Her Eyes Shone Like An Accretion Disk

She speaks to me in code
with the way everything came back
the memories
of nights at that bar just talking,

chatting, asking to just imagine
how blessed one must be
to be able to teach someone
to make love again.

Then I didn't know
I was completely unaware of it,
I had never had that chance
and never thought I would get.

Until I met you
and we went into that room
where we took off most of our clothes
making love without kissing.

We talked afterwards
you looked at my tattoos
I looked at your lips
the gap in your thighs

We didn't get to exchange numbers
but I looked for you there
many times
many many times

and you probably saw me
but you didn't let me know

I wanted to love you
something inside me just
wanted to love you
all I really wanted

Time passed, washing away
what happened that night
putting it in the back of my head, memory
where I never suspected it would come back.

So we met that day
9 months later
and you pretended, as
I pretended

like it had never been.

We saw each other
not 15 hours later
to catch a movie
about gentlemen with umbrellas

I touched your hand
I held it in mine
and from that moment
You had me.

I didn't care where I'd met you
before, on the streets
all I could see was that beautiful being
there, inside your eyes.

Flickering screen turned into flickering dance floor
we moved, swinging to the music
and just as the place closed
I kissed your lips

Then just outside on 23rd I kissed you,
then on 17th and 6th
again on 15th and 6th
all the way to 12th and 6th

Until you came up to my place,
invited because I knew your friends,
we talked about this night
then we went to my bed

I touched your skin softly
making amends where I could
stitching together the gaps
in your corporal heart.

Tearing my own out
undoing years of slowly sowing
stitches together, I found you
but you unraveled into a lie

with the Cinnamon water
blessed by a priest
sprinkled inside the corners
offering to open up some truths

which just came pouring out
like a sickness slowly dripping
to the sound of meeting hands
painful globes and wretched stench

of the truth leaking out.
She said it was normal
to feel this way
I said it was a terrible way to live.

She said I'd taught her
how to make love again
feeling herself in the moment
not having to forget.

For that I am thankful
because that night
so many years ago
sitting at that bar in Coral Springs

Sour Girl and I had our chance meeting
without much do or say
we were dancing around each other
like stellar bodies nearing decay.

You spoke truths
words that echoed through time and space
did I not listen well enough?
Where were you from?

Live Long and Prosper.

On a rainy day, court is in business.

There in the court

with the massive Queen

which sits in the middle of the great hall

just spitting out words to the masses, orders

Our lovely maiden–anticipates
swords unsheathed all in a row, stiff

a queue of would be gentlemen await her

across the entrance of the great hall.

While their hands tightly grasp their swords

their lips whispering of her great deeds,

it rains as the Queen loudly drowns away

a soothing sound of water coming down.

If it doesn't rain, the land withers.

If it doesn't rain, the crops die.

If it doesn't rain, there is no dinner.

If it doesn't rain, babies starve.

So she saves the world

enchanting crowds with red lips

floats across the open court

on her nimbus cloud.

"No, sabe que? Todo bien." Ella dijo.

It is a brand new day!
Gracias por las lecciones
De nada por las lecciones
I loved every minute inside you

De tus ojos
Y aun asi
me hayas dejado
quemando por dentro,

Estoy feliz.
I am happy,
because it didn't feel right
towards the end there.

It became something of a joke,
My love for you.
Que Dios os bendiga a los pecadores
Ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte,

Amen!

Que sigamos resando
por perdones ajenos, queriendo
momentos prestados
nunca devueltos.

Cambio de papeles
Click Click Click Click
Alma capturada digitalmente
The Ghost In The Shell, it

Whispers sweet nothings
to an ear eager to please, just then
emotions become toys
la lengua en la oreja.

There is something to be ware of:
Te ame.
Verdaderamente lo hice,
pero eso fue, y no sera.

En el nombre del Padre,
del Hijo, y del Espiritu Santo.

Trying

I waited to throw out the cigarette butts with your lipstick on them. I just couldn't bring myself to before, but now it's no biggie. I guess it's my way of cutting it out of me.

Lunar Pirate

On the passing of dreams

All I can imagine is the worst

of all things happening

without even closing my eyes

I can see it all.

Eviceral

That moment when you feel something cold and distant in your bones, when the pit of your stomach falls to depths unknown, and all you can do is watch processions of emotions crawling their way down your throat.


Eviceral.

These things

Things I learned from you:

Knitt
Smile through the worse of times
It is best to go with the flow unless it is something that you don't believe in
Fools rush in, but it's funner that way
The IMF is a bunch of Daft Cunts
Kissing is beautiful
Making love with your eyes closed is okay
It's okay to miss people
You should be a vocal and aprehensive lover
Learn to listen
Speak when necessary
Drinking helps anxiety
It is okay to miss someone
It is not okay to let that someone hold you back
Don't loose yourself to the pleasures of the world
Always try to help people
Be kind
Love

For this I thank you, and I still think about you in the most positive light. Even after everything.

untitled

你是美丽的化身

我是一个魔鬼

我们不可能

Nǐ shì měilì de huàshēn 

wǒ shì yīgè móguǐ

wǒmen bù kěnéng

On Moons and other stuff.

Time weighs heavy and yet people still dance to old routines. It would be nice to actually find someone "different" for a change, all the wrong echoes, all the wrong flags, and the blind following on the tail of the devil. M-O-O-N: that spells torture, a Chinese finger trap and a packet of fags, don't get smoke in your eye.

Captive Audience

Hanging on to the back of The Dragon, on with
plumes of smoke, floating resonance through the mountains
inlaid with the popular neighborhoods of the birth land.
Faces smile, bellies swell with booze
and echoing laughter resounds through the air.

Watching the iron birds fly in from behind a chained link fence,
in a country where terror is just a corner away
most times all we find is smiling faces
filling the air with freedom and grace.
No wonder they want to take it away.

People come back from captivity,
the nine to five grind of the "American Dream,"
back to a reality they'd lost with "American Idol"
infused with propaganda legally rectified sealed and processed,
to smell freedom in the air puffed just a few feet away.

In the words of a drunken genius clown
who levitated 6 machetes, 3 balls, and 4 pins
up in the air for the world to see,
right on 24 and 6th, in front of the coffee shop
where the green worm makes a left turn:

"Thing I love about all of you Pereiranos is that you're rebels.
You do things the way YOU'RE gonna do them."
So he took a swig from his alcohol just as he joined
a dispersing crowd who carefully ran away
from the falling machetes, balls, and pins.

Sunsets come up every night in conversation
as the day slowly wonders into night with twilight
close behind the two, it is never sure which way to go,
covered in golden twilight splendor
memories are recorded, stored, to be later remembered.

Floating along on the back of the dragon,
plumes of smoke behind and
there she sits with her one hand in her hair
as the other passes the spliff she rolled with Prometheus–
Eris just loves to be around good company.

Postcards To Hitler (part 3)

Can you imagine what it is to finally have your chat with your Devil
only to find that all it had in mind was to undress you—
ripping each and every article of clothing, tearing at your very flesh—
a frenzied attempt to subdue, to make a fool of you, with words
slicing at your very being, because that old demon knows what to say
to make your skin crawl. Another fine specimen is presented
all it has to do is breathe in a little deeper, and it is all gone to hell.

On the coming final courtain

Grandma is marking her last knotches
On the tree of life that has flourished
Given and shared so much with her
Her graffiti paints the branches rainbow
Just as she's about to
Completing a cycle of life in this universe
Yet she regrets not having loved freely
Being sold to a man for a family name
Bold when she professed the man she wholeheartedly loved
Was never good enough for her parents
Her heart aches still, so full of regret.

Tomorrow to visit an uncle
A poet, writer, philosopher
Who has lost his health to indulgence,
A leg chopped off due to diabetes, health
Thrown the last years down the tubes
All of his artistic work
Lays in the hands of family
Who hope to cash in
To make something out of the beauty
That the old man once saw in the world

To look into a mirror can change you
To look into two will change you
Throwing the towel is no longer an option
Loving art, giving it all to make a mark
To not end up missing a leg of life
Or regretting not having lived, loved.