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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