Sunday, January 31, 2010

day 195: keep going

new plan.
turn around.
run as fast as possible.
hit the end of the road and keep going
till you fall off the earth
til the sky is holding you
upside down
til the ocean swallows you hole
keep running til your feet are gone
til your heart severs itself
til everything is no longer
just keep going.

Saturday, January 30, 2010

day 194:

remember me as a time of day
like daybreak
when the minutes pass like ours
and our hearts are hidden in darkness
remember me like sunshine
the way i would break through your window early mornings
remember me like wramth
like your breath
like the feeling you get when everything is gravy
i said gravy.

Friday, January 29, 2010

Day 193: furlough fridays

my sister has lost 20% of her education to a war that doesn't nothing but kill brown bodies
the united states has begun a funding program for a nation in distress and
i agree,
haiti needs funding
but so do our sons
our daughters
are sinking in the cracks created by the quakes of our own government official
education should be the last thing ever sacrificed
by our linda lingle rather cuts the wrist of our future than cut high end government salaries
tax the rich
do something
dont invest in a 6 billion dollar rail when it cost a million to open up the schools
where are you priorities

Thursday, January 28, 2010

day 192: driving

the street poles all look like half people here
everyone zooms by looking for souls to hold
there is billboards of missing children
where they're pictures smile on prom nights
there is no reality on our racing freeways
we are all just trying to beat the estimated travel time
through rush hour traffic
we weave in and out of lives like we are no one to be remembered
except in anger
never slowing down
always going a little too fast
in the wrong direction.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

day 191:

When I was 13 I wrote my frist suicide note in iambic pentameter

As if a couplet made death any less final

Like I could be a story someone would read in a freshman English class

I wanted to leave myself to be dissected

I wanted to be the poem that changed someones life

That convinced someone to live

Since then,

I’ve learned to keep my sob stories secret

Like a dirty disease

Hide my tears under my sleeves

I have forgotten the bravery it took to break myself for progress

There are mornings that I wake wishing I had something worth dying for

Because loneliness is not nearly significant enough to be justification

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

day 190: (free write) into to my new script.

Some people say, before you are born, before you are even conceived, there is just darkness. and then--when you are conceived….you know, when your mom and dad have sex or make love… whatever you want to call it-- there is this light and you just chase it for nine months until you are born. Just think about it, the world is full of babies just chasing lights. Funny thing is, I remember a lot more light before than after my conception and then there was still “chasing” it was just that my mom was doing that part for me.

I’d like to think my parents made love, but truth is, they probably didn’t even have sex, they probably fucked. The way I see it, is you have to be in love and sober to make love and im not sure my parents were ever either of those tings.

Monday, January 25, 2010

Day 189: haiku

she dont adore me
shes breaks me in her distance
but she loves me

Sunday, January 24, 2010

Day 188: horizon

this morning
i am writing poems for the horizons
slinging songs into the new day
teaching my bones to be whole
sending shots of heartbeat into space
waiting for a reply

we are all just existing waiting for a response from this place
call that living
while we cut ourselves just for a reaction
i've learned the only thing that never regenerates is our souls
and that space in you heart that you cant help but give away
and the horizon
the horizon
breaks every time we let it
every time we take it away from itself
and no one cares to see its repose
we are all just a little too self centered
for god.

Saturday, January 23, 2010

day 187: waiting

he's got a heart like the sunrise
just keeps coming back to the sky
every morning
before anyone's ready for it
he's sittin there waiting for answers
the world must seem soo dark to him
to be the brightest person in the building
he only cast shadows
no one can relate to something so miraculous
but there is a girl
hiding under her covers
pretending the sunrise isnt as beautiful as she knows
shes breaking her heart in darkness
shes tearing his rays
but you cant forget the sun
onces you've seen it rise
nothing ever compares again
in the meantime he's just casting showers

Friday, January 22, 2010

day 186: Silence

There is a certain kind of silence here
it is not broken
just hard
and cold
in this place
we are all caverness
blind eye
feeling for something beyond ourselves hoping to be seen
or touched
yearning to be more than this feeling
than this place
this cold empty
we are fighting to be more than just

Thursday, January 21, 2010

Day 185: Goddess

She welcomes the night in shivvers
scared of morning
she hodl everything she touches
when the sun rises
she cried herself
into healing
is a broken womb
a skipping record
a torn corps
dacing in graveyards
resisting her own imagination
she dreams about reality
how its bent like time
her hands are riffs
her soul a sailboat
she is afraid of morning
so she wont let anyone leave
she tattoos her soul on
the rotten floorboards
tomorrow she wont remember
she is a broken womb
a skipping record
a dying

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

day 184: love

he wasnt born wanting to change the world
leave a footprint
just to fall in love
her holds himself late at night
drinks his insomnia away
he will never forget what holding her feels like
that its nothing like his body pillow
nothing can warm his chest like she can
and he didnt dream of this
it just happened
love just happened
and sometimes
it just shouldnt

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

day 183: missing

i feel like there are no words left in me
like the waters washed it away
there is nothing here
just space
i am missing home
i am missing her
i am missing the part of myself that could put any emotion and thought into perfect poem
i am missing it all

Monday, January 18, 2010

day 182: old

I can’t remember the last time I spoke fluently

In anything

The last time I had something to say

And I could say it without thinking

I would call it poetry

But no rhyme scheme or rthythm

Could do those words justice

No pun could sum up all the kaona locked in it

Fluency used to be an excuse

For my lack of English comprehension but today

I can’t say a single word without throwing the other language away

And I’m town between two worn dictionaries

That I’ve worn on my sleeves

For years

And I’ve been caught between two restrictive nets

And I’m tired of swimming

Like a mindless guppy swimming in circles

Like the earths awkward revolution around the sun

Around someone’s def of reason

But I’ve been blinded

By the salt water treason

And I cant see the reason

I stopped thinking about my history

Stopped revolving daily activities

I’ve used the excuse that I’m running out of time and I’m too busy

But in running out of time for my culture I ran out of time to be me

In fighting to be free

I’ve tangled myself in unbreakable

Hala bounds around my knees

And im fighting against a bible and dictionary

And im loosing

Whoever thought you could lose your life savings to a book

But when your life savings are values

And a book was made to bind you

You have no choice

We were built to lose

Nothing left to do but loose and its true.

Sunday, January 17, 2010

day 181: where did you go

Im sitting here

Imagining wehre you are tonight

Its all so unclear

The distance is growing and im losing my head

Where do we go

As far as I see there only space in sight

Im losing control

You promised forever

So baby where did you go?

Im tired of singing these love songs alone

Theres this space that you left its dark and cold

You promise forever

So please don’t forget

These agirl in the wings and shes waiting

Shes waiting

Im so tired

Tucking my self into dream that are too far to touch

Im still holding on

To pictures and memories and everytning betgween

How do you sleep

I’ve been tossing and turning hoping ita all a bad dream

Im losing myself

You promised forever

So baby where di you go

Saturday, January 16, 2010

day 180: Song

Shes got a halo in her pocket

A smile in her hand

Values that don’t seem to fit in

She just don’t understand That some

Girl are born to early

To cute, or radical

Wear there promise on sleeves

Fighting for control and so shes

singing for tomorrow

Dear, don’t forgfet today

There is a war in the sunrise

That’s what ive been trying to say you see im

Trying to leave her speechless

but all shell do is resist

so I lay down all my secrets

she more than worth it you see we’re


nit to fal more in love and were


every morning we get up just a

few days ago

she packed her bags in left

with her head up in the clouds

said theres gotta be more than this wont you

wait for me while I dream

I gotta come down for air

and when I do I hope you’ll be waiting there

and we’re both tring

to pretend no one broken yet

but we’re failing

we fall each chance we get

lets take a fast forward

that’s all I used to say

in the end it will be alright

but this sure does suck today

pretty girl wont you take my hand

we can leap from cloud to cloud

dreams don’t always have to take you away

sometimes they bring you back

and we’re just trying

not to loose control

but we’re failing

doing anything for love

Friday, January 15, 2010

day 179:

yellow trampoline

Thursday, January 14, 2010

day 178: white houses. pink ladies. edit

It is said before the pink ladies

Lived the gang of women dressed in white wedding dresses

Holding their virginity in their pockets

Wrapped and sealed for any gentleman patient enough to wait for 4th base

The stories they told there children only spoke of chariots and glass slippers

But today sandy turns her gown pink in dreams to be anything less than white

We dip our dresses in blood trying to be anything but sterile by matrimony

You see

There are more stories hidden in the space between the start and end of her skirt than on that gown

How growing up get a little more interesting with each generation

And a little more accepted

A little more forgotten

We’ve found a way to fly through puberty as if it wasn’t a phase worth residing in

Like sex is the next step to middle school graduation

Nothing is forever except first times and the mess it leaves behind

Vanessa remember being white

Before watching to be pink

She holds purity in her bones

And yet at 16

vanessa reminisces on snap shot pictures in memory lining

trying to find an image that doesn't break ribcage when held to chest

did she realisize how fleeting friendship could be

that the innocence she held in her bones

is only held in the similar blood stream of peers still sleeping in white houses

of daughters still counting sheep

today jenny started counting dicks instead

counting down seconds

counting mistakes

there are skeletons that dont fit in our white closest

in our suburban cultasacks

cannot be held between the spaces of our picket fences

we have forgotten to outline our own skin

so we place ourselves on the streets of our own misplaced attention

learn to apply thick enough lipgloss to mass the taste of blowjobs

forget gangs in pink

our daughter are turning red with the years

pant blood are their badge

learning to count days backwards to purity like it was something that made us who we were

how have we forgotten how to hold on to what makes us beautiful

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Day 177: feminism?

we are told
when we want to be powerful
that we are listening too much to white women
who walk too freely
our husbands hold us back like prize money
not knowing that supression is a game they've learned without noticing
our brown brothers are white washed ships wrecked in black two piece suits
they have taught us
we must removed our wombs to be powerful
our hearts to be successful
and yet
so much power lies in that space
that air
in our chest we breathe

i have heard people say
that is it not democracy until women have more than one vote
because when we cast our ballots we are doing so for ourselves and our children
we hold that power in our diaphragms
responsibly drains like blood in our veins
and we wash clothes for it
so that our husbands can finally be on top of something
we lay ourselves down every morning
welcome mats faced forward
we are the movement no one wants to see
the transformation of space
we are the earthquakes devastation
the storm after the calm
the one that helps everyone realize
there is more than one kind of slavery that's been propagated in this country
we are that story
that reminder
we are
not listening to white women
we are leaning from our mothers.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Day 176: what it means to be american

"You have to throw away your ethnicity to become American. That’s what it means. You have to give yourself up for it."

Monday, January 11, 2010

DAy 175: pain

hip is sore sans med
back is sore from damn crutches
heart hurts from distance

Sunday, January 10, 2010

day 174:james taylor

James had it all right
When the world is scary just close your eyes
Hold your own flame
And if you can't any other way go in your mind
Somenight I feel the highway cAlling me home
I pretend Hawaii is taylors new Carolina
And I'm up and gone home
I've never been to either Carolina but I imagine her skin to be almost as soft as my home shore

Saturday, January 9, 2010

Day 173: leaving

2 suitcases
2 guitars
1 backpack
tomorrow i will tattoo landing patterns on my wrist during take off
sing myself to sleep in distance
sip the sunrise
the skyline
soak in everything that will not fit into my luggage
store the views like time capsules in my skin
the mountain range stitched to the inside of my pockets
my sisters smiles
imprinted on my fingertips
i carry this place
these people with me
they are my backbone
my strength

Friday, January 8, 2010

Day 172: distance

3 minutes til the stroke of midnight
i am closer to california than i've ever been without being there
but further away from the people who bring me back
who ever knew our life lines would be the only thing strangling our hearts
from a distance your tears sound like laugher
like raindrops on my window
your breath
the one i havent tasted in a over a month
it smells like morning dew
from a distance
our dreams
they taste real enough just to spite memory
how is the texture of your skin without my fingertips soft
what remains the same from a distance
other than our hearts
too tongue tied to be broken
just aching

Thursday, January 7, 2010

Day 171: memorial

we wear these colors like survivors
our grandmothers blood draped over our chest
we flatter ourselves with our heartbeats
rhythm dancing in our breath
our breasts are front line soldiers
the lack of awareness is the only enemy we have
our lives are just waiting in the wings
waiting to breathe
23% of all deathe are caused by cancer
15% of all women who have cancer are diagnosed with breast cancer
our anatomy is our own worst enemy
we cut yourselves short instead of early action and prevention
women are urged to begin self examinations 2 years after becoming sexuality active
and no later than 21 years old
and yet
until this evening
i knew none of these rules
this is what awareness looks like when its rushed
when we are afraid
this is the story we've been telling for far too long
combining our lives into one big
one big memorial

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Day 170: women

tell me what a women looks like
ill show you how she feels
broken down
in american women are solid bricks building the foundation to this country
get cracked
like immigrant backs
we have built this country
with our words
forked these roads
our indecisive hearts were built that way too

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

day 169: fail

there are pems we write with our blood
and there are poems we sing with our skin
pulsing movement into stroy
backdropped on color
we are the storyline broken lines
crooked eye
we hold lies and truth with our fingertips tasting love in the crevaces

Monday, January 4, 2010

Day 168: passage

She was the youngest of crack babies to a mother of three; the brightest of all the girls in her school, but no one knew it. Not even she could tell you that, especially after that night. She had humble beginnings and never learned how to accept a compliment. While growing up people would call her beautiful people would look up to her but she would never believe it, how could she?

How could anyone look up to someone so miserable? So ugly? So confused? And that night these questions had to be answered. Minutes before her last breath, she would relive every moment and re-walk every step. She would die that night at her own hand, she would go out on her terms for once in her life she would be in control of her destiny.

No one would remember to look for her after that night, but no one who ever crossed her path would ever forget those eyes even if they never really had a name. Those piecing eyes, from which oceans of tears flowed, no one ever saw them but if you had a heart you could feel them. No one could forget those eyes, especially me no matter how hard I’ve tried.

Its been 12 years and I’m still in love with that girl, since I was a boy I loved her but she never saw me, just like she never let me see her tears. She hid from life and I can’t imagine why someone so beautiful would keep her brilliance from a world that needed it so much. The world could have used a little more affection, and I believe if she let her self she just could have been that to the world, love.

Sunday, January 3, 2010

Day 167: thick

“aubs!” Kris woke me from my day dream. Apparently I had been staring into my palms for the last 10 minutes. To me, silence is the closest way to taking back something you’ve already said. I know that sounds stupid but really there was nothing more to say. I looked up into Kris’ eyes and saw something I’d never seen before. A single tear fell from her eye and in that moment it felt as if we had locked into each others souls, that there was nothing left that either of us could say, everything that ever needed to be said had just been said, it was done.

I was still locked into that moment when I realized that kris’ had moved. She learned her torso over the center consol of her car as if to give me one of those awkward goodbye hugs but instead she placed her right hand on my cheek and neck. I froze, I didn’t know what to say or what to do so I just stayed there petrified. She leaned in closer to me, I could feel her breathe upon my lips, I knew she was waiting for me to close the distance between our bodies but I couldn’t move. And before I could pull away or push on our lips were locked. Her hand rested on the back of my neck, what usually felt controlling and conforming felt comforting and sexy. And then as quickly as it began it was over. I don’t remember exiting the car or even walking from the garage to my front door and yet I was sitting on the foot of my bed, kris’s car was gone and I was more confused than ever.

Saturday, January 2, 2010

DAy 166: segment

It was so much harder and easier than I had imagined. I thought would have cried, and maybe I did, to be honest for the 10 minutes that it took to sum up my entire lifetime into one single story I was completely paralyzed. It felt like an eternity, but I figure the saying that times flies when you are having fun also works in reverse. A part of me felt a sense of relief, as if I had just removed a 20 pound rock off my back. The horrible part is, that rock was probably added to the 20 others Kris had already placed on her own back. I couldn’t help but feel guilty in telling her, because in doing so the obligation that she would feel in taking care of me would just strengthen. I wonder when ill stop holding her back.

Friday, January 1, 2010

Day 165: preface

I swear the tent, standing motionless in the valley, smells still of a three week old robbery. I was fourteen and knew little of this “experience.” I resent that tent for not falling down since; it just stands there fighting against the rain and wind insistent on holding every single god forsaken tear and memory with it.