Simple Joys

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

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

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

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

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

Ecoutez

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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




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