#gabriel
Texas: The Grand Facade
“All my instincts, they return, and the grand facade, so soon will burn”. Songwriter: Peter Gabriel, In Your Eyes
§§§§§
and so nature does it best to humanize the arrogance,
“can’t happen here, can’t happen to me,
I’m too young, a brave Alamo Texan,”
forgot Gabriel’s admonition, the grand facade, is exactly that,
a coverup, and skin is not deep enough, even your tough hide,
cannot keep out what you
cannot see, is stronger than you,
did you weigh the scales,
do a cost/benefit analysis,
write down the pros & cons?
**think of coronavirus like love and ***
——————
good love is a treasured blessing, a live long song,
wine to be pleasured sipped, you get drunk on beer, and
hookup *** give yourself ****** aids, and/or the clap,
a bad decision, a haunting, a hangover that is marked on you face,
that you’ll testify to
every day for the rest of your sad, sad, existence,
in the bathroom mirror
a facade always gets revealed,
too bad you chose the
wrong thing to believe in...
you unmasked yourself!
Jun 29, 2020
Jun 29, 2020 at 10:29 AM UTC
Behold San Gabriel!
the far mountain is
stunningly ascendent
the city's smog
dissipates into a
a welcomed hiatus
white glaciated peaks
bespeak nature’s regency
a City of Angels’ crowned
in a mystic halo once again
Thunderous roads are silent
highway death tolls nose dive
life expectancy for the driven grows
Mother’s cry a million less tears
Tollkeepers palms are left wanting
For the uberites
the celestial scales
of supply and demand
have tipped gas prices in our favor
A litre of petrol costs but a few pesos
cars roaring down side streets
coating curbs with
noxious exhaust has stopped
Street running stick ballers eye
2nd base manhole covers
as safe to steal again
Some have been granted
A reprieve from a harried life
vexations of frenetic ways dwindle
The welcomed respite of downtime
Salves a bruised and battered soul
We’re invited to dip our toes
Into small pools of leisure time
Escape to a hobby’s fascination
luxuriate in childlike frivolity
Time has opened for families
An evening’s repast
is holy communion
The wholesomeness
of a home cooked meal
Manna from heaven our daily bread
We share a sip from a cup of salvation
Climb up slide down
some shoots and ladders
Gingerly remove a funny bone
Without the red nose buzzing
Spend time in Abuela’s old kitchen
Learn her secrets of family recipes
Passed down from ancient
Borinquen forebears
Challenge creative sensibilities
Let the muse whisper a song
Into your willowy ear
Draw a portrait of a loved one
wash a buena vista watercolor
Compose a poem of perfect simplicity
record the glorious fictions of family history
Place yourself at the center of its epic struggle
Go noodle a tune on the old upright
Dust off that old guitar and flash some new hot licks
Take out the bongos and bang away
The blues are routed for another day
Sing a family circle song
where Daddy sings bass
Take an afternoon nap,
let the cat purr you to sleep
Enjoy the escape
of an afternoon delight
Than walk the dog afterward
in warm eventide twilite
The skies are resoundingly silent
Gushing engines contrail plumes gone
Jets blessedly overthrown by
silhouettes of crows on the wing
Listen to a new meditative lullaby, the
splendid symphony of avian adagios
Plug in to your body electric
Learn to breathe as deeply as you love
Listen to the rhythms of your heartbeat
And fine tune the condition of your soul
Eschew usurpations of politics
And tyrants that cajole to oppress
Seek solidarity in common citizenship
Take refuge in the courage of integrity
And dwell in the unity of the holy spirit
May a pandemic of love consume you
May your crisis open a portal of grace
May the closeness of friends and family
Restore you to a much better place
San Gabriel Mountains beckon
His halo crowns us all
stirred by the trilling trumpet
Wholly affirmed and filled
We answer his call
Bob Dylan: Thunder on the Mountain
Puyallup WA
4/21/20
jbm
Apr 21, 2020
Apr 21, 2020 at 4:12 PM UTC
Painter sits down
Strokes sun light dipped in moon light upon fjord.
Crystalline blood blooms from valley.
Bird flys high in the sky.
Wind speaks for the earth.
Splish
Splash
The waves crash amongst each other like uncontrollable dominoes.
In the forest
Alone are the spirits
Wolves and deer stand restrained by there own silence as the golden sun rises.
The painter redips his brush.
Jan 19, 2018
Jan 19, 2018 at 2:21 AM UTC
How do you answer a five year old
When he's asking why we are alive
I don't have any statement solid enough that he'd be sold
Or why we aren't helping the elderly, hungry and cold.
Explain to a child humanity has taken a dive,
That today, people don't care if you survive
But I'm still strapped for an answer when asked
What happens when those planets align?
Looking into unsure little eyes,
Like "yeah buddy, of course it will all be fine"
It's hard to censor anymore because people want it raw
But then get insulted for what their kid saw
Even the kids shows are spouting crude jokes
Shaggy and Velma are dating
While I sit waiting for a classic mystery to begin
Teach them everything so young and so fast,
Their minds can't take it, gone in a blast.
The clock not missing a tick, the world spins
What do we win if we stop helping,
Selfishly, keeping more than they need
At the root of your thoughts,
I have to know what does your mind bleed
All these things and stuff, I'd give it all up
In a heartbeat, you can watch me do it
Lead by example and keep the rooms lit
But my son keeps asking questions,
So I keep retracing puzzle pieces on my finger
Until the answers for him perfectly fit
Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 8:34 PM UTC
My heart is a golden garden
Full blown roses
tight little buds
of oranges
Pinks and Rosy reds
my favorite purple hues
Each one opened at the subtle cues
of careful human touch
Each friend has opened their own treasured flower
a monument, a bright colored tower
to a love that will span through the ages of life
bringing light to my garden
even at night
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 9:08 PM UTC
Gabriel descended
and he called out to me
So I got out of my bed
and swam to him across the sea
We met within the forest
under cover of the shade
I asked why he had beckoned
he said, Because you obeyed
As we walked, he asked
what forever haunts my soul:
If you had a preference,
would you cause or close the hole?
The first to arrive at the other side
and leave the ones you love behind,
Or live to lose them, one by one,
the last one to be left alive?
I could not respond, and so I walked
away and left him there.
I came when called, and my reward:
a cross I’m too weak to bear.
Returning home as dawn arrived
met by the sleepy faces
My beloved ones, unbeknownst
to such lonely and dark places.
I’ve run away, and on the lam
a nomad known by none;
Those I have left I pray forget
the madness that Gabriel spun.
Night brings chill, and he returns
and I, weary, can’t hide
Kneeling beside, he says to me
You can’t outrun the tide
I’d hoped to circumvent the loss
in death that he’d revealed;
For if alone, I could not lose
or be lost when fate wield
The ones I’d loved were left without
me, I too lost them all
For fear of death had drowned my hope
the day the angel called
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 2:54 AM UTC
i heard you were doing acid this weekend
burning holes in your brain.
were you trying to burn away the pain?
do you hurt like i do?
it’s hard to let you go because
you’ve burned a hole in my brain, too.
i still smell you when i hear your name.
my nostrils burn like my eyes.
my parents asked me if i meant it
when i said goodbye this time.
i said i did. today, anyway.
i might change my mind if
you come back home because
your hand is where my hand belongs.
you’re everything i hate.
i wasn’t planning to fall this hard
but i guess you warned me.
i didn’t cry until i let my mind
remember why i cried last time.
i’m scared.
(r.e.)
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 12:19 AM UTC
Darling,
in the event of a zombie apocalypse,
I’m gonna marry you.
I know, that romantic testimonial
isn’t quite the matrimonial proposition
you were expecting,
but I’m projecting a lovely future for us!
You see, when the dead break free,
I’ll come save you.
I’ll be your knight in shining Kevlar,
your cranium-crushing crusader,
and safe in our barricaded bungalow,
we’ll match moans for groans
with the shambling horde outside.
We’ll make love ’til death do we part,
or at least til we start
to run out of supplies,
and if we get in a pinch,
I’ve got a surprise:
see, I’ll paralyze them with poetry,
’cause if there’s anything
a zombie understands, it’s desire.
Meanwhile,
you lay down suppressive fire
and we’ll take out as many as we can.
If in the end we are overrun,
I’ll let them take me
so you can get away.
They can have my brain–
it’s my heart that beats for you.
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 8:59 PM UTC
This is not a poem, this is a life.
I have fallen in love, and I know you've fallen in love (at least I hope you've fallen in love). But, our love was antithetic, it was electric, it was eccentric, it was modern. It was like moonbeams, it was like the pavement after rain. Our love was timeless, but most importantly, it was faceless. It was without impression, it was without imperfection.
I just wanted to remind you, that this is not a poem, this is a life.
I met you, and you met me, but it wasn't face to face. We never walked down the hallways of our high schools and brushed the backs of our hands together. Never would I be able to compare the glint in your eyes to the way the sun shined in our favorite spot last Wednesday at 4:32p.m. We never sat on your back porch, or leaned precariously over my balcony, and nervously leaned into one another. Never will you understand the trembling of my knees when I first heard your voice (this is all becoming very poetic), and never will I know the unabashed heat of your skin; or the cold of your dangerous glare. I'll never meet your mother, and you'll never meet my father (but that's okay, because we wouldn't want that anyways), they are our secrets locked away in a box underneath our separate and never merging beds. I crave nothing more than a love that cracks open my ribs and sends a hurricane barreling through my heart. Few have tried, yet none (only you) have succeeded. The failed have only summoned a cold winter within these bones, but you struck up a blistering summer and an incomprehensible spring, where my eyes viewed nothing but random march showers.
Sorry, I forgot that you were not a poem, and this is our life.
Only upon assessing the damage your vessel created with your departure did I realize that this is not a poem, this is a life.
(a.m.) 03/12/14
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 2:11 PM UTC