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Showing posts from April, 2010

"La Flor"

Si yo fuera una mujer feliz,
Yo exigiría que el mundo sea lleno de margaritas de Gerber.
Luminoso y brillantere
partiendo alegría en los rostros
deencontrado a nadie que los pétalos.
Para tener esta felicidad,
Voy a disfrutar de la sencillez de los medios de los pétalos
Arranca una
Él me ama.
Y otro, Él no me ama.
Cuando lleguen al final del tallo de la flor
Yo pediría más pétalos.
Aterricé en la pequeña fraseque no me quiero repetir.
él no me ama.
Y tristemente, esta mujer feliz en el exteriorllena la flor de lágrimas mojados,
Visible pétalos de rosa y morado.
Este pequeño rocío un recuerdo
Que más del Cojolo peor másse pone.
yo adoro a poner esa flor en el pelo

"As Seen on TV"

No, I do not want your Snuggie.
Or perhaps I do. Either way,
I prefer if you just leave the screen
as its the morning, around 2. Nor do I want
your ass-spray, your tiddy on, the little bear
that sits by your breasts to release the stress
when you have your seatbelt on. Nor do I desire
the Shamwow soaking up a natural mess or the
Burger Slider radiating temperatures as my next
food quest. I don't want no nasty ass shavings of
the PedEgg near or around my human being
And I don't appreciate seeing advertisements of ashiness
Clear across my screen. And eff you, Bendaroos
What kind of material are you made of anyway?
Suppose I get a BumpIt from my hair that
even Snookie from Jersey Shore will adore for a
windy bad hair day. And what the deuce is a
Yoshiblade, and why would I need that anyway?
Suppose my beach body will be sweeter-as
it is my dream to marry my Mr.Jeter-
but is it so necessary to have a slider, glider, rocket and glider
for abs that won't shrink due to a metaboli…

"Blood-Thirsty Leech"

I really, really dislike you right now.
You are the kind of annoying insect
that has the whole world at its disposal
yet seeks the company
Resting noticeably upon my earlobe
buzzing by frequently enough where i want to swat you
just for the hell of it. Good for you, you fly by so quick-

I really, really dislike you right now.
upon comparison, you are the metaphor of a walking
hemorrhoid, piles and piles of nothingness and blood vessels of mass
hidden under denim jeans and shitty underwear-you know,
a pain in the ass. I mean...I really, really dislike you right now.
Upon careful reflection, you are comparable to a big heaping serving
of hot liver. You smell when I cook you up even in my finest China
and make my tastebuds activate in a way that does not satiate.

As a matter of fact, you are an insect-a leech. Blood thirsty and hungry
sucking the very life of me, stealing the form of any other parasitic
exoskeleton, where your inner definitions are proudly displayed. Because
just as a w…

"Lights On"

i want to own you.

the dust collected upon time
swinging from crystal inflected prisms
swaying to the to and fro
of unorganized drafts from my home.

have your light burst

into a thousand reflections
giving naturalness to cheeks and brows
gathered under holiday dinners and special
get-togethers. i want to dismantle you
piece by piece
have your inner workings cleaned by
professional staff trained in
care and tenderness of golden arches and
mahogany woods, marble tile and
smooth floors. to have you would mark
my reign. the dictators success of
tireless nights forged with forgotten memories
unclaimed by eighty hour work weeks and
missed moments that were pivotal in my life. to have you,
i would give this up.

forget about the reverberating silence within
the home and acoustic walls filled with Bach
only to keep the pristine dog company. to have you
would mark my climb to the ladder; the descent too far
to see as the lonely ants below scatter to work for me. Those poor, poor
worker ants. tr…


it started with a kiss.

the magnetic brush of skin
eclectic and euphoric magnetic
folds of lips encompassed in
shallow tongue swirling in
the this and that of
what annunciation  and mispronounced vowels
stuttered from the aftershock of what just
occurred. it started innocent. fresh and virgin white
clinging to dewy rain and barefoot sensations of
raw earth and untouched centers. what became more
than  the silken cherry burst with intricate feelings
reserved for magical lovers and the anonymity of
superiority of what shared becomes re-lived in
past memories re-told. it began sweet. the dulce
of the leche goodness frothed over from bubbling
temperatures rising to the core beads of sweat tickling
the inner folds and untouched regions upon the nape of
the neck crawling to the curvature of the spine enlongating
the time where your finger caresses the newness of what
what supposed to be clueless after-glowing of what i
told him he gave me. but he did not. this freshness/newness/effervescenc…

"I Adore Rain."

i adore rain.

somehow, it suits my soul when
the acoustic goodness splish and splashes
to this and that near my toes
and i excitably coerce my feelings
with the wet goodness from the window. perhaps
its the way that it feels. moist and new,
a metaphor for washing out all that negativity
that fills my soul and cleanses the dirt away
to allow the brightness shine through. how hypocritical for
those to say that they hate the rain. how shallow. how idiotic
is it not to fall in love with the weather for making love
when sheets are just as dewy as the condensation outside
and thunder synchronizes to hip moving rhythms. i adore rain.
love the ins and outs of its movements. how each drop is
reminiscent of a tear, puddled within mud caked upon grass
and fertilizing new growth where death just occurred. how sad and
intrinsic to not love the weather that brings life. just as sun alone
can endure rays filled with heat seeking missiles swimming beads
of sweat across one's brow and no one seeks…

"Lighter Load, Stronger Back"

What is a prayer not genuinely concealed
in blackened knees and salty tears
Aching backs and quivered voices
Hushed secrets and cheeks moistened.
What is a prayer not genuinely spoken
in shaken hymns and battle scare wounds
A thousand hail mary's and jesus-loves-me off tune
Seeking light when no one has a candle in sight
Finding comfort in dark, hushed corners become fetal positions
weakened from a fight.
What is prayer not genuinely given
in bible proverbs that memories have forgotten
new thoughts racing while old history has begotten
the sheer will and new testaments made
because surely growth endures what life has saved
and Jesus take this cross from me cause it
seems that it is mighty heavy and I would like a break for a moment
a rest in your hand-
surely there is nothing like a good old fashioned prayer
where you see only one set of footprints
in the sand.



Upon lying with the King of Gods
I declared my gift of night
Nine single goddesses to share unique intelligences
While I revered in his magnificence with all my might
Should my refrain be an ode to Mnemosyne
Who shared the lover upon me
Or is the birth of a poetic stanza
The gift from creation that lies within me.
Surely, I shall not detail
The shape of the moon or the wink in his eye
As history tells it so eloquently
The more I share, the silence increases and I die
Will my epitaph be filled with soft memories
Perhaps a detailed note of Calliope
Will my sex be hidden in dance of Terpsichore
Or the lyric of sound to sing verse which I adore
Perhaps it is free verse in Thaleia
Astronomy in Urania
Iambic pentameter in Euterpe
Skilled onomatopoeia in Polyhymnia.
Epic tragedy in Melpomene
The syntax in composed literary history
Clio clinging to dates that compel mystery
Perhaps I will not know
Why Zeus made love to me
Born creation of muse detailed lovers
Although I go by the name Aphrodi…

"Cocoon's Dance: Nonet"

sweet smell of dewy rain bouncing the
mahogany wood to enlarge
its fixture and I slowly
examine what I see
in the jarred door frame
inching out
to her


My first Nonet :)

"My Name Is..."

Hello, Stranger.

you. the incoming and unrecognizable mass of human flesh
that has reincarnated to undesirable egos and unfitting compassionless
wonderment of a man. hey, you. I adore how the fascade
creeps past my skin to steal a kiss on the cheek. How that soft graze
feels like a stinging blade within secretes that you want to excrete. I want to
introduce myself to you. Tell you that I would like to know your name, at least
find out the syllables to how I would greet you, how a thief in the night you remind
me of as you sleep next me in the sheets which enclose us two.

Hello, Stranger.

i prefer a label. you know, the weird sticky adhesive to put on the chest of your cotton
shirt which smells vaguely familiar of a cologne which I inhaled. I would rather see
the spark of magic in a marker that spells out a name because the person whom I know
and the person that stand in front of me are two and not the same. I do not know you.
"hello, my name is:" fill in the blank. You are t…

Sweet Haze

Oh sweet haze
How I adore you in a way

That makes me want to just sway
And elongate your stay

To pour you in my veins
Have you ebb and flow to convey

The way which I want you to play
The ground rules that you scathingly sneak away

Because I don't want you to leave
But I promise you will return
And in this wish I will find
Another high like this for my eyes to burn

To another haze in another day
And wish the longevity of her will not go away.


I See Stupid People.

I strongly believe
that incompetence is in your genes.
Strongly irritated and highly agitated,
I must gather my strength past
monosyllabic words and increase my swearing
to about 1/3 of my verbal language as the idiocy
entails my environment and drives me over the edge.
i see stupid people.
moronic plethora's of ignorance
stacked with congratulations of reading
to the innocent and condemning me for using
"big words" while you continue to think that the
a simple thing as a tree is a verb.
hmm...must be a trend. A highly disguised passage of rites
as one conceals their synapses out of spite
and is it wrong of me to demand once in a while
that conversation is swayed more than sex, because substance is my style
drawn to not education but intelligence because even a dummy will know
that you can be street wise with wit and
come across with a swagger of intellect
and as empty vessels make the most noise (as MomMom used to say)
I have now taken upon her personality from what I u…

"Sign says: Out of Order"

its broken.

kinda like the sweet sparrow
dropping hard from its nest
its wing flapping hard against the dust of the earth
eyes wild and unforgiving, trying hard not
to feel sorry for itself and establishes within its mind

that it has a broken wing.

its discarded.

merely a decomposed state of composition
hidden with maggots and live insects
swarming to infect and circumspect the small pieces of flesh
exposed from hard calcified bone and marrow. it lays there,
a piece blowing in the wind no longer recyclable to be sorted
in large aqua blue tubs to be reinvented into plastic cups
that once again,
someone will throw away.

its shattered.

a small piece of glass giving way of
a thousand shards electrified by the morning glory of the sun
reflected in bursts of prisms that personified what used to be
a whole but is not even a half of a half of a half any longer. and it cuts.
deep, dark, slashing waves into the
epidermis causing tickled shock waves to scream to the lungs
burst into bright red f…

"That Other Side"

blades of green moisture
hit the dew
simultaneously enduring the tracked goodness
of un-heeled shoes. i venture. taking each step more
carefully than the next. the beaten path lays to the left,
but i chose the right. this right. this right that has
perfect patches of flowers moistened by last nights rain
and suspended dragonflies dance in the secret shade
of weeping willows.

i am here.

treading this new path.
of unequaled beauty compared to me. i am so intrigued
by the path that lies ahead of me i do not pay attention
to what lies before me. i stumble. somehow the green pastures
become murky waters and my feet are covered with not
sweet earth but dirty soil and i am irritated by my dirty
feet. but i continue. i continue to trek through what seems like
quicksand, evaporating moisture to what could have been
but does not become. because i am stuck. stuck between
cobwebs and frivolous vines that block my path.
i look in my pocket and find no compass, for i am lost.
this is not my environ…

“Husband Hungry”

By the look of your wrist,
I can tell you can't hear my biological clock.
See, I'm hungry. Got this pure satiation for the mere implication
to walk down that aisle and give off a smirk to those un-wed bitches
to the pimps that drove them wild. shit, as I can recall-nothing is for free.
you lubed my udders and now you want to milk by caressing me?
talk is cheap. I need you to do that Beyonce remix
put a ring on it and let me see that last name entitlement which I crave so

Shit. You move too slow. Molasses In your ass and
got the wit of Elmer Fudd & Mr. Magoo thinking that I give up the
vah-jay-jay for free and then want to chill on my couch and pucker up
running up my damn electricity. Don't you know that I got hoes
in different area codes, niggas that want to have just a whiff of this
just to smell the pure delicateness of the booming inner thighs that
have those childbearing hips and once again, I come to my
biological clock that you don't watch …

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