct predominates, intellectual development is almost always stagnant. So any environment that fosters never-ending monotony and offers no excitement can only breed unpleasant, commonplace lives which inevitably will lead to barren and petty passions.

© Heath Muchena, 2016

Black Fill

gold brooch for his lapel
an ornament to his gift
because they’d rather see him in a jail cell
mould and roaches in his midst

they insist works by his kind are insipid
and one cannot set pace
or change the face… unless they dictate taste
which of course is always the task and force of establishments

so even if one innovates
and leads an artistic movement
the fact still remains
and will likely in any case

since one’s pigment does not reflect or match
standard associations deemed best
either for or of the language in use
hence also the power of thought represented in or by it

so what is depth or meaning
what is fact or fiction
and when destiny is predetermined
what is genesis or a beginning
if not measured against a limit or an ending?


© Heath Muchena, 2016

Ballet Dancer

the human form corresponds to the will of mankind
so too, her body conforms, to the expression of her character

selfhood so unique and sublime, far from the norm – a real treasure find
the way she performs with finesse, each moment and the next
nothing short of gracious

so carefree but never careless… whether on stage or it’s just us
she makes my life so much richer than Pictet… picture perfect

and every night I spend with her feels unreal that every morning still…
she blows my mind

so strongly I feel and must confess
that I think I’m in love with a ballet dancer

© Heath Muchena, 2016

Penman Ponders

when I’m gone
unknown, forgotten
perhaps a sentence I wrote
will remain memorable

so while this earth I’m still upon
I’ll strive to compose
not only poems that flow
but that quench appetencies of the soul

meant for your edification
and if not to provide some guidance
then at least to channel energy in a positive direction
like a penstock

even though I know I have more flaws
than any that dare to read this blog
and aware also that a sublunary mind will never know
the exhilaration of the imagination
nor the profusion of sublimation
and at best will entertain only perpetual pensiveness

I will still continue
because this is all I know
how to do without the burden of effort
but a love deeper than any I could ever show

and I hope this practice of poetic uproar
will not degenerate into only intrigue
bound to follow me to my black hole
when the light of life eventually goes off

© Heath Muchena, 2016