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




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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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