Best friends until the end

Homeless dog tries to rescue his dying best friend on the highway in Chile. Sadly, it is too late.


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Vanity

Vanity


Conductive to validation
Permits a stranger’s hands to map the valleys
Hills and crevices, if it shores up confidence
Pretending it is someone that loves me
I expect to read the approval monitored in his eyes


I am fascinated by her face
How it’s pulled tightly like pig skin across a sofa
The result, an anomaly of set features
While the skin on her neck and arms succumb to defeat
Enough injections and hair dye will just do the trick


We’ve come so far to be reduced to a rack of meat
It’s inherent value measured by its firmness
Choice grade A tender, succulent, and juicy
While the lower grade is reserved for dog food
How cruel are the mind’s tricks


Woman consider turning your back on vanity
Stop shaving, mutilating, and polluting your body
Stop drawing-in a happy face with the aid of make-up
You are a precious gem imbued with inherent qualities
The cup of life is nestled between your thighs


Then again, without a bag of tricks how else wrap a man
Around your little finger, without decorating like a Christmas tree
Although both not a necessity...
Vanity is a venue to validate my power
Eventually it will become my biggest enemy



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Happy Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving


We seat at the table bulging with food
We vow our heads in thanks for yet another holiday
A chance to reunite with friends and family again
To forget this day the woes which erode tranquility


Animated chatter and laughter sets tone for this feast
One says “that’s enough; I have to watch my diabetes!”
That sucks to have so much food, and not be able to enjoy it all
While another eats as if to fill a bottomless void


We eat, until we cannot hold anymore
Or drink into a stupor of oblivion
As one contemplates what is there to be thankful for?
Or how unkind the passage of time can be


How can one feel so alone amid the chatter of people?
Yet later in the evening we are still hungry for more
Acknowledging that we are still orphans
Without someone to truly belong to


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Rain

Rain



Washes the filth away and soaks the earth
Making it fertile and pliant
The pungent scent of satiated earth that’s drank its fill
Assaults my senses, as I deeply inhale

Droplets of water from above
From the shower head those wash my body
Like hot tears rolling down my cheeks
Those redeem my spirit anew

Rain so beautiful to contemplate incumbent
In the folds of a comfortable place
One has a languid tendency to reminisce
Of a particular moment cherished memorable

The same man I found this morning
seated exactly at the same place
I acknowledge him with a passing nod
His desolate eyes framed his dirt-streaked face

I wonder for a moment if perhaps
His reminiscing moments during the relentless rain
Focused on the elusive heat of a warm bed
Or perhaps on the arms which once he embraced


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Grains of Sand

Grains of Sand





From atop the bridge the sun dazzles over the ocean

Throngs of people promenade on the pier to get in their quota of fun

Busy like ants, is there room for deep relaxation

On this hot California Sunday?




Obfuscated by the oppressive heat...

I made my way to the beach bellow

The over populated site, interrupted my a make-shift cemetery

Without respite under the brutal sun... a man hammers

Yet another white cross into the sand




Representative of each American soldier recently lost in Iraq

Thus far 4,155

I stop at the kiosk to pay my respects, and to see the pictures of those now gone

Smiling young men and women, their life cut short without even starting the race

I am surprised that row, upon row, I come upon pictures of Latinas




I imagine glossy hair incinerated into ashes, silky skin, orbs and hopes charred to a crisp

I turn towards the ocean and see people grilling their carne asada -- so carefree

Their robust forms oiled and tanning like on a barbecue pit

Their backs and callous feet turned away from the grisly sight

Just five feet away, and of the stark reality of war... elsewhere




It seems that life goes on as usual for everyone else

Yet for the mother making tamales this Christmas Day

A hot tear and a sob will escape, when facing the conspicuously empty chair

I wonder if people would awaken from the stupor if that very moment...

A dark cloud were to eclipse the brilliance of the sun



Then the ocean were to rise, and take the form of a colossal sea monster

Would I run to save myself, or would I stop to help an invalid or old man?

Why risk myself, when everyone is off to save their neck?

Only to find out there is no running from one self

And that one remembers God just then



The monster would swallow in its bottomless pit

Whole crowds as if mere grains of sand

It would come upon me and ask "Why should you be spared?

Have you also wasted your life without purpose

Your days drifted into naught, like sand through and hour glass?"



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Sleep with Me

Sleep with me



Envelop me in the comfort of your arms while our satiated bodies rest warmed by our collective body heat. Together we’ll travel to distant realms in spirit; unafraid to soar to unfamiliar shores, for we know we will watch each other’s back.


Luscious skin to skin contact like Velcro. Our hands, and lips roam freely knowing intimately every curve and every slope -- a special place to call home.
This place made so much more special and comforting when connected in a primal dance. A dance a deux ever so intimate when the eyes speak what the heart holds.


No room for extra baggage, insecurities, or regrets. Life is this moment – live right now!

Do not let the worries of the world which are plenty, intrude in this sanctuary atop your bed.


This special place is the circle of your arms -- a place to belong to.


Sleep with me tonight so that in the morning, we will appease our various appetites once again.

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Shame

Shame

It feels so strange and exhilarating

As I wonder what’s in store

Like a split pomegranate bursting with plump seeds

Leaking bright red rivulets of juice

I feel helpless as to the changes within

I feel ashamed and disconcerted

Like the day the budding flowers

Pushed forth my peach colored dress

Three ugly boys in school made a bet

As one dared to grab the unrestrained nascent fruit

I am still a child, yet my body says otherwise

I still play with Barbie dolls with my best friend

Ingrid is a year older – almost eleven years old

She made a big deal of her arrival

Yet also taught me to feel ashamed

Later I learned that it’s a curse

Bestowed on women for sins incurred

Seems fitting, a woman’s work is never done

I see women bearing great burdens

Along with nurturing a new life within

I really don’t like this business of growing up

My body growing hairs, and pillows

I dislike the looks I get while innocently walking by

Reminds me of those three mean boys at school

I cover my chest with a notebook, as I ignore them

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