Pink Polka Dots

I come home early in the morning
hunger and sleep distract me for a moment
and I go back to thinking
pink polka dots

It really doesn't matter what I'm doing
walking, painting, walking, writing...
I'm dreaming Pink Polka Dots

What has this World come to?
it has become one big pink bubble gum
it is lounge all my ears listen to
her voice, her lips
her thighs, like a ferris wheel

I'm lost in a psychedelic dream
marionberry flavored LSD
my obtuse obsession
until I see her and her legs again
wearing those almost painted boyshorts
covered with pink polka dots

My God, what have I done?
what door did I go through?
what card did I turn?
what lock did I open?
what Genie have I released?
such angel
such devil.

Strawberry Fields Forever (dedicated...)

Seattle, WA 12/18/2007

Early Seattle winter morning
It's me and I-5
rain and fog and graveyard shift
make my eyes begin to shut

My iPod shuffles Duran Duran
"Hungry Like the Wolf"
I light up another cig
(yes, I'm still smoking)
as I remember the time warp.
Sometimes music reminds us of our age
and I thought of a few friends
realizing how thinking of them
sometimes makes me feel even older
endless nostalgia
and the road ahead.

Friends whom are more than friends
individuals whose impact and presence in my life
has been nothing less than a gift from God
and if you don't believe in Him
just look at your friends

Friends like Christian whom I know since 3rd grade
and I hope one day everyone could hear him sing
or Christina Godinho
she knew Brazil would be a culture shock
and it was.
Gutty, who introduced me to Xaviera Hollander
and the girls who lived down the street
damn, I must have been 14
Arturo Monroy who was there for me always
and I wouldn't love him more if he was straight
Jorge Velez, who can make a rainy day, like today
be the best you've ever lived
then there's Tao Heras, you know him?
the main character of "The Incredible Adventures of Doctor Tao"
now that is a force to reckon with, a brother of war and peace
Grischa Alcaraz, if I had a twin....need I say more?
Wilson Martinez "La Hora De La Tos" I know you're North
carnal, I know you're North and you can't tell me
and I know you have a new name
Grillo, the sea wolf who taught me so much
see you in 2008, we shall throw a party like before.

But then, then there's the she iconoclast
my sister soul, my genesis and nemesis
deranged, genius and comrade
like saffron and paella
my Daliesque mirror is
this amazingly enlightened being
craziness that knows no match
with rebellious hair and wide open eyes
incredible talent and beauty
and a witty, razor blade mind.
You know how much I love you
but you don't know how much I admire you
and how much happiness you bring to my life
funny how your name rhymes with stubborn
I never told you this, Lauren
but sometimes I wish we could all gather together
as little kids, in a playground
if only once
and maybe one day
but not today
for today is yours and I declare it a holiday
happy birthday m'dear
and Strawberry Fields Forever

Flotsam and Jetsam

My hands are shaking
like a drop trembles on a leaf
I surrender to gravity and inertia
slipping on her soft and warm coat

Candle light reveals her thighs
I stare in sweet astonishment
as my hands hold her hips
and surf her skin

Drowning in sweet bitter peach elixirs
acidic like an opiate
as I breathe in the warmth
almost drunk
I see the cotton in pastels
and lose my mind

Woman,
morning star and planet
Venus surrounded in bright terracotta
in the crimson Washingtonian dawn
as Rainier bathes in primary sunbeams

Her kiss with coffee lips
argue with mine
my soul is thrown miles away
floating in the ocean lust
pearl necklace jam
vanilla ice cream and cherries maraschino
flotsam and jetsam
as we dive to the deepness of the sea

There really is nothing like her
on satin sheets
like a raindrop
on a leaf

Ayahuasca

Tepoztlan, Mexico Circa 1994

It was a rainy afternoon in Tepoztlan
I can't help but wonder and question
why is it that weird things happen
on rainy afternoons
at least most of the time
at least to me

She saw my future in the Ryder deck
death on my palms, like a vulture
she said a voodoo curse had been laid on me
and then it all made sense
for sometimes I felt the pins
sometimes the needles
and always the gloomy shade
like the cape of some obscure Transylvanian count

We drove up the mountain
in her old Volkswagen bus
her home, like a quartz in a rock
sits at the bottom of the Tepozteco hills
with its jagged edges
and its Pyramid atop

Her place is besides the portal
a natural doorway in the mountains
that is said to be an entry to another dimension
I've been here before, many times

Sunset happened fast
hand drums breathe
sandalwood incense paints the night
as we sit inside a circle of candles
their flames and tongues mark the boundaries
of the tarmac to my spiritual dream

She handed me what seemed to be a cup of tea
"drink" she said
I recall being stoned
when I drank the tea of South American vines
Ayahuasca

Her hands on my head
chants in tongues I do not speak
maybe Yaqui, maybe Tarahumara
an egg cleanse
then silence
and incense

I saw the stars twinkling in random chaos
like Beethoven, like your eyes when pleased
"whoosh" I felt and heard something fly beside me
"whoosh" again and again, like a bird of prey
touching my naked chest, head, face, eyes and ears with its wings
it was her, cleaning my spirit with a pair of quetzal feathers
as I began to elevate into the cosmic darkness

It felt like when you gravitate on LSD
but different
like coffee from an old pot, with a hint of cinnamon
drunken Daedalus, my soul lifted in full flight

It must have been late morning when I woke up
laying half naked on the wooden deck
looking at the edge of the mountain
the portal had closed
and my soul had been spared
I had been cleansed

I haven't seen her in many, many years
but she changed my life completely
now, in the mornings
when I see the sky on fiery red and pink and orange
I think of the portal
of this very special friend
and of the mountains of Amatlan
where Quetzalcoatl took his first steps
on golden sandals.

Ephemeris

That northern wind has began blowing
the nights are cold again
and soon, very soon
the snow will cover Snoqualmie

I feel the chill
running down my back
snowflake memories
melt on my hands

In the blue desert
of white covered tree tops
icy roads and dense fog
disolve two cobalt blue gems
like the unreachable Altair
Ephemeris can no longer guide me

Life, complicated as it is
was much simpler once
when everything depended on fate
but now, now I just want to hybernate my heart
and sleep towards a warming chicken broth death

Thanksgiving

The chaotic DNA that I am allows me to have my very own perception on what this holiday represents. While the idea of two cultures sharing a meal is such a great example of Christianity, History shows me those were the very first Indian Reservations. Yes, Native American is the correct term, but I just don't see anyone calling me Native Mexican. After all it was much more than just a real estate problem, it was genocide, of culture, knowledge, art and most importantly people. The exact same thing happened in Mexico and that is how Colonies became machines of massive killings and abuse. Would I have been invited to such event I honestly wouldn't have known where to sit. Nevertheless I have many things to be thankful for and that is why I will shut my mouth up with a Big Mac and the Black Friday Shopping.
"Hueyatlan tetecuica auh tlatoa totonametl in manic".

Pink

When the night falls
and all her colors undress
pink is the only one left
on special occasions it might be red
I'm a carnivore and I like my meat rare
but more than often, I think
the very last layer is pink

Pink is the one exclusively feminine color
her full, blushing cheeks
when I pin her between the fridge and the pantry
or when we lay down by the fireplace
and play hide and seek
and her laughter, her giggles
definitely pink

It tastes and smells like strawberries and creme
like bubble gum
or ethereal weekend love
Ambergris splashed with "I love you"
Tulips at Pike Place
on a cold misty day

Pink is her lipstick
kiss tattoo on my neck
or in the back of a Hallmark card
and that is why postman go insane

For many, pink is a Victoria's Secret shopping bag
while I prefer Torrid's hotpink boyshorts
and that is how the world revolves
around lace and racy lingerie
ponytails and bows
strawberry mousse
blonde hair, broken rainbows and big balloons

Farrokh Bulsara

Cuernavaca, Mexico Circa 1981

Sometimes, when I close my eyes and run my fingers through the duvet, I remember the feeling of the Persian rugs when I was a kid. They were my domain, the middle of the living room. I sat on them surrounded by mountains of Lego, listening to rock from the 70's. While this was something I did for years, this particular remembrance happened right after turning eleven.
Building spaceships with these incredible bricks and listening to Joplin, Baez, Santana and Hendrix is pretty much how I was brought up, day after day. One morning I went with my Mother to the bank, the post office and other errands. As always, we stopped by the "Viena" coffee shop, which was located across from the kiosk. They served a bad ass sachertorte and foamy cappuccinos. Then I stopped at the record store, from which my Mother had to frequently drag me out, in the middle of curses, satanic verses and temper tantrums. But this time, this time was different, for there was a new Queen album, Jazz. Which I bought, since I was, and still am a spoiled bratworst.
I've been a Queen fan for as long as I can remember, but this album particularly captured my senses, it is, in my opinion, their best. It opens with the loud Mustapha, Mercury's herculean voice sings it like only he could, Brian May colours it with incredibly timed riffs as Deacon and Taylor support it amazingly.
Later that evening, as I studied the cover art work and the stage photograph pictured in the middle of the album, I realized there was an insert, in the opposite sleeve. Ohhh, bonus! It was a pink colored poster, which unfolded, and then unfolded again into a full blown centerfold size poster of ...naked woman on bicycles, maybe a hundred of them. Ahhhh!!! I just had to take it to school the very next day.
For years it remained hidden under my bed, my older brothers, whom are quite square never knew about it.
Until this day and until the day I die I will forever be grateful to this Gay vocalist-semi-God who sent me a picture of naky girls when I was just a kid.
Freddie, wherever you are, I will forever love you.

"Left alone with big fat Fanny,
She was such a naughty nanny!
Hey big woman you made a bad boy out of me!"

Final Solution

No, not Adolph's
I'm tan, remember?
yes, yes, I know, Gerber is doitschie
so what? I don't even speak German
So anyway, I give in
and finally started taking the quit smoking pill
no, not that ...
I said SMOKING

Wanderlust

Like Amundsen and Scott
I open one of my closet's doors courageously
only to discover it is still there
an Everest of laundry to be conquered
I stare in awe, terrorized

A roll of quarters inside my fist
detergent hooligan
with a cup of Tide I will conquer this monster

Goldfrapp, Miss Kittin and the hacker
come through my headphones for the first load
but at the third load I'm in total wanderlust
staring through the small round window
at the colors, going round and round
my thoughts, in random chaos
synching with the washer
like an alpha male iPod
reloading Tom Jones
via usb 2.0
am I going crazy?
This is the nemesis of the white soft foam
that comes in the Pacific waves
and drowns my head in sultry highs
One thing I know for sure
my imagination in mutation
is far more beautiful
than your scratched record mentality
But, should I change?
would you love me more if i was taller?
or perhaps if i was rich...
should I stop smoking for you?
or maybe lose weight?
sometimes I think you would change my name if you could

If you were perfect, then maybe I would
on a second thought ...fuck that
cause it wouldn't be me
I think optometrist is an erotic word
the best university is an airplane ticket
and karma makes me try to be humble
I don't think you are what you have
cause if you lose what you have you still exist
furthermore
I think you are what you do
when you love, when you write, when you work
when you eat, when you shit

And when you hate, when you interrogate
when you criticize and demand explanations
when you judge and ask me to justify myself
eat less french fries or wear a mask
or put on a different shirt
that is when I rejoice in dancing to Bowie
doing laundry or doing nothing
simply cause you're not there

Candlelight

Candlelight of my bedside table
dancing shadows on the wall
devils, demons and Faustus's on the ceiling
your head on my pillow
as I lay on top of you

I see your eyes
green, sometimes blue
in the candlelight are hazel
and your hair turns dark brown

I sometimes look at your thighs
and think you're somebody else
you look at me in the candlelight
and I think you don't know who I am
or where I'm from
or where I've been
it's all these mirrors
all these reflections
look at them
on the ceiling
on the doorway

My gypsy spirit
concave and convex
how our bodies seem to fight
how they hunger
how they ache
in the candlelight.

Black Leather

I was going to write about leather
that black, second skin of mine
the one that bleeds
the one that has that lusty scent
like sandalwood and gasoline
like Billy, you know?
No, not Joel the wuss
Idol
Like James Dean
Like Joey Ramone
and how we idealize rock Gods
and girlfriends and songs
and love and poems and motel rooms
and how cupid is mischievous sometimes
how this second skin camouflages the ethereal mind
the superfluous flesh
that yearns for thorns instead of roses.

Playa Paraiso

Mexico City, Circa 1999.
It was a cold, polluted Mexico City afternoon, it felt like a Thursday but smelled like Monday and the rain barely touched the streets. It was one of those days on which you could barely see the silhouette of the WTC, far away in the distance, behind a misty grey smog screen. I heard a knock on the door and to my surprise it was my dear friend Santi. Tall, thin and pale, his sunk eyes and the unmistakable blond mullet.
"- Hermano" he said as he greeted me with great joy, like he always does.
He had just arrived from Helsinki and had brought along a couple of his friends from Finland, one of them was Ville, whom I had met on a previous occasion. Ville is quite the character: not as tall as Santi but taller than me, a 6" Nordic in his late 20's who works at a shipyard in the Finnish Lapland's at sub zero temperatures, I think he resembles one of those a-ha members who never appeared on the videos. The other friend, whom I had never met till that day was Ponu. Direct descendant of barbaric Viking ancestry, big, tall, pale and simply put he's a guy you wouldn't want to mess with.
They had come to Mexico with a decisive plan: get high beyond reason and drown in Tequila. This, of course was an occurrence that somehow seemed to repeat itself year after year.
"- Gerber" said Santy
"- Let's go to the beach, somewhere tourists don't know about"
I knew just the place, and a few hours later we were on the Bus to Playa Paraiso. How I miss it, it is a beautiful beach on the State of Guerrero, roughly 90 miles from the port of Acapulco, surrounded by palm trees and well, nothing more.
We arrived there by dawn and promptly set our tents and hammocks under a palm tree covered area, which is part of a restaurant run by Dona Guella, a dark skin, tough lady with indigenous background and long straight grey hair, I guess she must have been in her 60's then. Dona Guella was a very humble woman with a heart of gold, someone I considered an adoptive mother.
Her family, mostly fishermen, helped her run the place. A shack/restaurant located on this magical uncharted beach which actually is a sandbar. It must measure miles in length and only a couple of hundred feet across and sits between the ocean and a fresh water lake.
Blow dryer? stereo? No, there's not electricity, or streets or even brick and mortar houses and the closest telephone is 2 miles away.
Then the sun finally came out, shining bright through the palm tree plantations. The coffee was as always warm and disgusting and the company unparalleled.
After a filling breakfast we gathered $100 pesos, which is roughly ten bucks, with which we bought half a pound of pot, It was quite a stash. once gathered, on the mess table, I proceeded to form a mountain shape with it, a volcano at which the four of us stared in awe, since it resembled that one of Close Encounters of the Third Kind.
Santi and Ville got a bucket full of ice and Coronas, while I showed Ponu how to mix Absolut with coconut ice cream. Oh yeah baby, it was vacationing all the way.
I spent hours on the beach, watching pelicans flying in jet fighter formation on the crest of waves, I was in standby mode, relaxing in the Mexican comatose.
The rest of that evening went by very much uneventful, we sat around a campfire, cracked jokes, talked about life, the Leningrad Cowboys and made rolling paper origami, which we later smoked. Eventually I lit my diesel lamp and headed to my tent, sometime around an hour later silence covered the place like an old blanket, and I fell asleep. Well, I was, until a deafening scream ripped the night in half
" - Pablo!!!!, Paaabloo!!!"
It must have been Ville, yelling in complete horror, Santi and Ponu followed suit and in a split second they stormed my tent. " - Pablo!!!!, Paaablo get up, NOW"
I jumped out of my skin only to see their pale, long faces, as if they had seen a ghost. Tsunami, I thought. I ran outside my tent with them to see what was the commotion all about, and that is when they stopped me, put their hands to my mouth and told me to hush. " -Shhhhh!" they said in unison. " - wait", whispered Santi "...just wait" as I stood there with all my senses wondering WTF what had happened.
The night was still, quiet, I even saw a firefly flick in front of us, and that is when the screaming returned " - THAT!!!, WHAT IS THAT ????" they screamed while pointing at the blinking bug.
" - RUN !!!" I said. And these Vikings took off running down the beach, terrorized like teenage girls in a Tel Aviv mall during a bomb threat at Victoria's Secret.
That is how I learned that in Finland they don't have fireflies.
I also learned that shredded reindeer antlers don't really do a thing.
And perhaps it's time for me to pay them a visit.

Run, Pablo, Run

Back by popular request, a post on my favorite topic: Me.
It's almost 2008 and after a good scare I seem to finally have my blood pressure under control, the heart... well, that one is out of control. Renewed life, I have decided to reinvent myself, I have to, at least in some areas of my life. Yes, I am taking my high blood pressure meds with religious accuracy, obtained memberships to a world class gym and a massage parlor, began seeing my NEW dentist regularly and (.....drum roll) I'm starting the chantix program to quit smoking. Ta Daaaa!!!
Novus Pabulus Organicus Intoxicatus Non Plus Ultra Vasectomizatus Energizatus In Carnivorous Carnavalescus Caligulatus Attackus Irresponsibliatux El Kabongus Est (the beast will be unleashed and unchained).
What's the whole idea? It's a 360 degree change, comprised of exercise, healthy meals (not diets), no more smoking, a nice gym membership and massages every two weeks as well as a positive outlook in life. Why? cause NOW is the time. Yes, my dear pussycat, no application to fill out, just a new life.
I'll be keeping you posted on the titanical failures and missions accomplished, so don't tune out.

Hypertension

My face was numb
like some strange creature trapped under an ice age
as a matter of fact it still is
but it keeps improving
at this rate I might even blush someday
My heart raced
it's been a while since it pumped so fast
and now it seems to behave once more
I hope it stays that way
The migraines, well, those deep, dark holes
never seem to end
overall I felt like a fish
somewhat alive
somewhat in the frozen foods aisle
and after two days in an ER Tour
countless percocets, IV's
and other much more colorful drugs
I'm back
This is it, the fear of a stroke did it
it felt so close
so undeniable
I have decided with all conviction
to give deaf ears to Wiwille's countless Gym Horror Stories
and join one (it's been decades)
as a result, this also entails to turn my back on an old friend
Marlboro Man, I have decided to give up the smoke
Will I succeed? we'll see
I just know that.. "I don't ever want to feel, like I did that day"

The Chauffer

Happiness is a silhouette
and joy is envious
sad raindrops falling
in the immense loneliness of the ocean
unless, of course
when sacrificed in the senseless suicidal flight
bursting to milliliters on the umbrella that shelters you

But, this is my road map
birthmark and tattoo
destined to feed of hope
chasing after your shadow
living in the parallel worlds
of the stupid platonic romance

Is there any shame left?
crumbling to pieces like the mask of the Sphinx
and the pride
slowly dripping in tear drop disguise
from the kitchen sink
to the sewage
from my mouth
to your words.

Morango (Strawberry)

Sometimes I want to jump in the coffee bag
grope the goth barista
bite her shoulder
and leave that strawberry mark
which is so mine
I would
I honestly would
if I knew that paper dollar tip
would become an instant trip
to teleport me back to Brazil
if only for a second
for a minute
for a week

To walk the broad sidewalks in Rio
to be reminded of romances
on a Saturday in Ipanema beach
Encounter the child in me
climbing Caju trees
devouring its fruit, which is like a woman
rediscovering Itamaraca and its Fort
or sipping cafezinho at the Cinelandia
in downtown Rio de Janeiro
listening to Renato Russo and his Legiao

Maybe, just maybe
drink cachaca made in carmo
go back to my condo in Botafogo
stroll by the marina
with the Christ looking down at me
in total redemption

and then maybe, just maybe
the bite in your shoulder would glow
and maybe, just maybe
I'd bite those buttocks like a dog

If you let me
and if you walk with me
I could take you to a land
far, far away
where everything is real
and bathing suits are worshiped
where palm trees dance at night
and truth is deflected
I know, I used to be conceited
but now I am absolutely perfect.

The Enemy Within

It was a clear, sunny morning here in Seattle, Sergio and I had just returned to work after our religious Starbucks pit stop and the usual five minute cigarette in the parking lot. I remember he was cracking jokes about my failed marriage while I was mocking his relentless balding, I remember that day like if it was yesterday. The mockery continued, of course, spoken loudly and openly over the cube hives at work. It was business as usual, when a Boeing 767, American Airlines flight 11 crashed into the northern side of the North Tower of the World Trade Center, it was 5:46:30 am here in Seattle.
The rest we already know... or we think we do, as with almost everything, but let’s not go there, yet.
I believe what I saw on TV that day, a day I will never forget. 2993 people died in a matter of minutes. People, not just Christians or Muslims or Jews, not just Black, Hispanic, Asian or White, not just Democrats or Republicans. People, women and men, people of all walks of life, from many countries, creeds and colors. People jumping to their deaths from skyscrapers on fire, people crushed under tons of concrete and steel rubble, firefighters and children, all tossed and charred and crushed like rag dolls. It was plural murder, and the common denominator of the people that died that day is that they were mostly American Civilians.
My heart broke, it still is. But then sadness turned to anger and then anger turned to hatred. I have never felt so American and I have never wanted to put on a black shirt, but this day changed it all.
Six years have gone by and now there are all these conspiracy theories. Were the towers imploded? Why did WTC 7 collapse? Without 9/11 would the Bush/Cheney/Rove Administration have been re-elected? Is this the excuse they needed in order to impose this fascist regime? To strip us from our individual civil rights? To steal our privacy? Did they produce it? Is the Viacomm/Rove propaganda machine similar to that one of Joseph Goebbels by coincidence? Is the Patriot Act a rough draft of an Ultra-Conservative Meine Kampf? I don’t know, but I sure keep my handy, dandy notebook.
Is it that all these people whom are fed hatred for the free world don't recognize that maybe the immigrant influx reflects that America is a great country that welcomes people from all over the world who come searching for a better life? for opportunities not found in their countries of origin?
The 9/11 terrorists were welcome with Visas into this Country just the same as the Israel Olympic Team. They were able to make a living, go to school, date, some even learned to fly, and look what they did.
I can recognize that we do rub people the wrong way and that our foreign policy has sometimes been rather despotic. But that does not justify terrorism or xenophobia, and it goes both ways. Today I grieve and think of all the children who have suffered from this violence, the children of the victims of 9/11, of our fallen troops and all the children in the World who suffer the atrocities of war. Alternative fuel is just one more thing to return to a sustainable environment, but it should not be used to isolate us from the rest of the world, we have just one, after all.
"All men are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality."
Martin Luther King Jr.

Luciano Pavarotti est Mort

There are men that can sing and then there was Pavarotti.
Arrivederci Luciano
Tonight nessun dorme.

7 Sins

Early morning coffee
my first cigarette
dreams still sleep
curled inside a newspaper
I see her walking down the street
I teeter-totter and stutter
in the seesaw of her derrière

Her hair waterfalls in chestnuts
and honeycomb sunbeams
on her naked ivory shoulders
relentlessly brushed and toned
by the constant unforgiving sun

I remain a lazy prisoner
in the ambush of her thighs
sailor adrift drowning
as she comes in tidal waves

Titanical tiramisu
as I commit five deadly sins
... the two remaining
are leftovers for you

Magic

I sat on the sidewalk
and saw cars, and trucks and people go by
it was good to see them smile
and then it made me feel small
Like the Magician
after the trick is performed
he matters no more

Then the rabbit escapes his hat
and the dove would fly away in the first act
and then there's nothing
just an empty theater
a war widow with a lump in her throat
and a broken cookie jar
nothing
absolutely nothing
how it weighs on my shoulders
as I get up and carry on.

Equinox (Automne)

Darkness grows like a plague
covering my days
as Autumn arrives
and Summer leaves
they equinox my heart

Windy evenings
the occasional rain
deciduous trees will shed their leaves
and I will feel the chill in my bones
walking on maple leaf carpets

and then, before I know it
Winter
and with the first snow
my soul will freeze forever.

Moonlight

I wake up
sometimes in the morning
sometimes at night
yearning for the coffee scent
always eager to walk
the path beneath my feet

moonlight blankets me
in fluorescent tones
in the morning, dawn
and the Sun's bright sunbeams
will come down her face
and reveal once more her beauty
on which I swim, ensnared

Summer is here
the snow has long melted
then I think of the present
as she holds my hand and paints the day
Thursday was as important as water
as I laid plugged like dead car battery
in the hospital room
grasping to life
or whatever was left in me

I heard her tears as she made her way over
and she taught me it is the present that matters most

Since this will happen again
and I might not be so lucky
I thought I'd step into the summer
the summer love
under the moonlight
I am finally fulfilled.

Here come the Baobabs

I can't say I feel like St Exupery's main character
but I do at times, why deny it?
Roaming this Planet, looking for who knows what
tripping the light fantastic
spinning the rock

Then, I saw this rose
she has grown full, red, plump petals
with glass and steel thorns
from which you could make
the deadliest and strongest razor wire
but her petals
gentle, tempting and sultry
make me feel like home

It is almost unreal
how her beauty makes me dizzy
the bull in me awakened
huffing, puffing

I have the arms to make her shelter
as she sinks her face in my chest
as my hands surround her definitively
and the thorns surrender
and become something like a soft, warm, tender peach

I let my walls fall and crack
tumbling desperately crushed to my feet
they are rendered useless
for we have shared our fears and weaknesses
invented kisses and built bridges with hugs

I look in her eyes and I see the world
and when she kisses my lips
and whispers my name
I know I'm finally home

Love is a geometrical shape
I do not understand.

Hands

I love this city
Emerald of the Pacific
though sometimes her gloomy days
can cloud your mind
Then again, I love the rain
always have
it washes away the worthless sorrow
the downtown dirt
the ocean salt
and the seagull shit

My soul, cleansed
bleached, purified
My heart pumping
beating, raging

I was walking down ALki last week
and walking up Gasworks on Friday
if you had seen us then
you would have thought that we were holding hands
when in reality she was pulling me out of hell
and perhaps so was I

But if you see us now
you will have no doubt that we are holding hands

"...as long as I know how to love, I know I'm still alive"
Gloria Gaynor

Desiderata

I felt so old last night
sitting on a rocking chair
watching raindrops
falling in a suicidal slide
down the window pane

Roberta Flack is trapped
or so it seems
inside an old AM radio
I could let her out
but then I would be alone

I look at the clock, again
then at a butcher knife
waiting for the perfect time
to cut off one of my ears
like Vincent
or to shave my eyebrows and nipples
like Geldof

But then I light another cigarette
and I wonder if that would change a thing
if it would distract me from the pain
as I hide under an umbrella
from melancholy bombs

As the poison of love
travels through my vessels
a distorted vision of my present
continues to haunt my future
like a ghost
as I face the daunting task
of living day
after day

Bipartisanship

I'll hug your Elephant
if you kiss my Ass

(bumpersticker philosophy)
- Unknown (no, it's not Plato, I'm guessing an Ex-Nader supporter gone Postal)

To say goodbye

To say goodbye
and turn your back on love
will make you cry

To turn your back on blue eyes
with a titanical sunk look
is sincerely impossible
and impossibly sincere

It's Roberta Flack, Mario Benedetti
Pablo Picasso and Paul Gaugin crying at a funeral
the funeral of hope

To give deaf ears to a broken voice
with a Callas sudden sigh
is the darkness all around me
in a deadly embrace

It's Nat King Cole, Vincent Van Gogh and Chavela Vargas
Arthur Rimbaud and Salvador Dali carrying the hearse
the hearse of love

That is why to say goodbye
and turn my back on you
will make me die.

La Rue Bondage

It’s a new moon night
And this bible black sky
becomes canvas for neon claws

Cold and overcast
this night on which the sun hides
blushing in shame

Slowly and patiently
a river of obsession begins to flow in my veins
the look of fixation clouds my sight
and this author’s alter-ego comes to life
Dom Pablo, as he demands to be called
A strange personification
of some obscure emerald smuggler
Witty and powerful
all dressed in black
Leather boots and tight denim
Leather jacket, no shirt and and ominous black whip

Clean cut Ibero-latin man
or Mexican pool boy with a twisted smile
with a very thick accent
handcuffs and carabiners
smoking Gitanes

She knows he is a teddy bear
his love shows through his eyes
and yet, she will obey
“Porque lo digo yo” - because I say so, he says
as he lands the whip on her naked derriere
with deadly accuracy
“Weppo” leaving a bright red kiss shaped mark
on her pale white skin
“Weppo” – Because I say so, mami
as the door closes behind them
the light that escapes through the keyhole
is now a flashlight that unveils a hidden world
a world you never knew about
or maybe you have....

Graceland

I remember when I was a kid
all my friends wanted to be Superman
Aquaman, Ultraman
Spiderman or Captain America
Me? I wanted to be Elvis
Like a steamroller baby

James Dean was before my time
Mickey Rourke was just starting
but The King
aah, he was something else

The mystic, the aplomb, the charm
"a little less conversation
a little more action"
and women would fall at his feet
like popcorn in a matinee

"When I was a teen I used to vandalize public phones,
now that I've grown up I vandalize my own"
- Cazuza

The Fountain of Salmacis

That bright yellow thing is out
shinning all over us
summer is here, without a doubt

I might go bathe in it
and while the Acapulco Plaza
or the Yacht Club seem farther than they have ever been
I still embrace the Sun

and son of a bitch, how bored am I
on this sunny late morning friday
it's one of my days off but everyone is at work
and there's no scandinavian princess to spank

Friday, like no other
I will go again to that special place of mine
you know where I'll be
keeping the tan, tan
maybe listening to Plant
or the trickling water falling
in the fountain I've renamed
as "The Fountain of Salmacis"

4th of July 2007

Spent the 4th of July with Erik, the Pretty Girl, Tadster et al.
As always a time to reflect on the amazing beauty and grandeur of this land, of this beloved Country that I have embraced ever since I remember.
Skateboarding on Orange Ave in Coronado Calif is one of my best memories of my childhood. While I did grow up in Mexico we also had a condo at the Coronado Seashore Towers (better known as the Taco Towers) and a house in La Jolla.
My dad and I would come twice a year and do the whole San Diego Zoo, Sea World, Disneyland thing, and of course, shopping sprees that were out of control. We would spend most of the time in Coronado, where I would spend hours hanging out at the local pizza place playing centipede after buying obnoxious amounts of candy bars at the now defunct Alpha-Beta.
We would also stay in Newport Beach, at my brother's (Johnny Gerber - Wolrd Champion Formula Ford 1971) and he would always take me go-kart racing and coach me.
While I am Mexican American I am a Proud American and I took this day to reflect and humbly thank our Troops, those boys are out there KICKING ASS while we sit and watch fireworks from the comfort and peace of our homes, this is thanks to THEM.
Pictures from the Fireworks Display, here in Lake Union, WA.

Door Mat

I still have my heart
somewhere...
I'll find it one of these days
when I least need it
under a box
or all rolled up, like a poster, in a corner somewhere
maybe gardening in the attic
maybe inside an empty plastic bag
but more than probably
it will be replacing the door mat
waiting for the wrong person to return
he doesn't know
my poor and stupid heart
who never knew.

That is why I understand when you ask me to write
and that is how I know why you can't love
though sometimes I wish you could
and I ask you to do things I can't
like love
like the washer, tumbling, tumbling, tumbling.

Cause I wanna take you downtown...

It must have been 2:00am this morning when I found myself surfing, smoking, brewing and chasing my tail like I usually do. This fucking insomnia has got to go.
Then again, what fun.
Hunger strike, I mean, stroke.
I think hunger strikes are as stupid as that Carpenter girl... errr, nevermind.
So, like Amundsen I set sail to my favorite late night eatery.
The Hurricane, a retroish very non-art-deco, rather warehousy, shady coffee shop a block from the Needdle. Yes, it has a bar, but this one breaks your dreams before you even walk in.
But that's not the "It" about this place. I go there because it's open, the bacon is always fried to perfection (not charred yet crunchy enough to provide the neccesary traction for the tomato not to slide). Three or four girls with multicolored hair, a army of emo's and the always sparkling pair of curvy blondes (I believe that for the purpose of general understanding of the ALWAYS BELOVED QUORUM I will have to classify their booties as BBW) of course, in their early 40's.
No, I was so NOT checking them out, really. I was incredibly entertained with the wiffity.
The what?? (and people ask if we have TV's in Mexico)
Wiffity! a wi-fi networked big ASS LCD screen that displays txt's> This, of course, is like giving me a full breakfast and a megaphone, at 2:00am.
The service sucked royal ass, but who is in a hurry at 2:00am? I mean, bush kept reading "Curious George" after being informed of the COWARD attacks in 9/11 (we're gonna get you one of these days fuckers, just wait till the shield is up and we're going to be cooking glass like a trailer park in Pierce County).
But by then I might find myself locked up in Get Mo' not becuase of my blurbs, but because I'm tan. So much for voting. Anyway. It's the Hurricane and they were playing Johnny Cash, Simple Minds, Erasure, Depeche and unfortunately Howard Jones.
Tah Tah.

Oh, yes, I almost forgot....
Being single allows you to stay up all night, eat basted eggs and an absolutely fucking magnific waffle topped with bluberries and whip cream at 2am WITHOUT having to convince anyone that the bacon is always crunchier, though Hester Prynne might disagree.
(when in fact IT IS) and fuck the tomato, it just fell on the floor.

Life Brew

Tripping on my own shadow
sleeping as little as possible
feeding on stale crackers
and using pillows as masks
I go
living my days in pairs
while the shower is a river of handkerchiefs

I wake up to the evening news
the moon is my sun
and the whistling coffee pot my songbird
Her face is everywhere
my heart becomes an empty plastic bag
a merky fishtank
a cat ran over
by the garbage truck

I watch her slipping away
like a sad kid in the park
seeing his balloon fly into the air

Yesterday Starts Tomorrow

I'm standing by the window
barefoot, smoking my last cigarette
and there's no moon tonight
just the dark, starless sky
there are no planets either
and no 747's with their blinking lights
there's nothing
not even a super nova to come and take me away
or a comet to hitch a ride with.

Tomorrow,
tomorrow the sun won't come out
all the yellow flowers on the curb will die
bunnies will disappear in the forest
and all life will stand still
motionless
as I stand barefoot by the window and cry

Tomorrow there will be no more highway
there are two plane tickets
but there's nowhere to go
no raft in the ocean
no lifeguard, no nurse

There will be no wine
no diving boards
no children riding on their bikes
there will be no phone calls
and no cards in the mail

Tomorrow there will be the most absolute nothing
it will be the last page of a book
"The End" of a motion picture
the end of the camera film
and the end of the song
which I heard in your eyes

Nothing
Absolutely nothing
only yesterday
and the yesterday before that
and the one before

The yesterdays when I had you with me
when we said goodbye in the crowded airport
when we sat and prayed for safe trips
when we made incredible love promises
when we wrote pages in our book
and all of your 56 smiles will be replayed in my mind

I will hear all your different laughs
and remember all your words
your blue eyes will be forever present
reminding me there's hope
when there isn't
as the scarlett letter burns me at the stake
because there's nothing
nothing, nothing, nothing
just an abyss of emptiness
two jars of darkness
a bottle of air that is hard to breathe
and an endless ocean of pain
and guilt
and beyond that ocean
there's only more nothing
much more...

As I walk the empty Seattle streets
remembering my yesterdays with you
as life slowly escapes from me
and I roam in comatose insomnia
I bid you farewell
and I know it was all my own doing
but now that the tulips are dead
I stand barefoot by the window
and slowly begin to die
yesterday starts tomorrow
tomorrow starts today.