Category Archives: poetry

Loving you

I take pride in loving you. It’s an art, a science, a spiritual practice. It’s as cyclical, as calm and as wild as the tides. As essential as breath. I dreamt of u all night. I would awaken almost every hour on the hour, drink water to cleanse my palate. But there u were again as soon as I reentered the dream world. Rooted and transcendent. Deep sea diving but we’re flying. A tapestry of love’s mysteries embodied in your fire and your peace.

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Christmas in Cuba

Like old women who were once BEAUTY queens, buildings radiantly worn, time has aged them increasingly VIBRANT, there’s a thickness in the air, my hair has created a life of its own, jungle texture, there’s a PURITY and a GRIT that exists in the people that hasn’t yet been corrupted by our consumerism, we praise thru song and DANCE to the deities originating from the mother, OSHUN drips honey all over her body, seduction, chango takes hold of my hips, cigarettes so prevalent my voice has some rasp, I like the sound and consider smoking for 3.7 seconds until the feeling of being boxed in with the smoke leaves me claustrophobic for freshness and life force, no puedo imaginar Cuba without vintage treasures that adorn their streets and lives and hearts, no system is flawless, I still am learning what it means to be FREE, beyond the constraints of my government, in the obscure parts of my mind, in the pained parts of my heart, dancers BRILLIANT as the sun! honored to study with maestros, limber/effortless/fluid they paint through their bodies with a strength that withstands the cement floor, my feet dance till they’re dead and reincarnate into a spirit beyond my understanding, no mirrors in class to learn so everything must be felt, the queen of folklorio reminds us to dance with our faces, Rumba! Various levels of provocativeness, one in Matanzas where the man playfully pops the woman in the pussy! damn! the roosters call our alarm clock, Guantanamo’s HEART exceeds its reputation, el aire in Santiago tan sucio – makes LA smog seem refreshing, no toilet paper in any public restrooms, my uber healthy spoiled palate adjusts to minimal veggies, good thing I love some rice and beans, pescado and platanos, mmmm fresh mango juice, dark aged rum, ménage a trois via salsa, SINGING on the verdadero American r&b tunes with Cubanos and Americanos, laughing and free, Christmas in Cuba! taking in el campo y la ciudad, the sea my heaven, every molecule baptized, there is no higher BLISS, grateful for golden LUMINOUS souls impacting the world with their light, met a 7 foot tall otherworldly angel whose hug pieced my heart together again, the father drum asks questions the mother drum gives answers, polyrhythms in my body, my heart’s elation, beautiful tears of joy born from realizations, cheeks ache from smiling, I will never be the same.

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Transformation 

I get so much JOY from walking down Sunset Boulevard to the farmers market to get my fridge sexy. Late Saturday morning. Sunshine on my skin. Headphones on. I can’t help and walk hand-in-hand with my MUSIC. We’re so in LOVE. Not one not two but three butterflies danced around me. Transformation. Fear is only created in my mind. I don’t care what they say, people in LA will smile and say hello if you allow it. Connection. Dream and plan. NEXT LEVEL. Every day steps. Four butterflies! Perspective is everything. How do you flip the script to be the truth? Exude it in your conversations, interactions, essence, energy, and your song. The tones I sang resonated richly, delicious round and SENSUOUS in my mouth. Take a bite out of the sonic happiness. I just want to elevate you to that world where all is right and even if it’s not right, you have faith it will be. It’s not escape, it’s exultation. Five butterflies! Heaven and hell, what we create here on Earth within us. How do you define love? I don’t know but I know I fucking love him. Yoga in nature. Discussion with a goddess. She breaks down the concept of atonement. At-one-ment. We’re all one. Separation an illusion. What we do to others we did ourselves. Let’s forgive ourselves. You think that it’s someone else. It’s really you. Where you not giving love to the situation? All blame is a waste of time. Letting go. Freedom. Acceptance. I declare publicly I will now only learn lessons with ease and grace. New beginnings. I was broken and rebuild myself with the bricks of light. Solid, weightless, luminous.

 

miracle

Looked in the mirror today. Not like I usually do. I looked deeper. I forgot that I was beautiful. I miss the way u used to look at me. U drank me in. I felt like a queen. U took your time. Bobby Womack would’ve been proud. I light candles with prayers that your words and actions will dance a dance that would make my abuela proud. I have given everything. Destroyed and created universes. My heart has learned to replenish itself with cloaks of faith that bleed out indifference. A birthday card from a year and a half ago, in the drawer beside my bed…wonder if well have that sexcation. I have revirginized myself for you. U used to clown men who don’t put in WORK and now you’re collecting unemployment checks. I have placed myself on your alter time and time again. I have done everything in the power of my minds eye. I have changed my thermostat to happiness only please. I read to expand. I own my shit. I know my flaws. I work to grow this garden of mine. This garden of magnificent dreams. Dreams that you have helped design. I have diminished my shine unwillingly. I still see u. Beneath the layers of this. I have developed super hero powers to see thru the walls you’ve put between us. Ive cut through the jungle of our past with a razor sharp machete only to come face to face with a ghost of nonchalance. I’ve painted my skin every color of gold at the chance that you would engulf yourself in me once again. antique with cracks. Vibrant as the summer sun yet you seem to be more intrigued by winter. Maybe its cause of your 90s jacket that you love to wear. I’ve lost my mind. I’m going to let Salem Moqueca put a leash on me and walk me around the park. I want to bury myself in the sands of time and awaken reborn into to a world where you show me the LOVE that I know is within you. Bliss permeating every cell. Remember that? Conversations must be had with rainbows in our mouths, COURAGE IN OUR HEARTS, and ruby encrusted shoes. There’s no place like home. My hearts a gypsy but not by choice, knocking at your door, looking for an open room for for rest, for peace, for acceptance, for solidity, for nourishment. Suffering from malnutrition but it still beats strong. Another continent, 3 times zones, and 4 days without your voice yet that’s still not enough…….. space. Thought of moving to another galaxy, maybe that would suffice. I ask if you miss me. That upsets u! U feel pressure from me being on the love tip. Yet you say you love me. That you have never loved a woman as much as you love me. Should I be silent? Should I keep it surface? Should I dim the truth of who I am!? A soul, a woman who expresses and needs love as I do air and music and dance and laughter and freedom and joy. I’m singing your song and I can’t find the pocket. No matter how hard I try. You keep switching up the time on me. There’s no metronome to meet this madness. We need a miracle. Only God can heal this.

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a love story. part 1.

i notice the smallest gestures and give them meaning because when you love every little thing has such meaning, even if it doesn’t. everything that’s seasoned with romance i psychotically assume that you intended for me. i want your love that badly. i thought my heart was wide open like the sky but you broke it open to another stratosphere, so light pours forth from a world within me that was not born until you arrived.

when i think of you i shine a bit brighter. when you’re near i radiate something undefinably magical that draws you closer. i am unlocked. unprotected. raw. emotionally naked. there is no space between us because you are within me, reverberating your rhythm in the fabric of my heart. you have penetrated my origin. i hope i’m surprised with the outcome of this journey. we lost the map. intuition our GPS.

you said,”I don’t want to just fuck you, I want to make love to you.” and you meant it. your touch is not a want any more, it’s a need. like food, water, shelter. energy unparalleled. we could solve the world’s energy crisis if it could be contained. multidimensional. metaphysical. tender then rough then tender. our love making dynamics. catastrophic tension. polyrhythmic acrobatics. i spill my womanhood around you unintentionally.

i’ve never wanted to kiss someone so badly.

i accidentally profess my love for you and propose to you when i’m drunk. i don’t do that.

i said, “sometimes I think I’m in love with you.” you said, “If things were different, you would be the only girl in my world.” “if things were different, i would’ve taken you away.” “there are so many things i want to say but can’t.” “you’re the sexiest b*tch of all time.” “i love the way your mind works.” “you have a big ass heart.” “you’re everything a perfect woman should be.” “i want to be with you.” “it feels like you’re my girl.” “of course.” “i can’t do this.” “i fucking love the way you…” “you deserve to be ecstatically happy.”

you deserve to be ecstatically happy.

you look at me like you’re in love with me. we look at each other as if we have fallen in love over and over and over again, many lifetimes. bonnie and clyde adventures. legendary love. this is messy. like molasses. but not as slow. we are hidden. made to flourish in shadows. no room to breathe except in my imagination. the lies cut me. you tell me to express my truth through action. but i’m stuck in the mud. silently choked by my best friend. heart divided. i doubt myself. i reassure myself. gotta find myself. fuck. why does it have to cut so close? karmic meaning? healing? breaking patterns. this is reoccurring, i know it’s real. i know you’re real. i know we’re real. this can’t be a dream? my heart has had physical pain from being silenced. but then i hear your voice and all feels right in the world. you give me peace. i just have to hear your voice. i just have to see you. but i can’t.

passion.

honesty.

integrity.

truth.

love.

we make plans. to me they’re not a dream. to me they are possible. st. lucia. a tour. a christmas picnic. you listen. you remember. you connect. you are meaningful. you find meaning in ways that inspire me. maybe you’re the one. maybe you’ll never get complacent. damn how did we get this far? we are insane. we have created patterns. i have written love letters only to have them self-destruct. i want something tangible. my memory unfortunately faulty. how can we come to the light? how can we handle all with care? we analyze. we conclude. we re-analzye. we over analyze. maybe we just want to talk to each other? ha! we laugh. we can be silly. we can be so fun. i just wanna play with you. i just wanna smile with you. i just want to dance with you. i just want to be myself with you and you be yourself with me. i just want to drink with you. i just want to make love with you. i just want to cook with you. i just want to read with you. i just want to explore with you. i just want to fuck you, suck you, make you come. i just want to be free with you. 

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The Words (part one)

her mother would say the words so often that it almost became her exhale. exhausting their power with frequent repetition.

her father would skim over the words like a little boy skips stones over a wide, glassy bed of water. he infused them with humor, an uncomfortable utterance.

today the kids are nonchalant with the words. they use them when someone did them a favor, got them out of a sticky situation… they use them to pay homage to food, technology and other material deities. “oh my GOD… (insert words here in valley girl voice!)”

she honors the words though she’s used them a plenty, she bears their flag with honor, holds a space for their depth in every molecule of her essence. she prays and makes sacrifices to their divinity…

once she said the words first to a man. only once. yet he couldn’t find the courage to reply…. he withheld the words like . yet she needs the words. the words give her peace. if the world ends tomorrow would he wish he said them? she wonders. she wants to retract the vulnerable, accented words because she’s so exposed now… uncovered heart beating. but it’s too late now. she can only hope that one day he’ll return her sentiment.

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free flow recollection: Burning Man 2012.

An epic wonderland adventure. Off the grid vibe. Post apocalyptic. Exponentially Creative people. Multisexual beings causing my gaydar to be off. Giant teeth art car. Geometric massive shapes. Tetas of every shape/size/dimension/contortion/makeup. Dick with your breakfast? Cockrings! Naked bike rides. Halloween meets carnival meets Vegas meets wonderland meets outer space. Creative costuming. Robots. Temples. Metaphysical inspiration. Alex Grey. Where does your art come from? What is the message? Daniel Pinchbeck. Is monogamy or polygamy evolved? How do you feel about technology integrating within us? How does the media coordinate behavior? The “rebel hipster” disempowers us cause even the rebel is marketed. Exploring sacred plants with intention, consciously and with purpose. TV creates a trance like state, makes us believe that violence is normal. Darkness is given a role and positivity/light is the leader. Negative consequences of things we once thought positive. Spiritual work while dreaming. Crop circles. Beam a thought into someone’s head. Electromagnetic interventions. Free Japanese noodles- jump to head of the line if u sumo wrestle. Gift giving. Love. Affection. Shrooms. Connection. Understanding. Energy. Clarity. Release of all you’ve been repressing. Spirits. Purpose. Loyalty. Nastiest toilets in the history of man. Future. Beginnings. Longing. Affection. Soul mates. Chemistry. Drawn to each other like magnets. Goggles. Bandanas. Glow gear. Playa feet. Dancing. Debauchery. Dark and the light. Crass. Crazy. Obscene. Pure. Purposeful Yoga. Cliché yoga. Playa hair. Performing on a bike powered stage. Polenta cakes. Free Vietnamese iced coffee. More nakedness. Girls on silks mesmerize. The beautiful harpist makes me sleep. Drum band. Reverbia live music camp. Rosario Dawson. Burn the man. Fireworks. Sacred temple. Love potion camp. He recommended the bed. Transcendental downloads. Salsa dancing. Stripper pole. Orgy tent (didn’t go in). Foosball. Make a 3 minute call anywhere in the world. Pussy juice (the cocktail). LSD. Outdoor showers. Grey water. Giant swing set. Janky sound system. Massive dust storms. Nature as a book of signs. Darker vibe on the weekend. Too much techno. Where the other genres at? Amazing playful art car! Ride on the top. Free cocktails. Spin around. Use the slide to exit. Heart to hearts with friends. Forgiveness. Tribe. Faux fur. Beautiful sunsets. People going insane in the best way. Take it with a grain of dust. Conscious art. Destiny of the planet. Using psychedelics to understand ourselves and others. I heard him ask, How is it that people can get a tattoo which is a lifetime commitment but can’t manage to stay in a committed relationship? She answers, Because a tattoo is looking at the outside of u while a relationship is looking at the inside of u. Damn! Animalistic. Divinity. What’s the truth? Walk through craziness and dust storms and insanity to find home. He’s my home? Evolution. I have your back. Loyalty. SURRENDER. A woman of the desert. Then it was time to get the fuck out. Every artist should cum come here at least once. Fire dancers. Aerialists. All ages. Mostly whites. No commerce unless you want an iced coffee/chai tea or hot chocolate at center camp. No tv. No phones. No computers. Dust storms create viejos. White out. Freedom. Belonging. Open mindedness. Open mindlessness. Culture shock upon return. Alternative to the maxxx. I might have to go to Venice beach or melrose once a week to get my freak fixxx. Mad max! Sex on blast. Think in new ways. Money is bullshit. Society’s unspoken rules are bollocks. Fearless self-expression.

photo by Andre de Santanna

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