"monterrey" poems
Stunt ****
He can be your lover lady, ima be your stunt **** He can be your boyfriend mommy, ima be your stunt **** He can be your husband **** ima be your stunt **** stunt **** fluid swap, yep when them ******* drop. Lights, camera, action ,I’m your stunt **** stunt **** Lights camera, action, I’m your stunt **** stunt **** Ima be your stunt **** girl and beat it up, yep ima beat it up, that man there can eat it up. We don’t need no scrip for this act or no monolog, you can adlib, improvise on my microphone. We can do the box spring boogie all night long, we can get ***** coz play like its Comic Con. Tag your girlfriend in, we can do a menajahtwa , pile drive that nannie, Macho Man Wrestle Mania. Petting that ***** Doctor Claw, go go gadget pennies, working your equation *** notation like a mad genius. If I nut prematurely , don’t you worry I got ****** it’s not superman, but stuntman with all the stamina, Ima beat it up like Van Dam at the Comitia ,finger, lick and kiss each other while I ********* It’s ocean spray ,whale watching like in Monterrey.
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 7:51 PM UTC
The admiral of the U.S. fleet
was staring towards the shore.
A mob of people jammed the wharf.
He thought we were at war.
The good Mayor Paulo, of Monterrey
was waving with the rest.
He saw our large Pacific fleet
And, doubtless, was impressed.
The commodore made cannons roar
The impact shook the ground
By miracle no townsfolk died
And not one sailor drowned.
“Perhaps they are saluting us!”
The puzzled mayor said.
But when we put marines ashore
Such thoughts soon left his head.
That day we captured Monterrey
It was quite the feat of arms
We lost just one or two marines
to some Senorita’s charms.
The State Department soon put an end
To the splendid little war
And erstwhile foes departed friends
from the Mexicali shore.
Nov 21, 2012
Nov 21, 2012 at 9:08 PM UTC
~
gold-encrusted jewels dance
on sun-drenched ocean stacks,
his rugged rocks etched deep
by her waves from far beneath,
and Pacific’s gusty breath;
his wind-swept islets burn,
aflame in sunset's dying embers,
like a lover's siren call.
his chiseled keyholes waiting
for the ciphered piercing rays
to collide in rushing tidal spray.
unlocking sunset's golden hour...
surging forth then quickly fades,
as sunbeam fingers slowly slip,
beneath horizon's sultry lip;
dusk unfolds in magic hues,
molten rose turns scarlet blues,
night descends as one by one,
we raptured star-kissed lovers
disembark this ferris wheel;
the curtain falls again,
with sea and rocks
rehearsing lines
to play again another day.
this their theatre
of the night,
performed by two alone,
beneath the moon
and starry sky.
~
*post script.
our last time through in 2004 was a blur on our way through to San Diego, an exhilarating ride for certain, with all of its bends and curves experienced top down in a convertible, but hardly doing justice to Big Sur’s stunning scene in mere hours; we told ourselves we simply had to return.
it took eleven years, and this time we spent a full five days and nights along Highway 1, towing a camper and slow-driving south from Monterrey all the curves to Morro Bay, exploring just about every hike and lookout in between; and in so doing, validating our return in a most satisfying way. Big Sur is officially off our bucket list! her sunsets were particularly rewarding, especially two... one enjoyed at sea level, from the sand and keyholes at Pfeiffer Beach day use area, the other delighted us from high above the ocean waves, seated at the picnic table of our cliff-side camp site at Kirk Creek Campground.
a most refreshing time to recuperate and recharge our spirits; five glorious days of disconnection, reconnecting to nature, each other and best of all, life at the speed of sunsets and star gazing; evenings spent round the campfire with no cell, no i-pad, no laptop, only the light of the fire, the stars and that sparkle in each other's eyes!*
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 3:21 AM UTC
We met
One night in Monterrey
Drove miles to see each other
I haven't forgotten
Do you remember me, My name?
The things we did
You still in Austin?
I'm here
I'd like to see you
I'm still single
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 7:15 AM UTC
Oscar the Octopus lived in a tank
at the centre of Monterrey.
He drew in the crowds with legs suckered proud
as they pressed the glass open mouthed.
He took back his legs when he heard them scream and bowed to rapturous applause.
He reigned supreme but they hadn't yet seen
Medusa's glowing legs next door.
One Thursday in June Oscar changed his tune
As he heard a sound from above.
He took off his crown when he saw floating down
A beautiful gay sea horse.
With eye lashes long and singing a song
From the trumpet that was his nose.
The lyrics he heard sounded absurd
About the joy of having curled tails.
He danced for his guests as Oscar digest
they came to see a new show.
A man who gives birth is surely well worth
A pause to watch them being squeezed out.
Oscar was seen by a few in between
the eyes that easily marvel.
When they tapped on the glass he fell on his ***
As he tried to curl all his tails.
Oscar the Octopus lived in a tank
At the centre of Monterrey.
When the crowds didn't come his stage time was done
And they served him to staff on a plate.
Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 6:23 AM UTC
If you ever saw my grandfather, you’d definitely see him wearing his green jacket and gray knitted cap with green stripes. Even during the summer, and especially the hot ones in Monterrey, my grandfather would stick to these items and roam around, fresher than ever, under the fervent rays of the sun. When we went to the beach he would cross the lobby and reach the shore with his swimsuit under his several layers of clothing, including the jacket and beanie. Ironically, he loved swimming, and would get into a pool even if it felt like freezing. As soon as he removed his jacket and knitted cap he would immediately go to the water and right after he was done he would go and change back into his warm garments, not a single second in between without his jacket and beanie’s protection. Sometimes, the family gathered in exterior living rooms during the summer to hang out and swim in the pool. As we talked to each other, he would eventually, sneakily, get out of his chair, adjusting his beanie, walk towards the electricity switch and turn off the fan hoping we wouldn’t notice because he was cold and knew none of us were going to turn them off if he asked us. Because he wore these items all the time, they became a part of him, and they were present in all of his events. A knitted cap and a jacket turned into collectors of memories, events and knowledge. With his passion for reading, especially encyclopaedias, the knowledge seemed to transfer all the way to his beanie, maintaining and remembering all the mesmerizing details he learned day by day. This jacket and knitted cap were able to contemplate Mexican beaches, rest in a cruise in the Bahamas, visit many museums in Europe, hop into a hot air ballon in Istanbul and even ride camels while enjoying the views of Egypt. After years of accumulating all of these experiences, my mother did try to give him a new jacket as a Christmas present, and even though he was grateful for it, his well-known green jacket was irreplaceable. I will never understand why he was always cold, but his cap, knitted with love by my grandmother years before, seemed more than just a heat source for him, as if the beanie would boost him with confidence and protect him everywhere he went.
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 8:32 PM UTC
Never worked with women
But hey now! that's alright
1 is the loneliest number
This world is Fright on Fright
Teaching is a difficult job
Especially in the USA
If she knocked on my door tonight
We might drive to Santa Fe
Dante saw Beatrice twice
I guess I don't really pray
Please protect my sons, O Life!
From cannonballs on the 5th of May
Monterrey!
Jan 7, 2023
Jan 7, 2023 at 8:05 PM UTC