Today is always an interesting day, I remember that the first time I voted here I had just arrived and I voted for George W. Bush. The guy is passionate when he speaks, and Gore choosing Lieberman was a horrid mistake, look at him now, following McCain. Still, I voted and I went and got my Social Security number and my Driver's License and while I have always been an American Citizen I had never really lived here, but the pride has always been there, as is the love for this land.
I'm in America and I'm an American. I speak English and I fear God. I'm a sinner and a tax payer, my dad was a Korean War Vet and I'm registered with the Selective Service. I'm also Mexican and that's where I was born, and I pay taxes over there too (in case you thought Mexicans don't pay taxes, I do ...twice) then again I'm an exception to the rule.
Today, however is not about me. it is about this Great Nation.
We are multicultural and we love and hate everybody.
We nuked Hiroshima but we love Karate Kid.
We don't agree with how China violates human rights but we love made in Honk Kong.
We volunteer as minute men to shoot Mexicans in the border but we love Cancun and making a total ass of ourselves at any Mexican Restaurant (they even put the pictures on the walls).
We still have racism as a social problem but we cry when the Williams and the Woods and the Jordan's raise our flag up high, against the best in the world.
We dance to Tupac and Garth Brooks and Shakira and we love saying "Arroz con pollo"
As different as we are, redneck is still something no one wants to be... and yet we all watch Nascar, wear sandals with socks, jeans with high heels and chew gum loudly. We not only make the worst voice mail recordings, but we also have El Debarge or the Bee-gees as a ringback tone. We decorate our cellphones with shiny plastic diamonds, put puppies in pink purses and believe that Elvis is still alive, then we mix it all and plaster it on myspace. Who told us that Jessica Parker was sexy? Gabrielle Union is sexy. Still, I've been to many places and it is here where I see most of the children going to school, receiving health care and growing in homes. It is here where I see women leaving their abusive husbands and raising their kids on their own, it is here where I see huge medical and technological advances, it is here where I know I must follow the law and it is here that I've decided to make my home. To me that's reason enough to fight for.
Unfortunately there are some people who live here and yet whose relatives never served in the military, who don't fear God, whose vote doesn't matter, whose Social Security number and Driver's Licenses are only documents that enable them to be here. Even though they don't feel pride or love for this land, quite the opposite: they hate us.
They are in America and some are becoming American. They speak English (really bad I must say) and follow and teach a distorted version of one of the oldest religions in the World, one not so different from Christianism.
I'm a sinner and I can tell you that there are 4 virgins per men in this world and I already had mine and yours too, so if you where told that you would have 20 or 40 waiting for you when you die I can assure that women don't really put out if you're dead, and if they are virgins they also don't wait very long.
Today, however is not about me. it is about this Great Nation.
We are multicultural and we love and hate those who hate us.
If you thought you were hiding and that we don't know who you are: today I'm letting you know that we do, that for us today is September 12Th and that we will never forget. We are just waiting until you step over the line again.
We are multicultural and today we all celebrate, today we remember your coward attack on all of us, today we remember our brothers and sisters and husbands and wives and daughters and friends and cousins and nieces and neighbors serving overseas, and when you see us looking at you at the traffic light, on the street or at the store and you feel that hatred, remember, it is hate, and we know who you are, and you are NOT one of US.
7/4/08
6/27/08
Bill Gates
Today was his last day at work and it's weird to think of him as an Edison.
He changed the way I talk, write, read, work, flirt, buy, watch movies, listen to music, photograph, pay bills and pretty much live.
Now he is out to continue having an impact on many others who are not so fortunate.
Thank you for showing me that you should still come to work, even after having Billions, and thank you for my job and for funding my brother's project to end hunger in underdeveloped countries through sustainable agriculture.
You shall be missed and expected at the Company Meetings at Safeco Field.
Oh and sorry for grabbing all those flashy Visual Studio pens at the product fair in 2002 (I know you saw me grabbing more than my share of those, you were standing right behind me) I told my mom and she wasn't very proud. She liked the pen though, those were kewl.
Word.
He changed the way I talk, write, read, work, flirt, buy, watch movies, listen to music, photograph, pay bills and pretty much live.
Now he is out to continue having an impact on many others who are not so fortunate.
Thank you for showing me that you should still come to work, even after having Billions, and thank you for my job and for funding my brother's project to end hunger in underdeveloped countries through sustainable agriculture.
You shall be missed and expected at the Company Meetings at Safeco Field.
Oh and sorry for grabbing all those flashy Visual Studio pens at the product fair in 2002 (I know you saw me grabbing more than my share of those, you were standing right behind me) I told my mom and she wasn't very proud. She liked the pen though, those were kewl.
Word.
6/17/08
Clock
The Moon seems to have been turned off
like a bedside table lamp
I lay in the darkness
as a little boy
and I peek under the bed
and find the monster to be me
my mind.
I make a sail from my lungs
and from heart an engine
put.. put..put
as I go sailing to the depth of my conscience.
I see new colors in the palette of a lady bug
I see a daisy undressing for me
petal by petal
dew drop by dew drop.
Thump by thump by thump
this drum takes me through this world of frescoes
through this water world inside my head
beyond galaxies
beyond blood and time
I see dogs as plush pillows
sheep as beds
catfish air balloons
and an elephant couch
I chase after the bread butterflies
that Alice described so well
and I run through corn sculptures
till I see her eyes and her naked breasts before me
my muse, in my world
to where only LSD would take me years to come
A place Ginsberg and Thompson know so well
Country you have no passport to
where the sky is shut
like the zipper in a tent
and the lid of a pressure cooker
is placed upon our heads
A land where clocks have handcuffed hands
Where people wear fish bowls instead of helmets
where we can breathe water
where we use finger paintings and kisses
instead of words
Where wars are fought with poems
and maps are tattooed on arms and legs
where it is all seen through a lens
in 35 millimeters
Where Mothers are huge cotton clouds
that surround us and embrace us
like a bullet proof down comforter
and a smile capable of heating the ocean
they do, as a matter of fact
Under my bed, inside my head
a world where our tears become tiny little heart beads
that we give away
at every sigh.
like a bedside table lamp
I lay in the darkness
as a little boy
and I peek under the bed
and find the monster to be me
my mind.
I make a sail from my lungs
and from heart an engine
put.. put..put
as I go sailing to the depth of my conscience.
I see new colors in the palette of a lady bug
I see a daisy undressing for me
petal by petal
dew drop by dew drop.
Thump by thump by thump
this drum takes me through this world of frescoes
through this water world inside my head
beyond galaxies
beyond blood and time
I see dogs as plush pillows
sheep as beds
catfish air balloons
and an elephant couch
I chase after the bread butterflies
that Alice described so well
and I run through corn sculptures
till I see her eyes and her naked breasts before me
my muse, in my world
to where only LSD would take me years to come
A place Ginsberg and Thompson know so well
Country you have no passport to
where the sky is shut
like the zipper in a tent
and the lid of a pressure cooker
is placed upon our heads
A land where clocks have handcuffed hands
Where people wear fish bowls instead of helmets
where we can breathe water
where we use finger paintings and kisses
instead of words
Where wars are fought with poems
and maps are tattooed on arms and legs
where it is all seen through a lens
in 35 millimeters
Where Mothers are huge cotton clouds
that surround us and embrace us
like a bullet proof down comforter
and a smile capable of heating the ocean
they do, as a matter of fact
Under my bed, inside my head
a world where our tears become tiny little heart beads
that we give away
at every sigh.
6/16/08
Dolphin Crimson
How can I close my eyes and look away
when your face is there, behind the sun
in the kitchen
in the deepest part of me.
When the pain returns in twitches
and warm summer eves sweep me in sweat
when the burning soles tell me to run
and never stop
When the storm is brewing
and my bed is breaking in half
and the headphones can no longer mute this silent scream
this cry for help
this scream in sorrow
this confession
I was wrong
... and like a dolphin I dive, slowly
into the sea
when your face is there, behind the sun
in the kitchen
in the deepest part of me.
When the pain returns in twitches
and warm summer eves sweep me in sweat
when the burning soles tell me to run
and never stop
When the storm is brewing
and my bed is breaking in half
and the headphones can no longer mute this silent scream
this cry for help
this scream in sorrow
this confession
I was wrong
... and like a dolphin I dive, slowly
into the sea
6/13/08
Special Day
There are days that seem endless
there's a war, a fight, a struggle
an internal conflict, an abyss
Then there are special days
when beehives and chestnuts and sunbeams
form a waterfall on your shoulders
while your eyes capture the turquoise Nile
days when you smile
when love pours in deltas
and today is one of those days, Genie
Happy Birthday
there's a war, a fight, a struggle
an internal conflict, an abyss
Then there are special days
when beehives and chestnuts and sunbeams
form a waterfall on your shoulders
while your eyes capture the turquoise Nile
days when you smile
when love pours in deltas
and today is one of those days, Genie
Happy Birthday
6/1/08
Rush 5-31-08 The Gorge
When I was 11 and my neighbor played Permanent Waves for me I became an instant Rush fan. I posted that story some time ago. Through the years I've looked back and realized that he didn't have to take the time to introduce the kid next door to a rock band. That was very nice of him, it showed me that there was more than Queen in this world... I've always wanted to thank them, but thank you only goes so far. At some point you have to pay it forward and last night I was able to do that. Thank you Emmy, last night I was a kid again, listening to Rush for the very first time. I hope that when you become my age you will look back and remember Peart and how life is amazing when you do what you love, then tell your RFID Ear Canal Implanted Chip to play Rush - Snakes and Arrows, Digitally Re-Re-Remastered in 128000Hyper Terabit Mega Dolby X Sampling by Justin Timberlake. The Gorge, as always a reminder of how insignificant we are, when standing before the majesty of the Lord.
5/30/08
Church
After an afternoon nap
the Friday and Saturday night ritual
shoes, shave, iron a shirt, refill the zippo
and soak in Armani
Every weekend night, to the Discotheque
it was my church
or the closest thing I've ever had to one
the high ceilings, the mirrors
the dry ice, the vodka baptisms
the lights
...and you
all of you
sometimes like angelic virgins dressed in white
others with red deviled lips
in black skimpy dresses.
Drunk in lust
high on the lingering aqua net cloud
with pot smelly fingertips from the heaven sent roach
in my car's ashtray
hitching a ride on the Bacardi bat
always buzzing
always on the prowl
Sacrificial lamb between the lasers
or predator in the night lights
our legs and lips and fingers intertwined
sometimes at some cheap motel
on the green at the golf club
my back seat
or the bungalow by the racket club
Sometimes I would stare at your thighs
heaven knows I still do
and think of her's
then her's
and then so many other pairs I've seen before
in a salad of nylons and sheer
it all becomes a blur
and you all become one single perfect pair of legs
as I lay consumed in total apophenia
I miss that sometimes
Christine's, Disco Beach, Barbazul, and Palladium
La Boom, Taizz, News and Kaova
I smile as they become a pareidolia of happiness
of youth, of dreams
My roller coaster of your thong and thighs and nylons
the chestnut waterfall of your hair on your cinnamon shoulders
and the hazel storm of your eyes
have become my straight jacket
my orb
my memoirs.
the Friday and Saturday night ritual
shoes, shave, iron a shirt, refill the zippo
and soak in Armani
Every weekend night, to the Discotheque
it was my church
or the closest thing I've ever had to one
the high ceilings, the mirrors
the dry ice, the vodka baptisms
the lights
...and you
all of you
sometimes like angelic virgins dressed in white
others with red deviled lips
in black skimpy dresses.
Drunk in lust
high on the lingering aqua net cloud
with pot smelly fingertips from the heaven sent roach
in my car's ashtray
hitching a ride on the Bacardi bat
always buzzing
always on the prowl
Sacrificial lamb between the lasers
or predator in the night lights
our legs and lips and fingers intertwined
sometimes at some cheap motel
on the green at the golf club
my back seat
or the bungalow by the racket club
Sometimes I would stare at your thighs
heaven knows I still do
and think of her's
then her's
and then so many other pairs I've seen before
in a salad of nylons and sheer
it all becomes a blur
and you all become one single perfect pair of legs
as I lay consumed in total apophenia
I miss that sometimes
Christine's, Disco Beach, Barbazul, and Palladium
La Boom, Taizz, News and Kaova
I smile as they become a pareidolia of happiness
of youth, of dreams
My roller coaster of your thong and thighs and nylons
the chestnut waterfall of your hair on your cinnamon shoulders
and the hazel storm of your eyes
have become my straight jacket
my orb
my memoirs.
5/29/08
Excuse me, Ma'am ?
On my daily interactions I believe to be usually polite, at least I try.
I was brought up by a strict Swiss Grandfather who taught me to open the door for the ladies (regardless of age or bra size), stand up and offer my chair, pay the bill or pick up the tab without any room to argument, etc.
It is beautiful, it is like a dance. A man is a gentleman, the ladies acknowledge and it usually ended up in the sweet summer fornication at garden parties amidst endless ice tea pitchers and prosciutto rolls.
...and then, what happened?
am I freaky? do I need to shave more often?
I mean, I know that I dress like I'm 16yo but at least I don't wear long basketball shorts and bright blue baseball hats. Maybe my jeans are too ....cholo style?
Maybe I'm just old and fat and I have issues accepting that, but hey, at least I quit smoking. Still, I don't get why some (not all) of the ladies don't even acknowledge you, glance, thank, nod, burp, barf or bark when you hold the elevator for them or open the door at the local Starbucks for them. Nothing... not even an eyelash....
It's over
Really
I mean it
No more Mr Nice guy, Bitch!
You want to be just like us?
Fine, let's see you fart.
No, not silently and smirking like Rachael Ray.
I wanna see you fart vociferously, loudly, very Prada au contraire.
No?
The skimpy salad and garlic croutons just don't....?
It's OK, eventually you'll wrinkle and then only con artists will acknowledge you.
Me? I always wear Oakley's, remember? Now I got my ipod headphones 24x7 and unless you have a big ghetto booty I'm not even looking.
....Damn that felt good.
Ok, back to being the regular sweet lad I've always been....
ok, I'm almost done, just this last remark, I promise.
Is there truly a generation gap between The View and Sex and the City?
Sarah Jessica Parker looks more and more like Mr Ed
I was brought up by a strict Swiss Grandfather who taught me to open the door for the ladies (regardless of age or bra size), stand up and offer my chair, pay the bill or pick up the tab without any room to argument, etc.
It is beautiful, it is like a dance. A man is a gentleman, the ladies acknowledge and it usually ended up in the sweet summer fornication at garden parties amidst endless ice tea pitchers and prosciutto rolls.
...and then, what happened?
am I freaky? do I need to shave more often?
I mean, I know that I dress like I'm 16yo but at least I don't wear long basketball shorts and bright blue baseball hats. Maybe my jeans are too ....cholo style?
Maybe I'm just old and fat and I have issues accepting that, but hey, at least I quit smoking. Still, I don't get why some (not all) of the ladies don't even acknowledge you, glance, thank, nod, burp, barf or bark when you hold the elevator for them or open the door at the local Starbucks for them. Nothing... not even an eyelash....
It's over
Really
I mean it
No more Mr Nice guy, Bitch!
You want to be just like us?
Fine, let's see you fart.
No, not silently and smirking like Rachael Ray.
I wanna see you fart vociferously, loudly, very Prada au contraire.
No?
The skimpy salad and garlic croutons just don't....?
It's OK, eventually you'll wrinkle and then only con artists will acknowledge you.
Me? I always wear Oakley's, remember? Now I got my ipod headphones 24x7 and unless you have a big ghetto booty I'm not even looking.
....Damn that felt good.
Ok, back to being the regular sweet lad I've always been....
ok, I'm almost done, just this last remark, I promise.
Is there truly a generation gap between The View and Sex and the City?
Sarah Jessica Parker looks more and more like Mr Ed
5/28/08
Torero
Your scent on my handkerchief
like your hand on mine
my pillow still has the shape of your head
and I don't want to get up
The steam escapes from under the bathroom door
the satin robe covering the rest of you
your wet hair
your big blue eyes
and those perfect high cheecks
are where I begin
and where I end
Your voice
pronouncing my name with a foreign accent
like your lips
in tangy red wine
remind me of gipsies and fairies
could not have told our story
how many ears it would take to paint your body
how many sighs it steals from me
and how my hands are constantly discovering
and rediscovering you
as my lips find the perfect path
between your breasts and your thighs
covered under my red cape
I'm your bullfighter
your map
and yet so far away
like your hand on mine
my pillow still has the shape of your head
and I don't want to get up
The steam escapes from under the bathroom door
the satin robe covering the rest of you
your wet hair
your big blue eyes
and those perfect high cheecks
are where I begin
and where I end
Your voice
pronouncing my name with a foreign accent
like your lips
in tangy red wine
remind me of gipsies and fairies
could not have told our story
how many ears it would take to paint your body
how many sighs it steals from me
and how my hands are constantly discovering
and rediscovering you
as my lips find the perfect path
between your breasts and your thighs
covered under my red cape
I'm your bullfighter
your map
and yet so far away
5/26/08
Time
Don't expect a kiss
or a phone call
like a grave expects a body
and don't expect me to touch you
or caress you
like a watch needs to be wind
I'm permanently out of time
and you're temporarily out of touch
I was once expected to be home on time
to call
to take a test and pass
to not complain
to listen to others
to do
to undo
to fly to Florida
to move to a new Country
to get a job
to buy a ring
to be nice
to be polite
to pay my bills
to be ransacked by taxes
to shut up
turn the volume down
to fuck you
and to pick up the tab
...but I've grown up
I got my headphones
to not listen to you
I'm at an undisclosed location
to not see you
I am me
the magician
the sorcerer
the poet
the Faustus
the romeo
he who uses gravity and Gräfenberg
in the teeter-totter of love
I'm your master
as long as I wish to be
you must learn to give it all
and expect nothing
otherwise you will run out of love
before you run out of time
and the clock is ticking
or a phone call
like a grave expects a body
and don't expect me to touch you
or caress you
like a watch needs to be wind
I'm permanently out of time
and you're temporarily out of touch
I was once expected to be home on time
to call
to take a test and pass
to not complain
to listen to others
to do
to undo
to fly to Florida
to move to a new Country
to get a job
to buy a ring
to be nice
to be polite
to pay my bills
to be ransacked by taxes
to shut up
turn the volume down
to fuck you
and to pick up the tab
...but I've grown up
I got my headphones
to not listen to you
I'm at an undisclosed location
to not see you
I am me
the magician
the sorcerer
the poet
the Faustus
the romeo
he who uses gravity and Gräfenberg
in the teeter-totter of love
I'm your master
as long as I wish to be
you must learn to give it all
and expect nothing
otherwise you will run out of love
before you run out of time
and the clock is ticking
5/23/08
Ferry
Thank you for coming back
I'm flattered, honestly
cause my writing sucks
that's why I write constantly
in opium hopes that someday
by chance
I will scribble something worthy
but this time I'd rather share someone else's words
join me, sit down
shut up and listen.
The guitar? yes, that's Gilmour
When you know the name of the game
You can never play enough ~ Bryan Ferry
I'm flattered, honestly
cause my writing sucks
that's why I write constantly
in opium hopes that someday
by chance
I will scribble something worthy
but this time I'd rather share someone else's words
join me, sit down
shut up and listen.
The guitar? yes, that's Gilmour
When you know the name of the game
You can never play enough ~ Bryan Ferry
5/15/08
Oceanis
Stop.
Breathe.
Look around you,
breathe
you're alive....
Darkness falls swiftly,
barefoot feet
leave footprints on the sand.
I walk to the sea
to the cresting waves,
under the moonlight
on this quiet, summer night.
I see the plankton glowing
in green and blue and purple neon
splashed along the bay.
I then surrender the last piece of clothing
and let my soul escape through my lungs
as I float on the swing of the ripple.
The water, warm and deep
surrounds me and keeps me afloat.
Soon I can no longer hear the music
from the lobby of the hotel,
alone, I've come to be.
I stare into the night
and the sea becomes an extension of space
outer space...
I grab a bucket of stars
begin to draw new constellations
like plankton, space is more than night.
I think of Holst
and take a deep breath
as my mortal remains afloat.
Trying to think nothing
trying not to think of Her
losing myself in both immensities
letting go.
As the current drags me farther away
and as this patch of ocean becomes a womb
I spot a red light, glowing
far, far away.
It wanders aimlessly
as I keep track of it
she seems as lonely as I
with my mind I play calling her
and slowly lose any sense of time,
as I repeat my mantra,
over and over again:
"come, come to me"
"come and take me away"
A few falling stars later
and to my surprise
she gets closer
and closer
and stops right above me
as if looking at me
suspended in mid air.
Mars is at its farthest
and satellites travel in orbital vectors
I know this light is neither
and neither are three more that joined it
playfully.
I stare in awe
in total comfort
they are strangely familiar
like an unknown uncle
I'm nervous, and yet, unafraid.
They come closer
spining in circles
dancing in a slow rhythm
floating above my head
as if communicating with me.
I close my eyes
and feel a little shock run through me
then slowly fade away
into a nap, or self inflicted coma
my mind wanders to outer space
as jellyfish pass below me.
I can hear what these lights are saying
and for a moment, I am taken by them
and time suddenly stops.
Soon enough the waves become an orchestra
then I am suddenly back in the Pacific
in Oceanis, in Atlantis
I open my eyes
and wake up
I have arrived
I have been born
born again
I swim
I dive
I take the deepest breath
and as my feet touch the sand
the red lights vanish into the night.
I'm here
wet, naked
new, erect
I speak three of your languages
and have so much to say and learn
with a certainty deep in my heart
I am from another place
far, far away.
Breathe.
Look around you,
breathe
you're alive....
Darkness falls swiftly,
barefoot feet
leave footprints on the sand.
I walk to the sea
to the cresting waves,
under the moonlight
on this quiet, summer night.
I see the plankton glowing
in green and blue and purple neon
splashed along the bay.
I then surrender the last piece of clothing
and let my soul escape through my lungs
as I float on the swing of the ripple.
The water, warm and deep
surrounds me and keeps me afloat.
Soon I can no longer hear the music
from the lobby of the hotel,
alone, I've come to be.
I stare into the night
and the sea becomes an extension of space
outer space...
I grab a bucket of stars
begin to draw new constellations
like plankton, space is more than night.
I think of Holst
and take a deep breath
as my mortal remains afloat.
Trying to think nothing
trying not to think of Her
losing myself in both immensities
letting go.
As the current drags me farther away
and as this patch of ocean becomes a womb
I spot a red light, glowing
far, far away.
It wanders aimlessly
as I keep track of it
she seems as lonely as I
with my mind I play calling her
and slowly lose any sense of time,
as I repeat my mantra,
over and over again:
"come, come to me"
"come and take me away"
A few falling stars later
and to my surprise
she gets closer
and closer
and stops right above me
as if looking at me
suspended in mid air.
Mars is at its farthest
and satellites travel in orbital vectors
I know this light is neither
and neither are three more that joined it
playfully.
I stare in awe
in total comfort
they are strangely familiar
like an unknown uncle
I'm nervous, and yet, unafraid.
They come closer
spining in circles
dancing in a slow rhythm
floating above my head
as if communicating with me.
I close my eyes
and feel a little shock run through me
then slowly fade away
into a nap, or self inflicted coma
my mind wanders to outer space
as jellyfish pass below me.
I can hear what these lights are saying
and for a moment, I am taken by them
and time suddenly stops.
Soon enough the waves become an orchestra
then I am suddenly back in the Pacific
in Oceanis, in Atlantis
I open my eyes
and wake up
I have arrived
I have been born
born again
I swim
I dive
I take the deepest breath
and as my feet touch the sand
the red lights vanish into the night.
I'm here
wet, naked
new, erect
I speak three of your languages
and have so much to say and learn
with a certainty deep in my heart
I am from another place
far, far away.
Box
No matter how much I wind my watch
this excuse for a life still goes on
I grasp for air
as I drown in an empty fishbowl
like a plastic bag on my head
or a rope on my neck
Life, like sand escaping from my fists
and darkness slowly crawls up on my bed
death soaks my bath towel
and dried up tears and scars
and bills and I fall on my own traps.
I dig my teeth in my lips
and my nails on my skin
please bring me a box
dig a hole deep enough
for me to never crawl up again.
Here, take my heart
take it to the dog pound
maybe someone will take it
or feed it to the pitbulls
or mop the church floor with it
or put it in a crash test dummy
and send it out to space
make a mask out of it
put it on your face
honestly, I don't care
it doesn't matter anymore.
this excuse for a life still goes on
I grasp for air
as I drown in an empty fishbowl
like a plastic bag on my head
or a rope on my neck
Life, like sand escaping from my fists
and darkness slowly crawls up on my bed
death soaks my bath towel
and dried up tears and scars
and bills and I fall on my own traps.
I dig my teeth in my lips
and my nails on my skin
please bring me a box
dig a hole deep enough
for me to never crawl up again.
Here, take my heart
take it to the dog pound
maybe someone will take it
or feed it to the pitbulls
or mop the church floor with it
or put it in a crash test dummy
and send it out to space
make a mask out of it
put it on your face
honestly, I don't care
it doesn't matter anymore.
5/14/08
The Night
Your tongue is a wild lizard
bathing my body in a morning dew
stretched on your oak and satin bed
breathing in desperate cold sweat.
My skin trembles like a leaf under the rain
my nerves twitch in the mischief of your fingertips
lonely satellite, my mind is lost in orbits
tumbling and bouncing in circles around your eyes.
I helplessly let go
as your nylons bring blindfold night to my eyes
and restrain my urge to crush you
in my twisted forearms.
bathing my body in a morning dew
stretched on your oak and satin bed
breathing in desperate cold sweat.
My skin trembles like a leaf under the rain
my nerves twitch in the mischief of your fingertips
lonely satellite, my mind is lost in orbits
tumbling and bouncing in circles around your eyes.
I helplessly let go
as your nylons bring blindfold night to my eyes
and restrain my urge to crush you
in my twisted forearms.
5/10/08
Marta
When I couldn't speak
she played Dvorak and Vivaldi
When I began to grow up, she was there
every step of the way
When puberty came along
she let Ipanema and Copacabana teach me
and they taught me well
and when I loved for the first time
and my young heart broke
she left me alone, for I locked myself up for days
at a hotel room in Buenos Aires
a few days later she gave me Garcia Marques
When I got into fights, even those I shouldn't have
she told me to hit harder
"cause you have lot's of Mother"
When I needed support and care
she would be an ocean of love
she still is
and then she showed me Octavio Paz
Picasso, Jesus and Van Gogh
Guayasamin, Aleijadinho and Renoir
she taught me to treat everybody the same
where I'm from and who I am
and how freedom
and the freedom to pursue love
is a right worth dying for
she taught so well
I find myself doing things like her
and while all this learning
and nurturing
and growing up happened
she always took the time to stop, and stop me
to look at my surroundings
listening to silence
admiring the majesty of forests
mountains, clouds, people, flowers
how the beauty of the Universe implodes
into just one single petal
into just one single moment
She's the saint that raised a devil
that from her love grew wings
not just my tutor and my guide
simply put she's everything.
"Because I feel that, in the Heavens above,
The angels, whispering to one another,
Can find, among their burning terms of love,
None so devotional as that of "Mother"
- Edgar Allan Poe
she played Dvorak and Vivaldi
When I began to grow up, she was there
every step of the way
When puberty came along
she let Ipanema and Copacabana teach me
and they taught me well
and when I loved for the first time
and my young heart broke
she left me alone, for I locked myself up for days
at a hotel room in Buenos Aires
a few days later she gave me Garcia Marques
When I got into fights, even those I shouldn't have
she told me to hit harder
"cause you have lot's of Mother"
When I needed support and care
she would be an ocean of love
she still is
and then she showed me Octavio Paz
Picasso, Jesus and Van Gogh
Guayasamin, Aleijadinho and Renoir
she taught me to treat everybody the same
where I'm from and who I am
and how freedom
and the freedom to pursue love
is a right worth dying for
she taught so well
I find myself doing things like her
and while all this learning
and nurturing
and growing up happened
she always took the time to stop, and stop me
to look at my surroundings
listening to silence
admiring the majesty of forests
mountains, clouds, people, flowers
how the beauty of the Universe implodes
into just one single petal
into just one single moment
She's the saint that raised a devil
that from her love grew wings
not just my tutor and my guide
simply put she's everything.
"Because I feel that, in the Heavens above,
The angels, whispering to one another,
Can find, among their burning terms of love,
None so devotional as that of "Mother"
- Edgar Allan Poe
5/9/08
Drunk Butterflies
Like a sailboat sinking in St. Augustine
I feel lost and the streets look all the same
my arms, like oars
tired from rowing
for there's no wind on my sails
Is that a windmill or a monster?
should I face it in battle?
should I destroy it or die trying?
for pride was the first thing to walk away
defeated, for I'm my own saboteur
Nothing left to face
other than the everyday mirror
there's a face in it's reflection
dauntingly familiar, as is its voice
repeating that I am still alive
to look in my heart
....and I did, just now
It was a jar full of fireflies
drunk butterflies
saying your name between hiccups
I heard them, when I opened it
and saw them fly away
maybe I shouldn't have....
I feel lost and the streets look all the same
my arms, like oars
tired from rowing
for there's no wind on my sails
Is that a windmill or a monster?
should I face it in battle?
should I destroy it or die trying?
for pride was the first thing to walk away
defeated, for I'm my own saboteur
Nothing left to face
other than the everyday mirror
there's a face in it's reflection
dauntingly familiar, as is its voice
repeating that I am still alive
to look in my heart
....and I did, just now
It was a jar full of fireflies
drunk butterflies
saying your name between hiccups
I heard them, when I opened it
and saw them fly away
maybe I shouldn't have....
5/6/08
Jimi Hendrix
In this life you can decide to change history by using guns, ruin someones life with a knife, infuse freedom using a beret, make someone fall in love by writing a poem, do nothing, or make people's souls look in the mirror through music, which is what Hendrix does. He changed us with a set of hair curlers and an electric guitar. His adversity, tenacity and virtuosity live forever in my heart.
Hendrix didn't turn water into wine, but he showed me 6 was 9. Since we are in the same neighborhood, I went to visit Jimi on Sunday.
"Cause Ive got my own world to live through and uh, huh I ain't gonna copy you." - Jimi Hendrix
Hendrix didn't turn water into wine, but he showed me 6 was 9. Since we are in the same neighborhood, I went to visit Jimi on Sunday.
"Cause Ive got my own world to live through and uh, huh I ain't gonna copy you." - Jimi Hendrix
5/5/08
The Art of Blog (and its practical uses) in the 21st Century
Other than writing your most private thoughts, your love life, political affiliations, porn, nationalistic tendencies, thoughts you've copied from others, you tube videos, sport results or obsession for an actress... is there a true practical use of a blog? (not that all that shit is useless...but...)
So here's an attempt: I quit smoking and I'm done.
But it's not easy... can some members of this blog's quorum (come on, I know only two people read this blog and one of them is me) be a support group?
Add a comment with your words of support.
So here's an attempt: I quit smoking and I'm done.
But it's not easy... can some members of this blog's quorum (come on, I know only two people read this blog and one of them is me) be a support group?
Add a comment with your words of support.
4/25/08
Red Box
Lauren called me from the airport
she's going to California for a week or so
we talked and talked
and once again I'm pinned against the wall
why do friends do that?
Why is it so hard to speak truth
no, not just any truth
I'm talking pure, no umbrella
nudist beach truth
Must I move to some Socialist
Third World tropical Country?
speak and write in plain coconuts?
but that's where I'm from, remember?
maybe I'm just homesick
But goddamnit Ernest
I didn't see you at La Bodeguita
what did you find in La Closerie?
If you saw me walking, on the street, you would laugh
a urbanite looks silly pushing a wheelbarrow
more when filled with crystal clear guilt
why am I not laughing?
and why can something so clear, weigh so much?
This life is a skinny puppy sometimes, you know?
and why is it that men go to such lengths
to lie and deny their quest for Pollyanna
and for casual encounters galore
I'm just a crash test dummy
sometimes dumber than others
and sometimes I just plain and simply crash
... and there I go, decided as a mule
to the Radio Shack on Mercer
for ethernet cable and a transistor
and that's where I met your sister
"I used to fuck everybody, that was before 9/11, you just can't do that now, cause you don't know" - Margaret Cho
she's going to California for a week or so
we talked and talked
and once again I'm pinned against the wall
why do friends do that?
Why is it so hard to speak truth
no, not just any truth
I'm talking pure, no umbrella
nudist beach truth
Must I move to some Socialist
Third World tropical Country?
speak and write in plain coconuts?
but that's where I'm from, remember?
maybe I'm just homesick
But goddamnit Ernest
I didn't see you at La Bodeguita
what did you find in La Closerie?
If you saw me walking, on the street, you would laugh
a urbanite looks silly pushing a wheelbarrow
more when filled with crystal clear guilt
why am I not laughing?
and why can something so clear, weigh so much?
This life is a skinny puppy sometimes, you know?
and why is it that men go to such lengths
to lie and deny their quest for Pollyanna
and for casual encounters galore
I'm just a crash test dummy
sometimes dumber than others
and sometimes I just plain and simply crash
... and there I go, decided as a mule
to the Radio Shack on Mercer
for ethernet cable and a transistor
and that's where I met your sister
"I used to fuck everybody, that was before 9/11, you just can't do that now, cause you don't know" - Margaret Cho
4/23/08
Taxi
Sometimes I refuse to grow up
and I rebel against clock, calendar and world
sometimes I want to give up
and run away
like I've always done
You know I come here to hide
you read me and therefore know
that I don't hide so well
there are many things I can't brag about
other than being myself
I'm always on the taxi cab
that's going the wrong way
convincing myself people know not where they're going
while the god damn meter never stops
I find your wind strengthens my tired wings
then I remember the guilt
how I wish I could make things better and I can't
that's when I realize I have no wings
that's when I realize I have nothing
other than being myself
and I rebel against giving up.
and I rebel against clock, calendar and world
sometimes I want to give up
and run away
like I've always done
You know I come here to hide
you read me and therefore know
that I don't hide so well
there are many things I can't brag about
other than being myself
I'm always on the taxi cab
that's going the wrong way
convincing myself people know not where they're going
while the god damn meter never stops
I find your wind strengthens my tired wings
then I remember the guilt
how I wish I could make things better and I can't
that's when I realize I have no wings
that's when I realize I have nothing
other than being myself
and I rebel against giving up.
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