Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Cruel

I.

I didn't need
a haircut,
me and royal crown
pomenade
were doing just fine.

But,
I went anyways.

Some believe there is a plan,
a plan to the universe: divine, mathimatical or subatomic.
The universe tilting, shoving, exploding and expanding all guiding us to the place we need to be, like a cosmic pinball machine..
even with
something as simple as a trim.

The last time i came here,
it took three armenian translators to get my hair cut.
but thats
ok.
I enjoy alittle
risk, i enjoy living dangerously,
i like suprises.

Today was the day i met you.

II.

I
have always been facinated by
stories of how people meet.
sometimes they "just"
meet.

the universe flipping switches, winding, turning knobs, and pulling levers, as people meet,
in supermarkets, circuses, rehabs, opera's, weddings, churches, dancefloors, gasstations, bars, and prisons everyday.

Today was the day i met you.

You were friendly,
but i know its
part of the job.
But you seemed genuine, and caring.
Far more than needed
for gratuity.

You told me about your
daddy,
and
your sensual poems.

You were too cool.

You were an artist.
You were funny,
you wore those
pants that i
make fun of, on
other people.

I tried to play it cool,
but
I'm not.

I didn't want to be,
"that guy"
(I am not another guy overtaken by beauty, not another guy peddleling his lines at the market. not another guy who just kneels and prays without asking to see the menu.)

I am not "that guy".


I am:
Created by the divine spark of god. I am, a criminal mastermind, a
saint, and an angel. I believe in magic even though i'm a horrible
speller.I am a fun date, a hooker with a heart of gold, and well
respected man about town. I am stand up, and stand for. gunslinger,
gun for hire. I am brave, silly, and can take a punch.Bring home the bacon and to
your mom, because she warned you about me. I am brown skin, an inside man, and outside the box. i am kind. I have slow hands that move like they
know what they doing. I am out of tune, two left feet, but the life
of your political party. The last of the famous international playboys, and
the boy next door. Thief of hearts, and Jack of all trades. I am,
just your average hero.
I am just like you.

but i am not "that guy".

I have been compromising, shortchanging, sabotaging,
and settling for less
since i got back.

taking one for the team, for too long.
you were too cool.

it all made sense again.
i knew why again.
i wanted to
try
again.

I didn't need
a haircut,
me and royal crown
pomenade
were doing just fine.

Then I met you.
I wish i never had.

its not everyday you find exactly what you've been looking for.
its not everyday you find exactly what you've
waited for,
and then hand
a tip, mumble something incoherent and wave goodbye.

this is cruel.



08'

Sunday, March 02, 2008

Los Emo’s

I sometimes watch the news en espanol
with
my family.

It is one part tabloid one part gossip and the rest is the weather.

The story tonight was about the emo kids of Mexico. the punkettas

There were the anti-emo’s who wanted to beat up the emo’s.

The anti emo’s would wear gas masks and carry bats.

There was some kinda of rumble of punkettas and anti emo’s

it was hard to tell from the story if it was about homophobia or whether the anti emo’s just hated their musical preferences.

Either way the emo’s should have a right to fuck who ever they want. and look as stupid as they want doing it.

Machismo in our countries is a genetic disease. ( Affecting the XX Chromosomes)
It is disease who’s symptoms are crimes, too many to mention.

In a country that is fucked in ass by corruption you’d think the anti emo’s would have better things to do, and gas masks are a bit too much.

a girl interviewed for the story said that just because a man cries doesn’t make him less of a man.

The next story was about Guatemala beating Mexico at the Olympic qualifiers.

With the story title Ganan Los Chapin’s!

I was so happy,
I almost cried.

Now that, that is a news story.

08'

Noun on verb action.

(b side)

when my words
lay down on the white sheets of paper
to get it on,
they do it in groups,
next to
single letters going it solo.

Its dirty,
its poetry.
its fiction
its trash,
its
verb on verb ,
Noun on verb action.

Like the diffrence
between,
the act of making
love,
fucking and making whoopee
they don't have time to rhyme,
they
don't do quatraines,
meters,
or the lotus position.

Cheap
Messy
Misspelled
Anonymus,

Its dirty,
its poetry.
its fiction
its trash,
its
noun on noun,
verb on noun action,


you read along,
vouyers,
[in
his or hers
raincoats,
looking around making
sure no one is watching
you
reading these words,
with the door locked,
ashamed and satisfied.]

08

Saturday, March 01, 2008

The Penguin


Unlike
most Batman
villains,
the penguin
was not
insane.

He
just had
a flare
about things.

3 to 4 feet of
pudgy
ladies man.
Tuxedos,
Suits,
Umbrellas,
Lavenders,
Purples,
an extension for his
cigarette
Chaps on his shoes
a Monocle
and Top Hat.
motherfucker looked like Dick Cheney.

Not insane,
but close.

08'

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