since the day I met you, I have searched for this word. this big, beautiful, gigantic, glorious word to describe you. us. I am incapable of such a feat.  the weight which we hold defines and transcribes over and over which was born yet never fails to die. I am alone to carry the burden. kismet. but yet more than fate.  in Moirai white robed souls threads spun from the gods alone do not touch the etymology of us. Saudade by José Ferraz de Almeida Jr. saudade. other words bearing no translation its meaning too sacred for a tongue. I remember you.  you recollect me.  mutual longing to never return. but you're still here, aren't you? always here. somehow becoming the intrusiveness of my dreams dust on wrinkled photographs and cologne from triggered memories. in and out of me. through me. So I seek another word. perhaps hiraeth. homesickness for a place you cannot return to.  and over and over in my mind this word, this beautiful, gigantic,...

Death to the selfie. The self imposed zombies  Bumping into walls from tablets and cellies Enter belly of the beast Nuisance Technology. The one word responses  The constant scrolling tours The apps glorified open The texts with binary whores. The rate system on book of face Give me a number, Direct message me for gratification of a taste. Men posing harder than females for double taps Click here Hips here Mirrors flash. Hashtag wars in 140 Followers only Internet famous for conformity Must check the post The tag The alert The comment The response Ring a ding ding Look at my bling I can finance A brand new cell phone.  Fuck all other in MySpace This is my space Head down See the top of my crown Click  Clack Keyboard tap If I call before I text they mad. Simple "k" Is okay. Acronyms become decoder rings, we  Become secret agents in labyrinth strings  Twisted and curled in a network bound of  Google and Siri, Bing, and remember that Dial up thing? You've...

time In its most wicked state tastes of sour lemons, molded from uncare aware of its presence. life is frailty. love, it's burden. carried upon backs that once moved mountains the stones throw away, now too much effort  to give freely what shouldn't be yearned for. his smile, a memory. happiness trapped in a hourglass to the choices present. stranger, in same being joy you disallow time a ribbon of history unraveled if I known then, what I know now.  -b.r.rivera Recommended Reading

In this tiny pinky finger The smallest of all, holds the greatest of fates. So I'm told. Funny how the little finger is used. Its digits fragile in comparison. The oddly notion that it has the most strength. Somehow, it grasps a little red piece of string, fiery in all it's glory. A cord designed to withstand seasons and the tides of time. Somehow, it's straight and tangled. A beautiful web of loops and holes filled with destinations and environments. Times I have kissed you. Will kiss you. Wont kiss you. Places knitted in Fabrics of dimension and the magnificence seconds, piled high To the brim of clockmakers and cartographers. I pull, you follow. You stretch, I fill in the gaps. we twist and turn, bend and run, swoop and stand still, fall and lift up Miles away and up close, in dreams and conscious awake All of that movement, yet it still does not break. And did it not even come close to undone? Never. Didn't we Become one entangled in skin an...

Pity the woman that feels her soul falling down the Rabbit hole, The intricate madness of all things joy and despair. Where down is up And up is down, Riddles become the silenced of A former lovers sound, And sweet nothing's are rushed Instead of hushed into slick Dick magnificence that births Life of lust. Pity her For she keeps falling more Endlessly Darkness becomes a tunnel Pigeonholed and clipped wings can't fly Nor see. Air all around, wishing For the solidarity of Sweet soil of the ground The firmness of real arms The swooping of a hero absent A man, not everything, Shoulder not wept on Laughter not heard. She falls. Deeper. Deeper, still. Fall deeper into what can be and what could be The what ifs and mere possibilities The congratulations and bittersweet salutations The false hopes and can't cope Of being with someone That isn't your second heartbeat. Memories. Grasping at straws, fragmented. The keen remembrance. I remember...

I've been here before. You can always tell Where the shapes meet the trees Curvatures of lines and familiarity of the bark. The moss is fresh and pointing in the direction of safety Which way to go? As I turn left And forget all sense of intuition And forgo sacred superstition As I move on. The dew. Blades ripened with shadowed earth stripped of bare nakedness begging for open toes to give her a kiss And I wish That my path lies to the rubble in Where no creature dared ventured in. Imaginary breadcrumbs. Sprinkle one here. A drip there Don't get lost on the way to the enclosure muscled tendons tightening their grip around my waist And soft lips kissed in darkness in the devils hour in smooth haste With broken promises unfulfilled and signs that are visible the naked eye Imaginary breadcrumbs Leading me to vertical Kama Sutra positions once preserved For the goddess that is I. I've been here before. Door one closes so a window opens Break g...

You bridged over troubled waters Allowing the broken wood under my naked feet to move and sway  but never break. I wonder what holds us up. Even in splintered feet and clanking of pressure, it holds the sweet smell of bloated wood after a fresh rain.  I was told to open my eyes  exposed to Heavenly skie s in the eye of the storm within the bare soul that is mine and I walked. With trepidation Hesitation  and pure Elation all wrapped in the pouring rainsthe lightning overhead the hailing winds. I wonder what's in this shield. Past a pure arc of  umbrella'd love, repelling drip drops of  moving rain, skidding off of man made fibers.  Comfort rest assured. Comfort.  the pure blanket of which I shiver for to crave that heartbeat against my skin encased within the strong linen that is your arms. I wonder how your fibers made fabric. Strong enough to hold me. Encase me. Enrapture me into limbs that spread east and west, a...

I know the feeling to be loved. to be wanted. adored. showered in sprinkles and anger droplets formed near the crevice of the eye but we dare not speak of. No. It's too hard to speak of loving to be wanted. adored. showered in fiery liquid spurts formed between linen sheets and thunderous thighs. but we do not dare speak of it. Yes. It's too wonderful to remember the wanting to be loved. adored. showered in subliminal thought clouds following me in rude awakenings and sweet reveries. I know the feeling to be loved. I do know the loving adornment the showering of gifts and small trinkets of remembrance. But we dare to recollect the time. Date. Exact moment. No. It's too painful to even remember the flowers that wrinkled in time desiring to be loved. adored. secretly being your umbrella in rain. A shelter of fortitude when pellets titter- patter on vinyl and plastic creating mildew stains. How I wish it were a parasol, shielding me from the ...

He loves me. We call this our secret place. our holy divine shining from the sky awkward and amusing feeling in the nook of your shoulder sacredness. here, I am hidden from all those that want to destroy me. you, my glorious prince and beautifully sun-kissed with no white horse but still defend me. and I want to live here. In this space. Forget about all time and dimension, hold unto a little sanctified beauty and lose my religion at the mere thought of you. He loves me not. We call it not seeing eye to eye. A fragment of losing control and too much stimuli. How raised voices become the ever present norm Cold shoulders and turned backs become the norm. here, I am the bitch you kick in the corner forgetting I snarl and bite back so who's to warn her of sleepless nights and insomnia filled moons Forget about everything and nothing and lose myself in doom at the mere thought of you. He loves me. We call this our beautiful beginning. Another day mark...

I don't remember his scent. I only remember fresh musk and dew sweat hidden in his sudden fragrance. How skin meets beyond pheromones and mutual attraction fire and desire and the chain to cause his reaction. A smile. gleaming white teeth filled with shiny pearl possibilities of tickling my spine in the nape of my neck brings the thrill to me. i begin to remember. remember his smooth walk of gliding asphalt and what I call swag. Smoke bellowing from his lips cigarettes of menthol in a wisp of his drag. and his talk. the way he would command his voice in clear octaves, bounce several degrees and be a lyrical gift go deeper, deeper still into jazzy voices and sweet hellos hidden goodbyes and empty cries. he was mine. I was his and I don't remember his scent. Don't remember his birthday which to pop out a cake suit-less anniversary marking a date full of love excess his favorite food he often devoured his special spot that gave me ...

I like my body when it is with your body. Our voices echo. Magnifying your arrival. It is so quite new a thing. New statue...In a drafty museum. Your nakedness Shadows our safety. Sweet voice. Sweet Lips. Soft Hands, and softer Body remember not only how much you were loved. Hard to imagine getting anywhere near another semi nude encounter down this concrete slab  of interstate, the two of us all thumbs not only the beds where you lay, but also those desires for you. To play without shame. To be a woman, who feels only the pleasure of being used and who reanimates the user's... Best get down on all fours. Ease our noses past rear-end collisions wrapped around embracing minds, and hearts exhang'd for hearts. don't be dull and boring and pretentious, don't be consumed with self love. i like my body when it is with your body. eyes big love-crumbs and possibly i like the thrill of under me you so quite new. -b.r.rivera a Found Poem. ...

I remember he wanted to marry me enclosed spaces shared tiniest of details How I suddenly became the girl of "we." that was years ago. End of a tragic tale. Even a ring was placed on my finger as a reminder for a day to with no pizzaz somewhere absent church bells ring old, turn and chime Something new, now blue. He said he would be mine. -b.r.rivera A   Rispetto . #30in30 Poem 10 of 30, April 2012

I want you in me. As me. I want to know all about you. Discover a little egocentricity and possible falsities that lie deep and are undiscovered underneath. I want to ripple your wave be the shadow replica of the movement in which draws your orifice into being. I want to explore you. Be the origin as navel (0,0) go across undiscovered planes and rudimentary shape shifting. You are beautiful. And I want to trace you. Draw little lines with my finger where ink hits upon warm skin supple fat and coarse stubble from 5 after 5 ante meridiem. I want to be your sunset. Force the colors across cumulus clouds and earth shattering hailstorms. Be the west end of equinox and its flaming orange and red bursting a fireball within you, as you. You are my truth. My beginning, and my end. You are the simplistic of words and the complexity of Babel, scattered tongues that all equate the same meaning. And I adore you. Want to sit front and center as your student Where...

Push. Broken walls and shove into shattered dreams. Glass strewn across paced feet. Disrupt any clear thinking and Dissolve any hope of the future. Wasted tears, Wasted years. Push. Shout out into screams and yells Harsh tones and echoed Wedding bells Photo memories thrown into a flame Smoke filled air, a cigarette to blame. Push. Shake the vibrating truth Have misery seat itself in lies that are mute Dare to speak living in enclosed walls Feel nothing in skin, emotionally starved. Push. Shove. Push away have no clearance for embrace Shove me again, to the arms That will take. Push. -b.r.rivera

You want to be my secret. You want to be my hushed space cornered in acoustic walls. My muse. My inner workings of a piece that will always be unfinished, A stroke always to wet for the brush. You want to be my secret. You want to be my whisper in inner ear canals breath hot and heavy My Adonis. My outer completion of an art that will always be mastered, A signature listed small on the bottom of epic greatness. You want to be my secret. You want to be my rumor spread far and wide, telling stories of untold regions and a cartographers map. You dare to be the north and south of me the east and west of we the compass shaken entirely by rhythmic needles dancing to go this way in the direction of nowhere. You want to be my secret space, my secret place my unreserved dust in a room reserved to be shined and placed on a shelf, never to be found by others. You want to be my treasure. My buried dirt shoveled under years of cobwebs and translucent slime, dug dee...

I want to be your disruption. Your inner breathing of how you challenged natural selection The decision to hone in upon undefined chaos and internal stimuli. I am your squiggly lines on acid free paper Brainstorms in thunder and rain Freezing cold hail dropped on a desert reserved for miraculous sustenance. I want to be within you, as you. I want to ripple your waves and have the this and that of you stir up as a complicated recipe where grams are immeasurable and teaspoons come to the lips as a sweet indulgence of a kiss. I want to be your disruption. I want to eject the stillness of your enraged spirit cast fire on the doused flames and be your Phoenix rising. I want to dwell within you. I like how the hands of you move from tingles and electric buzz to raise goosebumps within a simplistic fuss. I am your confusion. Your hues of shades discolored from the past and penciled outside the lines with broad brush strokes. Have your ink dwell within my pen and your lines of...

Erogenous in velvety soft pillows encased beyond cotton fiberfill, goose down and satiny smoothness We have become moist temperatures and visual regions adjusting the wind of breath and invisible molecules fresh skin tones exhaled over human dew. re- touch with my finger. a photograph snapped in a secret place its development underlining elements of exposure wiping excess sweat of indulgence that bent broken backs and contortionist moves hushed voices in closed spaces silence approved. I am within you. The sight touch smell taste feeling the sixth sense mirror a of shadowboxing on the wall. Moving tastefully and gracefully by a dim lit candle. we are the producers of this scene act one/ line three Quiet on the set take (me) on this event which now clouds my regional movements zones defined and hidden you the cartographer drawing mountains and dimples of shapes with the brush stroke of your tongue over and over Territories marked and proclaimed by o...

I heard you say my name. last night a pregnant moon hidden from shaded blinds  eyes frozen from auditory hallucinations  and it was you. I recollect tiny sparkles sprinkling in my ear a luminary shadow from the peeked tides gravitating toward you and I could feel your breath a past memory from cold windows and warm perspiration huffed on a glass, shadowed by a finger and  swirled into two opposing curves that create a heart figure. because two become one, if I stand corrected or the absolute truth defines circular thinking let him go, set him free if he is truly in love, he will come back to thee. Simplistic notions. Simply not an ocean we are divided across time and space a continuum that supersedes time zones and past lives sudden truths and hidden lies. i would recollect another memory but I'm sure that it was not meant to be. You keep coming. Invading. Creating space within me. I shove back a dream swirl it into a nightmare, paint pretty little demo...

I stepped on a butterfly broke its wings shattered its luminescent arms transcended solely made for air distance to ride in the wind. Veins, exposed blood freely now broken pixelated dots of red crimson delight shattered on a blade of glass next to my heel. I was not thoughtful. purely clumsy and self absorbed as I made my way into my path and buried a creature into another. innocent lost. could not have picked its wings voluntarily knowing that each was put there lovingly by time caressed in a cocoons nest. danced with time, laden with metamorphosis and fruitful bliss bearing an entangled chrysalis engulfed out of the need to grow. birth. reborn. in a next lifetime. i stepped on a butterfly. killed its lighthearted dance from a low hanging branch suckling the nectar off a fallen flower. how... appropriate. nearly serendipitous if a love was to blow a kiss and i was to miss it based on a fallen flower and P...

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. Be...