mir...ro...r

I wish that I could trace
my hand that traces,
Consume the breath
that I exhale,
I wish to see my eyes
without reflection,
Know my nose
for how it smells

Logic prevents a fifth dimension
while physics toes the line,
As fantasy creeps in the shadow of truth
Grass is greener all the time

I wish for what I do not want,
a test I am refining-

my path
is clearly

winding

1:23 AM - 89 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

bad people

Value your breath,
(the one just took)
while you value the ground
beneath strongest foot

It seems that you've forgotten
that chains require links
ropes require threads
pens require ink (pencils, lead)

Time will prove the consequence
of choices made in haste,
baneful breath and borrowed ground
fortell your fall from grace

1:27 AM - 89 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

gem

Sorry folks, no new or worthy material just yet- been damn busy with vida. Took a gander at the old shit in bs effort to better understand my present and found this lil gem nestled between some scribbles

This -is-

She -
weighs my efforts
with sways and squints,
bandages my errors
with water-based splints,
and I'm cool with it
because through her
I am finding out that
I am acting out
the order of things
as if God existed
simply
to write this script-
and that moment is now
where I want to scream
'Kiss the girl!'
and I can and will and am doing so
because this... -is- we have
is the moment
that melts you,
that opens your hope for
what you cried into your pillow for,
This -is-
that you've envisioned
with every black-and-white kiss,
that you felt the first time
you really listened to Holiday,
This -is- is the stare
between elderly lovers
that still swallows her resolve,
and softens his pain.
This -is- is the moment
where rock becomes moss
and moss becomes rock
and the stream is the soundtrack
the water the tone
this script is the fact
that her love is my own.

11:18 AM - 89 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

pound-for-pound

With a whisper
to myself
I freestyled a mantra
that was meant to encourage
-it protected-
and as a whisper
is pound-for-pound
the deepest form of self-communication
I was forced to take myself seriously
as a bleeder has no minor cuts
and asthmatics focus on breathing

-this was no involuntary muscle twitch-
this was both audible and quieted
aggressive and defensive
and the words mean so little
and so
so much

10:21 PM - 89 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

hello

The train won't stop
and I find myself
squinting my eyes
so that passing stations
become abstract

The train won't stop
so I've committed myself
to my car and it's things
the seating
the lights
the occupants
the things

The train won't stop
so I focus on the exits
and visualize my options
with respect to physics and safety
allowing the dormant superhero
to welcome reality into his dream
and my goodness
because the train
won't
stop
I actually commit myself
to my potentials dreams
because
the train
won't

run

11:27 PM - 89 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

december pieces

These two december poems (pre Mandalay Bay are so fantastically relevant right now, they deserved a repost.


$

It might as well be a light anomaly
appearing distracting gone
some call it ebb and flow
but Im never wet after swimming
and Im blinded by light that never shone
and all thats left is the john
with his fear
and the prayer
that someday joy will replace his want
for while you cannot unlaugh,
there will always be a mirror
that forces you to accept
your face
your eyes
your presence in the room
the present
is all you really have
beyond that it

is

and if you cannot enjoy what

is



...best of luck with that

so laugh and enjoy and process it
because as the present persists
from moment to moment
laughter will be tomorrows lunch



and $


weighs less than breath




Thursday, December 15, 2005

Instructions

ok, I just finshed writing this and came back to the top to inform you that it was written non-stop, and edit free- no sugar added, plenty of carbs all on its own - havent even re-read it, how fun

Instructions

As you proceed, know clearly
that the blinking cursor requests
that I spill, pour, or perhaps infuse
this serum that Ive yet to cultivate
Ive yet to define, in fact, this serum
is simply the base, the point of release
of my statements and analyses
and complete
and utter honesty, as a dent
is a dent
a bruise a bruise
and it is impossible to unfeel
as this serum persists and produces
(simple in its intricacy)
it triggers the honest synapses
that are the 1st and 2nd miles in the marathon
the decision of what to cook that meets the desire
the inhale
and its ironic that its analagous to breath
at its very core, this serum proceeds
through the alveoli to the blood
preparing the body's food
to meet its primary desire to proceed
and this blank cursor is the air
and my fingers become power
ingesting and translating, in fact, professing
as fact because you also cannot unwrite
and you cannot unbreathe,
therein lying the truth
the facts
spilled, poured, infused
and shared, hotboxed and saved
for you
yes you
as you cannot unread
it is both a statement
and a product for you
to ingest
as only your truths can process,
the trick is, you must allow
your truths to breathe
Pull them drag them flush the curtains
open the window and both doors
because there is far too much air
and far too much potential
to allow for stifling
so I'll do my part
and provide the air
if you do yours
and inhale...

Repeat as necessary

2:13 PM - 89 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

angeleno

I aspire
to the passion
of native angelenos
patrolling their streets,
verbal synapses like wine glasses
cracked under feet,
every mural
like a blood-pack
tapped to their veins,
like the river
that runs through them
-it never floods when it rains
but it carries
it swells
it trickles if it must
give it 90 days of sunshine
it still flows through the dust
of the brush-burnt-hills
that grow, die, recycle
like the birth of an artist
-angeleno-
for whom death
is revival.

8:06 AM - 89 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

tinkering
Current mood: contemplative
Category: Friends

and so it ticks
slipping effortlessly forward
drips become pools
become warped
become cool, and my 'at lasts'
become moments
of peace-elipsed cruel-

8:57 AM - 89 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

recognition and subtle impact

Yesterday was the day my mother passed away, in 2002. I spent the day doing the normal things, errands, writing, an afternoon movie, a fun dog-walk. I rarely dwelled, I didnt mope, I didnt concern myself with the why's or the if-only's... instead I found myself frequently grinning with a faith that my life's direction is solid, even though the images are not quite clear. I was grinning with the understanding that had she not put forth the efoort that she did, I would probably be leading a narrower, less enlightened life.

She taught me how to enjoy the time given to me. She taught me how to see the bright side when others see the dirt. She survived cancer 4 times. 4 times, not once asking for pity. She was stoic throughout, and dedicated herself even further to having an impact upon the world thru the people that surrounded her. From relationship advice given to her nurses to her daily story of, "I met the most interesting person today..." she was inspirational with every fabric of her being.

I just wanted ya'll to be reminded of the humanity that we are all capable of, the capacity we have for human inspiration and dedication to those we love. She ignored her own mortality in order to keep giving, and it's an honor and my duty to do all that I can with my time here... there are so many ugly aspects to society, so many ugly people, so many people that forgot our simple purpose- to enjoy ourselves while caring about those we are surrounded by. It really is that simple, folks.

10:22 AM - 89 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

cyclical revisited

With a swift slice
can a second pass-

the execution
of excessive pause
when green grows grassier
the future begets the past

I am here to identify the present
(albeit cautiously
-like swallowing a laugh
if I caught my breath
I never could become,
my past shall be forgone,
the relevance of here and now
means naught without both then and when)

So where does this begin
if my end has cleared this path?
Perhaps
the moment I select my whys
fates' wanton , stubborn, insistent cry
will be silenced by my zen

and nows' complicit grin.

10:20 PM - 89 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

1986

1986

I think about this year more than any other.
The Mets. The Giants. The Jets for a second, until they lost 5 in a row.
Graduating 6th grade and starting junior high in manhattan from the Bronx.
I was the top 12 yr.old male model in NYC.
I struck out 18 batters in 7 innings of pony league play.
I raced on a ski-team.
Mike Tyson was fierce.
I was the first picked for every touch-football game.
My momma loved me soooo dearly.
My pop was proud of what he had built with her.
My sis was finally speaking up for herself.
I rocked the Rubiks Magik.
I was the local ping-pong champ.
I could breakdance better than any white-dude around.
I learned how to slap-box
I never stepped on a sidewalk crack.

I had no idea.

My parents built it all.

They gave me the chance to succeed.

Its odd when you find out that you must be your own parent.

Trophies mean less.

A great smile means less.

Look Ma, No Hands doesnt count for anything.

Im a childless parent.

I need to build better.

I need to grab things.

I need to remember what made my parents smile.

I need to uniquely replicate.

1:20 AM - 89 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

my city
Current mood: mellow

As the suns tip
dipped
past farchimneys
with no smoke
I applauded the city
for its stoic
virility-

it bowed
with the promise
of veins to the heart
of breath to the blood
of my lover to part

with my was
with perhaps
-anew
we relax

2:26 PM - 89 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

my moms
Current mood: grateful

Its coming up on 4 years since her passing- If anyone wants to see the beatiful lady that raised the good aspects that I can claim for myself feel free to check it- Just thought I'd offer, she was the truest of blessings.

http://www.botany.utexas.edu/facstaff/facpages/mbrown/Mbrownhome/valerie/valerie1.htm

12:59 PM - 89 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

nothing truer

Many of ya'll have read this one before, but it rings so ridiculously true right now, I had to revisit it.

truth

The truth finally comes
as silent as swift,
to expose the subjective,
the connected, the rifts.

It comes in a moment
between second-hand ticks,
when was becomes isn't,
two and two equal six.

I need to accept
that life has it's twists,
for the truth never asks,
it only insists.

3:24 PM - 89 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

tonight

With a limp
and a grin
the old man hobbled,
(if time was flipped on 45's
some would say he scurried)
across the linoleum floor.
He braced himself with his cane
and with the taut strength of a swimmer
crouching on the block,
he lowered his torso to the ground
and nimbly fingered
the quarter I had seemingly dropped.
With a creak of his cane,
a crack in the back,
and an accomplished exhale-
he raised his body,
winked his right eye,
placed the quarter in my palm,
and requested that I be more careful
before I choose to let money fall 'everywhere'.
With that said, and my smile accepted,
he turned toward the glass doors
and scurried out of the 7-11.

It wasnt my quarter.

4:49 AM - 89 Comments - 3 Kudos - Add Comment