Plank
November 1st, 2007
Today is just one of them days
when the boss has a bee in the bonnet,
And all the decapitated fish being fried
have a salutation in 241 tongues of fishy clemencies
searching the penitence of my nose…
At least the residents of the mental hospital
across the street smile with the tiles
and the trees and anything laying on the mural sea
or the sebaceous underground from the landfill
where they done built
Strange follows me or is it…
I set the mood with my linguistic mind?
Today’s mental list:
The black belt, the turn, the drop, the take
The breath, the run, the weight,
The how much of this can I take?
the school, the grade,
the time don’t waste, don’t hesitate,
the cam, the comp, the internet
the job, the money, the pay,
the heavy hobby mountain
climb
exploration
exultation,
conquest is so divine…
There are so many things to do
Anything and everything all at once…
And I wonder why
I can’t take a decent photo of myself
but I love the pic on my student’s phone?
Why is it so hard to hide
this jelly heart of mine?
Unsatisfied with concrete things
I feel like I’m walking the tight plank
To a place I know that always hurts
It’s so difficult to want to trust another.
The pirates wait in line…
It’s just one of them days.
All Meaning is Negotaited…
August 30th, 2007
market scenes…
overcast and cloudy in 68 degrees,
and the rain washed the lollop rolling trees with black bark
there’s the smell when you see the stars glow big and bright
and the moon searches the sun
underneath a pillowed cloud on a rocky mountainside
if I could seal it in a kiss and place it on poem,
put a stamp on it and mail it, I would
My cup is a waxy paper envelope
And the perfect disorganization of this country
reminds me of my own,
I want to run up to my grandma
and tell her of all the colors that look like the Colombian flag
Everything changes and people stay the same
Even from afar my heart is pained
I look at him trolling for a new scent,
he wouldn’t appreciate me anyways
He is no better than what I had before,
than all the mistakes I’ve done
The pig winks back at me
all meaning and is negotitiated,
love is just reinterpreted
And no mistake I’ve done can be erased by moving places,
just by changing heart…
The pig looks great flying on a hook.
A Scene by SCEF…
August 20th, 2007
Click on the logo and check out his site. The evening ended with my friends standing up to say beautiful words. My dad is still surprised and Mrs. D almost cried. I’ve taken for granted so many things and so many people in my life that are so important. The whim of a car and a cup of coffee late at night, the joy of doing nothing and enjoying the sun, and seeing my friends and family because and when I want to. I didn’t need any presents that day, all I needed was their presence. Love is all the small things and the big things that say, “I’ll be there with you no matter what, through whatever life throws, I will prevail.”
Summer Breeze
July 18th, 2007
Step by step,
Without the worry of time,
Searching for a destined point,
His slow broiling steps are merciless,
To all the fragile life that crosses his trails.
A cold wind swiftly dove from the heavens,
It brought release of tension,
A cool refreshment,
To the accumulated heat in the land below,
She gave contemporary content to the weak,
A cool lullaby with swaying sounds,
A rare breeze to the lovers.
So I have estimated the amount of burnt and trashed rejections in the 50s, but I think I should have opened it’s own page. This poem is from my seventh grade year. (13 yrs old, 1986, I think) The pic is mine…the tootsie roll was just luck!
add to del.icio.usPictures on My Wall
June 18th, 2007
We bargain at miles minus physical distance
Doesn’t miss emotional memory and instance
Your shoes for some wax
Your tat for my wit
How is this ever going to work?
Like post nuclear waste
Pictures and mementos hang
Dancing in epileptic head bang state
Wondering, will it ever be the same?
That was last week
This week I’ll just stop caring
Caressing the frame with my tears
Wondering where you’ve been
But really why can’t you change and
Are you still posturing as God?
We’re like night and day
I don’t like to drink or smoke
And you do the two every day
I want to go to church with you
Go camping, you say
God is every stone on the way
Yeah but how about in every word?
Another threat, If I don’t go fishing
You deride, scream and belittle
Or just sit with judgmental eyes brooded
I love you
But prolonged interaction with you proves…
Dangerous
I don’t know what a picture of a woman
In your perfection should be
I don’t know much, but to my credit I never lie
I just know nothing is worth anything
When we all get buried under everything
Please stop walking in the rain.
Written 1/24/07, I found it before the great burning behind a pic. I burnt the pic but I couldn’t burn my words. BTW, the last line comes from the one and only, TW “Please call me, baby.”
add to del.icio.usExperiment 9/15/04
June 10th, 2007
I miss you more when winter carries scents of orchids and amapolas
off mountains and hills
I miss your concord cherry heart like I miss the happy wag of my dog’s tail
How sad that I think of you more than you think of me…
I feel desolate, abandoned and damn pist off for feeling anything for you
But the day grows short and so does my memory.
You bounced off Aztec pyramids leaving me behind
When I finally acquiesced you laughed
I wrote it all down, now I read to quench the hunger of truth
A feeling that slowly returns as a nauseatic sensation of road kill
bathed in a bottle of my perfume.
Funny, life has a way of making you clean up messes of memory, heart and place. I have five boxes of pictures, journals and documents that I have already burnt. Many of it were copies, documents or letters of people I haven’t spoken to in years. Others were my first experiments with words and my personality. Only two out of those 7 boxes survived: experiments. add to del.icio.us