Love Ipanema
That girl loves to walk so much
Where is she going

I, naive

I believed that the break in the clouds
Was the end of rain

Thought those rays of sun weren't burning

I was lying
Myself in the grass,
Asking if the tulip chutes in Anatolia
Were the same sinking green I feel now

Where were we?
Love for a thousand spaces and bottling them into skins
Wanted to touch and know deeply all beautiful things

No you're not allowed, they don't want to let you in
That way, it's a distant place and means too much to understand
The biological and irrational
Crazed, sweeps gregarity above and within an aether-- like milky foam upon the waves

When I return home from excursions
I will be Ipanema
The soft locale, unabashed and known to no soul
Except empty elevators--

The lowly philosopher-king

Maybe then you'll think highly of me
Through the mixed feelings
Unable to handle
Straight through the socket
Ring of fire
Then and only then will you realize
That real life

Is more than just a zone or some local
Brewery on a Friday night

And every other Friday night

Ever thereafter--
You'll unlock the box of atomic intention
And listen deeply to her on the station
"Sade and Other Like Hits"

Slowed down for full potential

Letting your cochlea stroke themselves off to the tune of the universe
And the sound of air moving indiscriminately
Will give you
All this


Somewhere
almost fractal, imbibed
Decimated repetitively
There is a fragment of my voice,
Calling

"Love, how much I'd love to be. "

Rounding life’s corners on my Bigwheel
Smile splashed across my face
Eyes illuminated with glossy tears from shear speed and joy
Not considering the path ahead or the road behind
Simply now, simply sublime
Regaining control after speeding too quickly
A brief lapse in judgment nearly bringing cataclysmic spills
Up on two wheels for a moment
But now firmly planted, gripping the road
Only speed limit is desire
People see my style as I pass
Like I was from Ipanema
And I can hear my theme music blast as I fly by onlookers
Giving me a rhythm to peddle to
Getting funky on these streets
And bystanders become bydancers
Unavoidable, infectious pandemonium
People woop and get down and *****
To fill that former droning, stale silence
I feel like me again
Which is really the only way to feel
Because why should you feel like someone else?

THE STRIPES ON THE PROMENADE PAVING
CARRIED ON UP THE WALL - MADE YOU WONDER
IF ANYTHING WAS THERE AT ALL, ONLY
STREET BOYS, SENORITAS AND FAST FOOD
EATERS BEING WATCHED BY JESUS FROM
A SUGAR LOAF MOUNTAIN AND A NEARBY FOUNTAIN;
A BAR IN SHANTY TOWN HAD SWING DOORS
AND FACES THAT LOOKED AT YOU, ASKING-
WHY ARE YOU HERE? DID YOU COME TO STEAL
OUR BEER? GO BACK TO IPANEMA WHERE
YOU BELONG - DON'T COME HERE AND SPOIL
OUR SONG; DO YOU LIVE UNDER A LEAKING ROOF?
IF YOU DID, PERHAPS YOU WOULDN'T BE SO  ALOOF,
STAY IN NIRVANA, ON THE WHITE SAND OF COPACABANA.

Manila-bred and mair than stout
inheritant dynamo, sister tan
embodying Ipanema's glory
though mortal, still ye far outshine
we lowly almtakers of Africa.

We love *****-street ****** because it is good but only if you inject
it when you should, when you're drunkenly melancholical on singer
Mălina Olinescu's 6th floor balcony ledge where poor Mălina stood
She is lying in weeds thruthlessly: **** quick, *** left, yet not really
while I'm like a movie star: tan-ready, drug induced, living in Philly
with ditzy Patty Duke who lived on lithium, high up where it's hilly
with nitwit Patty Duke who thrived on lithium, high where it's hilly
as black broads punish me worser than Jerry Lee did Mickey Gilley
or that muffler who played **** van ****'s Helper neighbor Millie
whose 2-pronged love, once legalized, could do nothing but **** me
before hurting my tender tendonitis that's nonexistent in either knee
what I strained while stripping the girl from Ipanema's slinky bikini

Celebrity Deaths: 12/11/12
John Atterberry, 40, American music industry executive (Death Row Records), shot.
Predrag Ćeramilac, 67, Serbian actor, suicide. (Croatian)
Alberto de Mendoza, 88, Argentine actor. [4]
Mălina Olinescu, 37, Romanian singer (Eurovision Song Contest 1998), suicide. (Romanian)
Robert Peliza, 91, Gibraltarian politican, Chief Minister of Gibraltar (1969–1972)

in my quickstep i dodge pessimistic paranoia,
to make a B-line with a convincing smile
not to show you my insecurities,
since three nights dog tired

i search your listlessness, those detoured eyes,
trampoline thoughts of yours
elsewhere
which i innocently ask you where
they are, you say -in explaining-
  
    (as if to some enforcement officer or
     probationary agent in an interrogation room,
     a single naked bulb dangling in shadows,
     save for teeth and baritone accusations)

-in explaining-
you are weary .. "fati~gay" you say -having
worked out
(your *****' leisure given away,
in my head i say...
to someone else yesterday, last night...)
today-

i fix my carnivorous gravitation
on carnage with our usual
routine of euro-**** or latins
    ripped from torrents of unknown webs
that our downtown pal gifts us
regularly, having now
figured out our tastes and styles
of types of boys
or men we salivate to... he figured it
somehow

i force myself to shoot,
unload my bullets with a glass *****
inside - as i grip the handle like a ride -
my vices escape with the voices inflated,
questions to understand you
muffled by choice, not getting any
closer to...

in the release, no answers,
only music of muscles and erections
emitted from the Magnavox's shrills...
my hole seems to still need
to be filled

where once i was frequented
by the real-deal holy-meal
of your beautiful member; both of us
silencing our ordeals
with slumber now
and surgery with sugary
well-wishes

kisses don't do it for me any longer

since your energy's spent
elsewhere

(i don't seek it out
-why, or who, or even
when -did you have the time to spend?
in between the calls checking in)

it's an empty ******
when
the one you love has his
when
you rinse off the boy butter
to the noise of amateur directed scenes
Brazilians in their jungle brilliance
or the cocoa skinned of Ipanema, Egypt,
or some ******' place
where anything
and everything’s
hung black...

i don’t care if this angers you,
i know you're reading it now.

still, it's a restless sleep
when i can't stop wondering
if your dysfunction is
caused by me...
     that i'm the reason why
you disappear to complete yourself
Meet your needs
Elsewhere...

I am in a reminiscent mood
Thinking back to a time in my childhood
When I lived in Brazil
Seems like eons ago
It’s a warm, welcoming place
Especially for children
Full of joy and laughter
The music was intoxicating
The beauty stunning
Beyond words
Remembering  visiting friends
Whose houses were adorned
With birds of paradise flowers
Visiting the bird sanctuary
With my mother
Seeing every kind of parrot
In a rainbow of colors
Walking the beach in Rio
Ipanema Beach
Famous for its black and white mosaic tile
Sitting on the beach
Listening to the waves
While people flew their bird kites
Traveling around with my parents
Seeing the country
North and South
Struck with the humanity and beauty
Those memories never left me
They still haunt the inner recesses
Of my heart

I am in a reminiscent mood
Thinking back to a time in my childhood
When I lived overseas
In Brazil
Seems like eons ago
A warm, welcoming place
Especially for children
Full of joy and laughter
The music was intoxicating
The beauty stunning
Remembering the visiting of friends
Whose houses were adorned
With birds of paradise flowers
Visiting the bird sanctuary
With my mother
Seeing every kind of parrot
In a rainbow of colors
Walking the beach in Rio
The Ipanema Beach
Famous for its black and white mosaic tile
Sitting on the beach
Listening to the waves
While people flew their bird kites
Traveling around with my parents
Seeing the country
North and South
Struck with the humanity and beauty
Those memories never left me
They still haunt the inner recesses
Of my heart

I am in a reminiscent mood
Thinking back to a time in my childhood
When I lived overseas
In Brazil
Seems like eons ago
Such a different time
A warm, welcoming place
Especially for children
Full of joy and laughter
The music was intoxicating
The beauty stunning
Remembering the visiting of friends
Whose houses were adorned
With birds of paradise flowers
Visiting the bird sanctuary
With my mother
Seeing every kind of parrot
In a rainbow of colors
Walking the beach in Rio
The Ipanema Beach
Famous for its black and white
mosaic tile
Sitting on the beach
Listening to the waves
While people flew their bird kites
Traveling around with my parents
Seeing the country
North and South
Struck with the humanity and beauty
Those memories never left me
They still haunt the inner recesses
Of my heart

We love *****-street ****** because it is good but only if you inject
it when you should, when you're drunkenly melancholical on singer
Mălina Olinescu's 6th floor balcony ledge where poor Mălina stood
She is lying in weeds thruthlessly: **** quick, *** left, yet not really
while I'm like a movie star: tan-ready, drug induced, living in Philly
with ditzy Patty Duke who lived on lithium, high up where it's hilly
with nitwit Patty Duke who thrived on lithium, high where it's hilly
as black broads punish me worser than Jerry Lee did Mickey Gilley
or that muffler who played **** van ****'s Helper neighbor Millie
whose 2-pronged love, once legalized, could do nothing but **** me
before hurting my tender tendonitis that's nonexistent in either knee
what I strained while stripping the girl from Ipanema's slinky bikini