Category: Cancelled Without Prejudice

Suffering Silence

Because of these.
No, these…
that declared war on my native tongue.

I’ve been suffering the insufferable,
suffocated,
sullied,
sullen,
stunted.

Silenced of words to scream out that which submerge
for life savers to be thrown at my pleas.
Not knowing what to say has swallowed my delight.
All that remains is a bloated ill-figured shape.

To converse with the sensible is beyond exhaustion.
I’m a child again trying to talk in “big people’s business”,
stuck in between sentences with stuttering importance.

Gone mute now, a Carthusian monk’s vow is my tongue
I’m but a beggar for a point of view
some kind of vision that will help me escape
this state, where even grunting seems useless…

Encountering

That notebook holds my heart in its stem
That notebook holds love in its leaves
flicking a new chance on a page, I watch
every time, I watched her naked body
through the curtains of each misspellings
as I try to replicate her touch, her, her gaze
erase the words that doesn’t see the depths of her
a notebook heart, and I want to divulge
through my bloody blue ink everything
this leaf gives me, and I want to draw her
laughter so you too can be made exuberant
by her foliage, her dance of unknown syllables
that colors my dreams every night, and brings me
closer to possessing the fleeting secret of joyousness

THEY

Precious are days standing up straight like the stems from lilies
grooming, only to be asked to die unbroken by precarious ghosts.

Precious is anything that’s been a prism for the corners of escape
scapegoat pockets of leaking light, a hallway of nothingness, vanishing.

Precious is the sound of  await, longing a million years of drunkard youth
spoken through a crystal ball of “us” as a misnomer and the law caging “you.”

Precious is receiving letters and reading them in the stricken enlighten covers
of a slang, then it would be word of how it matters, while it can’t describe want.

…

14 Cracks

a collection of leaves left so someone can find them
someone else, alone, you can find sitting quietly
while all that is inner is raw with an explosion
calmly spelling it with the lips, then the hands:

We are not lovers, nor are we friends
but yet we stand together as fear pins us down
fear of the what in emptiness
feared enough to never run, frighten enough to run in place
with perhaps, half ifs, the but to put safely
in the mind as it were a vitamin melting on the tongue
with new thoughts, new ways of thinking things as they were

I push them down though
down, down, down
while it struggles to rise and evaporate.

IGNIS!

When I hear you howl|
I hear you inside me|
I hear you ghosts talking

about yesterday’s melody|
You dream about yesterday’s fatuus
slow as today’s coming close
as me meeting sunrise’s dust|

Has already been done|

So much so I’m walking
for my turns of nothing
but nothing never keeps
never coming getting
getting even with nothing
but my two tacos, just
a hole that hungers
that permeates a want
that thinks about getting closer|

And when I get closer|
I watch what will tip me over
running over, in a splendorous lie|
If you can, if you will, I dare the mirage|

I’m in Trouble!

If anything, what tonight has taught me is that I depend too much on an unreliable device, and most frightening of all is that my memory isn’t as sharp as it use to be.

I wanted to say it’s because I’ve gotten lazy, which is possible, but when you’re kinda both a visual/audio person it is sort of suspect, especially when most things today entertain both simultaneously without having a huge satellite dish on your roof (as a kid I always thought that the peeps who had huge satellite dishes were either trying to communicate with the dead and/or aliens) you just need to know how to work a damn handheld device (yeah, that sounds dirty).

I googled memory loss, because I freaked out that I couldn’t remember an address I saw in my email enough times that even a five year old would remember (okay maybe not a five year old, but whatever).

And of course smoking cigarettes came up, and of course I suddenly hear the stern warnings of my doctor who refuses to call me X, but prefers XYZ which just adds to the sternness of her tone because the only person who called me XYZ was my mom, and it usually meant I was in trouble. Which reminds me of this song by Turbo Fruits, but I’m totally detouring by association because I’m hooked on cigarettes, and I don’t want to deal. Also I’m very bored, which means I blah, blah, blah, and smoke some more. Maybe I should take-up a sport… Ugh.

Golden

I’m a part of your syntactic voice
that speaks to you when you’re
alone and wanting a God to save you.

I’m a part of your sentence
that brawls a branch you crawl on for
survival, the one you call onto
when each and everyone forgot
your name, building your totems.

I’m a part of your debt
that you forgot existed
and want to bury with gold
want to repay me with sterile isolation.

I’m a part of your secrets
that beckons me near afraid
you’re the intruder in the dark
that grew apart from me.

Eyeliner

We were brave
letting in a thought
letting in a memory
of your face we touched
let an idea be entirety
dance in front of us…

analyze this softness
one you can’t predict…

Fire Outs!

Don’t you remember the first time
oh but I reminisce when we didn’t know
what we were doing, but doing it anyway.

What happened?
Did the fire burn out?
Even as I carry a cause
so burns a joyousness.

When I look at you
as I speak in tongues
when we’re together

it hurts surrendering
to the vanishing pitch
mixtapes with our own voices

thoughts gathering together
it hurts surrendering to waves
crashing in, to an exuberant boom
promise of a spark extinguishing.

Grain of Sand

Strands of hair, blowing in your face: own your way
reflect your cyclosis directions, a translation wanting
to mend, it twist and bends to a surrendering shoot
tell me where last you’ve cast your spell
tell me who last uprooted your growth
whip your ends into an eventual murmur
trembles, typify…

Swept!

lips taste of a soft invitation
after all lips are begging of a request
to kiss you there, there, and here
where you least expect it, where you
want to be touched most of all
where you are center center
and the spotlight makes you come
as you’re electric with each strand of
hair that stands up, now with a tremble
you want more, but can’t bear your wail
being exposed, in front of your armor
a culture of selves pirouetting a levity
jigsaws into place, a pattern that is unseasoned
one that burns with desire, one that is swept up.

 

Be Rid of You

You can keep your sentiments
and all your love attachments.

You can keep your loneliness too
because I have my own.

You can keep everything that draws your face
or expects you coming through the door

I’m going to free myself of you, all of you
I will free myself of you and all your things

that lingers alone and anticipates
when I don’t need them anymore

I will free myself, free myself
free myself from you!

DOILY

I race to you like I know your fire
chasing call like lightening’s line storm

thunder’s reckoning response, trepidation
waiting in the middle like a doily for your soil

.

Dirt

not flowers with their imagined hearts
not tending to exploding boobs on a brutish hand
not fabricating in my favorite telenovela
all made-up like an ironic trophy wife
does nothing but make me
miss all the sex…

I want you in the morning
while you’re all dirty
before you claim your discovery
covering your stems, trampling your pieces
filling them with the sum of this sickle tree.

I want you in the morning
while you’re all dirty
so I can feel by some miracle
I can feel like I can touch you

before we’re both filled with this fruitless mirage
this purposeful pursuit for the world’s perfection
where everything seen is judged whole.

Chance.

I pray even when God doesn’t exist
as I tiptoe to the bathroom, as I dance
on a tight rope, the only God I knew
was unforgiving of my trespasses.

Even when I stare at God, my demon
Oh My Lord,through my half emptied bottle.
I pray even when the Word is forsaken
I pray when my existence doesn’t borrow
relies not on accidents…

She made me love more.

I woke up, but I was already too late
gone she was from my spent desires.
To find your rhythm, find you no more
to find you… Wanting your kisses
like dreams, to whisper secrets in my sleepy ear
but found you when longing knows nothing about
sensibility, all it knows is my accordion love
listing each and every discovery of your light.

KiKi

It saddens me that I didn’t extend a hand to you
when that elbowed reach would have embraced your love:
your offering to the world. I pretend to understand why
when nothing could have kept you safe from all that is out there.

All I have is these scattered moments searching for a reel of cinema
my mind recollects our last true adventure, where, where
you stole the dance floor with your moves, I watched you dance
and wanted you to teach me what came to you like lightening striking a tree.

Dedicated to Bacci, rest in peace.

Esme and Zami

Esme and Zami are siamese twins
Esme, the temperament of water, fell in love with whirlwinds:

The secrecy held in the world beneath the ocean.
After admiring the girl in the reflection she dove in

Living far beneath the surface, returning for fireflies in summer
Sometimes just to listen to the city’s rooftop raindrop drummers.

Zami, the temperament of fire, her blood runs close to her skin
At the bald of her hands and feet feel the rush of cold sin.

One night she awoke breathless, off her body cold sweat dripping
She ran out of space and slowly the walls crept in.

Anxious for air and with fervor in her muscles
Leaping for the night, scaling over walls and fences, Esme became bionical.

Esme and Zami are siamese twins
No overnight miracle of a mischievous nymph.

There was time for a breath between days for a hush
And defeat to soak itself at the root of a purpose.

Hear it escape in a wail, a laboring sigh to playful fantasies
Masked in the ringlets of an occasional lover’s kisses.

Zami was leaping over water over two nights
Stopping to rest, finding shade from the moon light

Under the thick yellow of a poui tree in bloom
Catching breath, crouching to her knees, smelling Esme’s perfume.

Blue moss, wild strawberries decorated her
The dancing Esme muses on stories told by her mother.

Tightly closing her eyes, she keeps the music to herself
Repeating the words in a lullaby.

Her mossy blue arms reach for no one
But the gentle caress of the ocean.

Zami bemused, came closer to the moon
Caught by Esme’s mystery about her lips, about her blue nakedness.

She found pleasures so much so she had forgotten
About walls and fences to scale, but found comfort in this harbinger.

Finally she held her breath and dipped her head in.
Surprised Esme, but not afraid she smiled and began to sing

Tal vez amor
Tal vez tu debes mi amor

Saber como nadar
Saber como nadar

Antes de hundir
Tu cabeza en mi agua.

Esme and Zami, they are siamese twins
Joined to the heart and mind ever since

Zami found shade from the moonlight
Under the blooming poui tree one night.

Letting go of the tree branches
Letting go of her fences

She relaxed and extended her arms
Looking up to face the moon shining

She pushed her chest out to embrace
The currents.  To kiss the waves.