Ecoutez

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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

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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

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

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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?

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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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

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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

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

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

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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

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

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




,

The Perils of Love

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

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

"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

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

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

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

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

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

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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

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.










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Have you seen her?

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

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!

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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

"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?

“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”

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.



.

2009

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

.

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.




.

Happy Holiday!

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?




.

Bitch!

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

.

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

“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.





.

Icy Palace

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…