Good Stuff

Simple Joys

2010-03-31T09:31:00.000-07:00

Inhaling the ocean breeze of Lima, on a hot summer day, I stand atop a mountain to view the expanse of green. It seems infinite, as far as the eye can see.
I inhale deeply, an Infusion of undiluted joy. I feel alive, and grateful for this day.

The ocean breeze, carries with it memories of fishermen, who make their living at sea. Sometimes they’ve risked their lives in this ruthless sea. The sea, beautiful to behold and feel and taste, and to wade in. Yet, as beautiful and generous as she is, she is capricious and temperamental –and deadly.

It also whispers memories of my childhood, so careless and free. There is a different tempo here, a different beat. A smile is always ready, and a kiss. Life is savored delicately, sipped leisurely.

I have not eaten in three days. Today I feel famished, hungry for good food - hungry for life! I must choose carefully what I consume. I want to sink into the pleasure of a flavor forgotten for too long.

It’s life’s little unexpected pleasures, which weave a tapestry of fond memories.

Ecoutez

2009-12-05T14:31:00.000-08:00

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One can find beauty in the most unusual of places
In the bowels of the earth a lone man plays his instrument
Throngs of people pass in a rush, as the seconds dissipate
I am compelled to stop and listen to Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata...
Echoing in the hollow tunnels of the metro de place-des-arts.

The beauty of this piece demands one stop and listen
A long winding road has brought us to face this moment;
For man is to a great extent the architect of his life.
The decisions we've made or not, brings us to this place.
I am thankful to be a participant, even if I am an audience of one.

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Flakes

2009-12-04T14:44:00.000-08:00

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I drifted in into a dream, and back to reality
yet, it was surreal; I could not distinguish its veracity
Seated on a comfortable chair of Le Musee d'art contemporain de Montreal
I follow the film of Iceland folklore and drift into sleep.

An American man in a cafe this morning, asked out loud,
"Why doesn't anyone smile around here?"
I too had wondered this, as I quietly observed
It must have something to do with the Arctic winds
which generate a cold so deep, that it crystallizes water

Like the flakes which rest upon my lashes
and melt with the warmth of my lips
This cold which seeps into the bone
And whips the flesh into submission, leaves
routes and tracks deeply embedded on the face

It must be the cold which causes lack of merry
except for the little children with rosy cheeks...
and eyes agleam. They so look forward to Santa's visit
As their parents look with dismay at their dwindling purse.
Perhaps they too wish Santa would materialize.

Sleep threatens to overtake me, how can this be
the museum of contemporary art sets up pieces
which any five year old can paint?
The warmth lures me to close my eyes and dream
I dream I am part of the folklore tale, which draws me in.

Unmoved

2009-09-24T17:13:00.000-07:00

I woke up with a start in the middle of the night, and I could not reconcile with sleep. My mind went back to something a coworker said about our strategy, “We are doing our best.” She had said. I replied to her that doing “our best,” was not good enough.The effort exerted would differentiate between mediocrity, and excellence.

Then I realized that what she meant is very common these days. A few weeks ago I had seen a photography and art exhibit. The photographs were of nude women, and I stood there and wondered, why they contained no emotion in their faces. None at all, yet in their corporal language, they seemed shy and too modest to expose their pubic mound.

Why do a nude then? As I scrutinized the poses some of these women chose, I did not perceive joy or sensuality oozing from every pore. Which would seem palpable in a nude frame? Why not emulate the sensuality of Marilyn in the picture depicted above? And ask her to smile as she would to her lover, hovering above?

That joyful delight in the meeting of bodies and minds, on the edge of a bed is present in her smile, differentiates between a mannequin and a woman who in the prelude of ecstasy. Perhaps too, why not a picture of a woman in the throes of an orgasm? Perhaps three close shots during, and post glow, captured in film.

Or the use of a background mirror, on a door, opened halfway which reflects her back as well as frontal nudity? Or lying on her side with a guitar in front, simulating her valleys and curves? Or on the dunes of the desert sand, where the border of flesh and sand lose beginning and end, and create a hillsides of undulating curves, framed by an animated face.

I think too, a picture of a naked woman in a slaughter house, with sides of beef and carcasses of pork hang on metal hooks – dripping blood. The flesh which is sacrificed to nourish that body which also leeks blood. As rivulets of menstrual flow decorate down her limbs to blend with the animal’s blood. Aren’t we all beasts on some level?

As for nude males, one of a man inside a hamster’s wheel, would chronicle the effort to get out of the self-imposed cage, which is considered the norm by today’s standards. And if you photograph a loving couple chained to each other, not in the act of S & M play, but rather in the shackles of a vow and a signed marriage contract.

And if one photographs a group of people in a train or bus, there should be a woman stand oblivious to the fact that a man is mentally masturbating, while he strips away from her every single article of clothing -- minus her shoes and purse perhaps.
Come on, it’s only a job, but why not raise the level? Smile, cry, cum, rage, seduce, shock, but show some shred of humanity for the love of art.

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Witness to Love

2009-09-12T16:02:00.000-07:00

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Witness to love

Who is this old man hooked to a respirator?
How could he elicit passion? Or make a woman dazed
With ecstasy? I shyly introduced myself, and sat to observe
I witnessed love in its most heroic form manifest
My friend, lot younger than him, tended to his care with tenderness. She too has aged, perhaps in solidarity of his travails

Surely in his eyes there is a sign of the man she fell in love with?
Before the ravages of illness sucked his vital energy, a debilitated
Puppet; a child in diapers; a decimated version of his former self?
Grasping desperately with each forced breath, for yet another day
I wanted to cry, for in the midst of this heinous spectacle, love
Shined in her eyes. Love, fear, and tremendous fatigue

Yes, there is a keen intellect in his eyes. What did he feel internally? I saw a glimpse of shame for the spectacle he became…
And the burden as well. I put aside my unease and instead
Placed my hand on his bony back. Willing to infuse him with
Optimism and strength, urging him to take one more breath,
Assuring him that all would be well in the end

With tenderness I grasped his left hand in both of mine
It was cold, and I grabbed on to inject some warmth
Thus so we both prayed for his speedy recovery
I think it worked, for he’s been taken out of ICU yesterday
Some sneer at love and prayer, as if these were for the birds
Would they dare to contemplate what would sustain them in similar events?

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Never Too Late?

2009-09-09T21:30:00.000-07:00

Never Too Late?

If I could turn back time, would I be who I am today?
Would I have avoided certain people and events?
Would I have taken a different route, aided by hindsight?
Surely, I would have. Yet this time, I would retain the joy
Of my childhood, and I would have dared a lot more
Perhaps I’d still trip and fall, but I’d have less regrets to store

If I could go back in time, I would appreciate you so much more
I’d be so thankful, and I’d say more Luv you’s, just because
I’d appreciate you with the same intensity I have for life
I’d be a bit more forgiving and tolerant over all -- of others’
Shortcomings, as well as of my own. I would not have
Inflicted pain, on those who loved me the most

I have come to realize, I don’t have to win all arguments
Silence can be golden, and prudence is priceless
I get a whiff of a chill in the air, heralding autumn’s arrival
Briefer days, colder nights, falling leaves, and howling winds
How swift times flies. The holidays are full of festivities…
And deeper sorrows when memories alight

If I could turn back time, I’d disperse kisses instead of frowns
They’d be no wasted time, and I’d see you in a different light
I would not bottle deep inside, my feelings tight. I would open
The bottle cap, and let the scent of love and joy permeate each room, and I’d show you just how much I care for you. Yet, it’s much too late…for you are gone. Oh, I forgot to say this…

I love you!

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Guiding Light

2009-09-06T22:37:00.000-07:00

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There are people who briefly touch our lives
Yet, leave and undeniable imprint in our hearts
Last time I saw her, I saw the shadow of death close at hand
Her vital energy was flickering, and in its stead...
An ethereal beauty lit her smile
She awakened such a deep love for her; I embraced her
Tenderly, as if she were made of porcelain, when we said goodbye

She was a leader; a rebel who sought for herself answers
She vehemently proclaimed, that the more she delved into
Other doctrines and studies, the more this solidified her beliefs
She was a champion for women’s causes, and refused to be rated
Secondary for her gender in this life
The veils of ignorance need to be uncovered, for us to understand
She was a monument of strength, and architect who left things half way

I hiked to the peak of a mountain, on the second day she'd passed away. I was not aware of that fact, as the full moon held me mesmerized. The trees and leaves whispered restlessly that evening, yet I could not understand
I only knew I was deeply melancholy, and I softly wept, shielded by the night
There are people who briefly touch our lives, yet, leave an undeniable imprint in our hearts. I was blessed to have known her, as she directed my path

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My Gifts to You

2009-09-06T02:59:00.000-07:00

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My Gifts

My gifts to you cannot be exchanged
Once bestowed, these can’t be returned
I give to you my first thought every morning
My genuine friendship, even if we part
The blooming roses in my garden, these freshly cut
The fragrance of my essence; a honey comb dripping honey

I give you the curve of my breast; its summit taut
The slope of my buttock, for you to rest your hand upon
A respite from the cold, as I envelop you in silken wraps
I cannot give you my soul, but a space in the chamber of my heart
I give you my sweet kisses, rained like blessings from above…
Soft, like raindrops on the lawn

I give you an endless day, when time stands still in a fog of lust,
And night evanesces into light
I give you endless minutes, saturated with you in mind
And the spontaneous smiles, and laughs which I cannot hide
I give you an ever growing admiration, for the man that you are
I give you a cry of ecstasy, proclamation of the irrevocable surrender to your charms

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The Compass

2009-09-01T19:33:00.000-07:00

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As you stand there on the fork on the road…
You seek guidance as to which way to turn or go
Who to trust? The pack of wolves, or the hyenas in sheep cloths
If you maintain the faith in the innate goodness of man
Your faith will be tested and ridiculed, as you will feel the fool
If reason charts your course, and you calculate and measure every move; you will find emptiness habitats where your heart lay before

There are no coincidences in life
You will find those who come to nourish your growth
Even if to test your fortitude and faith in yourself and God
You will find that your faith wavers with each devastating fall
And then reflect that it was just that which gave you a ray of hope
And the courage to go on, into the unknown
You acclimate to the silence to listen from within

Reason and faith, may be incompatible
No one can predict the future with entire certainty
There is that indefinable factor which changes the course
Is it a game of chance which renders your fate?
If there is no other factor to calculate?
Reason has rigid parameters, while faith - however one
Interprets it - can heal, and give meaning to it all

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A Prince Among Men

2009-08-31T23:10:00.000-07:00

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The deep wound festers anew
End of an era, and a legacy of exemplary men
Who asked what one could do, instead of gain
Reminiscent of an era were progress was at the forefront
Even when facing war, America was strong – unlike today

The age of innocence is gone
Of gentler times, and the guarantee of the good life…
Seems to have an expiration date -- like such men
Stoic, heroic, exuding idealism for a better today -
Than yesterday, and a brighter future looming ahead

It is a sad day indeed
The flames devour everything that stands in its way
All that’s left are ashes and evaporated dreams.
Clouds of smog blur the vision to the correct path.
Brave men have fallen, while battling demons of hell

Yet life must go on, and one must build anew
In memory of such exemplary men, each little boy must be
Taught what it means to give, rather than to just receive
To be the fearless visionaries of a brighter future, no matter
How dim the flicker is. To be a prince among men

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Sun

2009-08-25T17:22:00.000-07:00

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Walking under the brilliant rays
I feel the searing heat, and deep embrace of the sun
It feels intensely comforting when I close my eyes
To its glare, and let it rise my internal thermostat
So hot, I feel the lure to deploy and nap for a while

The pavement seems to sizzle from his energy
I feel the urge to take off my blouse and let the sun
Burn me like a wet tongue. Inflaming my senses
Until I feel becoming disoriented, docile, and wet
From the perspiration which travels south

I love this intimate contact with the sun;
The sun thaws the ice, and is cause for a smile
He nourishes the crops, and soothes the soul
And he eases the ache and pains of the joints
I feel happiest when he’s around

He plays havoc on my senses, as the flames encapsulate
Me the sweetest cocoon. If only for stolen moments
We come together, and only at certain hours of the day
I like nothing better than to be awaken by your kiss on
My face. You infuse me with energy and an internal glow

You disperse the shadows of my psyche
I want to drink you in, and vibrate from your touch
I seek you again, and feel saddened when it’s overcast
And you’re not around. You are majestic and powerful
Your domain is the solar system, and I

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Woman

2009-08-23T04:55:00.000-07:00

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Woman who are you? Are you the sum
Of what society tells you? A chameleon which
Changes with times? Trying on new hats, fashions
And ingrained doctrines? The muse of poems; a garden
Of delight. A precious flower to be plucked when ripe?

An angel, a muse, a doll, a whore, a mother. The nurturer,
The healer, and mediator? The bosom to nourish, comfort
And to produce pleasure? Or summed and defined by
Your reproductive organ -- like so much a side of beef?
You’re taught your value lies in exterior factors…

What a pile of bull shit. You’ve felt it again and again,
Your enduring strength. You’re by no means the weaker sex;
So why do you still buy the romanticized slavement?
What if you denounce it all? Would you go against
What nature intended? The world in overpopulated, is it not?

The earth would tremble with the force of the collective
Anger, of every girl, woman, and crone venting the rage
Of millenniums, of subjugation, abuse, and inequality
Your strength lies in your feminine essence. Don’t squander
Your charms, and come together in equal measures

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In The City of Angels

2009-08-19T01:58:00.000-07:00

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I drove like mad to stop at the library. I had on hold a book titled: “A Woman in Berlin” by an Anonymous writer. This has been made into a film, which I plan to see this Saturday. This is based on the diary of the author; a German woman during the siege of 1945. It details how she endured hunger and rape, yet survived nonetheless.

I only had time to read the introduction and the first chapters, before sleep lured me to put the book down.
Yet, while reading her account, I could not help but notice the similarity of collective fears she described, with the atmosphere one breathes all around.

It is not because we are at war in a faraway place that one perceives the palpable collective fear. Rather, it is because the news details the effects of the ailing global economy, the moral decay and surge in violence, and how the shadow of darkness seems to have a stronghold on society -- as it affects us personally.

Technology intricately brings people together no matter how far flung. You from the chair you are sitting on, me as I type in my pajamas, those who cannot sleep due to insomnia. Times have changed, yet human nature prevails. We huddle closer, and whisper among ourselves.

It is ironic how the discussion I had with a friend this evening escalated in decibels, as it pertained as to how women who choose prostitution over an honorable woman who resorts to housekeeping to sustain her family. I said to him then, "how do you know what drove a certain woman on that path? You can't generalize."

In the introduction of this book by C.W Ceram, it reads: “Who confronted by such a collective fate…claim the right to use a moral yardstick…No man could…faced with a loaded gun, were compelled to say to wife or daughter:’ Go along, for God’s sake!’…from an armchair it is all too easy to judge……because she had to surrender she never surrendered her self.” [10]

As I attempted to sleep, I mulled this over. If faced with a gun would I surrender? Probably; it is survival mode.
If it meant to appease ravenous hunger? Not likely, as I would adapt to any chore…yet that would obviously depend entirely on the circumstances involved.

If the gun was aimed to harm someone I loved?

I would kill to defend those I love.
This I know with certainty to the core.

Excerpt from "A Woman in Berlin" by Anonymous, 1954 Harcourt, Brace and Co., Inc.

Fragile Illusions

2009-08-18T03:51:00.001-07:00

Fragile illusions, like a house built on the edge of a precipice
Which a quake could threaten its stability
Like a tenuous flame which lights a windy passage
The spark which lights the fire, which could instantly vanish
If not coaxed and fanned to expand and nourish

Fragile illusions, flamed by the stereotype of that which
Is deemed ideal. Yet, in reality one get by on hope or crutches
Perhaps even the most stoic man faces demons in the night
Perhaps the best defense is to become numb. Even to the point of
Shattering illusions, as beautiful as hand cut crystal

Mind over matter I’ve heard
Makes sense if you want to persevere
Illusions can be beautiful and treacherous to your well being
Yet one must strike a balance not to lose a vital energy
That seeps and leaks like sweat beads on your brow

That fragile and precious elixir is the joy of being
It’s contained in surplus doses by babes and children
On gentle men and women whom are content
There in lies the delicate balance. Mastering the mind
To do your bidding; harbor only the illusions which glitter

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Precarious Flight

2009-08-16T23:27:00.000-07:00

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The length of a bed sheet wraps around me; it gives me
Great comfort like the arm of a lover wrapped around me
As I embrace a pillow to my bare breasts, in a fetal position…
The monsters of the night filter through my mind
My consciousness closed shop for the day
Yet, my subconscious manifests in odd ways

Dreams lick my cerebellum with an avid tongue
Invariably I dream that this is the finale
A bathroom cabinet is full of stuff with the sole
Purpose to make everything all right.
What if someone invented a panacea to cure what
Truly ails man? He or she would be wealthy no doubt!

Perhaps the alcohol and narcotic industry have a corner
On this market. Yet, this only dulls the edge for a bit longer
One must face the mirror the following morning
And take inventory of depreciation of the stock
I linger between the gaps of full consciousness
I’ve spent my day studying people, my mind is exhausted

When I am tired of rattling their cage; I switch mode and
Try to persuade that everything will be all right
You just have to be optimistic I say
Why do people say so much bull shit about everyone else?
Perhaps it is a way to pass the time…and not turn on the light
To see the crude reality which is life

So now I say goodnight, and await for sleep to claim me again
Yet, I sleep fully conscious that this might be my last day?
It is scary!
It is exhilirating!
I wonder, wonder, wonder...what lies beyond yonder?
What is true and what is false? One day the veil will fall!

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Slow Burn

2009-08-13T14:04:00.000-07:00

Slow Burn

The tension is taught, it borders on anguish
Your skin is so warm, infused with your vital energy
I don’t want to rush this. I want to savor This moment
Like sips of cognac…too strong to drink in one gulp
I hope I can hold on a while longer; I don’t want to ever end it

The best dish is almost alchemy
Of spices, sweet, sour, and tart which make the mouth salivate
It is simmered in low heat for a while, infusing all flavors
To create an elixir of delight, and ignite all senses
Your skin has a golden hue from the sun, and tastes like honey

Your kisses inebriate the senses; one should not
Over indulge, but of these one can sin of gluttony
Because one will never be near enough
Your eyes are intense, where I could lose myself
I lose my inhibitions. Pride, morals, rationale evanesce

With the last vestige of my vestment
I feel vulnerable as I stand naked in the dark
Yet also empowered when I offer the route of my
Anatomy. The hills, curves and crevices where your hands
Impertinently roam. I should resent your familiarity, but I don’t

It becomes exquisite agony, this slow burn where you leave
Trails of your saliva, searing me with the heat from which
The molten lava flows. Unexpectedly one loses control, one
Falls down the precipice into a spiral of sensations so primal
Which tear unwillingly, erupting groans of pain and ecstasy

I’ve always been taught to be a good person, and a good girl
Yet I’ve realized, I’m even better when I become your whore
Let’s not divulge this beyond these four walls
Because for all intents and purposes I am a lady
Yet, there’s nothing I like better then to be your…

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Zzyzx

2009-08-11T13:25:00.000-07:00

There is distinct life near Death Valley
My eyelids are heavy; sleep lures like a siren
I exit on a lone stretch of the Mojave Desert
The moon and stars light my way, brilliantly sparkling...
Like diamonds adorning a dark velvet skirt
The heat is oppressive; I wake up drenched

In the middle of the hot desert I take off my clothes
My restrictive blouse, trousers, panties and shoes
I enjoy a moon bath, as I squat near the ground
A warm breeze passes underneath me, like the hot breath
Of a lover, very near the enclave
It's so peaceful, real, and hot; I feel that I can touch the stars

Ensconced between opposite ends, where not everything
That glitters is genuine. The smiles seemed perennial,
Yet strained. Vigorously feeding the slot machines,
Mounds of food overburden plates
Somewhere someone went to bed hungry tonight
Yet that reality is far fetched in this Oasis

Earlier an electric staircase descended me docilely
I viewed a woman whose each buttock cheek spread the
Circumference of a torso. A pang of guilt assaulted me
Ecstatic faces beam upon winning, beating the odds
I find shorts and a t-shirt, and renew my journey home
The stars blaze like diamonds uncorrupted by artificial lights

Some stars travel a million miles per hour in faraway galaxies
Yet the ones I contemplate so radiantly, seem near enough to touch
They observe us stoically, so vulnerable, so preoccupied with life
So busy with jamming food, coins, and a shred of happiness into
Our hyper lives. They have seen it all, what has befallen mankind
Yet things seldom change - that is - the nature of man

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Imperfectly Happy

2009-07-29T17:24:00.000-07:00

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There was a doll behind the window store. I fell in love
with her, and wished with all my heart to take her home
She was as big as me at the time, with celestial blue eyes
My wish was unfulfilled, and I learned to do without
I truly believed without a doubt, that she would bring me
Companionship, joy, and happiness

I was heartbroken when she was sold
I cried at night, not letting anyone else know
If only I’d known at six years old, that things
Don’t create happiness – it’s taken me so long to know
Sometime later, I found an abandoned doll
She was missing an arm and her hair had been chopped off

I picked her up and rescued her
I washed and dressed her up. I loved her even more because
she was handicapped. She helped me realize that things don’t
have to be perfect to make one imperfectly happy
I finally realize this is the way it is in reality
More people than things should be recycled

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Dependance

2009-07-27T17:32:00.000-07:00

It’s so intense, I can’t go on
It’s overwhelming…this love
It constricts my air passages and squeezes my heart
I can’t breath or move…I am trapped
The border between love and hate is nebulous
The border between lust and need is blurred

You taste so good, and you’re so bad for me
You take so much out of me -- you deplete my energy
You suckle on my breasts as if you were an infant
And fill the walls of my vagina, as if you’re climbing into the womb
You feel so good, yet, you are so bad for me
The line between lust and vice is obscured

You are a man, and still an errant child
I can’t be your mother and your lover too
Who looks out for me?
Who picks me up when I’m feeling down?
I guess only my daddy could as I rode on his shoulders
Touching the clouds, like mounds of cotton candy I could devour

We love and hate that which we love
We loath and need the human crutch
To lean on and get a fix, in order to go on
We let the vampires suck our blood
I am depleted; I stumble to the ground
I don’t want to move; I can’t get up

How can you accept my love laced with despise
For what you do to yourself, as I meekly observe
I know my tears will fall on deaf ears
It’s useless to walk away, and back again
I have misplaced my soul somewhere in my stuff
I am numb and famished; my mind draws a blank as I suck

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Sunset

2009-07-25T12:12:00.000-07:00

My vision fails, and my body aches
The decades on this earth manifest in various ways
I have a dim view of the stop sign; having traveled so far
You might call me an old dog, yet with age comes wisdom
And a deep appreciation, for the finer things in life
Look at you dear, do you see what I see as you toil to survive?

You are a little fish in the vast ocean of life
You see in the mirror someone who does not measure up
Yet, if you only knew, how short is life
And of the treasures bestowed on you, incontestably a birthright
Come sit on my lap and let me better appreciate you
Without encumbrance of clothes or apprehension of any kind

I need you, as much as you need me
I need to drink from your fountain for vital nourishment
And to suckle on your mountains for delectation
Do you know why a perfume is valuable? Because of its
Concentrated essence, such as your ephemeral youth is
Why do you waste it on boys who know nothing, lacking

True character, this forged from testing their true mettle
Boys are too soft now, as they lacked the discipline,
And a sharp chisel to mold a monument
Let my eyes, lips, and hands travel and worship you
I am old, and I am beaten; yet, you rejuvenate me
Life has a way to beat a man down, yet, I can compensate...

For the losses inside your hot depths. I will absorb
Your youthful energy, and you will drink of my wisdom
I will teach you to value your true worth, and not scatter your
Charms uselessly. Life is a game, and I will teach you the ropes
How to navigate the chattered course -- and men
I do not want to go gentle into that good night, as someone...

Once wrote. I want to die inside of you as I come!
I want to die deliriously happy, and then the bitch
Can take me while I explode in ecstasy
I want to hang on to life! To savor its incomparable
Pleasures and delights. Come, let me show the ways that you're
Extraordinary! Like the cereus which blooms for one night only

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The Perils of Love

2009-07-15T16:30:00.000-07:00

Her eyes widened like saucers the first time she saw him
Candidly they caressed him, while simultaneously undressed him
It hit her in the pit of her stomach...inexorable drawn
Her heart beat accelerated, and lips moistened with the tip of her tongue with anticipation of such a tasty morsel after such a long drought

He was a masterpiece, a breathing, walking embodiment of beauty
In masculine form. Instinctively that she knew that she was pawning her freedom, for she’d be the same no more. There was no room for rationale involved. It derived from pure instinct, an almighty need to mate -- even at the price of being owned in mind, body and soul

The searing heat of the asphalt pavement castigated by the noon sun,equaled the heat generated by their fused bodies, thus becoming one. Holding onto each other, bordering in fury, desperation, and joy. As a man grasps a raft adrift in the vast ocean. It was a continuous high, which one day crashed. Love capricious as a child, fled the scene of the crime

The wound was mortal, this she knew as she fell on the couch
Life ceased having meaning…without love. What is there to look
Forward to? To live numbly like a zombie, and to simply exist
To eat, sleep and defecate. To rise, rinse, and repeat over and over again,
Until the day the heart stops? Is this truly living?

She grieved her love, like the women grieved for Christ
Like a babe cries for the teat of his mom. Like an orphan
Cries when Mother’s Day comes around. Like the woman
who’s miscarried her babe, and the man who learns
His son has fallen in battle, a hero nonetheless

The ache was profound vivid and raw. Unable to summon the
Will to go on…one day she caressed the cold steel to her head
Life went on as usual for everyone else. Her spirit rose and
Ceased to grieve, detached from the baser needs of humanity
Yet she knows no peace; the price was too steep

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Expectations

2009-07-14T01:11:00.000-07:00

It's said that expectation surpasses reality, as it falls short of what actually transpires. How will it be? I've too often wondered as I ache and throb lightly.
As the early morning coffee slowly drips, hot and aromatic brew
much better than imagined…this certainty originates from the very core of my being

How will it taste as the hot spices penetrate the slow simmering meat
The ambrosia brewing seduces the palate, intoxicating the senses
The succulent flesh is tenderized and comes apart,
ever pliant and surrendering to the sacrifice

How will it feel when your hands and lips usurp mine?
Oh, electrifying! Careful...careful, you don't want to lose your self
A slave to passion, kneeling upon the altar with utter reverence
as if in sublime adoration of a Deity

Speaking in foreign tongues, utterly possessed in her domain
Groaning like an injured, rabid animal--so unlike your rational self
In the end will it really matter?
What everyone else thinks? The neighbors and society?

When you're drunk on exquisite ecstasy?
When it exudes from your pores, and your glazed eyes speak volumes?
And you know that you can give up lots, except this
No...not this, even to save your life, you cannot negate this

You need to resume this over and over until you drink your fill
from the bottomless barrel; the fecund foam overflows
Like well oiled machinery works in synchronization at maximum capacity
Industrious and creative in its execution to yield better results

Tireless, until sleep and sheer exhaustion overcomes one
to sleep with a soft smile upon the bruised lips
Is it summer madness? The intense heat permeates everything
There is no shame in that; no shame when the flame burns

"When I learned of the motives of the death of Violeta Parra, I wrote this verse. Violeta was an artist who was six years my senior. She fell in love with a boy of the age of my second son. This young Swede, also loved Violeta intensely, for the course of one year.
When he abandoned her, Violeta who did not realize that an artist is condemned to an immense loneliness, and she afraid to delve in it, traveled to Bolivia and shot herself on the temple. It's said her guitar was broken by the impact of her head breaking it."

Chabuca Granda on the lyrics of "Cardo o Ceniza."

Cardo o Ceniza

2009-07-13T16:36:00.000-07:00

"How will my skin be next to your skin?
How will my skin be next to your skin...
thistle...ash? How... how will it be?

As I will merge my space in front of yours
How will your body be as it courses through me?
And as my heart... it is in death
And my heart, it is in death

My voice will brake off when when it ceases
When I cannot whisper into your ear
And my salivating mouth will burn...
From the thirst that will burn me if you kiss me...
From the thirst that will burn me if you kiss me...

How will the groaning and the cry be?
When my life escapes through yours?
And as the lethargy which I will succumb to..
When my dreams fall asleep between your dream

I will have to take short naps
My matting awakens with your rivers
But, but ...

But how will my awakenings be like?
How will my awakenings be like?
How will my awakenings be like?
Every time I wake up ashamed
Every time I wake up ashamed
So much love... and I'm ashamed
So much love... and I'm ashamed..."

Lyrics by Chabuca Granda

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First Kiss

2009-07-08T17:27:00.000-07:00

First Kiss

The first contact is not skin-on-skin
It is the eyes consuming in one shot in totality
As the gap encloses…the midst emanating from
Essence to fuse like vapors barely perceptible
The first touch of lips, so soft and wet…so intimate
Like an avid tongue skimming the folds of a vagina

Yet a first kiss need not be entirely sexual
It can be transcendental
In a moment of reverie, as if accepting a blessing
Or an overdue reward
It can be endless, and magical, yet how rare it be
Inhaling the air and energy of the one cherished…

If just for that moment. That kiss can feel
Like diving off a precipice… scary, yet exhilarating
Diving in a free fall, without a parachute to brake its fall
No brakes to put a stop to it, no interruptions can brake lip lock
Living the moment voraciously
Vibrating like a touched guitar string

That first kiss can last an eternity at it lives in the psyche
Interrupted by mundane tasks, people and responsibilities
Oceans apart, then suddenly, one day it resumes
With the same ardent intensity, or perhaps at a higher frequency
When one realizes how long it’s taken to regain
As the electric sparks run the circuit, of the soul and nerve ends

And when one dives down, and deep, one enters a different
World. A realm of senses where time stands still
A body of turbulent waters and tranquil peace
Charting unknown territories armed with instinct and eyes closed
And a ravenous appetite, which clamors for release
Deep, deep waters which nourish the soul; I dive in joyfully!

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The Business of Life

2009-07-02T14:50:00.000-07:00

The Business of Life

"A space in the Garden of Serenity and extras ascend to $17,000 dollars." Holy shit! Does that include a pass to Heaven?…"Nope, but if you pile two bodies in one space, the difference is just $1,000 dollars." I see, sort of like rooming in together…kind of cramped isn’t? " Well there are less expensive spaces, just not in The Garden of Serenity." Would that be like in the depths of purgatory? Thank you very much!

It’s almost comical to work hard just to be buried, six feet underground.
Is the ultimate indignation not having a location to rest in peace?
Is the ultimate indignation having family members haggle about
the cost, and who shoulders these? How distasteful!
One best take care of this first!
Perhaps it is not the ultimate, yet surely it is the final

There is plenty of that upon arrival, as a lactating mother is
Imprisoned in a Kenyan hospital, in squalid conditions
until she pays $60 due them. Or the woman in a similar
situation, who lost her newborn for lack of care and compassion.
And the couple who will stall having children (while they can)
Since the bill would ascend to 30,000, which is scarce.

These situations give one an inkling of what’s in store in life, and how all has a price attached. We are born crying as if refuting such a crude reality. Small, frightened, and vulnerable…what’s to become of us? As we cry and demand a place in this life? The only certainty is the hole in the ground – the final destination.
In the interim, you better enjoy life while you can...

Happy 4Th of July!

Tease

2009-07-01T16:48:00.000-07:00

Don’t knock…I won’t let you in
Don’t you see how late it is?
Don’t look into my window pane
I don’t want to see you now…just go away!
I am busy with my newfound project
I’m really psyched about it…in an odd way

I am swimming atop this plush Korean blanket
It feels so sensuous. My bare legs slide as if I were
Pedaling on a bike, while the sun and wind urge me on
Or as if feathers caressed my limbs and thighs.
I lay my cheek against it; It is thick like grass
And as comforting and warm as a man’s landscape

I can’t recall if it was Valentino or YSL
Who said something to the like that he was retiring
due to the mediocrity in fashion
He would have needed to have visited Los Angeles
Where multitudes cheer with blazing passion
A basketball game, with the same uncontained euphoria..

Of a nation liberated from invading forces
Yet I do understand his view, as the voracious
Appetite of Wal-Mart promotes sweat shop labor
Don’t attempt to tease me; I’ve looked for you for so long
Yet, I do love this plush Korean blanket; I don’t want to leave it
I think that…I will want it to line my coffin

—Yves Saint Laurent “My generation should be more ... passionate to whatever craft they're good at. Mediocrity is out of style. ...”

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A Memorable Feast

2009-06-29T16:25:00.000-07:00

My father was an extravagant sort. He’d orchestrate a three day celebration for his birthday. He'd order the slaughtering of pork and a whole cow for such an event, where close and distant family and friends, gathered to gorge until they could eat and drink no more.
I guess I have a bit of that too. Yet, it's never been for me.
Today, I will start to plan for a big feast in my honor.

No detail will be overlooked. There will be a catered meal of Peruvian food.
I'm sorry to tell you that is the best cuisine in the world; Lima has been declared the gastronomic capital of the Americas, for its unique fusion of flavors.
I want there to be music, spirits, and camaraderie.

“Life is to be enjoyed, don't be a fool..it is too short, don't you know?
I repeat, I want you to enjoy the feast...and to simply celebrate that we shared this time together. Don’t take for granted each day and squander it inconsequentially.
Imagine the sand shifting through the hour glass…each second gone is the present dissolving into the past.

Please…please smile and don’t frown. You think you need so much to be happy.
It’s not like that at all. You don’t need stuff…the good stuff is not for sale, and you’re not even aware of it.
I ache too, for you are so lost and mired in your problems, that you’re letting precious moments pass in worry. I only hope that I made a difference even on a minuscule level…knowing me.

With unending love,” it will be read.

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Free Ride

2009-06-19T13:10:00.000-07:00

Free Ride

While walking to get a soda under the grilling merciless sun, I saw a border patrol SUV stopped by a red light. I was on my way to the Mexican border of Juarez then, and I contemplated for a second hitching a ride from them. I only needed to tell them I was illegal for them to deport me?

Yet, it’s not so much the cab ride I would have saved that lured me to think this way. It was a morbid curiosity to be inside a vehicle impregnated with so much fear and shattered dreams; these derived from those who perhaps invested their life’s savings to come this far. And the heartbreak to see these dreams evanesce like vapor into thin air.

It would be like playing with fire with the knowledge one is safe from scarring. There was a time when I was afraid of those border patrol cars. Yet, it was only for a short while, when I was nine years old and spent three nights in a cheap Tijuana motel room, my two little brothers and I.

We were waiting for the people to cross us, when on the second night of ambiguity, and worry, one cried and said that he was scared, to which I replied: “It will be alright; you will see. Don’t you cry.” I faked a bravado I was far from feeling at nine yrs old, still unaware of all the potential dangers and pitfalls.

I think it’s important to be able to step in someone else’s shoes, if only for a moment. To jolt one from the complacency one can be trapped in, and surely be thankful for what did not befall one. Perhaps it would be a bit too much to request to sit on the electric chair of a Texas jail and imagine the moment one knows with due certainty one is about to expire. What goes through their mind at such a moment?

Oh, the human well of suffering. Is it palpable on the walls of the Auschwitz gas chambers? Did people embrace naked and terrified, as the life force slowly drifted away? Which was worse? To be trapped in there, or seeing a loved one marched to such fate? How much pain can man bear?

We are both stopped by a red light under the merciless Texas sun. I see the Border Patrol men inside their air conditioned vehicle. Perhaps it’s the only available job they found in this unstable economy? Do they turn off their emotions when performing their duties? When the little American children beg them with tears, not to deport their parents?

The light is green and the moment is passed. I make my way to the border town. I will cross the invisible line created by man, as sharp as a blade that cuts a paper in half.
This divides two distinct lines between race, idioms, and comfort of life. Making one an illegal alien by this abstract line created by brothers.

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Windows of the soul

2009-06-16T13:50:00.000-07:00

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I look through the window of my compact mirror, and I do not like what I see. There are dark circles circumventing my eyes, from rationed sleep. As I methodically consume my lunch, there are two books set on the table before me. One is a factory resource book; the other is a book of poems by Silvia Plath. Guess which one was viewed during my lunch hour?

There is really not a lack of drama and intrigue in real life. As I’ve said before, real life often surpasses fiction. Everyone comes to me, as if I manned information central.
I am privy to diverging point of views and assimilate all information. These bits of scattered information, often derive from outside forces.

Like the guy who was recently threatened with his life, unless he paid a very steep amount he owed. And of the sacrifice someone made on his behalf, in order to save his life.
I am at a crossroad between choosing a solid friendship, over alignment with powerful forces. If I were to drop the dead weight, I’d have it a lot easier they say. In truth, I am not sure as how to proceed, as this creates a conflict deep within me.

I do not like who I see in the compact mirror; who is this stranger before me? Where is the sweet girl who dwells within? I hope that she is back soon, because I cannot write without her. My mind is too focused on the dollar bill. I think that I will dance around the flame, and be beholden to no one. Prudence is an undervalued virtue, and one should be dual in nature. That is an innate faculty of the female nature.

Los Angeles can make one hard and brittle in order to survive.

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To the point

2009-06-09T20:20:00.000-07:00

I could not leave town without paying my respects inside the Cathedral. Afterwards, I bought an ice cream bar and sat on the plaza to observe the people idling the time. I sat under the shade of a tree and struck up a conversation with a very nice man.

After touching on several subjects, I inquired about the street adjacent to the plaza, where the ladies of the night converge to incite the lust of those passing by.

-¨Oh that place? There are even 70 and 80 year old women working that street.¨

My mouth gaped open on its own accord. -¨Have you ever paid one of those women for…you know? ¨

-¨Oh, not the grandmothers, although she always asks me if I want to go inside the rooms. But, yes, I have paid some of the girls.¨

-¨So, what are the rooms like? Do they have air conditioning? It’s so hot here. I can imagine how it gets when it’s 120 Fahrenheit!”

-¨There is only one bed, no air conditioning, nor bathroom. Some girls use a bucket to wash up, and then on to the next client. But you know those elder women, are actually cleaner, because they are not as active as a young woman. Therefore, she is likely to be cleaner than one who is more solicited. When it gets very hot, it’s just heat, generating more heat – It’s like a steam room.¨ He laughed.

-¨Do they use condoms? ¨

He shrugged his shoulders and said, -¨ It all depends on the price. They might ask for $300 pesos for withholding protection, and some will likely agree to it.¨

-¨As a woman, I cringe at the thought of living in purgatory to make a miserable wage.¨

-¨I am a small business owner. Sometimes I come here to hire people, and one young girl asked me if I was giving stuff away. I told her that I was offering a way to make money from home. She said to me that she was here to sell sex, and whoever wanted to could follow her.

See those men there? Some of them are in their 70´s or even 80´s and they keep young girls. They give them some money and they spend the day together.¨

-¨Hmm…can they still get it up at 80?¨ Inquiring minds want to know.

-¨Not likely.¨

-¨So, then…what´s involved?¨ I asked to pass the time.

-¨Just oral. They get to play a little, and the girls go away happy with some money.
Do you have a telephone number? Can I call you sometime? Maybe we can meet next time you come back.¨

Not likely to ever come back here I thought.

-¨Sure, maybe when I come back we can do the route of all the cantinas and dance halls. That should be at the very least interesting.¨ I said this as I took his business card and bid him goodbye.

.

Have you seen her?

2009-06-08T23:35:00.000-07:00

A typical Monday spent riding on the back of a fiscal custom’s agent vehicle; I made small talk so as not to fall into an awkward silence.

-¨So, how come there are still young women missing here in Juarez and no one is caught as of yet? I mean, considering the advances in forensic science, surely something should come up from the retrieved DNA.¨ I asked him to brake the pregnant silence.

-¨There’s not that type of technology here yet.¨

Bull shit

-¨What about the drug cartel war with the military, is there still a lot of that going on here? ¨

-¨There are sporadic casualties, but I don’t deal with that. I am a federal customs agent.¨

The drive from the Mexican custom’s gate, to the import offices took was quite a distance it seemed. For a moment, a pang of apprehension sounded an alarm, as we drove into wooded area. This dispersed when I could see the American flag adjacent to the entrance of a compound with the emblems of the Mexican customs facility.

I thanked the agent for the ride, declined to the bureaucratic paper work involved, and crossed back into US territory. After rearranging to meet those people I was to meet a mile into El Paso, later in the day, I made my way back into the fabled city of Juarez.

I talked to some people who said that there were still girls missing from 17 to 22 yrs of age from the downtown district. The couple I spoke with said that a lot of people figured that the local police were involved. Several mothers had denounced this as they recognized those men pursuing their daughters. ¨But you know how it is, the police here are very abusive. They probably kidnap these girls and pass them around each other.¨

I chose to walk circumventing the Cathedral on the main plaza. I looked with laser like intent at the faces of the men all around me. I asked the silent question is it you? Or you? Or you? Are you one of the men who not only kidnapped and raped someone’s daughter, but also mutilated and tortured her? I asked this as I saw a plethora of missing people’s leaflets, plastered on walls and telephone booths.

I came upon a closed street where I saw groups of women congregating on plastic chairs near the entrance of run down buildings. It took me but a moment to realize these were hardened women, and they traded what means they had at their disposal since birth.

I sauntered to a group of women. It seemed the recession have hit hard this sector, for she had allowed grey to highlight the top portion of her hair. The unmerciful sun and perennial heat of this border town had ravaged whatever remnants of beauty she might have been blessed with.

Not as to belittle them, I refrained from asking how much they charged, but spoke in general terms about the missing women. After we spoke for a length of time, I bid them goodbye. I stopped a young man on my way and asked him how much did the ladies of the night charge.

-¨For companionship or sex? ¨ Huh? Just give me a price.¨ I asked.

-¨From 50 to 100.¨ I opened my eyes wide ¨Pesos?¨ I wondered if the lesser price was for a senior citizen discount, as upon observation, I could see several couples holding hands in this passage of purchased love. Several men were elderly, and the women seemed to be getting there at the pace of life they were keeping. For only $5 dollars they’d blow a man?

I’d had enough of this piss town where life and dignity had no value whatsoever.
It was almost nine o’clock and strange things seem to happen close to midnight.
I made my way to a main avenue to catch a cab. I was a block away on an almost deserted street without any streetlights, when I saw from the opposite side of the street a cholo coming towards me.

The street was dark, one old man sat atop a car, and this shirtless tattooed gangster walked with the air of owning this street. He was sauntering as if studying his prey on the same side of me. I had seen him before when I studied the men near the plaza. His fanthomless eyes told me that he seemed to have lost his soul a while ago.

Instinctively I knew that if I showed any trace of fear and moved aside, he’d be able to smell it, and then I’d be in trouble. The only apprehension was for my wallet and US passport, those inside my jean pocket. This being a border town, it could easily be sold for a steep profit, and then I’d be royally screwed trying to cross to El Paso.

As we were coming ever closer, we locked eyes. I put on a stern face, while I grasped the holster of my purple back pack. This might tell him that I held something valuable in it.
This is the same purple back pack which has accompanied me to so many places, and once someone told me in jest that it made me look like ¨Dora the Explorer.¨

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Folie

2009-06-04T17:32:00.000-07:00

Someone once told me that he had always looked in from the outside, into restaurants which he could not afford. With hunger roaring in his belly, and wistfulness on the forefront.

What could I say to that since eating in those places is highly overrated, and most of the food there has been previously frozen? I could understand in theory what he meant, but not really osmose what he had felt.

That is until a few nights ago. I was waiting for someone outside an apartment complex, when I was privy to a very intimate moment between two. It was simply a couple moving into the first floor of that building. The living room was vacant except for a few carton boxes, and they were laughing about some silly joke.

Sometimes one is not aware of what is lacking until it is presented before you. I felt a pang of envy, and a bit of sadness too.
Summer is upon us, yet that makes no difference in southern California. It is always sunny, smoggy, and crowded too.

Some move in together, and some drift apart due to irreconcilable differences. When exactly, due good intentions turn to shit between two people crazy in love?

Therein lies the answer...they're warped in a cloud of enraptured folie.

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Hi There!

2009-05-30T15:32:00.000-07:00

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Our Father, Who art in heaven looking down at your creation...what went wrong with man? Why do we destroy each other instead of lifting up our brothers to make the load easier to bear?

Blessed be Thy Name; above anything or anyone else...I humbly declare with such intense love, that can't be contained. I've sent lots of kisses up above, when I see signs that You are near me, or that Your hand is at play...without disrespect, I love You with every fiber of my being, and every ounce of my essence. I love you without reason, measure or edge. Even if you know that I'm a sinner, please refer to the above...that will never change...okay?

I am your humble servant and kneel before Thee, and no man. For man is fallible and harbors darkness in his heart. Perhaps you will see why I've been absent from mass for quite a while...I am seeking answers to make sense of it all... and I feel I can learn no more...there. If that makes me a sinner, then please take into account that my intentions are good.
"Thy kingdom come," in due time. I am working on check and balances when the day comes.

"Thy will be done;on earth as it is in heaven." I set upon your strong hands my problems, and let my worries dissipate. The worst that can happen is death, and then it's only bodily decay. Why spend precious time mired in misery and regret?

"Give us this day our daily bread." I am thankful for the beauty you have created for us to enjoy. I thank You for the warmth of the sun, which nourishes our crops, so that I can enjoy fresh bread, this fruit of my labor. For which case, I also thank You for making me able, to be able to do so, as it is not the case for everyone.

I did an about turn to look closely at a young woman selling gum on a street of Mexico. Her eyelids had sunk in, and those lacked eyeballs. Still, she is attempting to earn her daily bread in such fashion. I pray for her too, so that man won't ignore her plight and lighten her load with the purchase of gum. And I thank You for making her presence known, so that I can realize how truly lucky I am, without taking things for granted.

What am I saying? We're all trying to make a sale at some point or another. She aspires not even to a ration of happiness, except to fill her belly, and hopefully to rest her weary body on comfortable bedding. Her body may be nourished with food, yet perhaps famished for love. Dear Father, why is everyone not created equal?

I humbly realize that the pain I see, and have endured in my life, is there for a reason I can't comprehend. I pray that you give me the wisdom to do so, and the template to endure whatever comes my way.....

"and forgive us our trespasses,as we forgive those who trespass against us."
I know that I have a horrible temper, for which I periodically spare my presence to others.' But when the anger subsides, please know that I try to make amends somehow...even if I find it very hard to forgive and forget...but You know I'm just flawed...and human. Please help me be more gentle and ladylike...most of the time.

"And lead us not into temptation." ... actually, I know You don't lead us into temptation for we are fully aware of what is right and what is plain wrong...so I have to beg that help me not to fall prey to my desires and obsessions. I guess, I've been worst enemy then.

"but deliver us from evil." Evil is ever present as there is night and day, light and darkness. I pray that you give me the fortitude to walk away from the easier path, the lure to appease my baser instincts which threaten to overthrow my good intentions. The internal battle is perennial. In advance I ask for your patience and forgiveness for when I err, but You can look into the hearts of men, and You know who I am.

I don't ask for much, although I do have to ask for those who are lost in the path, and fall prey to doubt, pain, bouts of misery and brake down and cry. Please lighten their load; help the alone feel loved, and to become whole. Also please open for us doors, so that we can live a full life as surely you intend for us all.

Please help me to be all right with what I have, and not sell myself for a plate of lentils. Amen

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Urgency

2009-05-29T11:49:00.000-07:00

"For liberty and honor, one CAN AND SHOULD RISK IN LIFE!" - Benito Messeguer

“I need a wiener!… Give me one now!” This I urged the man behind the counter to expedite. “How much is it?…Okay, give me then three, and also fill this cup with water, hurry please!” I reiterated my urgency.

The day was unbearably hot. In the evening the heat lingered still, although not as furious as earlier. This was the type of day when your shirt adheres to your back, and one perceives a mirage of an azure pool beckoning seductively.

When ever I visit Mexico City, I always make the time to visit the Basilica of the Virgen de Guadalupe. This is situated on the same spot in which Juan Diego was instructed to build Her shrine.

Making my way there, I perceived a black labrador coming towards me. It was not strutting…rather slouching with its head down, at a slow pace, as if it were pulling a heavy cart; its tongue hanging out. Like I said, the day was sizzling hot.
Who knows how long had it been since this creature had eaten or drank? It could not say it in words, yet its beaten down demeanor, told me more then an eloquent phrase.

“No! I don’t want hot dog bread…I just want the wieners!” I said.
Before the man at fast food place thought I was deranged, by bursting in and clamoring for wieners in a gringo accented Spanish; I shared with him that this was for a dog, and that I did not want to lose track of him.

I still had to run in my high heeled shoes to find my raven coated friend. He was a block away, in a close ended street. “Hey! Come here!” I yelled, and I took out a cold wiener from a plastic bag and waved it like a magic wand.

It turned around and slouched towards me…while licking its tongue like window wipers. He picked up the pace, with the anticipation of such a treat. We met half way; he slowed by malnourishment and age; I limping along impaired by high heels.

We met halfway. It came close to me and smelled the wiener, yet hesitated. “Hey,” I said…"here buddy, it’s for you!” I placed the cup of water on the ground near him, and the wiener near its muzzle. After a bit of hesitation it grabbed the processed meat, and then it laid down on the side walk under the shade of a tree to work on this.

Then I realized the cause for the hesitancy. It only had four teeth, two on top, and two on the bottom; it was a slow process to consume even soft meat.
It used its paws to hold the meat at an accesible angle, and then slowly break it off, one piece at a time. I brought the water close to him, and the rest of the wieners I laid out in front of him on a plastic bed.

I let him be, and proceeded to the Basilica. In the entrance, an old man was on his knees on the hard marble floor. His face reflected deep anguish, as if trying to make sense of it all. By the look of this clothing, perhaps he too had not eaten that day?

I could only sit down and pray as well.

"Por libertad asi como por honra, se PUEDE Y DEVE AVENTURAR LA VIDA." mural and quote by Benito Messeguer

Reason?

2009-05-28T20:21:00.000-07:00

“Delirium of Reason,” is that so?

This evening I saw an exhibit in the Museo de San Ildefonso, near the Zocalo, titled: “Delirium of Reason.” By photographer David LaChapelle.

This exhibition is an ode to how low humanity has sunk. Where some men and women will do almost anything for a buck. As much as the attempt was to produce art, if one studies closely the vacant and narcissistic faces, you will get a void of emotion, and a good portion of stupefied expressions.

The image above of Courtney Love portraying the Virgin Mary, and her deceased husband draped across her arms is a defilement of that which is held sacred by many. By exploiting her deceased husband's image to the hilt for a piece of notoriety, is this truly art or exploitation? As well as an attempt to elicit some form of sympathy? As if she did not facilitate this by condoning and partaking in drug fests?

Then you have a simulated Christ sporting a California tan, with a calculated sensual pout, so de rigueur of your typical model. Did you imagine Christ on the last supper wearing a vacuous expression, knowing he’d be flagged and nailed to a cross in rapid succession? This after being stabbed on the back by someone He loved?

The futile attempt to make satire society’s obsession with technology and name brands, fails if you don’t attempt to abstain from your cell phone, lap top, and designer sneakers, lest you sin of hypocrisy.

If you really wanted to make a realistic reflection of the current state of society, you’d have to include a woman with engrossed lips thanks to Restylane. These plumped lips wrapped around the engorged penis of her boyfriend or husband, while being sodomised with a roll of quarters by her boss, client, or random benefactor. That’s what is called juggling to make ends meet, in order to acquire Gucci sunglasses.

And when you exploit the innocence of children in your photographs, why not include a little realism as well? And picture a mother who exposes her child to this depravity for $100 dollars in her real life. A woman who exploits the welfare system, and trains her kid at 5 yrs of age to make her own breakfast of cold cereal and milk, while she sleeps away the hangover from the previous night.

Or if you really want to be updated and shock, why not create a scene with naked men and women quivering after the collapse of the markets and banks? This juxtapositioned with naked corpulent CEO's carrying mounds of money and an indifferent smirk...although if you stay true to form, and only elicit vacuous expressions from your subjects -- so long as they look good...or shocking...then the point, will be entirely lost.

So you like your models naked, as they came into this world. It’s nothing I’ve never seen before. Yet, if you wanted to expose them in the raw, why not devoid of make up and pretense? Devoid of the mask applied to create the illusion of the ideal of beauty. Yet, in the practiced pose, devoid of depth, it’s merely a fest of teats, slits, and testicles.

If this is satire at its best, where do people draw the line between creativity and trash? There is fine line between freedom of expression and trashing what is sacred to some…regardless whether you believe in it or not. I cannot hate Jews because they crucified Christ. For if I did, then I’d also hate Jesus, Mary and Joseph too – and this I cannot do. My point is, we have to respect what’s sacred to others´ even if we have diverging ideologies.

When I left this exhibit, I felt disappointed, and saddened for humanity. This because it seems it’s in vogue to have lost the moral compass, and some people will sink to new lows for a dollar, even at the cost of their humanity. I felt as if…someone had wiped his ass with the flag, or used it as a menstruating pad in order to create "art."

Where is the line between what is okay simply wrong drawn? Can a pressing debt justify murder of family to benefit from an insurance claim? Is it justifiable for a mother to suffocate her newborn, born deformed? I reiterate, where is the line drawn?

If you don’t believe in something, what the fuck do you believe in besides your adoration for money and adulation to feed your ego?
“Delirium of reason?” Not likely, for reason would dictate that it include the suffering of the collapse of humanity. This is Sodom and Gomorrah duplicated.

.
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“Regálame esta noche”

2009-05-27T17:08:00.000-07:00

On the rear window of a pimped pick up truck, it reads the above, which means, “gift me this night.” I like the direct, yet pleading tone, as if asking for a sliver of love, an ounce of humanity, a reprise from the cold? A halt to raw loneliness, or ration of comfort supplied by two arms.

I don´t think it´s from some horny dude asking this from a first date. He´s asking for a whole night…remember? After the heart rate subsides, how then is the rest of the time to transpire? This plead is torn from the soul of one who would cherish every absolute moment, and find time has passed in a blink of an eye.

Ondulating waves of pleasure, varying in intensity, derived from holding hands, devouring kisses, and parting limbs. Languid licks and flicks of dexterous tongues. Inquisitive lips, and greedy hands. All senses inflamed: sight, taste, smell, and touch…and the melody of rampant lust.

Perhaps it would involve a movie, perhaps a comfortable silence…so silent, so quiet, one can hear each other´s heart beat. This reverie pierced by groans of ecstasy. And as the hands of the clock advance towards dawn, one can sleep floating in a gentle peace, which reigns in intimacy with a warm, vibrant body so close, as close as two people can be.

Perhaps this plead is tinged with despair prior to a final goodbye, or a chance encounter on the route of life. Beggars can´t be choosers, and one memorable night can be so sublime, as to linger perennial on the psyche and the heart.Infusing with so much delight, humbling one with the wonder of aching tenderness. Knowing full well time is running out, before dawn bathes with light, and the spell of the night is dissolved.

All aglow from the heat of a sizzling grill, which has become a shared mattress. Perhaps it´s a lament of one who needs comfort, or the culmination of restless nights scented with longing, slow-simmering in lust. From tender kisses, to rabid bites, epileptic seizures, as if needing to devour, absolve, and punish all at once.

All of this can be contained in just one night, provided one feels benevolent and generous to participate. How ephemeral and tenous is the hold on pure joy. Because there is such an intense happiness which overflows, and it cannot be contained, much less prolonged for too long.

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2009

2009-05-26T18:11:00.000-07:00

2009

It is an odd number, as well as an odd year. Crime is flourishing, as well as the daffodils. Yes, I know what you mean said the cab driver. A guy just arrived from Guatemala heartbroken. He had closed all his pharmacies there because his manager there had been shot in the head, after refusing to capitulate to extortion from local gangsters. He made the arrangements to bring back the cadaver home to the family.

Yeah, I said. A friend of mine works everyday of the week, morning and night to pay off small business loans and help his small store flourish in Costa Rica. He was down one day, and shared with me that his wife had been robbed, very politely he said. This was the third time in six months. Listen I said, look at this way, at least your wife was not harmed, and by the frequency and politeness employed…this is clearly extortion at work.

I can understand the anger and frustration. In the end there is no concept like ethics that is better understood then the exchange of cash. I waited three hours in an office lacking air conditioning, demanding to see the head of customs. When he finally deigned to grant me an audience, he was adamant that due process had to be observed. Due process? I asked. I am here because I refused to comply to the extortion exercised by corrupted customs officers on site!

I appeal to your sense of justice and do what is right! “I cannot do anything, once the stuff enters a federal warehouse," he said. "I repeat, due process must be observed.” Then I said, "I see what you mean, due process of extortion is to meekly be complied with, and one must look the other way!" He looked at me sternly, and in a polite and taciturn way, ordered me to leave his office immediately. Waiting in a stifling office for three hours and slow internet access, is proof to anyone that purgatory exists here on earth.

Wings

2009-05-25T19:57:00.000-07:00

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Hovering thirty thousand feet above ground; there is an intimacy with the clouds, as the plane nagivates through the nebulous midst, amidst the blackened night. This as black as robust coffee, a fanthomless void, and liquid gold. On my window I can see a wing slice through night effortlessly, as a knive does through cheesecake. Its wings like an eagle´s spread wide. Yet, from the corner of my eye I perceived the subtle presence of angels carrying these wings, I know this because my mom prays for me. These angels have long, reddish hair, and alabaster skin. They are ethereally beautiful without comparison to anyone.

Looking downwards, one can make tiny dots like rhinestones punctuate the dark landscape. How small, fragile, and naive man seems then, asleep after a weekend of debauchery. The clock dictates when to get up to get on the wheel yet again. How amazing is man´s vision. He is able to imitate birds in flight, and thus travel far. Yet, one must account for the downside of such advances. This in solidarity of voiceless protests my ailing whales, who line up on the shores and silently suffer, devoid of voice, rights, and vote.

I finally arrive, and thank God. I am the last one to exit, to let the herd go by. Upon exiting the plane I am met by an uniformed man, who hands me a medical mask. I enter a shuttle full of a sea of surgically masked. I am at a loss as to what to do, as I have a strong aversion for any type of restrainment. How will I navigate this situation? I feel as if I am entering the Twilight zone. Now in perspective, I know it was a prelude to what was to become a day torn from the page of Dante´s Infierno…which drove me to drinking…a Negra Modelo.

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Happy Holiday!

2009-05-24T02:01:00.000-07:00

Happy Memorial Day Weekend!

We are blessed that the sun shines upon us year-round in southern California. It is a spectacular beautiful weekend, with lots of fun promised for all. With an extra free day, what a bonus! We can let loose and bathe in hedonism for three days. This memorial weekend happens to be the biggest day for race driving with just the Indi 500 to draw approximately 350,000 people. Not to mention the carnivals, concerts, hockey playoffs, and the superb sales retailers are offering to celebrate the fallen!

On this day when one commemorates those fallen in combat, it is ironic that more emphasis is posited on the devotion to pleasure. It would seem to anyone who views this carnival objectively, a bit sardonic. The noise of the drunken masses drowns the real pain and cruel reality of our current situation. I do frequently forget we are at war and that currently there are maimed soldiers suffering horrific loss. Yet, is it because of my accelerated tempo of life? Or that there are so few reminders that we’re at war?

There is no discreet downplaying the flash in glamorous televised events, unless you listen to public radio. Not even in consideration of the current recession which has wiped close to six millions jobs - and growing. And which threatens future social security, and alternatively, mental stability? So, let’s toast and be merry, although not everyone has the means to – nor the desire to. Least of all is the Gulf War vet, who cannot walk more than one block without aid. His body is ravaged by the effects of the chemicals he was polluted with.

Yet his mission was so secret that there is no trace of it. Therefore, he is battling still to this day, to get credit and compensation or it. Yet not all are oblivious to what this day entails; the insurmountable suffering which created this three day holiday fest. Perhaps they have witnessed the carnage which pits brother against brother, as if they were pit bulls in a fenced ring. Which morphs a good boy into a killer machine, when all he really wanted was a way out of the ghetto scene.

So, let us slather on the sun screen, drink and be merry, and along the way make a conscious toast for those brave men and women who are long gone,
and of those orphans’ products of war. When people say, "happy Memorial Day weekend!" do they realize what they're saying?

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Bitch!

2009-05-23T00:35:00.000-07:00

Yes you are a bitch! And it’s not an euphemism. For you are an irrational and cruel bitch. You have a perverse sense of humor, which ironically I would appreciate, except that you make no sense, and you cause so much pain. Take the analogy of a commonly stocked refrigerator. Logic would dictate that you trash the putrefied stuff; the rotten apples, the spoiled food, and bad seeds in order to make room for fresh feed. The ice box is over stocked with frozen limbs, slivered pigs, and choice cuts of meats carefully wrapped, so as to contain their dripping blood. But what do you do?

You bury deep in mounds of trash bins, freshly sprouted peaches, sweet marmalade, and fresh lettuce. You rob fresh milk from the mouths of nursing infants. You discard without qualms the sole provider, so that the variety of the contents of that refrigerator lacks in nutrients, and happiness. Why is it like that? Why can’t you use logic and get rid of the scurvy first? That would make sense. But you know, I’m not afraid of you, and I will prove it to you. I am flying tonight to Mexico City for several days, which has an ailing economy you have helped entomb, as it floundered for air to maintain a pulse.

Pedophiles court elementary schools and sit in their cars jacking off as the little girls in fresh summer clothing walk by. You can read their minds, and you could stop them if you tried…. Yet, instead you deal with gentle souls whom are loved and needed so very desperately. Your agents are busy at work to promote your trade, and take anyone in their way -- you´re really perverse. You tease, and wait for a man to work hard all of his life with the lure of the good life, and when he´s about to reap the fruits of his labor, just then - you snatch him away. Like I said, I'm not afraid of you bitch, even if I see glimpses of you on my trip.

I am not afraid of you…when it pertains to me.

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Return to Whole

2009-05-21T23:58:00.000-07:00

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I drove to San Diego for a meeting. When the day was over, the sea beckoned. Its call was irresistible, as it echoed the mermaids, seagulls, and Zeus. I rolled up my trousers, and took off my high-heeled shoes; I stood on the shore to contemplate the crash of the surf. The foam surrounded my feet like fine woven lace. I stood on tiptoes when it came in a rush. My mind was quiet and expectant, as I focused on the sun's glitter on the ocean bed.

Then I heard it, “Where have you been? We’ve missed you.” Oh, I said, well I kept away because you held a painful memory. You would know, you witnessed this. “Welcome back! We’re glad you’re back. Although I will tell you from millions of years of experience, it does not suit well to dwell in grief. Your time here on earth, is much too brief. The seasons change rapidly, and before you know it, your past is longer than the path laid before you. I’ve witnessed simple of men be exceptionally brave...

and content with just enough to feed himself. I’ve also witnessed spectacular opulence, mask such acute loneliness, and the moral bankruptcy as to fill the black hole in space.” I heard this echoed over the waves, over school of fish, on the breeze and surf, and the voices of mermaids who sang in the background with heartbreaking sentiment. I looked up to the sun, which was arranging his briefcase. Suddenly, a feeling of utter peace invaded me.

It was so powerful that it generated tears which clung to my lashes. The weight of those, made them travel my face like avid little tongues. I gave a big thanks, because I knew just then that I was healed; my heart had cauterized and the pain had evaporated. I stood there for a long time; my mind totally bank. I relished the moment of simple content. I looked for my shoes, yet these did not fit. I walked with a coat of sand on my feet; my toes have webs.

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Icy Palace II

2009-05-20T23:35:00.000-07:00

“Where have you been all my life?” Snow White breathlessly asked. After she recounted seven orgasms, and begged her invisible lover to cease his ministrations, which made her core still palpitate and drench, as if it had a life of its very own. “Oh, I’m sorry; I should not have asked that. You where always very near, ever ready with a joke. With sage advice, or even a short term loan. You supplied a willing ear, to hear my rants… I guess…I guess I simply didn’t see you as the man in my life…and funny thing is…you were just that!

I longed for that elusive fairy tale which I’ve cherished since I was a little girl. For the happily ever after, we’ve been conditioned to expect. And you know what? It’s not that way at all. It is lovely at the beginning, like most fairy tales are, yet eventually the plot thickens and there is adversity to face, loss, pain, trials and tribulations which test the bond. Yet the saddest part of all…is falling off the steep precipice of love. Now I know better…I perceive the difference. No, no it’s not just the obvious physical part. Please hear me out.

With him it was me always giving, and I wanted in exchange to receive tenderness, and sweet long kisses that last an eternity. I wanted to be silly, and he criticized me for it. He said I had to be a lady, and be well behaved. He would roll over after sex, and snore like a pig. I was sleepless, and yet I could not find peace in his arms. He said he needed to wake up very early to monitor the markets, and that I should respect his sleep. I….I, can’t do it anymore. I have to leave him. I have to be true to myself, and not live the charade. Since we’ve been lovers, these past three months..

I resent him requesting oral sex, and not reciprocate in kind…at least not like you do…and you do…do it so very well! I am disenchanted with Prince Charming; I see the shallowness within. Listen…I’ve grown to care for you in a much different way. We can be a team you and I, and work together side by side. We can travel, and laugh until our sides hurt, and dance….who cares what people think! I perceive you in a totally different way. For you are a prince, and charming in your own unique way. You are a gentleman, and a gentle, loving soul.

You are noble, generous and brave, and you have self confidence to spare, and that is quite hot! We can be best friends and lovers, and support each other all the way. External forces need not intervene in any way. I don’t care for popular opinion, or even if we only live together till the end. Yes, I want this to be until the end, and for us to grow old together. I know that you’d be there for me if I became ill, as I'd be unhesitatingly. And in the end, we can embrace each other as either one makes the initial passage to the afterlife.

You’ve mined for the elusive answer to the ageless question: ‘What is it that women want?’ And you my friend, have found the answer….why it’s simply to be adored! And I can live with that…I love you in a gentle, enduring way.”

It was not happily ever after. It was a realistic version filled with mutual respect, laughter, tenderness, and hot sex.

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Icy Palace

2009-05-19T13:22:00.000-07:00

The vast and hollow hallways were covered by marble flooring.
Cold and elegant, these imported from Italy. Icy diamonds swayed from her earlobes. Her closets were robust with designer clothing. Yet, this magnificent palace lacked the warmth of genuine loving. The diamonds, marble, and expensive clothing, were not sufficient when her heart was starved for enduring love. The hollow hallway resembled his narcissistic self, so beautiful yet cold.

He is a beautiful specimen of man. Very suave and that is why he is called Prince Charming. He is beautiful to behold, yet he is aloof after the notoriety of the conquest wears off. One day, Snow White looked so sad, that her solid friend, a dwarf, offered his shoulder to cry on. He was heartbroken, in a moment of lowered caution, he professed his love for her. “How can the prince be so careless with a delicately beautiful flower?" he asked. "If I were the price…the dwarf said…

If I were the prince and held your heart in the palm of my hand; I would worship you on a pedestal. I would weep from joy when I sink into you -- heart, body, and soul. I would cherish you like a sacred deity, and defend you with my very life if need be. I would be a formidable man, for your love would make me that man. I would conquer continents for you, like Napoleon did for his Josephine.

I would adorn our bed with flower petals, and stars, and I would invite the moonlight to witness our writhing bodies covered in sheen of perspiration, as we became one. I would invite the angels to sing and play the violin as we make love, and my fingers and hands would play your body like a fine tuned guitar, slowly rising in crescendo to terminate in a sonorous climax! Don’t you see Snow White?

Don’t you see that I’ve loved you for so long, and that your mere presence eclipses the brilliance of the sun?" Snow White was perplexed by this impassioned declaration from her long time friend. Addled by a wine glass or two, her lowered defenses made her accessible to his advances. She asked him to lock the door and to turn off the light…and then…delicately she deployed on the divan. She closed her eyes and said, “Take me then, make me feel loved again.”

Snow White could not contain the gasp, the sound torn from her throat when his big…tongue swirled and consumed her like a famished man, who’s not eaten for several days. The logistics were kind of awkward if truth be told, it worked best when she galloped the wild stallion, as if her life depended on it. Yet, it did not matter in the end, when their enthusiasm over rode those. His big…heart overflowed with love and passion, and tenderness. Her perky and modest breasts, seem huge when caressed by his diminutive, and roughened hands.

And then…

To be continued…

Tremors

2009-05-18T12:49:00.000-07:00

Tremors

Blessed rain, which quenches the thirst of the soil
Pure water which washes away from my body impurities, and soothes from my psych, accumulated debris. The pollution absorbed as if by osmosis, from the collective wails and desperation of man. When it shook last night, I did not blink an eye, however,this morning, when I was an unwilling witness

To a couple of guys chatting in back of the bus; I involuntarily shuddered. Not from the cold. My soul shriveled and shuddered as if touched by an electric shock, or as if I had stepped on a dead rat. The conversation pertained to stuff like parole officers, court dates, fines, the need for $55 to cover some ticket, and finally as to how one knew someone, who knew someone, who knew the kid

Who has tattooed upper lips, and was beaten recently by the cops. “There will be a demonstration this afternoon.” He mentioned to anyone who might care. My spirit recoiled and trembled, shaken to the core simply because of the casual way this was discussed. As it it was a normal part of life. Like inexorably getting old, paying taxes, and eventually dying.

As if it were normal to have your life minuscule dissected, and dictated by Absolute Law. I shuddered when I perceived restriction and infringement of one’s indelible freedom of choice, and the right to liberty and happiness for all. I shuddered by the simple acceptance of traffic cameras, which are prone to make mistakes and inflict monetary hardship on families already strained...

Beyond the norm. I trembled by the casual way the patriot act was passed, without careful scrutiny, so that any law abiding citizen, who demonstrates dissent, may be black listed. I shuddered by the meek acceptance of cameras everywhere except the toilet, one hopes. I closed my eyes for a moment to shut their horrific conversation.

I focused on the flowers, the trees, the book resting on my thighs.
I smiled when I recalled that this very nationa was founded by
Dissent and those brave men and women who strived for the highest of ideals…yet, what would they say of what’s transpired thus far? Just then…I focused my intent, on the plan of my escape, to the civilized Amazon jungle for a while.

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Piece of Pie

2009-05-17T15:22:00.000-07:00

Piece of Pie

The hospitable shade of a tree, hosted me comfortably. As I bit into my UFO, I felt someone staring at me. Sort of, a man stood outside his car to stare at the crack of my ass.
Pulling down my t-shirt, I ignored him and went back to reminiscing about today's lecture. What is it about human nature that refuses to unattached its self from stuff? Or from desires which in fact would create freedom from such?

It really could be cost effective, when we save an ulcer or a life. This inexorable attachment creates wars in the pursuit of an object, or for the abstract concept of supremacy over others'. Constant greed for a piece of the pie, the larger the portion, the better -- with the full knowledge, that when we don't distribute evenly -- it creates an imbalance. As well as a plethora of negative reactions and hatred; one must heed the possible consequences.

Women bemoan unequaled salaries. Why? Simply because owning a pair of teats are not exempt one from paying taxes, nor automatically qualifies for a reduction of living expenses. The white man bemoans his dwindling power with the onset of the women's movement, and the effect of equal opportunity employment. Some folks are ever trigger happy to sue for racial or sexual discrimination, to the point where the value of such claim is put into question.

The mixed man frequently resents the conquest and pillaging of his nation, yet paradoxically, envies the white man, and imports and emulates his fashions, notions, and customs. While the indigenous mourn the poisoning of that which is held sacred, and was taken more savagely then what they were proclaimed to be. The Asian man applies strict discipline and obedience collectively, for the good of the whole. With a stern hand, and the blatant erosion of human rights.

In a comical twist of fate, I wonder who will inherit the earth? Perhaps it will be the meek, after the powerful are engulfed? So I asked the lady who was giving the lecture. Listen, I said. I am fairly detached from money at this point, to me it is a means to be able to do something, or to fund a project. But, I find it very hard to let go of someone I care about when they die. I guess I am not evolved? She made the analogy of how when a hypnotist induces a man to believe that he is a rooster...

Said man will act as a rooster. "We have been hypnotized!" She said. Yeah, I said, you can condition a creature, and our DNA blueprints are 99% identical to a chimpanzee's, yet,what differs us is our ability to think! Yet, we fight like animals for a piece of the pie, I said. Still, I can't come to terms with it. "Let things go," she claimed. I omitted expounding on how much I think about sex all the time. I really have a long way to go before I'm evolved I guess.

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League of Their Own

2009-05-16T12:33:00.000-07:00

League of Their Own

I read in the middle of the night. This caused me to over sleep.
I looked at the clock, had twenty minutes to shower, dress, and
Pick up the place. Could I do it all in 20 minutes, and still be
On time? Are you kidding? Hell yes! In fast forward speed!
If I set my mind to it, I can do it. Even if I have to drive at
80 mph, and put on mascara simultaneously -- which I did.

When I set my mind to it…I carried my brother and his family two years, while he battled the demons of cancer. I carried an elderly, widowed aunt, who had no one to fall on, in a third world country. The young girl whom I hired to housekeep, and to be her companion; I paved the way for her to go to a vocational college – while urging her to consciously prevent an unwanted pregnancy.

I’ve carried a few others’ and there’s no room to expound on it.
Yet, even when the load was heavy, and I cried for no reason...
When the pressure impeded breathing; I forged on. I busted my
Ass to provide for it all. Along the way, I forgot that I’m supposed
To be cute, soft, and feminine. Especially when I swam with
Sharks, and constantly had to watch my back, for mere survival.

Yet, I am only one of the legions of Wonder Women, who’ve
Made scrumptious meals, of a bag of lentils. Who sacrifice and perhaps do without, to make sure others’ do not. That in itself, is a pleasure -- to induce pleasure and delight. Some females are innate wonders, other’s are induced to become them. It happened one night, when I was a child, that I was expelling my entrails.

My stomach was rebellious, and inhospitable to any nutrients.
Then my father told me,“Look, you can make yourself well,
by being stronger than this. You say to yourself with conviction:
'I’m stronger than this!'” And I looked up at him
With pitifully glazed eyes, a pallid face, and I applied his council. It worked for me then, and does, when things seem overwhelming.

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Chinese Taste Fast Food

2009-05-15T14:51:00.000-07:00

Chinese Taste Fast Food

What the fuck? What type of eating place calls itself that?
Is it the dumbed down version of eating out? How’ve we come
To that? Because when a celebrity is asked where Budapest is
In Europe; she answered that she thought Europe was a country?
It is like…taste like, but not quite like...as in getting hot sex
In exchange for money? Does it taste like love making?

As in having lots of pseudo friends; this tastes like genuine friendships? As in cheating through exams, which one crammed for a few nights…and being educated and intelligent in the same sentence? As in holding a Bible like a shield and armor, and still hating half the population? As in the utilitarian care of a Foster Family, so long as three meals are served, and provide a bed -- who then run to cash a monthly check? Does it taste like home?

Does it taste like passion when you respond to the man after the not so subtle inquiry about his financial status, yet act like frigid Ice queen when the numbers don’t act up? Does it taste like rubber when a breast has been blown in proportions by a silicone implant, because most everyone is an easy sell, when they point how much you are lacking in comparison to the norm -- and one must conform?

Like those guys who could not stop staring at the gorgeous
Creature who got on the bus? Yes, she/he was beautiful
But only under careful scrutiny would one be able to tell…
Does money taste like a successful life, when your personal life
is hell? Or when you’re empty like a cracked egg shell? What does
Happiness taste like? Like slimy chicken that seems pre-fabricated?

Later, I spent 10 minutes of my life, waiting for a red light to change, although it was not spent idly. An ice cream truck proclaimed “Soft Serve” on its driver’s side. Now, this too begs the initial question, don’t you think? Yet, not to sin from redundancy, I will abstain from wording it. It somehow brings to mind a limp penis, Viagra, and corpulent rolls.

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Lovely Scenery

2009-05-14T13:07:00.000-07:00

Today, I took the bus. It left me to transfer in a corner taken
out of a fairy tale book. Adorned with roses and verdant carpets
of dewy lawns. It boasted a cluster of little shops with flower pots on the window sills, and striped canopies to shelter these.
Noble pine trees sheltered the picturesque little houses, and hosted squirrels. The birds jubilantly chirped, and pranced on the electric wiring

This place took me back to one of my favorite places, Disneyland! I particularly like the boat ride which enters through the frightening jaw of a killer whale. I prefer to ride this boat at dusk, so I can view the tiny lit street lamps, light the cobble stone walkways, and the lights of these beautiful little houses, which belonged to those magical characters. It never ceases to affect me, even as an adult. I've always wanted to believe they do...

Exist! My imagination was ablaze, my eyes dared not blink, my mouth was agape! I believed our brave guide, who glided our boat unscathed through the jaws of death, when she described the peculiar residents of this magical place. The dark forests which bordered these tiny houses were filled with adventure, and constant measure of one’s courage and daring. It was too beautiful to behold, and to keep the illusion going…

I wanted to believe in magic and goodness, and that in these magical houses... there was never any incest, nor fears of losing their income and housing. No domestic violence, nor bare cupboards -- as well as no drug dependency, to cope with it all. There was no internet porn addiction, nor compulsive eating disorders - and the shame to follow it promptly. Surely, inside these cozy homes, a fire warms the hearth, and no one goes to hell for touching their privates?

Surely there is no better nor lesser people, and everyone is accepted the same? Even the Seven Dwarfs! Of course, when I was a kid it never occurred to me that perhaps these seven dwarfs were probably lonely, angry, and very horny. Or that they might jack off while imagining Snow White, bare, on all fours. Or that they probably deeply envied Prince Charming, not so much for his height, good looks, or wealth…Oh, no!

They probably envied that he was getting blown by their untouchable, and Oh, so lovely, and pure Snow White. I imagine that the dwarfs in question had impressive helmets when poised to project those, if one considers the ratio of their diminutive limbs, to their aggrandized craniums. Perhaps if...just perhaps if Snow White had coincidentally walked in on one of them as he extraneously labored, and suddenly there she is...in the flesh. His muse...His impossible obsession!

The fuel of so many naughty and fantastic notions. Surely Snow White might have been shocked, horrified...and yet...rooted to the spot. I think it would depend on the time of the month. Who knows perhaps she played with herself as well, in rebellion to her given name. Arrgh! See? Being an adult is no fun; one loses some of the magic with time, as well as the fairy dust which glitters in children’s eyes. In its stead, cynicism replaces innocence, and reduces the ratio of belief in magic, honor, courage, and endless possibilities!

.

Sun People

2009-05-13T13:23:00.000-07:00

Sun People

We were only four, now we are up to ten – and growing!
We seek shelter under the stretched arms of the trees and
Numb our senses with currents of beer. It's almost like therapy
Dispersed with camaraderie. We are soldiers in the battle to
Forge on valiantly, we can only shake our heads and bring a beer
Can to our lips, as it curls up to sip, instead of fall down in defeat

It is not healthy to keep it bottled inside. The rage, the feeling
Of impotence, and fear of what’s to become of us. Mario there
Relays how his wife dropped him from her insurance plan
He who needs constant medical supervision due to his diabetes
“I don’t know where I’ll get my meds now.” He says bewildered
What happened to “for better or for worse?” He rolls his eyes

I’m thinking of going back to school, at this stage of my life
Well, it is better than to watch soap operas. We concur that this
Recession has shed light on the fact that if we don’t provide, we
Become a nuisance, and a load to carry. Sex? Forget about it.
She hardly speaks to me with civility. “You know what?” Manuel
Says. We should go every Thursday to the senior citizen club

“Why?” the rest coincide. Because it’s dance day and there's a lot of single women, who need an escort of sorts. Look, times have changed in so many ways. I know a guy who's 35, and living with a 70 yr. old broad. He resembles a storefront mannequin with lots of gold chains, and not enough fingers to wear all his gold rings. At that age don’t expect to have a lot of sex, although I think I’ll need a stiff...

Drink to become stiff myself."Ha ha ha." they all laugh. Yet, it's
Not so funny. You know my girlfriend cleans houses, and outright
This man asks if she is willing to clean in the nude for a higher fee.
It makes me so angry how people are taking advantage of this
Recession. I mean I was making 40 an hour, and now they want to
Hire for a quarter of that. Fuck them, I’ll find a way somehow…

“Please pass me another beer. I need it to face my wife when I go
home, she always asks if I found a job. Not even a kiss or hello
first. I tell her, I’ll find something good – soon. But you know
there are guys with masters competing in the job pool. I guess I'll
Go back to school, but so far the school of life has taught me that
Without money, there is no self-respect, dignity or humanity.”

"Amen!" All concur.

.

To Pine For Love

2009-05-12T12:52:00.000-07:00

To Pine For Love

I checked out an Argentinean movie from the public library
It was titled, “Un Amor de Borges.” He was 46 yrs. old, and
Fell in love with a 26 yr. old. He lived with his overbearing mother, and was still unknown. The protagonist was painfully beautiful to behold, yet when there was a love scene, it came out wrong. She was supposed to be an idealist communist, and her passion..

Was lacking, in her expression and kiss. It did not help that Borges
Refused her advances, saying that he did not know how to kiss
At 46? There they were, she undressed, making a futile attempt to
Arouse him, and entice him into shedding his apprehensions, and
The shadow of his mother. She did not succeed, even as beautiful
as she was then. I would have liked to tell her…

If you deal with a momma’s boy, you better grab him by the balls
And show him whom he belongs to. If you fall into a relationship
With a man who is ambivalent about his inclinations, you better
Get inside his head, and play the part of the man. Even if you have
To strap on unconventional ideas, which conflict with your childhood notion of price charming. I mean if it’s a marriage of convenience…right?

I’d also tell her that when a man and a woman go to a sordid hotel
And disrobe, there is no perhaps, or simply getting to know
You make him feel at ease, and before you know it, you’re down
On him, and hell will freeze over before there’s any turning back
He loves you and puts you on a pedestal? Are you kidding me?
During WWII, you better get loved to make some sense of the carnage

So in the end Borges pines for his lost love, the one he refused to
Thoroughly fuck. I say they were both at fault, and I am only glad
That I did not pay a single dollar to rent this crap.
She coasted on her looks, and he relied on his charm
That ain’t enough to satisfy or cohere a relationship doomed from
The start. There’s got to be genuine passion and mutual lust!

.

Afterthought

2009-05-11T18:37:00.000-07:00

.

The foggy morning veils the nascent sun
I contemplate driving to the beach to listen
To waves crash. I'd like to inhale the marine layer,
And probably fall asleep in a fetal position
So cold outside, yet warm under my camel coat
I think I'd better pass, and drive to get gas

As I exit the fwy., I stop at a red light...
On Riverside Drive. There is an apartment complex
With several lights on at 5:20 in the morning
I wonder how many people are making love at this
Very moment in that building? Or keeping warm
with body heat, entangled limbs, and enveloping arms

I stop at the am/pm station to refuel; I only do so when
The needle claims to be absolutely exhausted and drops
The morning midst refreshes my face; I see a woman
Clutching a coffee cup and a muffin; she walks sleepily
Towards her pick-up truck laden with flower arrangements
Oh shit! I forgot that today is mother's day!

I think that I should go to the wholesale flower market
Yet sleeps threatens to engulf me; Griffith Park is just
adjacent, I could go there and sleep for a bit...yet,
It's too cold, and the midst impedes the sun from rising
As I drive home, I try to think of what to get for a gift
I'm getting sleepy now; my sole focus is on driving straight

The sky is still foggy and dark; I then seem to enter the
Twilight Zone. A van speeds by, almost slapping me with
it's flapping bumper. The whole bumper is loose and
flutters like flowing hair playing with the wind
The word "MARIACHI" is written on its rear window
By its urgency, was he running from something?

My mom is a peculiar sort. She goes to mass everyday for as
Long as I've known. I think she prays for my sins
She decorates her room with posters of saints, and of course of
Christ Himself. One mother's day, I bought her a tall statue
of Mary made of cement. Although her favorite all time
gift was visiting the Holy Land and the Vatican

I'm sure she prays for me, and everyone else she knows
I am at a loss as to what to get besides a peach colored rose
My mind drifts towards the flower vendor clutching her coffee
and muffin. I hope she sells her flowers so they don't waste,
and she makes a profit. My mother makes me feel like a kid
When she calls me nina, and serves me soup minus the chicken

A mother's love is special and unconditional, although I am glad
She does not read my stuff. We're alike and yet so different
She is delicate like a flower, yet strong - I am brash like a bull
I don't think she'd understand where I'm coming from
You see, it is an exorcism of sorts
And a way to cope with the absurdity of life as we know

.

Totally Absurd II

2009-05-10T12:25:00.000-07:00

"The glory of God is a human being fully alive." - St. Irenaeus of Lyons

I can’t believe the absurdity of it all…yet, that is exactly my point
Life is absurd when it lacks meaning, and it even more so when we
Adhere to a strict ruling, and near the end…one wishes for less regrets as well as….a wish to smoke a Cuban cigar on the shore of La Habana. I want to scream at the top my lungs on the summit of a mountain – the one I feared that I could not conquer!

I want…to fall asleep on the arms of someone who loves me, as do I. I want to take a big bite out of life, and savor it with delight, as it melts in my mouth like milk chocolate. I want to drool, and slobber over it and swallow it with gluttony! I want to feel ALIVE, l want to fall in love; I want to be challenged, forgiven, grateful, and full to my maximum capacity! I want to join a rock and roll band, or moonlight in a jazz band

I want to face fear and wrestle it to the ground, and kick the shit out of it, and then, make peace with it. I want to be a worldly man and make love to a Nigerian, Cambodian, and Brazilian girl. I want to make little girls giggle, and see their eyes twinkle, when I perform a magic trick. I want to see the admiration in their eyes, and know they think that I’m cool like that. I want to live to see someday grandkids, who’ll think I’m cool like that

I want to dance to the beat of my drum, to be a fool and laugh outloud and lack much care for others’ opinions of me. I’ve learned the hard way, that one can’t please everyone all of the time, and besides, there lurks in human nature that, which relishes to see you fucked. Like the ravenous roar of the crowds in the Roman coliseums, as the prisoners were fed to the lions, and an innocent was sacrificed like a lamb

I want to read Bin Laden's caught, for there is still so much pain, and needed closure, and mistrust -- as to how it really went down. Yet that is a prime example of the absurd. The herd graze the lawn, while the masses are distracted with the same shit on every Hollywood glossy magazine, as if It’s imperative that we be informed…of those. I’m sorry…I am complaining again. How much time have I spent complaining in my life? Favorite topic

Of conversation is to bitch, no doubt. OK, I will monitor that, but I won’t shut up, because omission is as much a sin as acquiescing is. I want to travel to far away places with very light baggage. I want to recapture the joy of my childhood, and accept everyone else with the same openness of kindergarden – before I was tainted by prejudice, fears and narrow mindedness. And if this is my return ticket, please God, make it quick and painless!

.

Totally Absurd

2009-05-09T00:07:00.000-07:00

.

.

The Absurdity of it All

This lump is the best thing that’s happened to me
It was a slap on the face, an insult! Yet, also a wake up call
You see, I had been dormant all this time, complacent,
And very comfortable with my life, as is. I existed, yet I was not
ALIVE! I was an automaton, on remote control, and
Focused solely on the comfort of my bodily form

Oh, there was a nagging little voice of malcontent
Which occasionally asked: “what is the meaning of it all?”
But I drowned it and subdued it with noise, drink, television,
Pseudo friends and lovers, who scattered when I lost it all!
I always thought that if I did what I was told, and what was
Considered the norm; I would be happy and loved

I woke up each day, dreading going to work and anxiously
Waiting for my time off. But you know, I made a good living
I did not pursue my dreams, for dreaming is for fools
Cold hard cash pays the rent, women, and booze
Yet, I was the fool all along. I was laid off and I lost
My identity, the bills piled sky high, and I thought…

That life was not worth living at all
Yet this thing here… do you want to feel it?
This cluster of malignant cells has shaken me to the core
I WANT TO LIVE! Oh, God how I want to live
I promise if you heal me, I will be a better human being
I won’t take for granted every single day. I will reach out to

Other' even if it’s just to say “Bless you” when they sneeze
I won’t hide in fear, cowardice, envy and hatred of others’
I will start fresh and find a way to create something
I have squandered my talents in the relentless pursue
Of the dollar; I was a sell out. But, Dear God, if you give
Me another chance, I will find the way to really LIVE well

I know I’m chicken shit to call on You today, when I’ve eluded and
Doubted You all these years. Now that I’m standing on the edge of
Ta precipice of a long, and deep fall, I want to believe that I
Won’t cease to exist, that my life has meaning! I promise to live
it well! Yet, I can’t believe the absurdity of it all
Why was I born in the first place? What is the meaning of it all?

Salvador Dali "dream-caused-by-the-flight-of-a-bee-around-a-pomegranate" c-1944

A Work of Art

2009-05-08T18:10:00.000-07:00

A Work of Art

A dab of lipstick makes the lips blush and pout
A bit of mascara makes the lashes flirty, and the
Eyes dramatic like those of a feline. A loving heart and
A complex mind, constantly well fed and alert
A spirit that is vibrant, vanguard, and never dormant
A hearty laugh that shakes the walls and tickles the soul

Long shapely legs, so smooth to the touch yet muscled…
For a strong platform. Hands with a healing touch
Which almost thoughtlessly carry a pencil or brush…just so
To create something astonishing almost by a fluke
Strong arms to embrace and hold someone close
In jubilant joy, or profound sorrow

Soulful eyes, full of life which crinkles in each corner
Deep laugh lines which is a report of many laughs and joys
Raisin skin, proof of time well spent and of man’s
Mortality. The quiet dignity of an old man which makes
Him perennially handsome. The sparkling laughter
of children, and insatiable curiosity

The expectancy of a mother, and her loving care
Loyalty of a dog which seems to understand and love you
True friendship, and adopted tribes
Generosity even if you don’t have much = nobility
Resilience to bounce back from defeat, and the mindset
To view these as lessons learned -- dented, but never broken

Love, love, love, love…for everything and everyone
Gratitude and acceptance for everything and everyone
All of the above reminds one, that life is what we make
Of it. Consciously, one can be a work of art in progress
Elastic and dynamic, for one is never stagnant
You either move forward, or backwards

Seize the moment!

"Marilyn In The Mirror" By Octavio Ocampo

Stuff

2009-05-07T13:11:00.000-07:00

.

The Things That Remind Me of You

I want to share these with you. As well as my little
Victories or defeats; those I want to share too.
This succulent mango I’m sucking the pulp off, kind of
Reminds me of you. The mango meat is very tender and
Juicy. My tongue avidly licks every drop before it befalls
down my chin…or worse! To christen my top.

This morning I did try to focus on things and take care of stuff.
Yet, after your e-mail my mind is sidetracked. I cross and uncross
my bare legs, impatiently; I can’t sit still! Your writing has
affected me gravely, as I squirm on my seat - feeling moist and
somehow incomplete. I pull down my skirt to cover my thighs;
I seem productive, yet you know who occupies my mind.

Where was I? Oh, the things which remind me of you.
When I dip a French fry in ranch, the white stuff reminds me of…
Your teeth! When I shop in a department store, the selection of…
colognes, cannot do justice to your unique scent, as it melds with
The fake. The alchemy is so unique – so inimitably you!
When I click my seat belt in place, the way it presses my breasts,

Reminds me of the prison of your arms -- the one I am not willing
to escape. A sip of brandy, reminds me of how it clings to your
Lips, so delicious warm, and decadent. A bar of soap as it glides
Over hills, valleys, and folds, reminds me of your roaming hands.
And lapping waves, so insistent and forceful when they crash...
Those smack my back, to insinuate in recessed places...

Remind me of your aggressive nature. I secretly like that too,
Although I won’t let on that I do. There are other things
Which also remind me of you. The sway of the palm trees, like
Your hair when it dances as you pound hard over, and over…
On the Pizza dough. These are some of the things also. You
Don't need to do much to show me how nice you are.

Although I was wondering, besides the common and so
Predictable things most people do, like going to a movie,
Dinner or live show, is there something that you would do
To prove your dedication to me? No, it does not entail money,
Or juggling acrobats for entertainment purposes. Would you…
Dare to taste my blood after my bath? I’m whimsical like that.

.

Time

2009-05-06T14:54:00.000-07:00

.
Morpheus embraces me and refuses to let go
I know I should leave our bed; I just can’t!
Just a few more minutes; I’ll forfeit breakfast!
He seduces me to fall under his spell yet again,
And off I float away, enveloped in his arms.

Last night an unsolicited visitor arrived
I don’t know who he is, yet I instinctively recoil,
Turn off the lamp, and cover my semi-naked form.
I’ve felt it before, a kiss on my lips from and unseen
Form, yet this time I feel stingy in my response.

I did not want to share the intimacy of my bed, now
Shared equally with six books I lay with each night
I hope the LA public library does not fine me
For such impertinence. When you check out their
Books, ever wonder where those have been before?

If the energy were just right, I think it would be fun;
To make out with an invincible lover who wet my…
Appetite. He would have to be clever and tease me
just right. Then, I’d welcome him with a smile…
inside. I frown; I’ve forgotten what it feels like.

I recall that it’s as much a psychological impact as it is
Physical. This because it signifies a profound connection;
A melding of energies, and in a primal sense - surrender,
to a worthy mate. It’s a simple and direct language
Conducted by Eros, between male and female.

It’s unequaled softness, clasping an unbending
Will; it‘s a clash for supremacy, yet, in a sense,
It’s the loss of self, and a mutual surrender in the end.
I make the supreme effort to open my eyes to see the time.
Oh shit! I only have ten minutes to shower and dress.

.

New Shoes

2009-05-05T17:43:00.000-07:00

New Shoes

There is a place to hang your hat, a dwelling
Or habitat; a zealously guarded cardboard box,
And, there is something called a home.
The difference lies in the ambiance inside
Furniture, photographs, a stack of unpaid
Bills inhabit this. Yet, in a home there is…

A feeling of security, and of real intimacy.
A home can be an oasis from the world
Filled with beauty and serenity, or for a
Few lucky ones, the walls echo the cries
Of ecstasy. Then it truly becomes a haven
And an exclusive paradise for two, or more…

Mondays are kind of odd. I am busy most of
The time attending lectures, gatherings, and stuff.
Monday is when I don’t know where to park.
Going to my cave is not appetizing tonight.
So I think that perhaps I need to get new
Summer shoes -- the sexier and sluttier even better.

Prior to that, I drive into a fast food place craving
French fries with ranch. I ask the attendant for
A veggie burger meal; she serves me a bun piled with
Lettuce and tomatoes. How’d you expect me to pay
Full price for lettuce and cheap white bread I ask. I
Immerse my fries in ranch, and watch the people inside.

A former beauty queen passes by. She must have been
A real beauty 20 years past. She still is, if she where in dim
Light. Except the too tight jeans exalt a roll, and the
Overdone make-up, seems like too much mayonnaise
Splattered on dry, leftover turkey. A futile attempt to make this
More appetizing to the palate. She sits alone and waits.

Her platinum blonde hair reminds me of Marilyn Monroe.
I think that perhaps Marilyn did not want to sit and
Wait by the phone, while the globs of make-up could
Do no more -- anymore. I notice this place has no soy
Patties, yet is does have a lottery vending machine.
One must come here and expect to be lucky either way.

There is a veteran Chola sitting alone; I can tell by her
Leather face that she’s had a tough life. And by the way
She made a scene when her gold ring fell into the trash bin.
I look at those women, as I read a book and slurp my coke;
I wonder where have all the good men gone?
Oh!I then recall, that we are still at war.

.

Marbels

2009-05-04T18:00:00.000-07:00

Where’d they go?

I think I’ve lost a couple of marbles
I was not aware of the fact, until weird stuff
Started happening. As in wanting to smash
Someone’s head, on the keyboard over and over
Again, and type with the tip of her nose on the keys.

How many times have you contemplated this?
Adjacent is a girl who does not masticate her
Food. She kind of inhales it, slurps it, and sucks
The bone marrow simultaneously, as she expedites
her lunch down her esophagus, and punctuates it with a burp.

It is a magical disappearing act! And as I am
Trying to write and simultaneously eat, she always comes
Up to attempt to converse with me. Please just go
I tell her telepathically. Can't you see that
I'm concentrating, instead of outside making out with the sun?

Then the other day I did my laundry. Due to my
Wearing all white kick which signifies light and purity,
I washed it all together. The t-shirts, brassieres,
Shirts and cotton undies…along with a blue ink pen
Which infiltrated this load and wrote all over it.

I’ve created a collage which I’ve taped next to my
computer, and on the wall by my bed. I find solace
when I view Miller, Neruda, Vallejo, Hemingway,
Marquez, Bukowski, and L. Cohen as well. They
Quietly observe me and tell me…”They don’t own

You…they don’t own your soul.” So you see, my bed
Is already populated by men who’ve deeply touched
Me in some form. Have you ever had an orgasm
While viewing Henry Miller in his old age? It is kind
of strange, and fascinating as well.

So, if I were to have sex, it would have to be in a motel,
or perhaps on a bus stop bench. One can at least hope a
man owns his own bed? That’s not too much to ask for, no?
I wish I could have met these men, even if once. I would
Have asked a lot of questions, and shared a bottle of wine.

And upon parting, I would have given each a tender kiss,
As sweet and juicy as a nectarine on their puckered lips.
This kiss infused with passion, courage, and gratitude,
For men such as these have taught us that the real danger
of losing one self, lies in becoming too domesticated and meek...

Which is akin to having a lobotomy willingly.
So I think I've lost a couple of marbles on the way...
Where did they go?
Where can I find them?
Automatically my lips paint a smile when I think of the ways.

.

Sincerely,

2009-05-03T20:02:00.000-07:00

Dear Ms. Steinem,

I want to thank you so very much for all that you’ve done -- and still have yet to do. I imagine the road has been arduous and exhausting, as you swam the channel against the tide. This fueled by courage, insight, and an iron will. Perhaps a bit of insanity may have helped at times, like a sip of brandy warms the heart.

I walk a fine line between fully embracing feminism, and some traditional views. I was raised Roman Catholic, but see the true folly in not controlling natality.

I still have a problem with casual sex, not because I am frigid, but rather because I don’t want to be used as a semen depository. If one is in a mutual loving relationship, well, that’s another story.

I stand up for myself, and for those who are abused in any form, which leads me to the thorny case of pro-choice. I would not want to be tied down and stripped from any freedom of choice, nor do I condone that it inflicted on any sister. Yet, as mentioned above, I feel it is wrong to play the Russian Roulette, knowing there is an option and an escape.
It can be as easy as extracting a mole, yet, after the passage of time, how many women have regretted their choice? Truly.

Fujimori once launched a campaign to compensate women in the poorest provinces of Peru, with a paltry sum if they voluntarily acquiesced to sterilization. I was dismayed by this treatment of women as if they were mere herds of cattle. Yet, to bring more hungry mouths into a world that is fragile and eroding its natural resources, is also an egregious mistake -- more so, when it can be easily avoided.

I know in my heart, and wholeheartedly agree that women, and girls need to have low-cost access to means of prevention, and they have to stand up to their men to demand protection.

I feel more comfortable walking the middle road, for I can’t turn my back on who I am. I have found exhilarating freedom in not attempting to please everyone else; and I take it as a compliment to be called a bitch and somewhat eccentric.

I am a woman and it is in my nature to love, nurture, protect and encourage. And I use my intuition to sift through the muddle of conflicting theories. I am compelled to lift those I can, and I wear my femininity with pride, because I am proud of being one. And like a flower, pliant and soft as the petals of a rose, I still have an unbreakable stem.

I can’t be a ball busting man, unless it is for self-perseverance, yet, I feel this misconception of women as ball busters, have fueled hate and anger from men feeling castrated. I love men (with the exception of the less evolved), and I also perceive the fragility of their egos, as well as the heavy toil it is to be the sole breadwinner in today's global economy. We need to support one another, and not become mortal enemies.

As evidenced by my mother, I've learned that someone soft spoken, who never swears, can be formidably strong, and a true warrior against adversity.
When little girls, young women, and old learn that they can be self-sufficient, even with a micro loan to produce llama sweaters on their own, then the dynamic will change. They will feel empowered to walk out of an abusive relationship, or deter them from selling their bodies for compensation.

It is sickening how some men objectify and exploit women as mere sexual toys, yet there are also women to blame. The woman currently labeled “The Sexiest Woman in the World,” is quoted as wanting to marry a real smart guy, because she is not.

When I read stuff like this, I want to pull my hair because there is so much attention given to the exterior adornments, and so much lacking in the interiors.
Interior decorations can be cheaply acquired, by simply visiting the local public library. One can dive deeply into a vast, profound ocean, and find amazing pearls hidden in the vaults of knowledge.

Ultimately, in the war of the sexes we must not lose sight that we are in essence not defined by a penis or a vagina. We are beings who have forgotten, that we are equal parts of a whole.

Thank you for your efforts and your fight; you truly showcase that beauty is ageless.

Sincerely,

....

Link to WOW:

http://lifestyle.msn.com/your-life/bigger-picture/articlewow.aspx?cp-documentid=19334939>1=32001

XJ6

2009-05-02T12:12:00.000-07:00

XJ6

Once upon a time, I put high value on material stuff.
I preferred to ride the bus, than to buy a car not up to par
With my sophisticated taste. So I walked; and endured
The herd of odorous humanity compacted inside a bus.
And saved my dollars, quarters, and pennies for a car.

There was a guy I was fond of, not in love with, let’s say
Intrigued by. He claimed to be dark, in a brooding, and
Intellectual way. He wrote me a poem titled “Traviesa,”
Although I thought he meant that by my playful ways.
He told me did not get mad, he got even with his co-workers.

He would sneak to the communal fridge and spit on their
Food, or dabble his urine into their bottled drinks.
Out of the blue, one night he said to me: “You’re
Hyper-sensual.” He said this in a peculiar way, as if he
Were commenting on malodorous foot odor, or flatulence.

Something shriveled in me. I felt ridiculed and
Ashamed in a way; I intuited that I had to censor myself.
Now hyper-sensual differs from hyper-sexual; it is another
Type of anomaly. I realized that because of how he had
Been raised, there were only two types of girls. Good or bad.

Censoring myself did not work for me in the end,
And we soon drifted apart after that day.
To start fresh, I decided to get my first car.
I bought a hunter green Jaguar XJ6, from a
Real state woman through the Recycler. I loved it!

It had a sunroof top, and tan leather seats. It fit me
Like a good pair of leather shoes. The only setback
Was, that I really did not know how to drive a car. I
Pondered this as I sat in my Jaguar. Oh, I did have a
Driver's license. Although it was thanks to San Martin

De Porras, that I was granted one. If one considers
That I almost gave whiplash to the DMV examiner,
With my brash, and audacious stops and starts.
I had driven a few times in empty streets while
On dates and such, and only very late at night.

Being self-sufficient, I did not want to impose on my
Siblings too much. So I started the ignition and drove off,
One street at a time. Funny thing happened, with every mile
driven, my confidence surged! Within days, I cautiously
ventured into the 101 fwy., still uninsured. Good thing is

It was during gridlock traffic, so that I could slowly merge in.
A few days after that, I exhilarated in speeding down
The fwy. without red lights to hinder me.
Everything was fine, except I could not parallel park.
One day, I took my mom to lunch and drove into a...

Crowded parking lot. What a weird coincidence that
From the opposite side, the urine and spit guy was also
Arriving driving his compact car. He seemed surprised
To see me not waiting for a bus, but driving a beautiful Jaguar.
I ignored him, and told my mom to hurry up.

After our lengthy lunch, we set out, my mom and I.
I found a deep scratch, like that of a lion’s claw, along
The full length of the driver’s side. I inhaled a deep sigh,
And thanked heaven that I was rid of that nut. Yet, we
Were to meet by chance again. I was in a multiplex ...

In the concession line, when I saw him embracing a rather
Homely girl. She seemed meek and a good girl. He saw me
and looked into my eyes to gauge my reaction. It sucked
Because I was alone. Yet, I quickly realized I’d rather be alone,
Than with someone who ruins beautiful things out of spite.

.

Int'l Worker's Day

2009-05-01T18:00:00.000-07:00

Today is celebrated around our ailing planet,
Int’l Workers Day. Times sure have changed,
With machinery replacing much of human capacity.
This creates more revenue, while making the
Working man expendable. It keeps some subdued,
And timorous of losing their income.

Now, don’t confuse this as any worker’s day...
It’s not for the soft-assed, who view each client
As a meal pass, while they mess around on the
Computer all day. This is the day to venerate the
Workers who toil in back-breaking labor. Who’ve
Built our infrastructures, and those who put their life

On the line when the fire siren sings. It is for
The men and women – and sometimes children…
Who may have given up on their dreams,
So that their families don’t go without much.
The check may not stretch a lot, with the
Incremented taxes, on top of ballooned inflation.

Perhaps they need the succor of the Payday Loan
Scam, or of the Food Stamp. It’s for the women who
Lovingly tend your children, while neglecting their own.
It’s for the worker who works in a sauna, to expedite
Your lunch. It’s for those who despise their jobs,
Yet show up, day after day, after day…just because…

They have to. Governments should give a bonus to
These unsung heroes on this day. A bonus and a free day.
So they can take it to pay off that Payday loan, or null
the senses with a drink or joint. To lose their cares in a
mediocre movie, and to recapture some thread of humanity,
Or self worth. This day, not to soley live to work which erodes

The spirit and makes one and automaton. It is quite hard on
The psyche to look at the clock and wish it would speed up.
Even if every tick tock, brings one ever closer to death.
To do harsh labor, regardless of back pain or personal aches.
Or with harsh chemicals which are nefarious to their health.
Did you ever stop to think about these people as heroes?

They truly are. I once asked a dishwasher how he came
To be there. It was not his reminiscing of traveling
Inside an 18 wheel container without proper ventilation
Along with three hundred other people, which made
My eyes open up like saucers. He said that after three
Days of hardly eating, and drinking muddled water…

Some of the group didn’t make it when crossing the
Cruel desert. Near the end, as the street lights were
Barely discernable, an older woman, a bit chunky he
Claims, refused to go on. He is of medium height and
Slight, yet he picked up over his shoulder, a woman
Who'd given up on life. When his strength was exhausted…

And he couldn't see from the strain, and his friends urged
Him to drop her – this young man would not give up yet!
He dragged her by pulling her arm, and unceremoniously,
They finally arrived. So, how about it? Give a stimulus
Package so there is something to look forward to. And while
You’re at it, why not legalize some workers, and marijuana too?

Mural by Diego Rivera 1933 "Detroit Industry" or "Hombre y Maquina"

Human Nature

2009-04-30T13:01:00.000-07:00

There is something about human nature; I just don’t trust.
I’ve learned not to trust at face value, what’s in front.
I sniff around, and trust my gut instinct when it comes to trust.
I truly think that animals are more earthy and kind sometimes.
I was just in line to get some lunch, and in front of me; I
Observed a woman, whom I immediately disliked.

It was nothing that she said to me; It was the icy, and
haughty air which adorned her -- which irritated me.
She reminded me of someone, whom I had only met once.
I was in a rush to connect to another flight, upon my
Arrival in London. Everyone herded along, at a very slow
Pace to exit the plane, and I politely asked to get through.

I came upon a woman gathering her upper head luggage;
Her husband and kids in tow. She haughtily mentioned
Something to the fact that Americans don’t adhere to
Protocol. “You just have to wait, like everyone else!”
I should have said then…Lady I hope that when you carry
The ashes of your deceased husband in your hand luggage…

That you are spared proper etiquette lessons from an
Impertinent hag. Arriving to Manchester, I took
A train further North. Upon arrival to his hometown,
I called his father who said to me, "Please, we won’t
have anything to do with him." I had never felt so adrift
and desolate in my entire life. Standing in a cold...

Train station where time seemed to have stood still.
In a foreign place with only the company of John’s...
Ashes in my bag. I called up a cab and asked the driver,
A man wearing a white turban on his head, to take me
To that address. I could feel John's presence near me, in
the quaint little town which had fostered his growth.

I arrived at the address with apprenhension in my heart.
I was shocked when the man who greeted me looked like a
faithful replica - although a much older version of John.
I was transfixed, yet, I quickly gathered my thoughts;
When his mother came to the front door. By the look in
Her eyes, I sensed that she wore the pants in the family.

She had a haughty and calculating look about her -- like
the other. This is all I needed to formulate my thoughts.
“Look woman, God bequeathed to you a life -- your son.
There is a time to hold a grudge, and there is a time to
Forgive. Here - this contains the ashes of your only son.
I came from very far away to bring you most of it...

So that he will find peace in your forgiveness. SO TAKE
IT!” Turning to the older man, I said: “You look like
A replica of John,” I said. " Except that he had more guts.”
I investigated the town impregnated with history; nothing
seemed to have changed much in centuries. I could imagine
the horse driven carriages pounding the pavement, and ladies...

With long flowing dresses, imprisoned in corsets -- then in vogue.
John's friends - his surrogate family, were very nice.
I developed a taste for dark beer, served in 900 yr. old pubs.
Upon my train ride back, I passed a town sharing my father's
last name. I thought then, how much my dad would have loved to
travel here to search his English roots. I fought the avalanche

Of tears thinking that the two men I loved most, had recently
passed away. Then it struck me, as the train chugged forward,
that with every passing mile, the past was left further behind.
I was moving forward, towards my future -- whatever it held.
I cleaned up my face, and psyched myself for my exploration
Of London. It was grey and wet, yet, beautiful nonetheless.

It rained unexpectedly, and I was lacking an umbrella.
That was OK. I allowed the rain drops to kiss me, and wash
away my pain. So in retrospect, the above reiterates that
man is truly a beast, in its petulant and vengeful ways.
Yet, it also accentuates his, or her formidable resilience,
When mired in deep pain.

.

Unwanted

2009-04-29T12:55:00.001-07:00

.

“Shh! Don’t even think that!” Why not?
“Because a fetus can feel things, and remember them.”
Well, I don’t want it. Besides, it’s better that it gets
Used to the hard cold realities of life! He'll find out
Anyway that if he is not too tall, he will be rejected
By the basketball team. If he is not too smart; he
Will not be accepted into an Ivy League school.

“You’re a cold bitch.” I am merely pragmatic…
And realistic. If he works hard to build a home and
Family, that still won’t be insurance on becoming
The unwanted. If he gives his heart full of deep
Love, and yearning, there’s a good chance that love
Won’t be reciprocated. And if per chance it is, there’s
No guarantee that it...will last a lifetime.

If he is too strange and does not conform to the “norm,”
Or refuses to play along…he will be ostracized, harassed,
And ridiculed. He is sure to cultivate a plethora of enemies,
And he sure won’t be promoted in the hierarchy of things.
And when he grows too old and feeble; he will then
Become a nuisance, as evidenced by those twin girls
Who heartlessly starved their diabetic mother.

If his skin's too dark, and he does not comply too easily,
Some may conspire to annihilate him in stealthy
Expediency, so that it is then blamed onto someone else.
If he does not accumulate much wealth; there’s a
good chance that he will be kicked to the curb as
soon as someone richer, or more handsome comes her way.
He’d better get a grip, on how the world works today.

We are a society with ingrained belief in consumption.
It's what makes the world-go-'round. We get in heavy
Debt to buy brand name stuff -- stuff we don't really
Need. Then the old stuff becomes the unwanted, and
Easily discarded. Same goes for friends, lovers, and
Relatives. It is easier to start with fresh ones, while
Hiding the less sparkling aspects of our person to them.

So don’t look at the world through rose-colored
Glasses kid, for you are sure to fall flat on your face,
And drink a cocktail mixed with crushed glass and pain.
“I guess what goes around comes around then, for
Here you are, big bellied, and abandoned. It seems that
You will make your child pay.” Well, if what they say about
Karma is true, perhaps he is on the way to pay a heavy debt.

.

Monday's Street Cleaning

2009-04-27T12:27:00.001-07:00

.

This menacing dude is over six feet tall. He has bulging muscles which he showcased by wearing only shorts. His stocky frame, easily weighing in at 235 lbs. or abouts, ran outside while I was writing to him a spicy line. He came out charging like the Hulk, except that he is shaved bald. Immediately we got into it. "I've left you a note before, not to park on my street." he said. Which part don't you understand that this is a public street? I innocently asked.

Again, as if speaking to a recalcitrant child he said, "I've told you nicely, and this is the second time -- don't park in front of my house again." He said this through clenched teeth, as his stocky frame barely contained repressed rage. Look man, if you put another note again on my car, I will deem this harassment and I am going to call the cops; this is public property! Again I felt the palpable anger emanating from him, and through his glazed eyes.

I realized, this was a futile attempt to reconcile. "Fuck you! You can't tell me what to do! This is public property!" I said this, as I quickly got into my car, and drove away. He backed away livid, to run back into his house. I noted that he still clutched my note, which reiterated what I'd said to him just before. Now what? I could go to the cops and make a big deal? I had not been very nice. I would put on my most angelic expression, and say that I was only defending my rights.

Yet, was it worth the hassle? Sister prudence who is perched on my right shoulder; counsels that I should carefully choose my battles. While the fallen angel whispers to me softly, "Fuck it! Don't let him bully you!" So, it's now choosing between pride or finding that my car has been torn apart somewhere in the Tijuana border. Do I save my pride, or sacrifice you baby? I just don't know how I will react tonight for Monday's is street cleaning night.

Stubbornly, I know that I am right, and I don't respond well to bullies at any time...yet, it really does comes down to my pride, or freezing my ass waiting for the MTA bus. I just don't know. Either way, I know that I will hate my decision. If I back down, I know that it will erode at my entrails like pouring acid. Then after a while, I come to realize that this is probably a lesson in humility for me, and I should just let it be and choose peace. Motherfucker!

.

Lucky Day

2009-04-26T22:49:00.000-07:00

Lucky Day

There was a long line at Target
I simply wanted a soft drink, so I got in line for one
Suddenly, this lady walks towards me and asks:
“Would you like a soda cup? I bought a combo, and I have
An extra one.” Hell yes! Lady you don't know how much I
Abhor waiting in lines; thank you so very much!

I was genuinely thrilled by her kindness; and I sat to read a free copy of The Los Angeles Times -- someone had left abandoned. I thought, wow how lucky did I get today? Then it dawned on me that I had saved a dollar and change, which is what I gave to a homeless man earlier that day! This was not simple coincidence! As I read the news of the day…I fell in conversation with an old man.

I asked him what he thought of the former Arch Bishop, who is now the President of Paraguay, who is said to have fathered a couple -- perhaps more -- children. He shook his head from side to side; I could tell he was a die hard Catholic. I delved into the hypocrisy of the clergy, or that of the macho men mentality of most Latin American countries. For instance, I said, Alan Garcia’s waning popularity surged, when it came to light he had a son, product of an extramarital affair.

He shook his head and laughed, at the stage of his life, he’d seen enough to know human nature. Meanwhile, my attention was divided by the arrival of a woman with luxurious red hair, clutching a bag containing one bread. She was not unattractive, except when one focused on her frontal missing teeth when ever she opened her mouth to converse. After chatting with a friend…

She ambled to the trash bin and dived her hand in to rescue an empty soft drink cup. She shook it for a bit; and unfazed, she filled it to the brim . As I was slurping my Coke, I thought that although one should adhere to an honor code, not everyone chose to honor it. It could be as trivial as not paying for a soda cup, and as serious as breaking an oath to God. This reduces one to the moral structure of a jelly fish.

Shit, I live with self- imposed celibacy, while the Arch Bishop fucked around. Yet, in truth, when I get around to it, I'll probably overcompensate, three times in a day. As I read of the high death rate in Mexico due to the swine flu, I realized I am indeed very lucky. I had, had a free soft drink cup and newspaper that day, while I did not have to wait impatiently in line. And I was also almost getting over my cold. I did feel extremely lucky -- and grateful.

.

Loneliness

2009-04-25T21:28:00.000-07:00

(Warning! It's charcoal dark)

It is subtly present, like the perennial shadow following one
Usually one keeps it under a tight lid, filed away in obscurity
until perhaps something escalates the pressure to a crescendo:
A shitty day at work, a failed attempt, an anniversary which triggers a memory, until…it can’t be contained any longer
Then, the subtlety is overpowered by a human wail, mute yet piercing; as it resonates like a tidal wave crashing on the surf.

How many times in your life, have you’ve been asked:
“How are you?” By a neighbor, co-worker, or sales clerk
And if only once you were to utter: “Actually, I am hemorrhaging
pain man.” I can bet you ten bucks that the immediate reaction would be shock; for it’s simply not done! While simultaneously, they're figuring out how to intricately disengage, from a truly awkward exchange.

Wouldn’t be nice for a change to expect in exchange…
A heartfelt hug, a mercy fuck, a freebie lunch, or soothing
Massage…with no strings attached?
Mostly when things are very quiet, so quiet that you can listen to your self, when lacking the perpetual mental distractions of the television, radio, gridlock traffic, or banal chats…then! Then is when one usually faces this formidable monster.

Sometimes it lures us into a masochistic fest when walking through memory lane. The shadows on the wall enabled by the street lamp, play havoc on the mind. They dance, tease, and contort into abstract shapes, which then evoke memories of another night spent in someones arms, of furtive hands, and delicious lips -- if only one could turn back time, and right so many, many things. At the very least, one would enjoy profound peace. Yet....

When one tosses on the expansive bed, and feels such palpable
Loneliness and acute need for human touch, yet, what's only tangible and accessible, Is a pillow, some knick knacks,and framed photographs of those loved, and perhaps long gone. One may be tempted to subdue this monster, by grabbing on to a crutch. Be It a cigarette, a sniffer of scotch, or engaging a sexual worker (and those come in different forms.), simply to feel the texture of skin-on skin-contact...

For we are instilled with the craving for touch to nurture us, since birth. One may seek another to alleviate the pain, offering the body as currency exchange. Yet, After the high subsides, one may perhaps, still feel empty inside, desolated, and still lonely nonetheless. Sometimes I wonder when a woman sits alone in a nursery home; as she looks back on how she conducted her life, now -- in the twilight of such -- if perhaps she thinks about how things might have been otherwise...

When her youth has faded, as well as her complicit lover; the one she perhaps conspired with, or cajoled her into negating life to a child. Perhaps she kept the man for a while -- or she climbed the corporate ladder, until she bumped her head on the glass ceiling...many times over. She now has the means to pay for impersonal care giving; as the vultures fly in orbit…hoping to become her beneficiaries. In a planet almost running out of resources, with over six-and-a-half billion people...

Inhabiting it, how can we become hostages to loneliness? We don’t reach out to others' enough for we are afraid of the unfamiliar -- and of rejection too. We are only human, and we need someone…does anybody care? Loneliness hurts, the pain is acute. Yet, it could easily be remedied too, for no man is an island. Very early this morning, an indigent man asked me for spare change. As I gave him a dollar, I looked into his desolate eyes, and felt compelled to ask for a hug for myself -- for us.

.

Heaven On Earth

2009-04-24T18:00:00.000-07:00

He is dark; I sense it. He is Godless, and attractive
I look around, and wonder sometimes, do people who
Don’t believe in a Higher Power, think Utopia exists
Here on earth? One would have to null the senses
To keep up appearances and the charade

Pillars of power of the most powerful nations
Have toppled like melting ice bergs
Money is adored, like a Divine entity, and some
Will sell their souls, to acquire it. And if all is lost,
Some don’t see the point of going on – without it

Love, which lifts us to the sublime…is
Sometimes brokered or supported by adornments…
This Love…ever contingent on those; and often times…
When faced in a divorce court, thorough despise...
Replaces enduring love, as the passion is deformed

And those who stay married and trudge on…
May find the husband errs in his ways, to seek
Comfort in the arms of lewd boys, or the woman
May find solace in a glass bottle, in prescription
Pills, or the knife of a renowned plastic surgeon

I’m not preaching here; I'm merely asking
I'm only human, and far from perfect
You know, when I was a teen I masturbated once
With Jesus in mind -- and he was not the gardener
The nuns in school drove me crazy…and…

Oh, God! I’ve become one too!
What do they expect at the moment of death?
You know Oscar Wilde changed his tune in his old age
To leave fame and wealth behind? As the flesh decays
And one becomes an obsolete social security number?

I just don’t understand it. “Look, she said, you know
What you need? I’m going to get for you a dildo.”
What’s that you said? Why, I’ve never used one
Technology has replaced real human interaction, as it
Insulates and isolates anyone plugged into their IPod

“You have to loosen up girl!, I’ll get you one for
Christmas.” I need a large apparatus to loosen up
My tight pussy? What is this world coming to
When a machine replaces man in his duties!
I shake my head from side to side and ponder

You're giving credence to Freud's theory that my
Repressed libido is cause for neurosis
If a phallic instrument could bring enlightenment
And enduring fulfillment, one would need a pillar to become
So loosened, as to gather off the ground the fallen uterus

If you were to give me one though, I’d carry it in my
Hand purse, and I'd only use it as a weapon. The
Mushroom head would protrude, and when I open up
My purse, to pay in a crowded checkout line...
I’d get a big kick of the expressions evoked

Painting by Salvador Dali

Darkness and Light

2009-04-23T18:18:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I wonder why I even try
The struggle is perennial and ever permanent
I look up to the blue sky, with hopeful eyes...
A stout heart, and then I close my eyes as I
Project my energy to travel upwards. High towards
The heavens, through my pituitary gland...and beyond

Yet, below my middle section there is a cauldron brewing
Molten lava on the verge of erupting from a hot hole
"You know, when you walk towards the light, you will
encounter obstacles meant to derail you." She said
Yes, it's true...I can do fine without the meat and
alcohol, yet do you know what is my Achilles heel?

My mind, which rules my treacherous body
I think...I do believe that I have a dormant
calling. I think that if I had worked in a bordello,
I would have become one of the favorites
"Why is that?" She asked
Because of my chameleon nature, that's why

I would have weaved intricate scenarios
And picked each brain...to find out exactly what
What really made each tick; and I would have easily
Morphed into that which would trigger that response
I would have played with each head -- besides giving
Great head of course, although true to my nature...

I would have been genuinely loving too...you know? I'd have
Emulated in fashion Ms. Fanny Hill. "Why don't you just find
a nice guy?" She asked. You know if I am to stay on this path,
One can't delve into casual play
Temptation does comes in different forms, meant to derail
One. Like that guy...that man...I intuit that I would

Walk a fine line...between my dark and good side...
I might find my true nature perhaps? And, I am afraid of that
"Why not try it and get it out of your system?" She tempted
That is the conundrum, if I were to get it out of my system,
or perhaps become an addict? And in the process, I'd lose my path
"Life is short, live it up!" I smiled, "Such is the mirage."

.

My Pseudo Lover

2009-04-22T18:13:00.000-07:00

My Pseudo Lover

My treacherous body betrays me
I grab my large pillow and placed it between
My long legs. My hips start to undulate on their
Own accord, as if grinding coffee beans for the morn
My mind plays a part too…as it drifts towards
Him…that man…yeah…that guy

Inevitably I arrive at my destination
One breast escapes from its imprisonment
My nipple resembles a gummy bear interred into a
Goblet brimming with French Vanilla ice cream
Yet, it is a quiet arrival, as if I were tip toying
So as not to disturb someone…repressed…

Unruffled, and elegant. As I embrace my bewildered
Pillow, I think to myself, that if instead of this
Mute pillow, it had been him who had touched me…
How wonderful that would have been
His touch, his scent, his laughter…
And if his...if he...

Had penetrated the deepest recesses of my
Treacherous body, it would not have been
A quiet arrival! It would have been more like….
His touch would melt me like the ice bergs
In Antarctica. I would have convulsed and
Exploded with the similar joy and euphoria of…

Mandela’s when released from imprisonment!
The American hostage’s when they found freedom
From the guerrillas in Colombia!
The man’s whose numbers match the mega lottery’s!
Obama’s when he won the Presidency…and that of
The joy of the faithful, upon the arrival of the Messiah!

He might complain when I crush his hand in a vicious
Hold between my thighs, or grab him in an internal vice lock
With the effort exerted when advancing the leg press
Collared with 180 lbs. iron weights -- a hundred times over!
Yet, such is the thirst and hunger of one who’s traveled
A long and arduous road, forgoing vital nourishment

When one is stripped of the acquired rudiments, be them
Socio-economic, racial divides, or inculcated doctrines…
What is then left? Merely a man instilled with the urge
To procreate, and a woman who for moments morphs…
Into a bitch in heat
This I say to my pillow, as the street light invades my room

.

Namesake

2009-04-21T18:37:00.000-07:00

I woke up in the middle of the night
The short, sheer nightgown, plastered to me
As I lay there, I realized that my subconscious
Had absorbed as if by osmosis, collective anxieties
I’ve registered and captured those like fingerprints

I calmed my mind and closed my eyes
Some moments later, a surge of powerful energy
Rushed over me. With resolution I sat up
And said to my self, you have to embrace your
Namesake

I used to be ashamed of my first name, because it is so strange
I braced for the inevitable question at the beginning of each class
“How do you pronounce your name?”... “Oh, it’s beautiful,”
Most would say. I did not share that sentiment for a long time
I was ashamed of it, like the clunky shoes my mother bought…

For me on sale, when I was in the sixth grade. Kids made fun of
Those, yet, if I knew then, what I know now, I would have walked
Proud of my clunky shoes, because they were unique, uncommon,
And my mother had bought those with much sacrifice
Once I looked up the origin and meaning of my name…

It grew on me; I wore it with ease, because it is powerful,
Uncommon, and unique. Yes, it is beautiful I agree
My first name, so unusual I’ve never encountered
Anyone else with such a name, is derived from the
One which means warrior-like

I am that, is true. I have to embrace the warrior in me
Walk with hand on sword, ever vigilant of my surroundings
Don’t trust each smiling face that you encounter; seek to
Unfold the true nature and motives in those around you
Don’t give pearls to pigs, for they won’t appreciate them

Most importantly, live fearlessly, for what is the worst
That can happen to you? To simply morph and travel forth,
So in perspective, that’s not so bad no? Revel in the complete
Freedom of not worrying about what others’ will think of you
You know one can’t please everyone, all of the time, don't you?

Be prudent and ever vigilant of those around you;
The smiling faces hide so much of their true nature
They hide the malice, vanity, avarice, envy, and predatory nature
The total moral bankruptcy and the fervent need to belong
And fit into society – at any cost, including their very soul

Steer clear and don’t try to change them. Acknowledge that is it
Better to run with those who vibrate at a similar frequency
For one can feel alone in a room full of boisterous noise
Be true to self, believe with conviction, and you will pass the test
Leave those to their kind, and seek those who seek the light

.

Unquenchable Thirst

2009-04-20T18:43:00.000-07:00

My lips are parched and my eyes are glazed
I wish I could curl up on a bus stop bench,
and allow the powerful sun to embrace me and to heal
This nasty cold. It is oppressively hot today
and it's not even close to summer yet!

I ambulate like a zombie to Mc Donalds to quench
my acute thirst. My tongue feels like a cotton sock
Stuffed in my mouth. I'm slightly perspiring due to the
humid heat; I must get some liquid in me. I could drink a
Gallon right now. By the way, I only consume soda, coffee...

Or toilet paper there -- occasionally an oatmeal cookie
Just saying, because I don't want to promote their fare
As the merciless sun begins its retreat on a solitary street
A man coincidentally walks from the opposite side of the sidewalk
I see him, and he sees me, although he cannot see my eyes

Who will move aside as we thread the same path at opposite ends I wonder?

Not I; I am in my bitchy mode, besides nursing a runny nose
I walk forth with a determined stride; my breasts pushing against
My white top lead the way. I dare you to touch me; I tell him
Telepathically. In the end, we came to an inch of almost touching
Hands and arms. I think it's quite comical...

The dog-like behavior, each guarding our perspective territories
I rapidly sip half the soft drink cup, welcoming the cool liquid
over my parched tongue; I face the heat of the muggy eve once
again. Damn it's hot! Perspiration gathers in between valleys
This means it's going to be a cruel summer

Then I recall my '09 horoscope I read sometime in January...
It said that I'd meet someone, and that we'd become addicted to
each other. That is the best way to generate sweat I reckon
Then I wonder if that were true, where could he be right now?
Eh...at this very moment, he is probably screwing someone else

.

Bouquet of Flowers

2009-04-19T16:16:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I met a very nice woman,
We talked for a bit, and she told me
That she could not sleep.
At the stage of her life at five-and-a-half
Decades on this earth...she felt she was at
A disadvantage in the labor market

Lady what are you talking about?
Lend me your ear and pay attention to me please
You have experience behind you, and precious
Jewels of wisdom that you must use to adorn you
Do not harbor fear or defeat in your heart
Or mind, for those are good and true

Lady, do you know who you are?
We are flowers which thrive and bloom in
Arid deserts or verdant gardens
Beautiful and unique in our fragrance
Blessed with fortitude of spirit, endurance for
Formidable pain, and an uncanny sixth sense

Our petals open to expel the nectar of love
Give forth life, and grab a man by his soul
We are not the meek and servile beings from
Time immortal man has relegated beneath him
We are equal to men, for if our essence is composed
Of asexual, spiritual ether, how can we be any less?

We’re polarized energies, yet equal parts of a whole
No more, nor any less -- embrace your true worth
Use your talents and charms if you like, and use them well
Because those charms are ephemeral in a sense
But don't lose sight of the fact, we have been cheated and
Lied to for the longest time; for it suited man to keep us subverted

Ponder the feminine mystique; as you embrace every season
Surely the leaves will fall, and each flower will eventually
Whither, yet its essence is recorded in the archives of time
Can you imagine a world without women?
We are the fountains of love, and of life!
Love and respect yourself...at every stage.

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Prism

2009-03-31T23:58:00.000-07:00

Prism

I stood there oblivious of time, as the seconds passed
Disregarding the gallons of water pouring over me
Shame on me!
Guilt made me shut the shower off, the same which
Makes me save aluminum cans in my purse…
Like a transient – much better then not recycling, no?

I stare at the teardrops adhered to the shower curtain
Then slowly I study those water droplets bouncing
Off my nude form. I look at my breasts and marvel
At how beautiful they are -- that is the Narcissus in me
As I squeeze the silken orbs for lack of other hands,
I sigh, and I blame this on the state of the economy

I juxtapose how the firm, lush fruits must be rotting
Away at the Grand Central Market. Juicy peaches,
Mangos, avocados, and melons are looked on with
Longing, while the rats feast on them when the lights
Shut off…such a waste. As I paint my toenails pink,
The song the Rolling stones crone, plays in my mind

“If you can’t have the one you want, you get what
You need.” ….I sing this over and over while my
Roaming hands travel over the winding landscape
Of my body, as it thirstily absorbs a layer of lotion
I close my eyes for a moment, before I have to dress
And I think that I too, am wasting away...in desire

Other hands might have to do, sure
Yet, will I shut my mind long enough
To endure? Perhaps I should seek a deaf mute
Then only hands and lips will be used to communicate
There is no need for banal chat anyway; it is such a bore
The language of passion is plenty enough, of that I am sure

"The Metamorphosis of Narcissus" c.1937 by Salvador Dali

Joy

2009-03-30T23:58:00.000-07:00

Joy

One must be attuned to its subtle waves
With an open mind and heart, ever ready to welcome it
To dive in, and revel in it
It need not always be postponed for tomorrow
It can be obtained right now, why dwell in sorrow

Sometimes my heart constricts when I perceive …
Such acute pain, deep despair I absorb like a sponge
Just a fleeting glance, for it festers under layers of make-up,
Or a bravado façade. I pretend I do not see it, and life goes on
Mobile on crutches that makes the pain fade into the background

For such reason, I am thankful when I capture a glimpse of joy
This balances the avalanche of information overload
Unexpected pleasures, like today’s, the jacuzzi filling up with
Strong jets of water. The pressure on my shoulders was exquisite,
Water splashed all around. I felt like a kid playing under a waterfall

As I slid down the straps of my bathing suit, to yield better results
I recalled, such simple moments such as these can capture this
Elusive emotion. It reminded me of sweltering afternoons
When I walk alongside an automatic water sprinkler
I hike up my skirt a bit higher to feel the delicious, cool midst

Cool water feels like thousands of little kisses up my bare legs
Even better if nothings else in worn underneath
As the water sprinkler appeases the thirst of the green lawn,
Refreshes the lethargic trees and the petals of a rose
The childlike joy of a kid should never, never, never be forgotten

.

The Fruit Vendor

2009-03-29T23:58:00.000-07:00

The Fruit Vendor

The old fruit vendor took refuge under a straw hat
The heat of the afternoon enhanced the scent of
The lush fruit. I asked him how much
For the avocados, bananas, and mangoes?
He seemed genuinely grateful to make a sale
On his improvised market on this busy street

I softly smiled in return; this would make the
Fruit tastes even sweeter, as well as lighten his load
And at least help fuel his vehicle for the road
Late that night I woke up again, and served a cold
Glass of milk. In truth I craved a chocolate bar too
Yet, a banana purchased that day, would do

As I brought the banana to my lips, I thought
That even better than chocolate and milk…
Would be a soulful and prolonged kiss
Then it dawned on me than much better than
A long kiss, would be that accompanied with
The sum of two bodies locked into one

Like the proper key inserted into the keyhole
Then I thought…that even better than the perfect
Fit of two bodies locked in an intimate embrace
It would be if it were done in Maui or France
Then I thought, that the ultimate would be...if
Somehow chocolate would be incorporated into the mix

Yep! That would be it.

.

Night Travel

2009-03-28T23:58:00.000-07:00

I think I died for a moment last night
No, not le petit morte of excruciating bliss
Perhaps I was attempting to fly away
Things are getting really ugly down here

I sat up abruptly and listened to my erratic heart
The room changed in dimension as if looked through
A distorted lens. The big canvas of Jesus Christ
Placed precariously on my dresser calmly observed me

Is it time? I asked not with an ounce of trepidation
I think by now that I’ve done enough time, and not
To be arrogant, but I think I’ve accrued enough points
And thus far, I’ve gotten the gist of the overall picture

So, I’m just letting you know that
I’m ready Freddy – just kidding
No, not really. I am not being pessimistic even
I am burning with the intense desire to know more

I know that it will be as easy as shedding a winter coat
Then I stop to think how selfish I am too
It would break my mom’s heart for she would simply not
Understand, that we are divine spirits wearing a heavy mask

.

Painting, "Enigma without end" by Salvador Dali

The Vendor VII

2009-03-27T23:58:00.000-07:00

-“It is the principal of aesthetics Leticia! Beauty is synonymous with true goodness. Beauty is a pleasure to behold, and man’s true reward.” Rene attempted to cajole Leticia into submission, while cooling his livid temperament a little bit.

Shaken by the blatant fury Rene almost unleashed, Leticia thought that it would be prudent to stall, and let him cool off.
–“I won’t agree to cosmetic surgery Rene, although I will agree to go for a consultation to ask the surgeon for a free evaluation.”

-“Good…good. You will make me very happy Leticia, and if you do this for me, I will pay for it in full.” Rene said with a smile, while he refrained from touching her at all. He was afraid that if he touched her, his hands would strangle her of their very own accord.

-“Slow-ass, motherfucker drivers!” Rene’s temper was sorely tested when driving on the two lane highway. This deserted highway snaked around the skirts of formidable mountains, and edged a precipice. Since the opposite lane was deserted, Rene merged into the opposite lane, and accelerated his speed to pass by the snail-paced drivers.
For good measure he honked at them, and said farewell with a manual expression.

Once again settled into his lane, he situated the radio station to search for more favorable music. He was dividing his attention with an eye on the road, and alternatively on the car radio, when an image he saw reflected on the mirror, froze his hand in mid motion.

From the mirror he looked at the right side of the back seat to see Maribel’s apparition. Yet, this time there was a remarkable change. Her face had the same beautiful haunted expression, yet her breasts were fuller like coconuts seeping milk.

His pupils dilated when he turned his head back to focus on the thing suckling on her full breast. It had a very large head, its eyes were closed, and the minuscule hands and feet had a web like quality to them. The developing circuit of the nervous system was clearly discernible through the gelatin-like and viscous consistency of the flesh.

Rene snapped his head back to the road to see that he was coming close to another slow-ass driver. He gripped his perspiring hands on the wheel with uncommon force, until the knuckles turned white from the pressure.

-“Go away! Go to hell for all I care. That is NOT my son; you have probably cheated on me even in the afterlife! Go away!” Rene yelled at the expanse of road.

Seeing that the driver in front did not accelerate when Rene flashed him his headlights, he decided to merge into the opposite lane to pass the motherfucker and give him a piece of his mind. As he did, they were embracing a pronounced curve on the road, when he saw the lights of a massive truck fast approaching him straight on.

As time seemed to stand still, Rene felt bombarded with information from all sides. The slow-ass driver honked at him to merge into the right lane, Maribel’s eyes bore into his, full of reproach. The massive 18 wheeler honked from the enclosing distance, and flashed its headlights to Rene.

Rene felt enveloped in a trance, and mildly seduced to stay on the left lane, as a languorous inertia threatened imminent takeover. He seemed hypnotized by the headlights looming ever closer ahead, and by Maribel’s melodious voice, as sweet and smooth as Irish cream.

-“Stay on this lane Rene. Stay with us.” Maribel urged.

This story is loosely based on the true story of Tamalero Asesino, which happened sometime, somewhere in Mexico.

Painting, "Spain" by Salvador Dali

The Vendor VI

2009-03-26T23:58:00.000-07:00

The sun played peek-a-boo through the open windows panes, as the flowery curtains surrendered to the wind’s capricious whim. Occasionally, they had the audacity to flirt by shamelessly lifting the hem of their skirts.

The wind surreptitiously carried a bit of dust to sprinkle over the tiles of this colorful and cheap eatery, situated on their route to Monterrey.

Under the glare of the noon sun, Rene observed Leticia as if under a microscope. He did this with the intent of a prospective investor, gauging the properties of a potential investment and all of its pitfalls.

In turn, Leticia was slowly becoming ensnared in Rene’s charm. As she followed the fluid conversation, her mind was conjuring a myriad of plans. What if... she allowed love into her life again? What did she have to lose? Leticia thought, as her anticipation rose. She blushed a bit when she thought of what it would ultimately involve.

She seemed a nice woman to Rene, with a sweet disposition, and a shelter to rest for a bit. Yet, her nose! The aquiline shape distorted the harmony of her face, and marred what could be a pretty face if enhanced with cosmetics, sexier clothes, and a softer nose. The latter was an insult to that face, and a conspicuous offense to anyone else.

Rene itched to ask her is she would consider rhinoplasty, and breast enhancement. Perhaps later on….Rene’s thoughts abruptly changed course when he focused on the vision which stood behind Leticia.

The open doorway gave complete freedom to the balmy breeze to tousle and play with Maribel’s loosened hair. The long raven tresses fluttered vigorously in the wind, as a pirate’s black flag does at the helm of a ship.

The cold which suddenly permeated the room, generated goose bumps on Rene's skin. The naked apparition of Maribel was a gruesome yet still a beautiful sight to behold.

Her skin now had a grey tinge to it, and the haunted beauty of her face, deeply contrasted with the gruesome gash dividing her midriff in half, from the sternum to her pubic bone. The protruding broken ribs which Rene had haplessly pried open with grip pliers, exposed a hollow cavity from which blood still overflowed in Ruby rivulets down her legs, to leave a bloody trail as she ambled ever closer towards them.

The revolting stench of death accompanied her. She approached a few more steps, to stand next to him holding her hands together, as if in a prayer. Her reddened hands bathed in her own blood, held something in the bloody cocoon of her enclosed palms.

-“Rene, why did you kill us? I was good to you, and we did not deserve to die so brutally.” Opening her hands she showed a knob of flesh, no different than a red kidney bean. –“This is your son Rene; you also killed your son!” Maribel announced with inconsolable anguish reflected in her eyes.

-“NO! You’re dead! That’s not true!” Rene slammed his enclosed fists on the wooden table which toppled his beer bottle over. The effervescent river traveled directly to the floor to amalgamate with the blood and light dirt carpeting the tiled floor. The fusion created fizzling red bubbles as the dead blood thirstily sipped the fermented brew.

-“Rene what is the matter? You look shocked, Rene please, look at me!” Leticia stood up to lightly shake Rene’s shoulder.

Suddenly Maribel’s apparition vanished. Rene waited for the shock to abate before he spoke again. –“I’m alright; I think I just lost my appetite. Please order me another beer, and let’s get out of here.” Rene said as his heart beat stabilized a little bit.

In the months ensued, Rene had established a successful campaign to worm his way into Leticia’s home, and into her local community.

They lived in comfort and relative complacency, lacking a genuine passion for each other. This was alright for a while, until Rene became obsessed with transforming Leticia into her ideal woman.

-“It is not very expensive you know, and you can charge it all. I’ll even help you with the cost. Come on, will you at least consider it? Please?” Rene droned on about the subject once more.

-“I am afraid to die on the operating table. This is how God made me, and I am okay with myself. You should accept me as I am, as I accept you as well.” Leticia tried to reason with Rene.

A scalding wave of fury washed over Rene; he trembled with the intensity as his eyes distilled concentrated fury. The lust for blood rose again, and in his mind’s eye he saw how easy it could be to fall off the wagon again. She was being an unreasonable, stupid bitch, just like the others’ had been.

Leticia took a step back, for a moment truly alarmed by the murderous glare painted on Rene’s countenance.

To be continued…

"The City of Drawers" 1956 by Salvador Dali

The Vendor V

2009-03-25T23:58:00.000-07:00

-"I'm taking him to a makeshift graveyard site. He is going to show me where there are more cadavers buried." Pedro said as they left the station, with Rene restrained by handcuffs.

-"Where to?"

-"Obviously, to my home. You've made a wise decision my friend, as for what you get paid, it is not worth risking your life. You will prosper and I will mend my ways. I will be an honest man, and stick with what I do best - my tamales. Chicken, and pork, of course." Rene added as an afterthought.

Pedro sat on a box, as Rene excavated into the flooring of the cellar. He digged about three feet in, when his shovel made contact with metal.

-"Here, care to give me a hand? The box is pretty heavy, as I also collected watches, and gold jewelery from my exes. They just did not appreciate the jewelery which I bestowed on them to lure them into my bed. It was a wise investment considering the value of gold today." Rene said with labored breathing, as he grabbed one end of the metal chest, and waited for Pedro to help him get it up to level ground.

They both struggled with the weight of the treasure chest, and Rene quickly grabbed his set of keys, to open the lock of the metal case. The light from the weak light bulb reflected the contents of sandwich plastic bags of stacks of dollars, gold rings, separated gold chains and necklaces, and another enclosed link bracelets.

Pedro directed the light of his flashlight to the treasure chest and his face beamed with undiluted pleasure. This was indeed a jackpot! He was due this unexpected bonus, for the fifteen years he had devoted to the force, and barely made ends meet.

-"Here officer, let me get you a duffel bag for you to count the money if you like; it's all there. We can split the jewelery in half, since there are quite a few thousand dollars worth of gold here. All I ask, is that you respect my ten grand.
I need to start from scratch, and live a decent life." Rene said this humbly, as she went to gather two large, navy-blue duffel bags and deposited those next to the open metal case.

Without wasting anymore time, Pedro expedited the transfer of money in a neat fashion into the bags. He put the jewelery aside, to split with el Tamalero after he was done.

He had vacated all the contents in record time, and was sorting through the jewelery, now dispersed on a nearby table, when he made the fatal error of exposing the back of his neck to the brutal and swift contact of Rene's shovel. One judiciously placed blow on the neck was sufficient to render Pedro unconscious.

Rene was of medium stature and slight of frame. He had trouble picking up Pedro's corpulent body over his shoulder to haul upstairs. He ended dragging the unconscious body from underneath his armpits.

He arrived at the kitchen, and unable to place the massive body of the long kitchen table, he traveled further more into the bathroom. I short time he placed Pedro's vital organs, including his eyes, into the cooler filled with ice.

He placed the cooler last in the trunk back of his SUV, as first he had carpeted the back seat flooring with the duffel bags full of loot. With no time to vacate or clean the tub, Rene disrobed and grabbed the loose shower head to cleanse his body of the blood, sweat and dirt covering his form. He shampooed his hair, and lathered his body with thrifty strokes of the soap, as the soapy water gathered on the tile floor, next to Pedro's cavernous cadaver laying prone on the bathtub with bloody tears streaking his face, now devoid of his eye balls.

-"Let's meet for a chat in half an hour; I have to split." Rene said this into the telephone receiver, and proceeded to leave his home, for the last time.

-"I don't like airplanes; I have a distinctive aversion to flying. How about you?"

Turning to address his seat companion on the charter bus, Rene politely engaged her in conversation. She was a rather plain woman of perhaps late thirties. Her alabaster skin, the gold tones in her hair, and hazel eyes, bespoke of her European heritage.

-"Ah, me too. I'd much rather travel cross country by bus, than buy an airplane ticket. If you only knew why. Rene thought to himself.

Leticia smiled happy to find someone so nice to converse with on the long trip to Monterrey. And a fellow passenger who dislike planes too!

-"Are you traveling for work or pleasure?" Leticia asked to keep the momentum going.

-"Both. I intend to scout the terrain for new opportunities. I am a chef."

-"Oh that is so interesting! My father used to cook delicious meals as a hobby. He never let on to others' his 'secret' recipes.

It was the usual topic of conversation post a delicious feast he enabled, deciphering which ingredients he used in his succulent blackened turkey. It was marinated the previous day and holes were poked through and through to stuff cloves of garlic, and black Spanish olives. And the bird had been marinating the the blackened concoction of garlic, red wine, chilies, a dash of oregano...anyway, the point is that no one knew the exact recipe for sure. Many tried to duplicate his recipe, according to the taste.

All modesty aside, I must say that I think I bettered his recipe a slight notch in the end, by mixing in fresh cilantro to the blended mix. This transformed the color and flavor into something that was mouth-watering to inhale. I do think some men have an extraordinary hand for the kitchen, though that is rare to find."

-"We are coming to a stopover for lunch. Would you care to accompany me Mrs..."?

-"Miss. I am Leticia Medina. I am single, and I have no romantic attachments." Leticia beamed when she smiled.

-"It is a pleasure to meet you Ms. Medina. My name is Rene Rodriguez. And as I was saying, it would be a pleasure to invite you to lunch on our stopover." Pedro say with a charming smile.

-"I'd love to." Leticia said, her heartbeat accelerating just a bit.

-"Tell me, what is it that you do?" Rene asked measuring her potential for a partnership.

-"I am a second grade teacher. I am taking advantage of Easter holiday to travel for business affairs to Mexico City. I am a member of the board, although occasionally do I make roll call.

-"Board? Which board?" Rene asked, his curiosity peaked.

-"I inherited a portion of my father's holdings, along with my brothers. They live in Mexico City, while I rather stay in the ranch where we were raised. I love the country, so much more than the multitudes of a large metropolis."

-"Who do you live with? If it's not too forward to ask." Rene asked with acute interest on the subject.

-"I live alone with my dogs. My housekeeper and her husband also live there, yet in separate lodgings."

Rene bestowed a brilliant smile on Leticia. He was in good form to start a clean slate. He was in good form indeed. He caressed his face devoid of any facial hair, and his newly shaved head. With sunglasses, he was unrecognisable.

To be continued...

The Vendor IV

2009-03-24T23:48:00.000-07:00

-“Love can be a tenuous thing. I was lonely, so I set out on the quest to find a lover to warm my bed, and to massage my aching feet. I met a lovely girl who barely made ends meet by selling flowers on the streets. Her natural beauty rivaled those of the delicate flowers which she displayed. She had come to the big city from a small province, to search for a better opportunity for herself.

Her eyes were like dollops of honey, and her long braided hair, glistened like a raven’s plumage. Yet, with time I noticed that she was not very intelligent. She was very shy too. She was too modest to fully undress in front of me.

Another thing I did not like, was that she was so nice, that she smiled at everyone, and greeted everyone in a friendly manner.
This friendliness with everyone aroused my suspicions. She was twenty years younger than me, and well, the same men came every morning to buy a tamal, a cup of coffee and to chit chat with her.

There was one young man in particular which worried me. He was handsome, tall, and well-built. He was a construction worker I think. I don’t know if I imagined this, but I think I saw that his hand lingered longer then necessary over hers when he paid his bill.

I saw red! I was incensed! I would make that little slut pay - I said to myself. Yet, she was too beautiful to mar the perfection of her face and neck. I put something in her tea, which drugged her to asleep. Afterwards, I undressed her, and then I carried her to the bathtub - this full of ice cubes - to then delicately slit her wrists.

It was a beautiful sight to see, as the ice cubes reddened and melted with the heat of her fresh blood, to create a giant goblet of Sangria. Her long-lashed eyes were serenely closed, as if she were asleep - which she was, although now in her eternal sleep. She would never age, nor would her body depreciate.

I will tell you something in all honesty; I was getting a delirious rush from killing my women! I had no remorse, nor guilt, as it made me feel omnipotent! Not unlike those scientists who cloned sheep. I was usurping God in that task!

I lovingly skinned Maribel with a scalpel, as if she were a ripe grape. I utilized extreme care and precision, to reveal the plump flesh underneath. I uncovered such a juicy, firm and lush interior, like that of a voluptuous grape which when fermented, produces the ambrosial and heady liquid we delicately savor.

Oh, by the way, the ice cubes on the tub generated a new idea. I grabbed a cooler to fill it with ice; and then I deposited in those her internal organs. In no time I made the right connections; and I profited very handsomely from those sales.

And the large expanse of unbroken skin from the back, midriff, and limbs was also saved and sold to specialty purse makers. If a skin of a crocodile fetches so much money, imagine what this will fetch to the end user.
And do you know why this is officer? Do you know why my tamales are so irresistible to the palate? Because on a primal level, we are all beasts with a ravenous lust to devour one another! The taste is the sweetest on earth, as you have firsthand knowledge of.” Rene said with a wink.

-“So you killed your girlfriend. Where did you get the other bodies in the refrigerators?” Pedro asked.

-“You know who’s also at fault? Do you want to know what the devil’s tool is? It’s Craig’s List! I simply wanted to find the perfect woman, and as I perused the ads, I was shocked at the contents. Married, seeking married, no strings attached fornication, pictures of genitalia, why it’s absolutely disgusting!” Rene said with indignity.

-"Not only is there rampant immorality on Craig's List, but it's almost solely responsible for annihilating the newspaper industry by stealing ad revenue from them. That is why it is the devil's tool, I tell you!"

-“And you are a saint? So you lured your victims from an online web site? How many Rene, how many did you kill?” Pedro said with irony.

-“Oh, I don’t know exactly. The names became blurred, but In all honesty I did try to make it work. It was only when I perceived a flaw, or they had the audacity to ask for money for sex, or something that pissed me off, that their days became numbered.

May I borrow a pen and paper please? I need to write something down.” When Pedro supplies this, he wrote the following:

"All I can tell you is that due to my burgeoning tamal, and organ sales, I have accumulated a nifty sum of $100,000 dollars. If you get me out of here I will give you $90,000 dollars and leave town with the rest. I am the only one who knows where it is, as to avoid taxes and auditing, I did not save it in the bank. Help me escape, and help yourself as well. Have you ever seen that amount piled all at once?"

When Rene finished writing the note, he passed it to Pedro for him to read.

To be continued…

The Vendor III

2009-03-23T23:58:00.000-07:00

Pedro’s stomach revolted and expelled all contents on site. He folded over as his veins pronounced with the effort to empty all vestige of the offensive tamal inside.

-“That bitch! My friend, if you had known my wife – may she rest in peace - you would have more consideration for my plight. Her voice, after a while was incessantly disturbing. Like long fingernails scratching a blackboard, or the deliberate torture of a perennial leaking faucet disrupting the tenuous hold on sanity.

Drop by single drop, until it escalates to a colossal sibilant until one day, something snapped! Yes! That’s it! I think that I will plead to temporary insanity. It wasn’t me! I did not premeditate to kill her. It was as if a demon has possessed me temporarily, and he obliterated any vestige of a conscience in my psych.

The night that it happened; I sneaked behind when she was sitting on the lazy boy chair watching “Dancing with the Stars.” I remember that the volume of the television was way too high. I asked her repeatedly to please turn it down, and she refused to do so. I think….now that I think about it; she was on a campaign to drive me crazy!

Yes, when she flapped her mouth she emitted spit all around. She had really bad hygiene and fungus in the toenails. Oh, by the way, I amputated her offensive feet. Those were never used for the tamal fill.

She would spend my hard earned money on stupid, and frivolous things. Like that exercise contraption to reduce stomach flab.

What a hypocrite!

That machine just collected dust. That was its only function!
Then she blamed her weight gain in suppressing her libido. What good is a woman for, if she won’t put out? Do you see how she liked to torture me? I had to masturbate more often, than when I was single, and getting more pussy then. Or if I did get some, it was like doing a cadaver, as she spread open her flabby thighs, and that my friend, was the extent of her beneficence to the sexual act.
She refused to go down on me, claiming that her new religion forbade that defilement of her body.

Shaking his head sideways, Rene continued with his narrative. – “So anyways, I took a metal hanger from the closet, and then I unraveled it. I quietly snuck behind her lazy boy chair, and very quickly, I twisted the hanger around her neck, and I used all my strength to tighten the metallic noose.

She floundered like a fish out of water, and her eyes seemed to pop out of her skull. Slowly but surely, her release on my arms, and life announced her departure. She is now where she always wanted to be – in heaven. For all that she was trying to drive me insane, she was a good woman.

Afterwards, I did not know what to do with the body. So, I chopped her into pieces. And I noticed that the flesh, underneath the thick layer of fat and nerves, was not much different in appearance than others'.

Since the gas prices had escalated to almost forty-seven pesos per gallon, the price for meat, corn and food had escalated in turn. So I decided to do the logical thing. I decided then to use her meat for the tamales.

So I created a taste test by mincing her liver, and a portion of her right thigh. I seasoned the meat with a lot of species and marinated it for a bit with a few drops of white vinegar. I stir fried the minced liver with lots of onions and a bit of green chili. The aroma permeating the kitchen was tempting and alluring.

At first, I hesitated to eat it, and then I closed my eyes and placed the delicious smelling meat inside my mouth. It tasted very good. And I felt I did her good by sending her to heaven. She had trouble sleeping, and worried too much about the economy. I think it was better this way, and as a side note, my tamal business boomed!

-“So what did you do when you ran out of her meat and what did you tell her family?” Pedro asked standing with arms akimbo in the interrogation room.

-“Well, I knew that she was going to leave me eventually. I knew it, so I told them that she had left me for a younger man, and gone north to the United States. As to the meats you ate and found in the refrigerators….well…”

To be continued…

.

The Vendor II

2009-03-22T16:18:00.000-07:00

-"Ah,...the secret is in the sauce my friend. It is an old family recipe from way back from my grandmother." Rene said with an air of self-decreed importance.

-"Surely your wife must be the excellent cook, or is it you?" Pedro asked fanning the flames of Rene's vanity.

-"Oh no, unfortunately, I am widowed. I devote all my time solely to work, although it would be great to find a good wife." Rene answered with a little smile.

Pedro sucked his gut in, and expanded his chest out. The police uniform, was becoming a tad bit too tight. He should seriously decline the lust for one more tamale. It was so good, that when the taste bus exploded on contact with the scent and delectable seasoning, it was akin to an orgasmic explosion. Well, he would just take one for later on.

-"I will take one to go. This on the house no?" Pedro said testing the temperature of the water.

-"Of course officer. I am honored that you like my tamales." Rene said, his vanity pleased.

-"I'll also take a diet Coke; I do have to watch my weight." Pedro said as he helped himself to a can swimming in the melted ice in the orange cooler.

Pedro meant to save the tamale for lunch, that had been his initial intention. Yet, a primal hunger took over to devour Rene's tamale large portions, as rivulets of the stew dribbled down his chin, and adhered to his police uniform.

Pedro had still a few hours to kill. This was a matter of import. He ran the plates of Rene's license, and drove to that address. Surely Rene would still not be back for several hours as he still had to sell all of his tamales.

Pedro arrived at a dilapidated little house with peeling paint, and a garden of junk adorning the front. Stealthily, he walked to the back to see if there was an open window around. In the back trash galore, as if he bought and sold stuff at a local swap meet. There was an independent garage in back of the house, this padlocked.

Opening the lock with a master key, Pedro peeked into the dim interior where a dust fluttered where the sun peeked from outside the dirty little window. Here Pedro surveyed several industrial refrigerators, also padlocked. A long wooden table centered the garage. Instead of wasting time looking through the food stored here, Pedro decided to brake into the main house and take inventory of the valuables stored.

He went to the living room, and bedrooms, and saw that Rene lived very modestly. He had an old analog 25" television set, a VCR player, and old furniture.

On his way out, he went into the kitchen to grab something to drink. On the industrial stove, there were two huge cooking pots. The aroma emanating from those was irresistible to Pedro. He opened the lid and pocked the large spook to retrieve a bit of stew.

He fished a human finger, devoid of a fingernail.

To be continued...

The Vendor

2009-03-21T12:47:00.000-07:00

-“Steaming hot tamales! Here have a taste test; you will find that my tamales are like no other!” Rene’s baritone voice boomed without the aid of a microphone.

Cubing an aromatic tamal into little squares to disperse, Rene interred a toothpick into each square, with the care of a nurse injecting a syringe needle into a vein. The exhalation of the ambrosial essence of his tamal, was carried by the wind to entice each passerby.

Those who could not resist the lure purchased two, three, or four tamales to take home. The doughy masa had an orange-shiny hue, as it had been seeped with stock broth, which had been mixed previously with California red chili powder, yellow chilies, garlic, pepper, cumin, and salt.

The girth and width of Rene’s tamales were generous to a fault, which is why one is all it took, to satisfy a healthy appetite. When one unwrapped the multiple layers of plantain leaves - as if one were opening a Christmas gift - the efflux of the delectable aroma, made the saliva activate in the mouth, and the pupils dilate with the desire to devour.

Protruding from the luscious and shiny surface of the tamal, one could scout on the shiny horizon, the appearance of cubicles of potatoes, strands of green chili pepper, or the occasional bulbous apparition of a black olive.

Marring with a fork the serene, and perfectly formed surface of the tamale, one discovered the true essence of this delight. The meat filling was simply exquisite, as it was an alchemy of spices, choice meats, tomato sauce, onions, and garlic which when simmered in low heat for hours, gave it its distinct gusto.

Pedro had been on the beat for hours. One of those luscious tamales accompanied with a hot cup of coffee, would surely hit the spot. Besides, he was intrigued by this ambulant vendor whose clandestine business thrived. Surely he did not pay any taxes, and by the look of his old sports utility vehicle, he was not doing too badly.

Pedro decided to try a tamale, and to find the way to extort money from this popular Tamalero.

Pedro devoured the mouthwatering tamale in large chunks. The savor was unique and it had a peculiar piquancy which elevated this to gourmet fare. This a surprisingly cheap deal, for such an exquisite meal.

-"Tell me my friend, do you have experience as a professional chef? This is simply delicious." Pedro said with mouth full, as he bathed the tamal with more fresh salsa on top.

To be continued…

Guilt

2009-03-20T14:25:00.000-07:00

Guilt

He looked at me across the restaurant; he was waiting
His turn to use the men’s restroom at Mc Donald’s
My mind was elsewhere mulling over something;
It did not dawn on me after the fact, as to why he
Looked at me with longing

How? With nostalgia, as if something had triggered
A sad memory. Like an abandoned dog in the pound
Looks at prospective owners, with longing to be freed
And to become part of a new family
It was the look of desolation, and hunger

When it dawned on me, he was gone and crossing
The street. I felt the urge to bolt after him and offer
Him part of my lunch, and a soft drink
I felt the pull to follow him, yet I would have had to
Run in three-inch high heels, and he was long gone

He was a day laborer, obviously at this time of day,
He did not get any work today; he walked towards his
Post, wearing an air of defeat towards Home Depot
I ate my lunch with little joy; the food tasted like dirt
Condimented with a side of guilt, and self directed anger

I had to let it go; I could not act now
He would have been more embarrassed had I
Handed him a food bag, in front of the others’
The food was horrible, like cereal swimming in
Rotten milk - It was the taste of guilt

As I left the establishment, I put on my sunglasses
To shield my eyes from the bright sunlight, and to
Shield the tears clouding my eyesight
I felt so terribly, terribly saddened
For him and for humanity

Yesterday a friend had mentioned that while
Looking for work, he witnessed a guy with a suit
And a BA degree forewarn, that if he did not
Find employment soon - he would kill himself...
Yet before, he'd also kill whomever came across his way

How can this happen in the United States of America?
Where unscrupulous greed pays handsomely well
One man prays to eat his daily bread; one man knows
He will rot in hell; and one man lives in voluntary hell
When he cannot release his stronghold on material...things

.

My Sunday Bus Ride

2009-03-19T23:58:00.000-07:00

My Sunday Bus Ride

I sat in front to observe the bus devour miles
She sat in front; she was about 14 years old
The dark circles under her eyes were not…
The only sign that something seemed amiss
It was the look of deep sadness which adored her face

I felt compelled to ask her if she was alright
I thought better not, and went back to my reading
I looked up and was alarmed by the despair reflected
In those dark pools - muddled with hopelessness
I thought better not, and went back to my reading

I took a break to observe the others’
An old woman wheeled two bags – her ambulating vault
Of treasures. In the back a young woman rested behind...
a huge box which read: "My First Kitchen,” It seemed too big
To carry on foot, yet worth the delight of her kid

I looked up and was alarmed by her acute sadness
I blurted, “Are you alright?” She smile and said,
“Yes, I just fell off my bike,” Her stop came soon
And said, “Thank you, goodbye.” As she tentatively
Smiled, I offered her the sweetest smile in-kind

The bus driver was done with her shift; she left as
Evidence of her existence a Twix wrapper on the floor
She wore baggy black pants which rode below her ass
The loose blue shirt, completed her Chola look. She left
Without saying goodbye, she seemed absent all the while

I walked to Olvera St. to contemplate the shrine
Of La Virgen de Guadalupe. It was awash with a sea
Of roses and lit candles. I sat on the bricks surrounding a tree
A woman wrapped in a poncho sat next to me. I was compelled
To ask her if she was alright, what did I have to lose?

We talked for a while about the nature of her plight
Later she asked me if I was a psychologist, and I said:
“No. Yet, never mind, you have to snap out of this funk!”
After some time I stood to take leave. I opened my arms
And asked her if she wanted a hug…

She looked up at me with fresh tears in her eyes
I embraced her and she sobbed vigorously with a force
That shook us both. As she rested her weary face on
My bosom, I patted her head streaked with gray, and before
I parted, I said: “It will be alright….trust that it will be alright.”

.

Once again...

2009-03-17T19:40:00.000-07:00

.

I've been called fresh, and sometimes a tart
Yet, others know me as decadently hot
You coax that out of me, I shed my inhibitions
As I feel fluttering butterflies. Take me...I'm yours

My full top rises and falls when your seeking
Fingers delicately squeeze me there... ever so gently
And I can't help but to stand there quivering...dripping
When I feel the closeness of your hot breath upon me...

Ever ready to devour me, the lust I perceive in your eyes
Frankly, it intimidates me with its intensity. I'm entranced...
I am standing in the eye of the hurricane, and for the life of me
I cannot run, although I know you'll consume me voraciously

I ache to feel my gaping hole - oh so blatantly exposed...
Excruciatingly teased, and circumvented by your seeking tongue
as you avidly lap the cream dripping inexorably down
It's so sweet; it's almost an acquired taste

Go ahead and take all of me; Let us become one. Only then..
Will I truly know your inner depths, which you hide to all
I know that when you're through with me, you will choose another
after all...it is cheaper when you buy us by the dozen

.

15 Seconds

2009-03-16T15:36:00.000-07:00

It was a time freeze; in those 15 seconds
I knew it was inexorably coming…that my death
Was at hand. In the lapse before the constellation
of 200 bullets perforated my body beyond recognition...
I was kissing life goodbye. My breathing seemed suspended as
It dawned; I’d leave my wife alone, and my son fatherless

I felt powerless and petrified…If only I…
Had not gone that morning to buy water
Only to meet death face to face - in the lapse
Of only 15 seconds! This sucks; I was armed!
I should have reacted to save my life, yet I was in
Complete shock, when I faced that semi-automatic rifle

For the shitty amount they paid me…I should not
Have died so viciously; as I look down at my
Splattered blood and drinking water, it was over the instant
a bullet penetrated my heart. To support my family
I became a state police on the Chihuahuan border
Fighting narcos became an uphill battle...

Between the low morale, greed, and fear of reprisals
This sucks! As I listen on my own funeral
My beautiful wife consumed with grief, uncertain
Of what her future will be…as my pension is...
as shitty as my salary was, yet, I did whatever
To supplement it. Was my life worth such a pittance?

The days pass, yet I am still here disoriented
It takes a while for me to figure out
That I can now actually pass through walls
I am not solid; I am my ethereal self
Yet the pain lessens no less, as I witness my
Wife's inconsolable tears as she embraces our little baby

Dear God, have mercy - have you forsaken us?
No one is spared here, not even children
Or the 4 year old hostage held for ransom
For the stupefying amount of 7,000 dollars
Dear God, please protect my family
Dear God, have mercy…on my soul

Based on La Opinion's article: "Juarez: son 15 segundos para morir." March 16, 2009

Order of Importance

2009-03-15T15:27:00.001-07:00

A fecund womb is lined with blood
A woman's ready to nurture the spark of life
Earth's soaked with the blood of those fallen in war
Her oceans awash with tears befallen

The sky, as the mind is blured by a thick layer of pollutants
Clogged with a layer of collective fears and anxieties
Projecting towards the heavens, a titan monument to despair
The sky turns so cloudy, as to distort our vision and passage

Yet, eventually the sun comes out
To give us warmth and vitality
To nourish the soil to produce more flowers
A new cycle of beautiful flowers to perfume our gardens

Life is beautiful; life is a school
Yet it is a product of cause and effect
Sit still for a moment and contemplate
How it came to be this way

Open your heart to all, dissolve fears
For in the thick flora of the jungle, late at night
A mere twig, may appear to be a mortal enemy
After the sum of events recalled, what is most meaningful?

Love or fear?

.

Addendum

2009-03-14T17:12:00.000-07:00

I was a bit irked when several people who read The Lecture post, did not grasp in the nuances of this brief post, the backdrop sustaining it.

It happened that someone suggested that we have a question and answer session in our group, and some were in favor, while another said it was unnecessary in such a tight schedule.

Then someone stood up and said that a brief Q. and A. period would be beneficial for us all. He alluded to the fact that he had read in Readers Digest -many years ago-about a group of fifteen Holocaust prisoners, who nightly rotated turns in sharing their individual field of specialty with the rest of the group.

After their ordeal, one said that it had been like a free University for the amount of knowledge partaken by all.

Unfortunately, I was not able to find online that Reader's Digest article, and with due respect to the Jewish community, I attempted to bring to light this article to others as I was genuinely impressed when I heard of it.

I thought how wondrous is the human spirit, For a selected few who lived through, and endured such mental and physical hardship, that no human being should ever have had to contemplate, lest endure - as there is no proper wording in the vocabulary to expound on accurately, the full level of suffering inflicted. Nevertheless, the human spirit triumphed over such mind-bending suffering. And at least for those in the group, they thwarted the intent of their oppresors.

In these trying times, one must contemplate that there is always someone who's had it much - much worse than ourselves, and one must embrace the certainty, that this too shall pass.

.

The Subconscious

2009-03-13T16:12:00.000-07:00

Last night I dreamt I was a nun
In love with God, and with a man of the cloth
The anticipation of our stealth meeting made my being
Vibrate at a higher frequency
Is simply longing for the forbidden a sin?
We did not consummate our desire to coalesce

Our eyes spoke what our lips dared not say
The attraction was irresistible nonetheless
It made my heart sing to be near him
It was simply undiluted love in concentrated form
On a full moon night, insanity reigned
We agreed to meet at the stroke of midnight

In my dream, I wore a nun’s habit
And as I walked to my clandestine meeting
The moon lit my way and reserved her judgment
As I was leaving the convent, a legion of men
Dressed in black robes impeded our meeting
And saved our souls from burning

Before dawn, I awoke shivering
My limbs had battled with the blankets...
And comforter, as those lay defeated on the floor
As I analyzed my dream, I realized with a start
The priest had been the singer I had met last night
The Chilean guitar player with the sky blue eyes

He played beautiful spanish songs in our bohemian gathering
I wish I could play the guitar I said, did he give
Lessons? A warning bell ran when he asked me
"How long have you been in this country?" Evasively…
I answered, sometime. "Like how many years?"
Ambigously I answered in Spanish, "just a few"

In the cold morning still darkness prevails
My body, like an individual galaxy of planets
Tells me certain things. It says I need to cover
My bare legs from the cold air. It says that I need...
To stretch it like a feline; It says I need a good breakfast
And it says that I need a good….mount

"The Bohemians" by Marcel Lorange

.

Bona Fide Image X

2009-03-10T23:58:00.000-07:00

- “ Let’s take a brake from the golf game Charles. Here have a cigar. I know that you don’t smoke, but just try one please. It’s the best in the world; it is hand wrapped in the island of Cuba. Pretty soon, it won’t be as exclusive as before with the influx of American tourist over there.”

-“ Thanks.” As Charles puffed on the fragrant cigar, he the heat of the morning sun, mingled with his light perspiration, and the scent of the bittersweet tobacco.

- “ Let’s take a walk Charles. We are very happy to have you as part of our team. We have mutually agreed on one thing. We would like for you to move up in ranks. But, as you know by now, there must be merits involved. Surely I don’t have to tell you that moving up a level will bring inherent benefits. You will have more clout in the group, as well as in the business world. Before we promote you though, there is something you must ‘sacrifice.’”

With a sinking feeling, Charles asks what it would entail.

- “You know free enterprise should not be curtailed, but sometimes one must keep in check the competition. Your brother Pablo has become a force to reckon. His research and marriage of natural medicine incorporated into medicine, is hailed by many. But, that is simply not good for a lot of businesses.

My God, there is a reason for HIV, and for him to have found a cure for it, well, it goes against what God intended. Somehow the undesirables have to be contained! With his fabulous breakthroughs in medicine, he is solely responsible for taking patients away from hospitals, and hailing him as a hero. He is driving the price of prescription drug way down, cutting into out profit margins. We just can’t have that!

We have to support each other Charles! We need you to kill your brother Pablo. That will be the sacrifice we require, for you to ascend in our organization, and to really, move up in the world as well.”

Charles was about to puff on the delicious cigar when he heard this, and he halted the process. He was an ambitious young man, who had lofty aspirations in politics, as well as in the finance world. But this seemed, just too harsh an obligation to execute.

To stall for time while he mulled over his options, and the scope of such an endeavor, Charles brought the Cuban cigar to his lips to puff on it some more. The afternoon breeze mingled with the flavor of the tobacco in his mouth. He could smell the faraway shores of La Havana.

To be continued…

Bona Fide Image IX

2009-03-09T23:54:00.000-07:00

There is a difference between being a willing participant in the sexual act, and making love to the one special person that means the world to one. Just as surely as there is a difference in the decadent indulgence of a banquet feast, and the bland and miserly consumption of hospital fare.

The years, tears and heartaches seemed to dissipate when blessed with a magical kiss. Unlike no other because only when one loses and finds that which one thought lost forever, can one truly appreciate the excruciatingly tender bliss of such an opportunity.

Phillip and Linda discovered a seasoned and sizzling passion for each other, which was tempered by experience, and an acute longing, which although perhaps dormant, still was perennial and palpable in the deepest recesses of the mind, and beating heart.

It was as if time had stood still. Nothing had changed in those twelve years since they had last kissed, yet, so much had changed still.

Before Linda introduced Pablo to Phillip, the latter looked startled when he saw Pablo seated on the dinning area. The resemblance was uncanny, and his heart took a leap when Linda confirmed what he’d know at a quick glance.

Phillip experienced a plethora of emotions as he embraced Pablo. He was joyous, yet deeply disturbed that he had been absent from his son’s life, and he from his. He felt that life that cheated him of a very important part.

There were tears of joy, and deep sadness intertwined. He promised Pablo that he would always be in his life. To make good on that promise, he asked Linda to be his wife.

After more than a decade since they first met, and with a son they created from that union, Linda and Phillip made their union official. His son Charles, and his newly acquainted son Pablo, witnessed the happy event.

Bona Fide Image VIII

2009-03-07T23:58:00.000-08:00

-“Please mom? Can I stay the weekend with them?” Pablo asked Linda with heartfelt earnest. Even though Pablo was very tall for his age, which made him appear older than his twelve years; Linda was apprehensive about letting him go spend the weekend in the neighboring tribe of his best friend Paco.

Linda hid a smile provoked by the enthusiasm displayed by Pablo, his unusual blue eyes contrasted deeply with the honey shade of his skin, and these were lively as he expounded on the desire to be allowed to go.

Linda knew that the elders of the tribe had developed a special affection towards Pablo, and his insatiable curiosity was appeased somewhat by the tutoring of the wise men of the clan in the art of natural healing, and the instilment of a profound reverence for Mother Nature and of all the species of the rain forest.

Linda rested her apprehension and allowed him to go. He did earn that merit by excelling in his studies, obtained the highest marks, and easily assimilating the subjects presented.

-“Okay, you may go, and I will take a special dish for Paco’s grandfather. I am very happy that you have taken an interest in healing Pablo, do you think that is something you will pursue professionally?”

-“Hmm…I don’t know exactly. I do know that I like to investigate things. I am learning about the medicinal properties of many plants inherent to our rain forest. I think that I would like to assimilate the two and find a way to cure people with what nature provides for us here.” Pablo said after some giving some thought to the subject.

When Linda said goodbye when leaving Pablo in the care of the wise men and his best friend, she was startled when Pablo came running to give her a goodbye kiss and a hug. Something in his expression, has reminded her of Phillip. Except for the pigment of the skin, the marked resemblance was undeniable.

Some things seem beyond repair, no matter how much one would wish they would work. The attraction for Cindy had faded some time ago. Basically after she gave birth to their son, she had stopped trying to make it work. She was settled and married, and Cindy did not feel the need to strive to make their relationship a loving one. There was no real love anyway on both parts, but make the best of her situation, she did. She was considered one of the most fashionable women in the society circles they oscillated in.

To her credit, Cindy was a good mother. She lobbied to make sure that her son Charles got into the most prominent private schools. She knew that even from pre-kinder, the alliances, friendships and clout created from the association to those prestigious schools, would affect her son’s future in a profound way.

Even though Phillip existed in a loveless marriage, his commitment was enduring. It was Cindy who eventually severed the ties, when she happened to be madly in love with one of her opportune lovers. She simply left a note on the refrigerator saying that she was taking a sabbatical for an indefinite period of time.

That sabbatical lasted two months before she called home, and talked to her son. She inquired as to how he was doing in school. She then initiated the divorce proceedings, without attempting to obtain child custody. She felt that she was still young to make a new life for herself. Love and passion blinded her to the pain she caused those who loved her, in this case, only her twelve- year-old son, Charles.

When Phillip was a free man, the idea of searching for Linda once again cemented in his head. Would she even remember him? She most probably would be married with children of her own too. Regardless, Phillip wanted to take this trip which he had halted when called home, all those years ago. He was taking advantage that his son was vacationing two weeks with Cindy in her new home.

Linda had not changed much from twelve years ago. There was a profound sadness and maturity in her eyes, yet the rest was relatively the same. She still ran the kitchen of the tourist inn. They recognized each other instantly when they gazed upon one another.

To be continued…

Bona Fide Image VII

2009-03-06T23:58:00.000-08:00

Linda had read in a poem by Neruda, "How short can love be, yet how long it is to forget." A lone tear ran down her face as the adjacent waterfall laughed in glee.

When the heart knows, that is enough. No need to work so hard to create the illusion of happiness. The happiness felt within is genuine and changes in form. Be it from simple contentment, to overflowing joy. On the opposite spectrum, the pain can be gut wretchedly deep.

Linda had had a crash course on both emotions, on a very genuine and profound level. As she sat under the shade of a tree to contemplate her situation; she concluded that she had no regrets. They had loved each other intensely for the duration of two months, and she loved him still. She would harbor the good memories, and harbor the life which resided within.

Now she had to break the news to her parents, and face the reality that Phillip might not ever know of her condition. Since he’d abruptly left two weeks ago, she had not heard from him at all. Phillip had gone back home due to an emergency he had been told.

Linda hugged her knees and nestled her face between those, as the festive waterfall drowned her heartfelt sobs. Even so, the pain was so deep, that it alarmed the birds, monkeys and fauna. They were exalted and alarmed by the grief racking Linda's body as it trembled as if she were dying of excruciating pain.

-“I should not be telling you this son, but you don’t have to do this.” Clare said this to Phillip as he was eating his breakfast. This would be the last day he was living under Clare’s roof. He was getting married later that day.

-“How can I not mother? Cindy is pregnant with my child. How can I make my child a bastard? I just can’t do that.” Phillip said this with the resolution of a man that must face a formidable challenge.

Grasping his hand, Clare tried one more time to dissuade Phillip from making the biggest mistake of his life. –“Phillip you can be a father and be there always for your child, without having to marry the mother. I know that is contradicts tradition and the church, but I know that is not the woman for you! Look how even at this stage she is using the baby to hijack you into submission. She is refusing to sign a prenuptial, knowing that either way, you feel obligated to marry her, and in the event things don’t work out, she will grab a lot of money.

It’s still not too late Phillip to back out. Remember that, and for the records, I don’t give a damn for convention.” Clare said persuasively.

The sunlight filtered into the court room that afternoon. The solemnity of the place gave the caricature of the event an egregious savor. As he observed Cindy’s malicious and triumphant gleam in her eyes, Phillip had the sinking sensation that he was leasing his life to a long prison term.

With pain in his heart he agreed to marry; he was sorry that he was not marrying the girl that he had come to genuinely love.

As they were declared husband and wife, and he took Cindy into his arms to kiss her, he closed his eyes and for a moment he imagined he was kissing Linda instead.

To be continued….

Bona Fide Image VI

2009-03-04T23:58:00.000-08:00

Time can stand still in an abstract sense, when we refuse to end the moment at hand, and one becomes acutely aware of such a transcendental moment in our lives. These rare occasions - with so far and few in between - can elevate one to the sublime. An hour, perhaps two can be perceived as just a fraction of that traversed time.

When two soul mates unite, can it be any more splendorous? Such a joyous occasion to celebrate in our hearts! For we walk for years and decades like ambulating zombies on the ardours path of life.

On a visceral level, we fully understand that the search for The One is on, and the comfort and bliss found in those arms, makes it simply all worthwhile. Everything.
Every trial and tribulation, every heartache, every tear shed, every achievement, and even those long journeys brought one to that very moment.
The present moment.

Perhaps it's destiny. Perhaps is an overdue reward. Phillip knew it the moment he took Linda in his arms. Not with primal lust or lascivious intentions, although inexorably it simmered to that point. The natural desire to be close and explore each's territory was a natural derivative of the existing mutual spark from beyond.

Moral restrictions, racial divides, social diversity, had no plan in the Palace of Delight. There was nothing turbid or shameful. Linda instinctively knew that she would not let this magical moment pass. Even if there was no tomorrow for them, they had this memorable moment to sustain them for a lifetime.

She felt such an affinity towards Phillip, that was more than a crush. And besides, she was old enough now to learn of the pleasure of the flesh. She was not the most popular girl in the region, thanks to her limp. If Phillip did not mind her lesion, why did she have to give up on this wondrous moment in her life?

Regardless of her impediment, she was a very passionate girl. She was passionate about life, about nature, her family, and learning secrets which few where privy to. The native tribes had adopted her, for they saw the beauty if her spirit, and she had in time made fast friends with the wise men of those clans.

Looking deeply into each other's eyes, there was no thought to questions or doubt. They were both entranced by each other. As they swam towards the shore, they lay atop a bed of leaves to explore one another, with the wondrous curiosity of a child. They resumed their tender kissing, which escalated in intensity of passionate heat, and intensity, into a flaring hunger to posses and to yield.

Instinct guided where lack of experience lacked. Linda responded with rapturous delight to Phillip's ministrations, as he traced her face and body as an artist's brush paints every minuscule detail of the anatomy - sparing none. She in kind, reciprocated with ardent expediency,and wandering caresses and shameless kisses - everywhere.
Looking into his beautiful eyes, clear and honest like the sky - she was not afraid. They became one in body, and soul. For that rapturous moment, time stood still, and joy abound.

She was glad for once, that she was a woman now. Her lesion did not impede her from offering her silky breasts, ripe and fresh like fuzzy peaches which abound in July - for his nourishment and delight.
She was glad that she had round hips so that he could hold on to them, as if he were steering the wheel of a ship. Her legs wrapped firmly around him and guided him to her, to cleave the ripened fruit glistening under the sun. Deeper, and deeper as if plowing for unknown secrets, until the mind shut down and ceased to function temporarily, and the senses took full domain of the body, as it convulsed like fish out of water.

Linda looked up at the sun with open eyes. Her vision was blurred by the harsh light and stars. Afterwards, she realized, that her body has responded well. She was happy to be alive, and happy to have Phillip in her arms, and still inside.

As the sun abated its furious intensity for the afternoon, their passion as well abated in turn. They held hands as they waded into the crystal clear waters to clean up. Linda felt different; she was a woman now. The blood between her legs which the nurturing lagoon dissolved, and soothed like a salve her still palpitating wound, was testimony to this.

To be continued...

Bona Fide Image V

2009-03-03T23:58:00.000-08:00

Man creates an artificial paradise, populating it with things that will distract the mind, and rob precious time. Yet, underneath it all, the commercial mechanism is always churning, with a hawk eye on the profit margins, and not on the perceived value served.

When does the line become a blur between what is real and what is false? What can make one feel truly alive? The cigarette and liquor high is short lived, and can bring detrimental consequences. Casual sex can also give a spectacular rush, if there is a sufficient mutual spark.

Phillip mulled over this as he decided that it was best in his introspective phase, to let the guard down and tranquil the mind. This relinquishing control of the psych, simply allowed the Self to find the absolutely perfect solution.

Phillip silenced his mind by turning the dial to the off position for the lapse of thirty minutes. He allowed his body to float without any course or intent - mindless, as the cascading waterfall, laughed merrily.

Phillip closed his eyes and reveled in the sun’s caress, as the cool water nestled him in her loving arms and lap, while she gently rocked him, and buffeted the external noises. Playfully, she ocassionally lapped at his earlobes teasingly.
Soon, Phillip was induced to a trance-like state.

Phillip reached such a state of internal joy that radiated pure energy which merged with the clear sky, the verdant hills, the sun, and beyond. To galaxies light-years away, and to commute in peace with nature, and the plethora of species inhabiting this small, ailing paradise we call earth. Temporarily, Phillip merged into the lane which connects to all.

Linda sat complacently on the edge of the secluded lagoon; she called the Garden of Eden. She was content to contemplate the wonders of nature, this included Phillip. He made the perfect accessory to this garden of paradise, a testimony to the generosity of God in the creation of such a beautiful specimen of man.

Lured to a languid state of inertia, Linda decided to jump into the water as well. As was customary, she kept her underwear on, and glided into the arms of the cool water topless. Her nubile body in perfect harmony with nature, was at ease with her partial nudity. Her mahogany nipples became erect when the cool water gently supported her breasts, and wet her entirely, like a giant tongue licking a manila envelope.

Phillip’s connection was broken, when he sensed Linda near him. He slowly opened his eyes and saw that she swam towards to waterfall, and back, towards him. Her bright smile and merry eyes spoke to him, even before she reached him.

They splashed and played like playful dolphins for the rest of the afternoon.

The same concept can be applied when one lets the heart proceed, instead of the intellect.

The mechanisms of love are difficult to decipher, yet sometimes, when one quiets the mind, the heart speaks eloquently. In the middle of paradise, it was proper homage to such grace, to celebrate being alive and full of vitality- with a soulful kiss on the lips, and a grateful heart for such an opportunity.

To be continued…

Bona Fide Image IV

2009-03-02T23:58:00.000-08:00

-"If it's meant to be, it will happen. Trust me darling, you are free to seek your true mate." Clare attempted to console Phillip.

-"I've decided to take a brake from it all mother. I am taking a year's hiatus from dating and school. I am leaving as soon as my semester is over." Phillip announced to Clare.

-"Where are you going Phillip?"

-"I am going to the Amazon jungle, and to various countries of South America."

-"So far? And isn't it dangerous Phillip?" Clare asked with alarm registered in her eyes.

-"As you've recently mentioned mother, 'If it is meant to be, it will happen.' Everyday when I awake, I trust in the good Lord that it will be a good day. So, don't fret. I feel that I really need this experience, and besides some of my friends will join me later on to visit the carnival in Rio, and Antarctica region. Relax mother; I am a man now, and I need to see the wonders of the world for myself."

After a month's travel, Phillip's appearance was almost unrecognizable from the well-groomed, and studious young man he personified. His hair was long, and he had stopped shaving. He only trimmed his beard when it became so overgrown as to become a nuisance.
His milky-white skin was now tanned to a deep golden hue, like burnished 18 karat gold when the beads of perspiration reflected a light sheen upon his form.
The golden gleam of his skin, deeply contrasted with his blue eyes, as if one had found two aquamarine jewels strewn carelessly on the surface of the hot desert sand, by mere chance.

The amazon jungle was alive and vibrant with lush flora, and exotic species, grotesque, yet, so very beautiful for their uniqueness and rarity. It was a splendorous, orchestrated production. The cascading waterfalls, exotic birds, and mischievous monkeys, created a tumulous chorus, as each sang above the other, in the effort to be supreme.

The heat was perpetually humid, as if one were sprayed by a fine midst continuously which caused the clothing to attached itself to the body as a second skin.

Phillip felt more alive and closer to his primal nature. The regulations and protocols he's always adhered to, were irrelevant in this naked and raw patch of land which had been spared from the crass, and tasteless commercialism.
It was as close to the beginning of time, as could ever be. Where the fittest were predators, yet everyone lived in relative harmony, and complete freedom - until the next day.

Life was certainly not to be taken for granted by the creatures who roamed about freely. Perhaps, they did not fully understand the depth of their plight, yet, did it truly matter, when they lived everyday to its fullest potential? They lived for the moment, no past, nor future mattered, just the simple delight of the sun's caress, and the thankful joy to fill the belly for the day.

The locals were friendly, and full of joie de vivre. Life was simple and uncomplicated. Survival and tending to the basic necessities became imperative. The rest, was not given the escalated import of the industrialized places.

Phillip enjoyed the straw hut where he was staying for a while. It was built above ground, and closeted by fine woven nets to keep the mosquitoes, and giant bullet ants out.

Linda, the owner's daughter always managed to disperse a sweet smile to everyone, even as she hurried with a noticeable limp to cook, and serve the buffet.

Linda was barely twenty, and her skin glistened with the burnish of a mahogany table. Her eyes were as deep and dark as the night, yet seemed so wise and kind. Her frequent smile was serene, yet, radiated a light from within. One did not notice her slight limp, when one focused on her beautiful and serene face.

She had learned English in school, as it was needed in the hospitality industry. She was also able to communicate in basic french, fluent Spanish, and the local dialects. Over the weeks, Phillip and Linda had become fast friends, as there was little to do at night, except to listen to the noise of crescendoing chorus of the crickets.

Phillip joined the other guests for breakfast, and dinner, at the resorts buffet. On one such night, Linda had promised to take Phillip to an exercusion that was not traveled by the tour guides. It was the garden of Eden she had called it.

To be continued...

Bona Fide Image III

2009-03-01T23:58:00.000-08:00

-“Mother, with all due respect, you have to stop meddling in my private life. I am sorry you were treated that way, but you brought this upon yourself. Please note that nothing you say about Cindy will deter me from dating her. I am in love with her, and I intend to pursue her.”

-“Phillip, Cindy is a very beautiful girl – externally. But as Plato describes it, beauty is not a thing you perceive with the eyes, as much as it is the pure essence of beauty. ‘It is not of the flesh, and it is everlasting, which never ages or fades.’

I merely hope that you will make the right choice based on your heart, not on your…primal instincts.” Clare said duly chastised.

Love can blind, by selectively focusing on the sterling qualities of the beloved, while ignoring the obvious ugliness.

Phillip and Cindy had been together almost three years, and the pressure was on him to make the romance a formal affair. Phillip intended to continue with higher education, and felt it was not the time to get engaged yet. Yet, perhaps subconsciously the thrill of the chase was gone. When one spent enough time with another, one got to see them through various prisms of light, and then those subtler tones become known.

Late one night on the way back from a soiree, Phillip suddenly stopped the car to listen with undisturbed rapture to Ravel’s Bolero, playing on the radio.

-“Hello, why are we stopping in the middle of nowhere?”A tipsy Cindy inquired.

-“I love this melody; let’s just hold hands while we listen to it.” Phillip offered.

-“There’s not even any lyrics to it!” Cindy whined.

-“Listen, just listen to it. I love this piece because it makes my heart dance. My soul rejoices as this melody triggers, deep-seated memory genes hardwired into my DNA of a time long past. From the time of my ancestors, who bravely answered to the drum beat which heralded the initiation of epic battles. Of a time long ago, where men were brave, loyal, and daring, and risked much to construct the world as we know it now.
Where life was short lived; therefore every day alive was fully appreciated, loves were passionately cherished, and each day was lived to the fullest!

In the flute and in the sensual rhythms underlying it, I can see in my mind’s eye, exotic beautiful women dancing the dance of the seven veils. With their come-hither eyes, and undulating hips, they made powerful men weak, and enslaved them to delirious passion. They danced for their lives, and fortunes.

This melody was created in the celestial spheres, and it came to Ravel upon a dream for mankind to celebrate the sheer joy of being alive!” Phillip said enraptured by the melody.

-“You're crazy, do you know that? I don’t like this crappy music, and it’s going on like forever!” Cindy said annoyingly, as she pulled her hand away from his grasp.

After several minutes, where Cindy’s intolerance of his musical choice was palpable. Phillip suggested the following: -“If you can’t stand this music Cindy, you are welcome to step outside until it’s over.”

Nothing negative that his mother or friends would have said about Cindy, shattered his tolerance for her idiosyncrasies, or disillusioned Phillip - as her repulsiveness of the sublime.

To be continued...

Bona Fide Image II

2009-02-28T23:58:00.000-08:00

-"John, do you have the MTA itinerary ready for me?" Clare asked as she rushed on her way out.

-"Yes Madam, but I must reiterate that I would prefer to take you to that part of town myself." John insisted.

-"No, no, thank you John. I do have to get into character, therefore I will take the buses there, and back. By the way, how do I look?" Clare asked with a smile which showcased her yellowed teeth with an overbite.

John was at a loss for words. He was used to his employer being a bit eccentric, but this just came down to weird.

Clare was dressed in old clothing which had seen better days, a bit torn here and there. She carried a hump on her back, wore dirty sneakers, a gray wig, and her skin's appearance had been altered beyond recognition due to a home made concoction of beaten egg whites. When it dried, the effect was similar to the effects of a prolonged drought on the terrain, with deep crevices proliferating all over the arid landscape.

This balsam had been generously slathered on her face, neck, and hands, and as it dried, it made Clare appear at least seventy-five. The handsome woman which Clare is, was nowhere in sight.

-"Here is your bus itinerary Madam." John said in a neutral tone.

-"Oh, by the way John, can you brake a fifty? I don't think I can get change on the bus for the fare." Clare said as an afterthought.

-"No Madam, but I do have ten dollars, if that might help?" John said as he fumbled for his wallet.

-"Thanks a lot. Remind me to pay you back tomorrow." Clare said as she left in a flurry of tattered layers.

There she is. Cindy looked just like the picture Phillip had shown her plastered on his cell phone. She was indeed a beautiful girl; this Clare had to concede.

Clare stood outside the window of the doughnut shop where Cindy tended the register and to the sporadic customers.

After fifteen minutes of watching Cindy chew gum like a cow, while she texts on her cell phone, Clare decided to commence her project.

Clare stood on the open doorway of the doughnut shop and got to work.

-"Please sir, will you please spare a quarter or a dime? I just wanna get a cup of hot coffee." She asked anyone going in or out of the doughnut shop.

-"Lady! You can't panhandle here! You better leave, or I will call the cops!" Cindy, the love of his cherished son Phillip, threatened to call the cops on her.

-"Young lady, it is so cold this evening. I simply want a hot cup of coffee to thaw my cold bones. I have not eaten anything since this morning's breakfast at the shelter.
I am only a quarter short, do you think that you might give me this small cup of coffee, and I will be on my way, and leave you alone?"

-"Look lady, THIS IS NOT A CHARITY! Okay? Go beg somewhere else. I don't want you to scare away our customers." Cindy said in no uncertain terms.

-"But I am a customer too. Young lady, please have some respect for the elderly. You are young and beautiful now, as I was too one day. You don't know how hard life can be when becomes a nuisance. Won't you at least give me old doughnuts from yesterday? I won't mind, I will soak them in the coffee and they will become bland. Then I will just be on my way and leave you alone." Clare would have been happy with crumbs.

In a derisive tone, Cindy answered: -"Are you are dense or stupid? You have to leave, NOW!
I am not giving you even last month's left overs. I am not here to serve people like you! This joint is owned by my parents - this is not my career. I am going to college; I am very beautiful, and I also have a very rich boyfriend, so don't you worry about me. You had your chance, I am now calling the cops." Cindy said as she dialed 911.

Not to be deterred so easily, Clare continued with her charade.

-"Young lady, you are indeed beautiful, but you are very mean to someone who is vulnerable and begging you for a few crumbs to eat, and coffee for warmth. This shows to me that you are not truly beautiful where it counts."

-"Do you really think that I care for your opinion?" Cindy's mock erupted in a laugh.

A bystander took pity on the old woman, and gave her a dollar.

-"Thank you kind sir. Now, may I please have a small cup of coffee, and I do have enough for a glazed doughnut too." Clare said this as she took out all the nickels, and dimes from her pocket.

With a sour disposition, Cindy served the coffee, and the doughnut. By her demeanor, she made it explicitly clear that she was too good to serve the likes of Clare.

-"Young lady, won't you be so kind as to open these little cream containers? You see, my arthritis will not allow me to flex my fingers well. I just want four creams in my small cup of coffee, if you would be so kind."

-"Do you also want me to wipe your ass? Just get your stupid cup of coffee and get out!" Cindy said through clenched teeth.

Just them the cop car pulls in front of the doughnut shop.

-"What seems to be the matter here?" The uniformed officer asks Cindy.

-"This old hag was told many times to leave the premises. She was panhandling on the doorway, and disrupting my customers.

-"Officer, it was all due to a minor misunderstanding. I did after all pay for my coffee and doughnut in full." Clare said as she gathered her purchases and sat on a chair.

-"I want her to leave, she is harassing me and the customers. Just take her away." Cindy ordered.

-"Ma'am, I'm sorry but you can't come here to disrupt the clientele. You have to leave, and please don't come back." The officer said.

-"But officer, I am a paying customer. I have not done anything wrong, except to request that I get some cream in my coffee. I paid, and I deserve to eat here. Surely you have more important things to do officer, than to deal with an elderly woman who is simply hungry and cold. Surely, you have thieves and criminals to catch and to process, to keep this city safe." Clare insisted.

-"Ma'am, one more time, if you don't leave...right now, I will take you to the station and book you for disobedience."

-"But officer, doesn't your vehicle state that you are here to protect and to serve? Surely as one of the most vulnerable citizens of this nation - of the planet, as matter of fact - I am entitled to my right to sit in a public establishment, and to eat in peace my glazed donut and coffee - sans cream I might add - which I have recently purchased!" Clare said stubbornly.

-"John? Hi, it's Clare. It seems that I will need that ride after all. It simply is too late, and I don't have the bus information to get back home from the police station. Can you please come and pick me up? Obviously I can't call Phillip for a ride from the police station. It's the Los Angeles police station.....it's on 12312 Culver Blvd....thank you John."

-"Madam, may I inquire as to how they released you without your attorney present?" John did not dare ask as to the reason why Clare had been picked up.

-"Simple logic. I spoke to the captain in charge, and I told him the truth, my name, and so on. He checked me out with a few prominent references - no prior record.
I made a point that as the city budget was in such dire straights, it made no sense to persecute an innocent woman, and to incur that expense.
Besides, he hates his ex-daughter-in law. She slept around while his son worked the night shift, and on top of that, now has him paying her alimony. So,he let me go with a warning.

You know something John? It is appalling how people most people tend to treat others' simply based on their exterior adornments." Clare said as an after thought.

Once again, John was at a loss for words.

To be continued...

Bona Fide Image

2009-02-27T23:58:00.000-08:00

There was a very wealthy, and powerful lady. She was of noble birth, and had inherited a vast wealth from her parents, and also from her deceased husband.
She had been widowed while very young, and only had one son.

She loved her son dearly, and she cultivated his mind, body, and spirit, with the tenderness and care, as if she were to tend to the most precious of gardens.

Clare forbade television, except for the National Geographic, and the History Channels. Most video games which promulgated violence, were absent from her household, because she deemed those to desensitize impressionable minds, to the anguish and horrors inflicted by wars and violence.

Even before her son’s birth, Clare listened to classical music, and read the classics novels out loud to him. And as soon as he was old enough, he was tutored in the art of music, painting, foreign languages, and a keen appreciation for classic literature.

Perhaps this woman was too preoccupied with the nurturing of her son. Yet, not needing to work for a living and a widow at the tender age of twenty-five, she devoted all of her pent up energy, on just her son.

Yet, there was an ulterior, driving force which led Clare to devote so much care, and devotion to the tutoring of her only son. Clare was highly superstitious and she consulted periodically with an old woman who read the Tarot cards to foretell the future.

On one such occasion when her son was barely two-years-old, the fortune teller had advised Clare that her son was a very important piece of a puzzle. For in the coming years, there would be escalated conflicts between the dark and light forces.

Her son needed to find his real soul mate on earth - she would be the most beautiful, and from their union, there would be borne a son.
Their son, would be a leader among men, and critical in the fight against evil, hopelessness, and human despair. He would supply the most important and elusive element of his time – hope for mankind.

-“Oh my, how on earth will Phillip be able to pick just the right woman?” Clare wondered out loud.

-“It’s fairly easy. There are no coincidences Clare. I have inherited a magical mirror, and it is meant for you. You can buy it for what you think is a fair price, for it is priceless.
The hope of mankind is on the balance. This mirror will not reflect the exterior beauty, for it is meant to reflect the vital body, and the real innate beauty, or ugliness of the person standing before it.” The old fortune teller offered.

-“I will take it! Although give me some time to place a fair price on it, as I will study its properties at my leisure. I will send my employee to fetch it.”

And so, the years passed, although not spent idly. Although Clare had plenty of suitors due to her vast wealth, youth, and good looks, she utilized well the magic mirror to see the true interior of her suitors. This deterred most of them from pursuing any further, when she told me in strict form - to leave her alone.

When her son Phillip was ten years old, Clare filled his days with studies, and for physical exercise, he was to tend the extensive gardens. His job was to water the plants, and to clear the weeds.

-“Phillip see the vast beauty in nature, God is present in every flower, every leaf, and in every miniscule insect which lives in the gardens.
Life, like the seasons, shows us that it is a continual cycle. We are born, grow, wither and our exterior perishes, and we are reborn again, though in a different form. And if you put your ear to the earth, you can hear her talk to the sun, and to the moon.”

When Phillip was fourteen-years-old, he was relieved from the gardens, and made to work each Saturday in a soup kitchen. He chopped mounds of carrots, potatoes, and celery sticks. The job was tedious, and hard, and besides cooking huge pots of food, he also had to serve food to the indigent people, who came for a hot meal to appease their hunger.

Before initiating this job, Clare said to Phillip: -“If you do a job well, no matter how menial, then you are giving the best of yourself. This will reflect on the finished product like the soup, for the people will taste in the meal the positive energy you have contributed.
And when you meet someone who may not be appealing in form or scent, please don’t show discontent; simply smile to them. You must always remember that in everybody lies a precious soul which sparkles with the intensity of the sun.”

And so, the years passed and although Phillip was utterly exhausted with the information crammed into his skull, and the voluntary labor he was involved with, his hormones were beginning to cause havoc with his developing body.

His concentration was disrupted by filtered images of girls, even though Clare had enrolled him in an all male college preparatory. He was about to graduate and to leave to higher education, when he fell deeply in love with a beautiful girl.

To be continued...

"Girl With a Mirror" by John Godward