my dad taught me English

just one time
I was at the age of nine
or maybe six
three
or two
I have no clue
it’s his first language
or something close to it
from Cuba, China, Canada,
to college in the Netherlands
and meeting Belgium for the first
not only for thirst
but because it’s a place
called home
for my grandparents
cause at the end
you always come back
to what you’ve had
I guess that doesn't rhyme
but It's fine

when I was twelve
I had to go to language camp
trying to learn
the language that has burned
on the soul of my dad
don't get mad
I came crying home
practice was needed
one week
not enough

so after summer turned
school returned
English I learned
while I sat on that chair
in the seat over there
pen and book
it was terrible too
but after three years
I could finally say
"How are you today?”

not special for sure
just studying this
everyone can do it
but I hope someday
I can make him proud
when he won't shout
when I make…
a misssteaaacke


I'm sorry

My eyes stare at words
like vege and meat
on a cutting board,
cutting each to meaning
                               sound
                            meter,
sentences and syllables,
my OCD mind refuses to stop
revving the gas pedal
on my 1991 Buick LaSabre
before doing donuts in the parking lot
of a shut down K-Mart.

All we need is darkness
for the natural selection of light
I watch the past as a travel show
the necessity or adversity ignites language,
different shapes of games, we like the power plays
of circle
let me be sealed in a wave
I want to descend to the faith of sand
to the Cro-Magno vision of words

Don't get caught in the Rain,
Only to be struck by Lightning
And curse the Thunder.

For Oceans are beckoning,
Electric is waving,
Thunder is speaking;

The point is,
Pick up the torch.

For when fires are raging & spreading
You either lead, leave, or get burned.

A Tiny Explanation Of The Previous Work Posted:

In the "mysteries" of "Dionysus,"
Or the philosophy of Apollo,
This means stand when you imbibe libations.
When/if you do drugs.

To better know how inebriated or intoxicated
You are or have become.
To properly imbibe them rather than be binded by them or blinded by them.

Similarly, such libations can cause sickness
Without moderation. Such things zap us
Of our relaxation, even stealing our tongue(s).

Hunting what the cause is -
Searching for the light in silence or by abstaining,
Can rebirth the (good) time
Of truth wrapped in/up.

We must ward off sickness;
About our troubles we must talk.



What made them philosophies to the Order(s),
Was the constants between cultures.
You could rattle off names of "Titans" & "Gods"
To easily communicate
Whatever was happening,
Readily understood by those initiated.

Very useful if you spoke different languages,
If it was not safe/was dangerous to talk in open/openness.

And what made them "mysteries"
Was that outside observers
Were left clueless
Unless they themselves had found the light/sawed through the darkness
Or hunted for the truth(s) of the matter(s).



It was a language of Philosophy,
The Philosophy of Language.

the peasant girl
who once brought water
from the well
in cracked hands
has returned.
she didn’t mean to
leave her home behind —
it was just to escape
the silence between
what she needed
and would be never given.
she left with nothing
but a hunger for life,
so she started living,
and never apologised.