From a Dandelion

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Photo taken: July 28  (well, 1 photo – when I got the idea but realized I needed more light) and July 29.  Text written July 29. I wish I had a macro something. I do not. One day, one day…

My time has come. I am nothing but a seed sphere
but the wind will carry my dedicate seeds
where they will grow
in your lawn
(and maybe your neighbours’ too.
fear not, they’re indiscriminatory)

but my dear minions will grow
taller than your grass
crowned by yellow suns
where they will overcrowd your dying grass
much too joyous for your desolate excuse of a meadow
where they will live and dance in the wind
until they too, go to seed

we are not poisonous
we are edible, nutritious even
some say that we cure things
even cultivate us

But you want us out of your lawn
since we are not the image
of the the ideal lawn, of what should be
not in tune with your expectations
somehow lesser than the manufactured grasses
so you try to knock us with your weedeater
but you will not win
for our roots are firmly in the ground
and we will grow once again
and again, and again, and again
we will not be overcome
we will not be conquered
and well, we grow like weeds

At the End

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About a week ago, ok two weeks ago… (Sept 7) I saw my grandpa for the last time. He was dying. We all knew that. But we didn’t know that he’d be gone the next afternoon.

It was at 9pm in the dark halls. He was heavily drugged, sedated. Although he could almost open his eyes, his eyes were rolling back. Hovering between the lands of the dead and the living.

He had been sick since February but it was only the last month that things quickly went downhill. But he had already came to terms of it. In a way, it seemed he had sort of willed death to come. As if he had submitted to the dying of the light. Not rage. Acceptance.

When given time to, most people when faced with death will accept it.

I’m scared of death. I will admit it. What is it like not living?

But like many artists I’m intrigued.

At the End

peering into life
ready for the other side
just another door

when all the images fade
the sounds quieten
all the feeling numbs
unscented and tasteless


I don’t know. I wasn’t that close to him although I did knew him fairly well. He was like the jester. I guess he’s the first person that I’ve actually knew to have died.

But it was quick. 7 months. It takes less time to have a baby.

PS: Honestly, I’m kind of afraid of his possible ghost. He’s was the guy that got kids to touch that bug zapper (which looks like a racket). Of course he’ll go boo!!


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P1030040The light is falling

We were what we were
are no longer
succumbing to the darkness

promises nothing
its offering of daylight mocking
the dreams
that refuse to come true

But still we lay waiting
for the ideal
of  freedom

Harbinger, Tell Me

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every day
breeds a new day
closer to the void
to the storm

what did you bring?

everyone says to me
“everything will be alright”
how would you know?
how would I know?
that it’ll all sweep away?

what do you say?

A Sonnet to Solitude

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You surround me, all around
in this empty, lingering space
without so much as a sound
and never will I know your face

You follow me through the doorway
past the coat hangers and garden gate
following me as I walk along this way
pondering about existential fate

I run into the thicket, calm and serene
with you – hand in hand
even though you are still unseen
I know you’ll understand

But sometimes all I see is monotone
and I wonder why I’m here all alone

Note: I wrote this as part of a set of 4 fixed poems for a class. However, this is the only one that I actually like (the other ones suck). This is a Shakespearean Sonnet for those not in the know.

Poetry should be read out loud!

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Yes, I know.

I should really have someone reading my poetry in my videos. But I’m not doing it (you wouldn’t be able to understand me anyway….probably.).

I don’t have any friends, let alone any talented friends to ask.

I don’t have a fanbase of any sort that might be talented and may want to do it.

Besides I have an idea of how it should be read that someone else may not follow.

So it’s silent. Except for music. And the odd sound effect or two.  It’s my writing so there’s no recording of it floating around (especially before I release it).


The Moon Knows Solitude (video)

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The Moon Knows Solitude from Jennego on Vimeo.

Poem text: “The Moon Knows Solitude”

She hovers there in the dark sky
as I wander alone in the lonely night
wondering what I’m doing here
but the moon, she too knows solitude

Not just in one of her shy phases
hiding and peering in her celestial curtains
but she is too, all alone

Maybe Earth gives her company,
the flow of the tides
and as the awe of humanity

But she is lonely in her orbit
her dark side looking on to
the great planets with many moons,
and the cozy families too

But the moon – there’s no one like her around here
no other celestial orb to share her Earth
except for the odd asteroid (and space crap)
to keep her company every now and then

I stare into the night
sharing the moment with the moon
following her silver stare
and now here we are
less alone in our mutual friend,


I wrote this over the weekend, thinking about solitude and then somehow thinking about the moon. In many ways it reflects us both I guess.

Surprisingly, I have little to say about this poem other than that I was too impatient to let it linger before revising it.


Written, Designed & Animated by me.

Additional sound credits

Freesound credits (that got me flagged on Vimeo)



Can We Ever Be Free?

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Can we ever be free
or is to be bounded a condition
of living and existence?

We are tied to the world
tied to social systems
bounded, shackled, chained

each one of us is a
slave to society

each one of us is a
slave to ourselves

some of us are
slaves to fear
slaves to reality
slaves to fate

Life is the master
we are not
just merely its slaves

to live is to be bounded
by the constraints of life,
the master’s constant
sometimes harsh demands
that you cannot
argue with

but it doesn’t mean
are we never free
and can never be free
for we are the masters of our
dreams and fantasies

so here in dreams,
in fantasies,
in our creations
we are free

Notes: I cannot think of a better title right now. Working title (maybe).


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Does anyone mean as they mean?
Maybe some things are as they seem
but you keep looking for hidden meanings
desperate for something other than what things seem

You’re not happy here, are you?

(Fabled fantasies, faded photographs, fear of failure
shedded tears, silly lists, shredded papers
you pack it all up and carry it as you wander on
creeping darkness to concrete)

Would you run into orbit if you can?
You run and try to fly but no one gives you a hand
it’s not that there’s no one there it’s just that there’s
no one who understands

Still, you take a step and blast away
climb the sky and pace around the planet
what did the moon say?
what did the stars say?
the day you became a satellite

(They said little but smiled
in the way that moons and stars
can smile to you
reflecting, radiating light so amazing
your eyes in awe at such a sight)

You’re still running around alone in circles but
now you can see the world that you were supposedly from
a blue-brown-green marvel, trimmed with white clouds
and here, there’s no borders, no buildings, no bombs
as it spins, gliding through space
on its marry way

(You’ll rather dance upon the milky way
and stay here in orbit for many more a day
you don’t want to go back down to the ground
since you’ve never belonged there anyway
even though you’ve tried to pretend)

But it feels like you’re burning up like a shooting star
you can’t feel the difference between air and land
everything is numb, cold under the starless sky
you swallow hard, you’re sitting back on the earthly ground
teary-eyed, since though you know you have gone so far

You get on your feet and walk into the now foreign landscape
everyone who you once knew are now strangers in the dark
you knew it’ll be lonely, but didn’t think it’ll be so stark
but maybe you’ll go somewhere now, instead of pacing endlessly in circles
orbiting the room

But you don’t
too scared to choose a path
thinking of the possible aftermath
so you’re still grounded
ready to take off again


Did the orbiting really happen in the context of the poem? I’ll leave it up for you to decide 😉 hahaha

If you’ve gotten here through my Facebook post. No you’re not seeing things, I DID edit that stanza when you weren’t looking!