In 1981, legendary R&B artist Marvin Gaye came to Moere, Belgium to write a song about life after death he called “Sexual Healing”. In 2015, poet John Patrick Acevedo came to Moere to see what he could write to continue Gaye’s work. What he found was the strength to begin a “sociognosis” Holy Bible Sociology, a metaphysics based upon the Old Testament (Book of Job) rehabilitative axiom of “give and take”, creating a new ascetic for the active/passive sides of human nature.
"Je pense que tant que l'on apprend des deux côtés de la vie, que de pertes de prendre qui nous font souffrir par jugement et prière et celle de donner qui nous montrent la miséricorde et la louange, nous n'aura pas laissé ce monde en vain." -John Patrick Acevedo, Poet, 26 novembre 2016.
Walking before having a breakfast in Brussels, Belgium.
Train view upon arrival Brussels, Belgium. Heading to Bruges. West Flanders area, near North Flanders coast, where Odell Brown created the music on Sexual Healing.
Poet John Patrick Acevedo just before taking a bus ride to Ostend, Belgium on February 21, 2015.
Nietzsche’s Speech at Gettysburg
(for Ben and Dorothy)
There is something sweet in the unsaid,
something that grief cannot make into speech.
There is a feeling I have felt in the roaming mountains,
in a soldier’s faultless uneaten sandwich bread,
the daughter opening it to see what he has addressed,
the depleted layers of raked ozone, the Socialism of Nietzsche.
I sit up in my Hilton bed. It is midnight here at Gettysburg,
“I Keep Forgettin’ (Every Time You’re Near)” MP3’s the radio.
My head drops from mysteries as the TV counts election votes,
the ‘Four Score’ poetry by Lincoln still marching in my head.
I am marching to the Boston Pops, to sacrifice, marching with Dad.
There is something I have yet to say, something of Mary Magdalene.
A house becomes undivided after something like this is claimed,
after one hears Sanders denounce the Party as CNN unrolls sleeves.
I am resting with Nietzsche as working legs muscle processed sheets,
process grand finales, late returns, process fully-baked quarterly cheese.
Morning bills cookie doe leads across a fallen America as we sleep.
As for justice, there is nothing led or “fallen too short”, nothing to speak.
Newlyweds Unknot Ties in Hazelton
Simple words can never say that the past is all okay.
Still the lines seem to connect the vines that grapple neglect.
I have heard the phone ring too late. Sung for my supper’s wait.
She’s not mine, so have a beer after enjoying the good wine.
Searched the street back from the cinema. Hurt by my own minimum.
From Genesis to Revelations, I thought it all up before its creation.
Newlyweds unknot months between my February’s wedding memories.
I was so happy to read the letter. Said it all in my close and in my header.
We eat like birds in Hazelton. A father and a son take the trip to say it’s done.
My usefulness is from a soul that has won. The last word is the missing one.
I lost my flowers to alcohol. Paid for sins with Friday hour one for all’s.
Pretty girl, did you fail the test just to let me hug you before tying my best?
Copernicus Sleeps So Far
I would ascend her and she would scream:
“To not be a lover is not to be!”
Now I wake like Copernicus, so far from dreams,
subways juice deleted tracks as bags leave hosed streets.
"Horas son para la vida sin entrar. Quien vas a salir y a donde vas a llegar es una vuelta de decisiones que nadie sabes antes de la hora de exito."
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