Wednesday, September 23, 2015

This Also And


All absorb

Give Nothing.


This Nothing
Also Nothing
And Nothing.

Sunday, July 26, 2015

Poem Scraps

While writing other things:
De Incendiis Corporis Humani Spontaneis
Human Combustion

I hate the both of you,
one times 2,
one times 3.

She is ugly in a beautiful kind of way
She is beautiful in ugly kind of way

In the morning she will have a story
to tell of how she narrowly avoided getting wet.

I have felt your
hands slipping before-

maybe I've no right
to try  to hold
your hand tighter.

From the moment you came into my life,
I've tried to prepare for you leaving.

I learned we are the same with

Sneaking out,
in silence.

(We have that in common)

But if you don't hear from me again,
its because i've run out of ways to
say I'm sorry.

Letting  you in,
has been a most dangerous thing.

I've know

but compared
to the damage I do to myself
you and all the rest,
have been amateurs.

Fucking amateurs.

"If you want something done right,
you gotta do it your self."

I was told-
that my soul
was under the impression,
that suffering was the surest way to you.

There are times
I question everything you do.

Including your very existence.

In matters of my heart,
I thought you most cruel.

Waiting to the last possible moment to answer.

I don't want to suffer anymore.

So you've granted me

You let me see you in eyes of woman.
You let me feel you in her heart.
You let me feel you in my own heart.

Then you took it away.


So hands join together not hold, but to clap
So she says "its time to go, I drawn you a map.
So the spring that released set in motion a trap
So empty the box, left behind like the gift to unwrap

 as if
We will never die,

though the flame will
weaken into embers.

What was once a raging fire-
(consuming all in its path)
must become ashes.

There is a cycle of destruction  and birth.

what came before
what comes after,
what was destroyed this cycle
gave birth.

It gives birth to us.

For the moment, I feel they have lifted the curse,
the one given to me at birth, to carry by hearse, on my way back to the earth.

12/13- 7/15

Friday, June 19, 2015

I Forgot All About That

I remember
you invited me to your roommates baby shower,
and I never made it because I spent the whole day making spaghetti for the potluck.
You got mad, because I called late at night to ask if I should still bring my dish.
You also invited me to Lou's party, but never gave me the address.

I remember
you dancing to Outkast with your roommate and me in your living room, and it was the kind of moment that brings a small light in remembering it. You also tried to teach me the Beyonce moves from Crazy in Love, but I never had much coordination.

I remember
the Polaroid pictures of you on the potty, taken by your then live in boyfriend, hanging on the wall, before we were even introduced. Even before meeting, I knew the person in those pictures might understand the Zen of it all. You also asked your then boyfriend to do me that one favor, that one time.

I forgot that
we were going to be roommates but I still hadn't gotten my act together then.
we were going to be writing partners and make a children's book like the Hubley's did "The Hat"
but we never got around to it. we saw my ex girlfriend at the Pixies concert and you gave her a dirty look for me.

I forgot that
we were going to be pen pals, but I never sent out the first letter, even though I sat down and finished it. we were going to watch the movie "Manhattan" in a cemetery, but can't remember why we didn't go. we went to that Japanese restaurant where the owner gives you free desert if she likes you, and she did.

I forgot that
we were close at one time. we were part of each others lives, until I told you that I saw my spiritual reflection in you, and you turned on me. You got mad that I would impose that feeling on you, that I would violate some boundary. I didn't say I loved you, but what I said was just as bad.
(To you, maybe worse.)

I had never told anyone I saw my reflection in them before, I doubt ever will again.
Either way you didn't want anything to do with spiritual reflections or me, ever again.

It hurt to lose you so completely.
We were friends, then nothing.

I wish I could forget how it ended.
I wish I could forget the details.
I wish I could forget we were close at one time.

I but I have to remember, so that at least one of us does.

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

There Are Easier Ways to Get Laid

"You can't love everyone, but you can be kind."-Father Yod

Before He was a Cult leader of young beautiful people
Before He was Father Yod, the lead singer of Yahowha 13
Before He was God cheating on his wife, sleeping with underage girls-

He was just Jim Baker, millionaire.

Killed a couple of guys with Judo chops,
Robbed a few banks,
Opened a successful organic vegetarian restaurant on the Sunset strip.

(Yes the same one Annie Hall and Alvy broke up at)

It was a crazy time back then.
It was the dawning of the age of Aquarius.

Maybe it was because his 19 year old hippie bride turned him on to the new age
Maybe it was the Swami who had all those Rolls Royce in his garage.
Maybe it was smoking that sacred herb.

But that crazy bastard started his own cult.

Founded on the idea of pleasure,
he was followed by young Beautiful women.
he was followed by young Men who looked like Jesus.
So many of them all living in the Hollywood Hills.

(Yes, Even Harold without Maude, once joined)

Jim Baker millionaire, became Father Yod cult leader.

Touch him and the world disappears
Look at him and see lighting bolts shoot out his ears
Turn to him and he can blow life into a still born baby

It was a crazy time back then.
It was the dawning of the age of Aquarius.

(Yes, then it got weird)

Teaching Sex Magic.
Singing lead in the cult's band.
Playing high school shows recruiting the youth.
Taking 13 new brides at once, while forgetting all the others he walked out on.

His followers believed they were chosen to usher in the new Aquarian age
believing Armageddon  was coming
so they moved to Hawaii.

But, Hawaii was no paradise.

only on mushrooms did
he finally admit he was not god, but just a man

He was just a man.
It was over.

In the end He went hang gliding-
without having taken any lessons.

There was a strong wind that day,
that brought a man down from the heavens,
and returned him back to hard cold earth.

It was the age of Aquarius.
It was a different time back then.

There had to have been easier ways to get laid.

Saturday, June 13, 2015


it will begin or end only with an exclamation mark!
or have I misunderstood it all ending with a question mark?

so many periods of time filled with question marks.
long periods of time filled with long pauses...

you can tell anyone you love them.

in quotation marks,
out of context-

you can think you love any one of them,
in a thought bubble.

until the bubble bursts.


no, we will end not with question marks,
only your answers will... sentencing me to a life doubt.

love is punctuated, leaving no doubt.

and anything other than a exclamation,
will have no point.

no ifs ands or buts.

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

When You Think of Yoga

When you think of Yoga,
think of Jorge Ramirez Valenzuela.

They say as a boy,
He would hear voices that no one else could hear.
When He turned 18, the voices told Him, he was to go to India.

But He was a poor young man from Guatemala,
without a cent to his name.

The voices told Him to buy a lottery ticket,
so He did and He won.

When He got India, he was greeted by
a bearded man familiar to him only
in His dreams.

He trained in India as a mystic,
until He returned to Guatemala in the 50's.

He came to offer his knowledge
to poor of Guatemala.

He taught them Yoga
He taught them the Dharma
He taught them how to ease their suffering-

and suffering, along with coffee beans,
was one of the few things
Guatemala had an abundance of.

My mother told me, that when she met first Him,
she was skeptical the way teenagers are,
and dared him to prove his mystic powers.

That night an entity made of light woke my
mother and aunt up while they slept.

They screamed in fear, but
she never doubted Him again.

He once told his followers of the Templo Yoga
to protest the corruption of its country's leaders.

In Guatemala that's something you don't do.
The government took him.

Some say, letter writing and Amnesty International
got Him out, but a political prisoner getting out prison alive,
in Guatemala in the 60's, is nothing short of proof of a higher power at work.

And through Him
the ascended master teachers would speak


They would speak the words
so desperately needed in this world,
but heard by so few.

Practiced by even fewer.

And when He died
the temple moved to a smaller

His followers dispersed.

And the practice of Yoga
in Guatemala went into decline.

When He died,
there was a little more suffering in the world.

They say at night,
there is light that still emanates from his grave.

When you think of Yoga, think of 
Jorge Ramirez Valenzuela.

Monday, June 08, 2015

curly hair don't care

(B Side)

Alarm clocks

Curly hair don't care

Paper cuts
Stop signs

Curly hair don't care

Turn Tables

Curly hair don't care

Silly poems

Curly hair don't care...she really don't

Sunday, June 07, 2015

There was a pause

(The Leonard Cohen Fan Club series part 5)

And there was a pause
between  the applause and what i knew for certain
between the bow and the curtain
between the omitted fact and the need for more
between the last act and the staged encore-

and there was a pause
between every word you spoke, and the air you inhale,
between what I heard and my dark skin turning pale.
between the our unspoken vow,
between the us, here and now.

and in that pause
I fell in and out of love
I fell from below as well as above.
I fell awake, long after the sleep-
I fell into the swallow to rise from the deep.

and in that pause
I fell under a spell, fell silent after that look,
I fell for the oldest trick in the book.
I fell for your beauty- your skin and your hair.
I fell into shock as I fell down the stair, head over heals,
pushed down by Proufrock whispering "Beware, beware beware".

Sunday, May 31, 2015


Ella es mi Campeona,
La mas Chingona

She is my champion,
the baddest bitch.

I've put my life in her hands.
Trusting her completely.

should we lose, we lose together.

But she can not lose,
She is a Champion.

My Champion,
the baddest Bitch.

With her smarts
and my heart,
We can not lose.

Like a Valkyrie
she will chose who the fuck will live
and who will die, upon the field of battle.
(pobres cabrones, me dan lastima)

and should Odin chose that I fall in battle,
she will carry me up, to the mercy of Valhalla.

But together, we can not lose.
(juntos a la victoria)

She is a Champion.

My Champion,
the baddest bitch.

Ella es mi Campeona,
La mas Chingona

Sunday, May 17, 2015

shadow play

"My love's like the warmth of the sun
It won't ever die"-  The Beach Boys

When you shine your light on me,
you cast my shadow on the ground.

When I move closer the shadow grows.

The brighter your light the darker it appears. 
there is no escaping it.

You see me and you see my shadow.

But I only see your light,
and if I stare into you much longer it will blind me.

Until I begin to resent our arrangement in the cosmos.

So I close my eyes and
you become all shadow.

And the longer my eyes stay closed ,
our shadows play.

Until it is like a dream,
that I do not want to wake from.

But I always open my eyes,
for death, is to keep your eyes closed forever.

So, I choose to not look away-
to let your light blind me.

To be left in my mind,
left in the coldness of space.

Only to feel the warmth of your light.

Like a planet ellipses around a sun,
I get closer and further to you.

Closer and further

Springs and Winters

Until you resent our arrangement in the cosmos.

 Until you Supernova-
collapsing into a Black Hole.

No one escapes,
No one spared.

And there in that hole,
I do not dream of what darkness dwells.

Monday, May 04, 2015

It Suits You

Say something pretty.

You're good with words.
(but not much else)

There has to be something you want to admit.
To lay out like a suit on your bed,
before you wear it.

The truth is the last real beautiful thing there is, wear it well,
and hang failure around you neck,
like a tie.

You have been failing at so much,
for so long.
You wear it well.

But you were always good with words.
Without them,
you're barely anything-
you're barely alive.

So, say something pretty,
lay out something beautiful to wear,
something dark
something true
something black.

As if attending a funeral,
you look good in Black.
(It suits you)

Even if the funeral is your own.

Wednesday, January 14, 2015

The Grave Digger

For Gigi

There is no hole deep enough
to bury the longing to walk with you again.

But I keep digging.

I try to do a good job.
Making a perfect hole.

But there no hole 
deep enough to bury
what I feel.

What am i burying?

It is not the love for you.
It is not the memory of you.
It is not my own suffering.

I try to do a good job,
Making a perfect hole.

I am tired of thinking of all
the things I could have done 

To keep you alive.
(If any)

My heart aches.
I want to at least get this one
miserable thing 

To show you I love you,
one last time.


She was tough old broad.
So small-

white fur. black lips.
Big black eyes that looked
into your soul.

She only had 6 teeth,
but that never stopped her
from picking fights with
the trash of this world.


She was a tough old broad.

But her love was tender.

She made my life better.
Her love was loyal -
She was better than most people.

Time is unforgiving.
Time takes.

You try so hard to hold on.

In my heart
I still hold you like a baby.

I hold you like a baby.

Subscribe to Los Brainacs via Email