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