Dead Stars

There's something missing

like the accidental wedding ring

flushed down the toilet, hurriedly.

It feels like a whirlpool, 

like my esophagus, opening and swallowing it all

down to the black hole of my stomach

in this eternally empty corpse of mine.

You were my horizon

my ocean

my parallel.

and now

without your light

without your eyes staring at me

all I have left, is time

and I don't want it anymore.

I sold my hope

I lent my strength

I donated my love 

and I pawned my soul

and now

I just want to drown.

If I could stop chocking on my words

If I could to stop writing

If I could stop lying

for I can fight it no more.

I just want to drown

and slowly and quietly sink

into the ocean

and into the night

back to the womb
back to the beginning

so I can stab it

so I can set it on fire

but that would mean erasing my existence,
and I could never do that
what else, then? to keep you awake at night.

Self-inflicted sorrow

It still hurts
whatever I do
wherever I go
whatever the season
for no reason
it hurts.

You remain in me
like a ghost, like pain
like an unpaid loan, like yesterday
like a whistling train.

...and it hurts.

I can't breathe.
It's not that noose, that kills at breakneck speed,
but slow drowning in the tight tie knot of my daily asphyxia,

Your name aches, like a scarlet letter on me.
Not the pin prick of an expert needle and ink,
but the branding in a slow burn, all over me.

I can't drink anything other than your venom.
Not the sweet laudanum poison targeting my cerebellum
but the bitter hemlock when I bite my lips till they bleed, crying helplessly.

Crucified by memories we made.
Not the arthritic razor blades,
but the sharp thorns of all the nights without you,
knowing you're with somebody else.

Deaf to the world around me.
Not like the sudden sonic booms of jets flying to the rescue,
but the muffled, numbed echo of my voice in a velvet coffin..

Condemned to an ever repeating death sentence.
Not the quick fall of the guillotine, separating head from body
but the patient cowardice that keeps me from picking up the phone.

Fearful of what lies ahead.
not the frightening portrait of a tired future
but a life sentence in this prison of desperation, doubt and regret.

Thorns and Stubborn Marshmallows

Love isn't someone who completes you
You're complete already, just the way you are.
Love isn't the missing piece of the puzzle,
something you're lacking, or something that just "happens".
Love is, instead, something completely different.
Love is something you work on.
something you build, with somebody else.
With trust, and freedom
understanding, and dedication.
Not just a promise, but a commitment
love is the strength, and the weakness,
the friendship, the calm in the storm
the fire, the peace
in a timeless war,
love is a beacon.

56 Rivers

I can't bury the dream
I never hid it, and I won't start now.
It doesn't seem to drown in the fish tank either
so I must let it go
flow
river down.

I sat and dwelved for days
and they brought weeks
and then they brought months,
but those years afterwards
well, they showed up uninvited
I promise.

The yesterdays are still my today
sometimes,
but I've grown used to it
or so I wish,
and one must promise
or wish upon a star.
I tried to find one
hiding behind that cloudy Japanese screen
but all I found was rain
and it rained
and it rained
and I cried for you again
under a starless sky
again
and then I cried for me
and then I stood before your 56 smiles
like a mountain, I couldn't climb
like a tower
like my twisted horizons.

And the tide began to rise
and the floor began to move
and the poison promises
melting under the sun,
involuntarily venomous.

Well, here's my white flag
my rice paper sail
now folded into a little paper boat
floating swan I've set to sail
down the flow of tears it carries
river down.

12/21/12

The four gears have reset
the cycle of life starts again
and the same lesson
remains unlearned.
Human kind stays the course
sailing on a ship of fools,
thinking we're moving forward,
and ignoring the waterfall before us.

We still use religion to manipulate
we still use laws to corrupt
we still use money to buy
and we still use guns to silence.

We tolerate the intolerant
and are deemed infidels
We adapt to those unwilling to adapt
and lose our identity.
We let baby making automatons
whom have never planted a tree
hide behind a religion of fear
We see electric car snobs
burning coal indiscriminately
We sustain industrialized monsters
as they create a global sewer
and an economy of credit and unfairness.

... and the land keeps giving
and we keep extracting
fracking continental shelves
polluting, using, abusing
raping, buying, fucking
as we survive in the stretchmarks
in the fast food gluttony of the ugly fat whore we've become
forgetting the true heirs of this sacred Mother Earth:
First nations, and children.

Twenty Angels (Sandy Hook)

Like tiny footsteps on the sand
the wave came, and washed them away.
Their happiness, and their voices
were silenced forever, earlier today.

The ghosts of condensation
from tiny noses pressed against the window pane
might still be there tomorrow,
but they won't.
Just their lingering laughter
and an unanswered question.

Like tears in free fall,
at some random airport.
They were love promises
whispered between a man and a woman,
for they were little miracles
but now their light is gone.
And if the sky needed twenty stars
can't it do without?
and if the heavens needed twenty angels
can we have them back?

Like blue unicorns
their smiles, their laughter
their little scarves and mittens
all in a box.

My Dad's Divorce

I'm tired of sobriety

tired of suffering

tired of trying

I want to guide this ship to harbor

live the life I'd like to live.

Instead, like all of you,

I'm a prisoner of doing what's right,
wasting my life away.
Doing what's expected of me,
what other's expect of me.

Well, guess what?

Fuck the puppy

fuck the fish tank

fuck this worn out marriage

fuck the bank account

Cash out
raise the anchors

and sail the oceans
you're not the cancer that will kill me.

Red in Black

A King's Queen
a Viking's mare
that one thing I always wanted.
I feel attracted, with the gravitas of a failed parachute
like a UFO, pulling me up. 
I'm starstruck
dumbfounded, astonished
enchanted, ensnared, enamored,
simply put, I'm royally fucked.

She's a spell of glittering stars, floating on the lake
the scent of snow powder 
and as common as a unicorn.
As deadly as a Nordic siren
a Princess worth dying for.

My kingdom I surrendered effortlessly
since the first time I laid eyes on her
and I've yet to catch my breath

Emeralds in nuclear collision
fission, and streaks of blue cobalt fusion
could never match her eyes.
A dream inside a nightmare
a life worth living for
holy fuck
for such beauty, one could start a war
with anyone, for anything.

She's like discovering fire
like making music
like sleeping
like breathing oxygen.

And yet, she can't see me
I feel invisible
suffocating in her indifference
it's torture
it's pain
to her, I'm just like everybody else.

The Equilibrist

Dead,
and cold, and dry.
Hollow,
motionless, and grey,
sad.

Not just lonely,
but alone.
Whistling a happy tune in an empty mortuary,
carving a gravestone with my nails.
The bitter monotony brews into a sour poison,
as darkness blinds my sight,
folding my dreams in a tiny suitcase.

Like a drunk equilibrist
holding back tears,
suspended on the edge of my eyes.
Like a madman,
standing on the edge of a cliff.
Like an ugly vegetable at a grocery store,
like an empty garbage bag
like a fat beggar
like a communist with a lottery ticket
like a cripple with a bycicle
like a cancer patient in love
like a broken tv set
like a guitar with parkinson's disease
like a baby's coffin floating to a beach
like an open wound
like a deaf Beethoven
as I sit on a bench at this public park
chocking on my words
wishing I could just unzip myself in half
and let this love flow like sewage
down to the sea
that's how I feel when I look at you
knowing you'll never look at me.

Clandestine and Destiny

You can just tell yourself this is all fiction,
it's a fantasy you'll never fulfill.
If you dare open this door
your eyes must be ready to see the thoughts you repress
the things we're supposed to hide, stupidly
the recurring dreams when we meet...

When the night comes
my teeth become fangs
and my mouth begins to hurt
May I have this dance?

My hands ache, 
and I can see in the dark,
and under your dress
my hands caress your thighs.
My mouth salivates, 
and my mind spirals for a moment
as we hide, under the veil of the night.

I laugh behind my twisted smile
as my kisses undress your neck
and my hands play with your hair
disarming your defenses
... walls and monuments and dogmas
come crushing down on the floor,
with everything your mother told you
that day, at church.

It's your hungry mouth
and your skillful fingers
unzipping my jeans,
as I flat line in a temporary comma.
It's your sleepy eyes
your poisoned tongue around me
dictating every beat of my heart
every breath,
listening carefully to every unrehearsed word
every sound escaping my Alcatraz mouth.

It's your wedding band, blushing on my bedside table
it's your cellphone, purposely forgotten in the car
it's all the lights out
and the candlelight, outlining your perfect face
resting like shame, on my pillow.

And as you give yourself
and you begin to lose control
I asphyxiate between your thighs
impatiently, like a sailor adrift
like a thirsty drunk 
and I taste you, and I levitate in joy
and I die
and I resuscitate
and my tongue toys with you
as I drink you
as I guzzle you
in the scent of dry ambergris and labdanum
absinthe, laudanum
drowned in your cotton candy chloroform.

It's my firm hand, turning your hair into reins
it's my firm stroke
making you my mare
it's my blood, burning in your veins
it's my tongue, poisoning your throat 
as I sink my teeth on your shoulder
and we melt together
like two candles left lit 
left forgotten, 
burning in secrecy.

Water Lilies

I walk naked on the old boardwalk
feeling the board cracking under my weight
barefoot and undressed
dipping in the lukewarm bay.
Letting my body float on the sea
it feels so familiar, so safe
closing my eyes, letting go

Dreaming of the stars in your eyes
of the diamond dust on your skin
of your water lily footsteps
and your peaches of lips
of the light in your spirit
and the beacon in my horizon.

Titanic

It's almost like untying my shoe laces
and running barefoot on the beach
diving into the coming waves
swimming, away from you.

Here I can't hear you calling, 
and you never answer when I call.
Here I can't hear you,
asking why I'm late,
why I picked up a friend (instead of you),
why I chose a different road,
why I thought for myself.

Here I can't hear you,
asking me for absolute certainties,
your open questions,
with hidden promises to be made.

Here I can't see you,
to patch up your crumbling ego,
as you gobble in a feast of fear,
and  insecurities.

Here I can be me
all alone
in the darkness
in my ocean
sinking slowly to my death
with the heavy anchor I chained to my foot.
You wouldn't understand
just how liberating it feels.

I guess it's goodbye

I guess I missed that bus, again
that train, that sudden glimpse
that door in time
that very last chance
and again, I have to let go

This is when I question everything
and when I come back to question it all
all over again
and your face in my eyes
and your smile and your laughter
and your silly little girl way of answering the phone
and your voice and your eyes
clear blue sky
on the white pinkish marble of your skin
sin fort, soft and warm and strong
And now the minutes evaporate in my hands
your kisses begin to melt, and run down my skin
down to the floor
your smiles begin to fade
one by one, all fifty six of them
waving goodbye
and the ocean turns purple
out of sadness and misery
and the lifeless life begins
and the counting of the days
in a meaningless paradox
stranded in an airport
alone, sitting at a table
at the local coffee shop
hiding my face in my hands
holding on to my suitcase
bidding farewell
and hope and strength
and rings and reason
and words and the sour blood and the hopeful dreams
begin their last trip
their slow and painful walk
to this dead bed
nothing new
after all these years
it seems almost normal
it seems like me

Father

I remember the first time I fucked a girl, in the yacht 

(well, fuck, I was just a kid)

in the morning I saw my old man, staring at me

he knew what had happened

and he looked at me, straight in the eye

and he smiled.. but not just any smile

this is my motherfucking father we're talking bout

it was the biggest smile

and I knew, right there and then

I had made my old man proud

Everything after that, is just everything after that

The Christmas List

Winter is almost here
and we're all getting ready for it
some of us still wear nothing more than hoodies
but most are out in jackets and peacoats
mittens, scarfs and hats

My skin feels dry and the air is cold
and I hide the knot in my throat
politely, behind the seasonal cough

Pulling out the box, stowed under the bed
where I keep those broken heart ornaments
ready to pierce them and hang them up on a Douglas fir
all of them, neatly lit up, in LED whites
yours, will probably be at the very top
like a star, pointing down at me

and just like every year
I'll make up for all the lies and tears and hurtful words
with apologies and excuses disguised as presents
all neatly wrapped is shinny paper
with insignificant cards and bows

Truffles and fucking are just to forget
in the spirit of the holidays
that Moet and Chandon, chilled
is just to swallow it all
but leave the candles lit
just for tonight
it's Christmas eve
who knows, I might catch a glimpse
of my old man's ghost
coming back to laugh at me.

Tony Levin

I've listened to Tony Levin's work with the bass and chapman stick for a long time now. It was easy to chose as my favorite bass player. His work with King Crimson and Peter Gabriel are the most known and notable, and his participation on Bryan Ferry's "Boys and Girls" is pivotal. Still don't know what I'm talking about? How about this: he played the bass for Pink Floyd's "A Momentary Lapse of Reason", Yes "Union", James Taylor's "That's Why I'm Here" and "New Moon Shine", with Lennon, Lou Reed and many more.
I saw him live for the first time in 1993, at the Palacio de los Deportes in Mexico City, in Peter Gabriel's Secret World Tour, with my friend Jorge "Grillo" Casar. I say I saw, as you see any of the greats... from a hundred feet away.
This weekend (Oct 15, 2011) I got to see him again (the girl tagged along). His band "Stick Men" and Adrian Belew's "Power Trio" gave a one night concert at the Triple Door, here in Seattle. Yup, that was Tony Levin, Pat Mastelotto, Markus Reuter, Adrian Belew and Julie Slick, a bassist I hadn't heard of, she was great!
Stick Men played their set and so the Power Trio, and after a short break they all went back to the stage and played a fantastic King Crimson encore. It was one of those unforgettable moments, one of the few.
Ah, almost forgot.. during the first break I got to meet Tony Levin and shake his hand. He kindly signed his new record (which I had purchased for him to sign) and my Windows Phone and my tickets. Above all, I got to do something I had always wanted to do; thank him for the music, for taking the time to create such wonderful tunes I've listened to for years, and will continue to till I die.

Old Lady

Her black leather purse resting on the floor
well, what remains of it
some of the black leather skin has worn off
showing the tan canvas beneath it, as if unraveling
like a varicose plant
Her umbrella, folded and recoiled
with a cheap, white plastic ivory handle, with gold plated rings
it is so thin I can see through it
the many rains it's seen, have eaten its color away.

Then her shoes
that classic style, I call it "old french nun"
with wooden heels
and a sole, so thin and old
it can taste the years left forgotten on the pavement.

She doesn't stand out in this coffee shop,
everyone else is so young next to her,
everyone is so busy, with their smartphones and their hurry
they don't see this old lady,
barely holding it together
hiding her tears, very discretely.
She holds her coffee cup between her hands
and sinks her eyes and thoughts in it.
She glances from time to time,
but sees no one in particular.
Her makeup is completely ruined,
an accident of vanity,
giving her a slight evil clownish look,
And yet, there's nothing funny happening here.

Her sunken eyes
her long fingers
and a knot in her throat.

She's almost camouflaged,
her unassuming grey coat, her calmness
her long solid brown skirt make her disappear in the crowd.
But I can see her,
sitting on straight across from me,
and I can feel her sadness,
her empty loneliness.
Nothing to go home to,
other than her color tv.
And so she goes
revolving her coffee in hypnotic introspective,
preparing to walk into her coffin,
laying down and just letting it all finally end.
.. yet another couple of tears
skillfully wiped away,
no one noticed
.... but me.

Aging has taken its toll on this woman
as merciless as a war.
No medals, no honor
just a constant left lip twitch.
Then the world suddenly stops turning
and I come to one frightening truth:
there's no one as lonely
as the old.

Excalibur

I need a pack of smokes
if only to keep me from shooting myself in the head
... at least till tomorrow
a bottle of Remy Martin, to drown the rest
a lighter to burn your six scents
for the seventh, (which we made together)
I've repeated with many others...
some on long lasting relationships, some just casual lovers
all of whom have failed to replace you.

I need a shovel to exhume the man I used to be
and a grave to bury the dead corpse I've become
A mountain of dirt, to cover two mountains of shame
and a wheelbarrow full of bitterness
A sword.. I don't need Excalibur, a rust box cutter will do
... to cut through whatever passion is left in me
I need 3 metric tons of letter size paper
to print this garbage I write,
not the only questionable thing you like
I also need a shoebox, for my watches
and a used condom to bury my lust
.. and my tears

A blank Bible to write a couple of lies
and a gravestone to remind you that;
when I had your blue eyes
staring at me
I didn't need much of anything.

9/11 10th Anniversary

I began thinking about writing my thoughts about this date about a month ago, and while I can't deny  procrastination made me wait till the last minute, I guess it was mostly due to the fact that I am still utterly conflicted with all the thoughts and possible truths which have been brewing and simmering for a decade now. The thought of voicing my thoughts, from the plush, leather couch at the local snobby Starbucks seemed awfully convenient, and not serving in our Armed Forces when I could have, sure adds a feeling of debt.
The truth; what is the truth? we all saw what happened, perhaps much more often than we should have. Were the towers imploded? why was Tower 7 "pulled"? how was it "pulled" in minutes? (prepping a building with demo charges takes time and planing) but then again, we don't really know for a fact what happened.
The truth is, there are still many questions left unanswered and the 9/11 Commission Report is inconclusive.
The truth is we launched a preemptive war and invaded a foreign country based on the strongest political momentum this country had seen in the past two decades, add a (misused) strong sense of patriotism, biased intelligence, a false case presented before the U.N. and a war declaration and war budget blindly approved by representatives from both parties in Congress; for this I blame the Democrats, whom should have served as the counterweight of power. Instead of doing their job and embarking on their own research, they danced along to the tune the Republicans played (that same scratched record keeps playing today).
The Iraqi insurgency was much more than a natural response to a foreign invasion, as it was aided by terrorist groups from other countries. It should have been expected and avoided.
Was it an inside job? if it was, then the Obama administration should have launched an independent probe into the matter.
If it wasn't? then we can all go back to watching Fox News and continue living happily, thinking that relocating the Great Wall of China to the southern border will keep us safe from terrorists. Wait, you know they all had Visas (yup, they all did, even the shoe bomber and the underwear bomber, heck, even a couple of them were sworn Citizens).
Either way, the Obama administration should have started an independent probe into the atrocious money mismanagement, and human rights violations of the Iraqi war. As well as multiple cases of conflict of interest between big oil, Halliburton, Blackwater and the Bush administration. Instead, he engaged in his own Vietnam in Egypt and Libya (you think I'm a pessimist? just give it a year) and his own money mismanagement blunder with the massive bailouts of both American and foreign banks (the largest shareholder of Citibank is a Saudi Prince) and we still have to deal with an ever growing Anti-American sentiment in the Middle East, a threat that should not be taken lightly.
Above all, we need to make sure our Vets (on tour or at home), our Firefighters (with dust in their lungs or fighting to keep their unions) and all our men and women in uniform receive the care and resources they require and fucking deserve.
Credit were it should be: Obama has supported drone strikes which have killed more terrorist militants than 8 years of the Bush administration, including Osama Bin Laden. The Obama administration has also deported more illegal immigrants than the Bush administration and has kept Gitmo and FISA going. Like it or not, we haven't had a terrorist attack since he was elected.
What does this date mean to me? I'm an American born overseas and I have always identified with America (this I owe to my Old Man). I attended American Schools, learned to speak English, understood and embraced its core values, and followed most of our ways, even while living overseas (I mean Christmas and other celebrations at home, don't think I tried imposing 4th of July on foreign countries). Yet, it is undeniable that there's a sense of pride for being part Mexican, and there is also a place in my heart for Brasil.
Ten years ago today, things began to change... I knew it was a violent act from the moment the first plane hit the North Tower, the hit on the South Tower confirmed my suspicion, and my heart sunk to the bottom of my stomach. I was working at the same building where I still work at, in Issaquah, and the sadness, the heartbreak, the disbelief set on our faces and our hearts. It was almost like a heavy blanket, like a punch in the stomach. Something had been torn and broken, something had been taken from all these people around me, something had been taken from me.
I stared at the towers, collapsing on the projector at a conference room, and thought of my dad growing up in La Jolla and the Glorietta Bay Beach in Coronado, same beach I used to go to as a child, same house, always free of worry. That sense of peace and security, had been shattered.
While living in Mexico and Brazil I was taught to always be aware of my surroundings, and of those around me, and stuff.. not in The States.. here I was safe, here I didn't have to worry about all that, till 9/11.
My ex-wife and I went to the International Fountain, at the Seattle Center on Sept. 12, 2001 for a flower vigil. There must have been over 30,000 people there, putting up a temporary wall of flowers, and cards, and balloons, and words and... we were all mourning. 
We walked around the fountain a few times, then all that sadness and sorrow forged into a lake of tears and flames and broken glass when the Seattle's Fire Department Pipe Band marched in, with their uniforms and bagpipes. Their faces were as still as solemnity, almost like statues, to the tune of a funeral march. That's when I saw everyone come together in a single voice of pain and strength, of brotherhood, of a deep sense of pride and belonging. It was by far one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen, and one of the most powerful things I've ever been a part of. It was then that I truly felt I belonged here, that I would gladly serve and defend this land with my life, it was then that I knew I'd never leave. I'm an American in every way, and I will never forget and I will never forgive, and I can tell you that if you're still pissed off at the people who did this, well, so am I... and everyday I meet more and more people who feel the same way.
We love America, as imperfect as it may be, but we love it, and we like it just the way it is.

Stars and stripes are now inked on my right arm, emblazoned forever, and rightly so.

Barefoot Siren

Another night awake
the stress and worry she'll never understand
The dead calm of the shallow rain
the tireless clock routine
a mute siren, drowning by the reef
My skin, ripping apart
under the sharp edge of your broken mirror
scarring a new tattoo with its jagged edges
painting her face in join the dots
of my blood spilled on the floor

The endless Mondays
and Tuesdays and Wednesdays
and Fridays and another fucking month gone by
Another evening at the coffee shop
vomiting in nostalgic bulimia
dragging my soul under traffic lights
with the heaviness of wet clothes

I miss driving to Leavenworth
just for the day
the cats (now dead)
show up every now and then
and I continue to swallow my words
trying to make them disappear

And it's elevators and stairs and songs and birds
as I keep looking for a grave
deep enough to bury my past
an ocean to drown this pain
it feels, I guess
like a lonely firefighter
crying in an empty church.