Tuesday, September 11, 2007


i feel selfish when i think about sept.

people lost thier loved ones.
a sentiment that haunted or crushed them.
those without peace, still.
so to answer the question,
i remember where i was,
you were in scotland,
you were flying in that day
back to san francisco.

i remember worrying,
about how you
explained me,
to family,
to the scottish,
remembering your mother

if only that simple.
i was heading for work,
i had just gotten on the 51
when the driver,
mentioned an

not understanding until i got to work,
and then the day kinda stood still
the only thing existing was the
permanent loop
a screen.

the same images
and over.

the whole world condenced.
into a permanent loop.
i thought about you.
and tried hard to know.
not to guess, but to know,
i called your dad,
i called people who didn't like me,
i crossed that embarrassing line of privacy to

i looked for you. to know.
but what was that
in comparision to them...

i have no right to comapare...

your father,
he fianally got around to calling me.
letting me know you were safe.
selfish, in that relief.
selfish in that comfort.

i fianally heard from you by email.
i felt embarrassed and selfish by
the little things, the petty things...
like you believing your father contacted me,
of his own accord, volution, heart.

i wanted you to know,
that i looked for you.

You came back a week later, you came back diffrent.
It was in your eyes.
It didn't have a name, but i knew things were diffrent.
the whole country re evaluated,
left alone together with
what was important.
alone with
the gravity of life.

for a short span, nobody gave a fuck about the superfical, the mindless, the guilded.
nobody gave a fuck....

i cant blame you for re evaulating as well,
re inventing a life, without me.

I take a slight comfort in you delaying the inevitable for as long as you did.

I feel selfish when i think about sept.
because those people
over there, truely
lost loved ones.
they truely lost them,
whereas you are around,
maybe nobodys wife,
and yet i still mourn
reading that email from that day,
kept for six years in my inbox.
instead of healing,


Sunday, September 02, 2007

good guys

Its not like,
the good guys won in the end.

or that there was
an ending or anything like a resolution.

its just how it is

you just root for the
home team,
losing season
and all.

you just listen,
even though
their earlier
stuff was better.

you just keep
even though
there's not much to

yes, i know.
it failed to climax,
but what else is

its not like the good guys,
won in the end,
or anyone else for that matter.


Saturday, September 01, 2007

alittle embarrassed

I feel alittle
embarrassed when I
write about you.

It was so long ago.
And I fear you would think
there may not be much
to mention,

And I fear you would think
it obsessive, an
successfully failing at turning lead into

once again.

I was there too, I was there,
so this my story as well.

I feel embarrassed when I write about you because
I think you'd find that
there was nothing to say.
politicians, writers and critics have made livings with nothing to say...
and i can say nothing,
very well.

I feel embarrassed when I write about you because-
I loved you,
but I am not embarrassed by that,
I'm embarrassed by failing at it.
more than once-

I feel embarrassed
still I write about you

but although I may suffer
you worth at least that, right?

at least worth
a little embarrassment-

because when we were young,
just children,

I believed I was in love,

I believed
I would have
died for you-

a little embarrassment,
is nothing.

Yeah like the Beatles song

for M.

she is a memory,
and nothing came of it.

in my mind what was i thinking.
beside her tattoos, and eyes.

there was another.
but for a moment,

brief and brilliant there was just her, and me.

so simple the world, uncomplicated reduced to the first equation, a girl and boy.

she is a memory, as
she never spoke to me again,
and i don't blame her.

i am sure i have been forgotten, by now as it should be

i am a mistake in many many
 a great story, a misprint, if you will.
a villain in many
and hero in so very few.

she did not recall, she did not remember
that time where if we had met before, all of it,
i would be holding her closer than any cross.

i have been wrong before.

28) Untitled # lucky 13

The movement needed
a comedian.
There was no help wanted sign in the window of
Revolution R Us
(and yes the R is backwards)
no ad in craigslist among the calls for models, used computer parts for sale and some lonely bastard trying desprately to find a date.
(which reminds me to post a pic soon)
there was nothing.......
i have decided that i will do my part.
with the only skill i have
but can not put on any resume.
I will try to make you laugh....you poet, you revolutinary, you gods and godess, you soliders of peace, person of conciousness, person of social change and justice...you brother you sister,
(and even you that jerk who stole my girl)
I will try to make you laugh......
because when the greed and hate of man has
burned the books, and homes,
buried students, peasants and dreams
There are still us to fight on....
the laugh can not be buried or burned.....

When the people forget to laugh,
they forget to be human.
They stand tall and proud
They take thier words and thought seriously
as a matter of life and death.
which it is.
You said times were tough,
there was nothing to laugh about....
i understand, and always have....
In time, soon in the near future, tomorrow, manana..
Till then.
Times are tough, and i will laugh for both of us,
for now.


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