Do I relate to the post-postmodern
True-life voodoo incomes are hard-earned
If I put a hyphen between words
Does that spawn a new one like lovebirds

Isn't love the same word that I saw
Don't crows live like bandits and outlaws
Don't they have the outlook of bourgeois
Carry stolen crackers in their claws

There's no change that I couldn't change
Every change that I change always stays the same
I wanna sing with a slingshot serenade
I wanna donate change to a masquerade

I wanna die while I'm in the spotlight
I want my death to inspire a rewrite
I want to blur the lines of insight
I want to make them think that I'm their height

So give me all your red green yellow blue
If you can find a pool then I'll refract with you
You're a mirage and your favorite color's see-through
You're my fata morgana from this point of view

Are there any words for my freakshow feelings
Isn't sugarcoated terminology appealing
Wouldn't it be easier to represent the meaning
Of a hard to swallow concept with an arbitrary ceiling

Cryptic cultish crease in the catalog
Paranoia backtrack to analog
I can run much faster than I can jog
Magic circle summoning Chernobog

I can break the barrier of sound and space
With these essential elemental explanations in your face
But it doesn't matter everything I say will go to waste
Because the power of the mind is putting power out of place

Hindsight reflecting, teenagers texting
Late to the punch with the big money flexing
Let's settle this with a match in the ring
Or a match to the rope of a cannon firing

I wanna die while I'm in the spotlight
I want my death to inspire a rewrite
I want to blur the lines of insight
I want to make them think that I'm their height
I wanna hypnotize and paralyze
I wanna make them think that I'm their size
I wanna break their spirits drink their blood
I wanna **** their souls I wanna **** them good

John Lennon's songs
"Yesterday" and "Imagine."
Lennon was asking us
to imagine a place where things that divide people religion, possessions, did not exist.

Would Earth be a much better place to live?
This song is a strong political message that is sugarcoated in a
beautiful melody Lennon knew that a gentler approach would bring one poetic song to a wider audience who would grasp
his creed, and he like Jesus tried
to change the world and like a thorn bird both paid a price

Change while innebitable encounters an abyss of resistance
but just one immutable voice
one tini stone into a sand pool creates the meaningful ripples needed to speed up the initial spinning force.

Imagine how hard it is to "imagine no possesions" when one's personal worth is in the vicinity of half a billion bucks.
IMAGINE was the best song in Lennon's entire career

As the collective imagination of our species produces actual occurrences and manifests our own destiny.
Science has proven that our upper levels of consciousness are linked and the more people that become aware of truth and reality force the rest of the species to evolve.

Fact: We have receivers and transmitters attached to your neurons that vibrate energy "Imagine" by John Lennon
his lyrics on this album
on "Oh My Love."
tells you where he is
"I see the wind I see the trees, everything is clear in my world"

He was feeling being alive he as a poet was expressing to us the intimacy of life.

Imagine was a wish an aspiration.
No war no possessions!

The song coined from Yoko Imagine from her book Grapefruit espoused a world without war weapons and mad men running the world.

He knew we needed liberated women to make the world a better place to effemanise soften male aggression.

It is not about atheism but it is about RELIGION using it as a means to hate not LOVE.

He, like us wondered what created everything that mattered in all our lives a special song by a special human in a special place at a very special time, the song holds a very special place for me
If we all imagine, but finding the secrets of our conduct.

How we resolve ourselves.
Can we win when we lose?

Imagine,  Yesterday, What a Wonderful World, Blowing in the Wind, Amazing Grace and a handful of other songs still give me chills each beautiful song.
And all well-intentioned.

Too bad it is about communism and is misguided.
Man's evil didn't start with nations, possessions or religion.

We were stealing from each other and slaughtering each other well before any of those things existed since pradise fell
We started to CHANGE that.

Our goal isn't to have NO nation. Our goal is to have ONE nation.
for peace on earth
to reign under God.
~~

( In memory of my true love
jPC/Rc who Sang to me his song
"Yesterday" in Veracruz!) He too tried to change earth but I didn't understand him so I feared him and lost the chance to join him reciprocating timely, our love was key. True love was in me for him too but free will faltered. Love cannot be made perfect in fear.

took a step into a crowd

felt a wave through the ground

as she lost her friends

with the beat and the sound

then the mad man pulled her by her hand

into another land

spoke the words of youth

gave her an option to choose

leave the confusion and the blues

he said with his eyes fire waiting to set loose

burn her alive with the madness

that's what she choose

the fast cars and the clothes

she told him light my way

take the wheel

cause I've been driving for so long

and my vision is unclear

take my hand indulge my innocence

so he drove her over the clouds

wrapped her in metals of distance

twisted her existence

swirled her in a galaxy of imagination

her own heaven in creation

till one day his heart changed

as he pushed her down the stairs of heaven

and broke her every bone

the ground was cold hard stone

she was left twisted broken and all alone

reaching for a phone but there's no connection

in the black hole of confusion

time passed as she painted every perception expected

hoping to find a solution

that's when she realized it was all an illusion

the words the thrill the charm

she was about to burst but she just stayed calm

as she reached out but there was no arm

so she got herself up and walked into the hazy clouds

she had strength in herself but she also had doubts

then she heard a voice so sweet and tender

he said lead your own way and never surrender

Remember, that chaos first was a primordial deity,
Chaos; the nothingness from which all else sprang
headfirst and heartfelt,
half-naked and handsome,
hook, line and... halibut.

All of this,
every measurable moment,
every particle,
every object set forth in motion
sprang from a void so harmoniously
as if the absence of everything was kissed
sudden
by the presence of something.

Often depicted with wings, a bow, and a quiver of arrows,
Cupid, son of Venus - goddess of love,
son of Mercury - god of trade,
his story,
almost identical in Greek and in Roman
mythology,
his story, about a couple of gods
who seem so inherently human by nature,
jolted by jealousy,
dumbstruck by beauty,
hellbent on immortality,
his story has been hallmarked
as red hot velvet rose petal fine wine
and symmetrical hearts.
Wrapped in tin foil red ribbons
bitter-sweetly sugarcoated
dipped in thin layer of chocolate
taste-tested and lover approved.

Remember that scene in Hook
where Tinkerbell leaves her footprints on Peter's chest,
well that's you and that's me--
touch me where my heart beats
because I don't ever wanna be a lost boy.
I wanna grow up like a good bedtime story
with morals
and purpose,
I wanna have meaning.

You might say that Cupid found himself.
You might say that Psyche found her soul.
You might say that Tinkerbell was just faking it--
with the clapping.
Truth is, we can never know the whole story--
the complete truth.
Problem is, we think we can
and act like we do.
So the only time we mean what we say
is the first time we say it,
every utterance thereafter is just an attempt
at recreating a moment.

I love you
is a paraphrase
that deserves three separate ellipses
because there's a lot left unsaid.

I (distinctively remember shadow-boxing with)
love (against a star-dotted sky anchored to a
moonlight so vibrant it can only be compared to)
you (and your tidal waves).

And that's where I fell
headfirst and handsome.

I (was punched-drunk by a kiss so breathless
that it spiked my dopamine to a volume
that can only be described as) love
(in that every time my neurotransmitters feel) you
(they spin themselves dizzy and dance to your science).

There was a moment in the absence of everything
when I was kissed silent by the presence of something.

Hold me to your breastplate.

I don't ever wanna go back to the void.



*02/09/2010

Love isn't a word
I throw around foolishly
Simply because I've been denied the opportunity
Of being held , filled with the possibilities
That one touch can carry
A simple caress
That serves as if to say
You're perfect
I wouldn't want you any other way
No such touches have came in my direction
Causing me to pick apart my reflection
Imperfections, one after the other
Become apparent
Because of one thing that was said
Even if I wasn't supposed to hear it - I did
and those words?
they haunt me

I'm sorry I don't believe it when you say you love me

My head pounds and my knees start to tremble  
As a precaution I ignore whatever
It is I'm feeling, burying it so deep
It'll need a shovel
and a rope to emerge
You think it's unbelievable the extent I go to so I won't be hurt
I think it's unbelievable that you claim to know my worth
When I'm not sure myself
Fearing you're just one more of many
Attempting
To take advantage
Of the self image I posses that's in shambles

I'm sorry I can't believe your compliments

Those sweet words you say with honesty
sincerity, unquestionable truth
A rarity in itself, especially coming from you
Inside me there's a girl smiling  
Next to the one crying,
bruised from years of being used
poisoned with sugarcoated  I love you's
And promises made
With fingers crossed

I'm sorry I don't believe I'm enough

I look in the mirror and I hate what I see
Automatically I think of other girls and the joy they may bring to your life
While I sit happily alone
And I know
I can't possibly love you if I don't love myself

I’ve exhausted to excess
the language
of the social construction
of whiteness
which is simulataneously
sugarcoating
the goodness of blackness
with the evil of pure white
the missionary of evil
*** death triangle reruns
on West Indies news
origin of criminality
putrid impunity
dissociative disorder
and the villain
to a great great hero
called the blackness
of humanity
which is inexhaustible
strength
laughter
and kindness
oceans
mercy
severity
beauty
love
***
origins
stability
shores
and sustainability

Chaos first was a primordial deity.

And I'm Ralph Wiggum on Valentine's Day.
Even if every girl in class gave me a card.
I still go home feeling less like Romeo.
Lying awake trying to make sense of
why their sugar just didn't taste so sweet .

Lying in bed like a nebula
waiting for all my stars to form.

Chaos
--the nothingness from which all else sprang
headfirst and heartfelt,
half-naked and handsome,
hook, line, and
halibut.

All of this.
Every measurable aspect of
every particle that makes up
every object set forth in motion
sprang from a void so harmoniously
as if the absence of everything was kissed
sudden
by the presence of something.

Often depicted with wings,
a bow, and a quiver of arrows--
Cupid
son of Venus--goddess of love
son of Mercury--god of trade
his story
almost identical in Greek and Roman
mythology.
His story about a couple of gods
so inherently human by nature
jolted by jealousy
dumbstruck by beauty
hellbent on immortality.

His story has been hallmarked
as red hot velvet rose petal fine wine
and symmetrical hearts
wrapped in tin foil red ribbons
bitter-sweetly sugarcoated
dipped in thin layer of chocolate
taste-tested and lover approved.

Remember that scene in Hook
where Tinkerbell leaves her footprints on Peter's chest?
Well that's you and that's me--
touch me where my heart beats
because I don't ever wanna be a lost boy.
I wanna grow up like a good bedtime story
with morals
and purpose.
I wanna have meaning.

You might say that Cupid found himself.
You might say that Psyche found her soul.
You might say that Tinkerbell was just faking it--
with the clapping.
Truth is
we can never know the whole story.
Problem is
we think we can
and act like we do.
So the only time we mean what we say
is the first time we say it.
Every utterance thereafter is just an attempt
at recreation.

I love you
is a paraphrase
that deserves three separate ellipses
because there's a lot left unsaid.

I (distinctively remember shadow-boxing with)
love (against a star-dotted sky anchored to a
moonlight so vibrant it can only be compared to)
you (and your tidal waves).

And that's where I fell
headfirst and handsome.

I (was punched-drunk by a kiss so breathless
that it spiked my dopamine to a volume
that can only be described as) love
(in that every time my nerve endings feel) you
(they spin themselves dizzy and dance to your science).

There was a moment
in the absence of everything
when I was kissed silent
by the presence of something.

Hold me to your breastplate.

I don't ever wanna go back to the void.



[2/09/10 - Revised 2/14/14]

because in the end
they all want sugarcoated lies
over the bitter **truth

A loud cheer from a huge crowd
Anxiously waiting for their idol
listen to words of promise
An aspiring Future leader
Charismatic and strong
Loved by many hated by many
Singing his manifestos
Some agrees some are doubtful
Music to the ears... real sweet..
If only he did not sugar coat everything
He might have won....
There goes one charismatic leader
All talks but no action....

You are that warm and cozy feeling
that rests beneath my lips.
You are the winter time chills
You are a metaphor for beautiful.
In every sense of the word.

I chase these ideals...
These versions of my life that don't exist,
They just become tormenting fantasies,
Sometimes, destroying everything I love in the process...
I begin to analyze the concept of what's "deserved,"
Deserved by whom?
Who's the authority?
The sky's the limit?
Not when you're shackled to the ground, shackled by the wake of your past,
You can't escape your shadows,
Lost in mistake after mistake,
Like a stone of scar tissue,
There's nothing left to wound,
Which exit did I miss?
Maybe I should have gotten off this road a long time ago,
What went wrong?
What went right?
Love, family, life, dreams...
This game full of tricks, fools, dogs, and thieves,
Blessed or cursed,
It's all this relative facade,
Romanticizations and fairytales,
You've got yours and I've got mine,
A nonsensical masquerade,
Wrapped in oblivion,
By dawn, the masks come off,
No one's dancing,  
And we're left standing naked with our truths, our choices, and our pain,
Daily reminders all around,
Everything is dulled,
A shimmering lackluster,
Sensations numbed,
Spare me sensationalization,
Please don't offer me prescriptions,
Don't offer me subscriptions,
They don't disguise the lies,
They don't smooth out the wrinkles of the sweet, euphemistically, sugarcoated descriptions of what is and what will never be...

Clandestine connections,
Undeniable, as we spiral through this network of intimate caves...
Slipped into a hole years ago,
Never seemed to crawl out..

self destruction like burning bridges you know full well you'll drown without
being reckless with your rafts and your lifesavers
and feeling the heat of the fire prickle your forehead,
beads of sweat teasing your skin
and making it impossible to ignore the deep water already lapping at your feet,
clearly prepared to completely engulf you in liquid darkness.

self destruction like inhaling the fumes of a hundred toxic promises,
made to you by old would-be lovers;
sugarcoated words and lies roughly covered in white,
feeling the poison seizing up your struggling lungs,
fingertips flicking through dictionaries with cracked spines:
desperate to find a word that isn't even there.

self destruction like breaking hearts that aren't yours for once,
just to hold the power of corruption and allow it to make you bloodthirsty,
much like slaughtering ants beneath magnifying glasses,
watching them struggle and turn to unrecognisable ashes,
whimpering half hearted apologies whilst trying to convince yourself
that you are not a bad person, but simply a broken soul.

That's not a God, that's a sense of entitlement
A sugarcoated dishevelment in disguise
You don't have dreams, just infatuations
Turning hope into self-indulgent lies

I turned away from New York just to know you
Silver showered soldiers singing serene
I turned away from myself just to love you
But I don't think you know what love means

You're not alone, just afraid of isolation
Afraid no one will be better than me
I'm not that great, I say without hesitation
Someone will love you more, just wait and see

My opinion of you changes like the skyline
A star among the cascading dark
Baby, don't let yourself flame out
Before the rest of your fire starts

Words that could bring fruits
And words that could bring poison
What kind of poison have I brought to you
They were sugarcoated poisons that sought to be fruits
Kept feeding you on this
However clueless can you be
You've grown fat with all this sugar
You took surprise and anger when you found out
I laughed at how long it took
Now you're dying from the poison
And the fruits lay near rotting

Diamond beads roll off my skin
Sweaty hands and age old gin
Sunshine pupils in candy eyes,
Crying gumdrops and sugarcoated lies.
Raindrops on my fingertips
Poison blood on broken lips
Black and blue painted thick
Cheeks flushed red; a simple trick
**** yourself but stay alive
On your rotting soul they'll thrive.
The shadows of forgotten thoughts,
Who rap themselves around your heart
And suffocate the breath you wished was gone
Turned my sunshine into war

I don't feel better anymore.

There once lived a girl
Barely even three
Who wore childish, innocent smiles
And ran around freely.
She spent summer with her sister
Picking lilac flowers,
Rolling down grassy hills
Endless fun for hours.

There once lived a girl
Finally thirteen
Who wore gloss on her lips
And said things she didn’t mean.
She spent summer all alone
Never picking any flowers
Claiming she had better things to do
With her endless summer hours.

There once lived a girl
Sixteen, impossibly thin
Who painted scarlet on her wrists
Because she could never ever win.
She spent summer locked away
Bawling in her room for hours
And there was nothing in the world she wanted
More than lilac flowers.

There once was a girl
Who tried so hard in life
But she couldn’t bear to live
With her sugarcoated strife
And one day she just vanished
So her sister cried for hours
And upon her solemn grave
She laid withering lilac flowers.

I wrote a poem for you
The day before I met you

When I didn’t yet know a soul can be shipwrecked
Or that the sun can have secrets
When I hadn’t yet learned to look for symptoms
Or dreamed you could become my weakness

You entered me like a sickness
From your first ‘hello’
You whispered my world red
And smiled it yellow

You came to me; a sonnet
A decorated soldier
Dressed in sentences and statements
With which to catch a schoolgirl
In succulent surprise

Your eyes kissed me
Long before your lips did
And under the spectrum of your splendor
My heart bloomed a blushing orchid

I was a slave to my sweet-tooth
You, a dulcit daydream
That knew just how to turn me
From still life into story
And in so doing, you cast me -
A shapeless statue -
Into your private purgatory

You created a planet
With just us living on it
And a snakepit, a sinkhole
With which to swallow me whole

I wrote this poem for you
The day after I met you
I thought it worth to mention
Why I started to regret you

So please pay close attention
(As I’m trying to forget you):

My innocence
Though far from inner sense
Was no less common
Than the unoriginality
Of your sugarcoated sin

My therapist recently asked me "have you ever tried mindfulness?"
I laughed a bit, remembering of the week-long mindfulness camp (sugarcoated for in-patient psychiatric care) I attended for troubled teens. I went to this twice.
This peaceful brain training was designed to give us a retreat when the world is too loud. During group therapy, most teens shared their experiences with domestic violence, yelling, S.A., running away, abuse. Endless. We were all numb, but there was so much comfort in being locked away with others who needed the respite as much as I did.
We would eat skittles and describe their flavor and textures. We would focus on our breaths. Make beaded art. Tell collaborative stories. Follow guided meditations laying on unfamiliar gym floors, giggling a bit as we "soared through clouds".
I jumped back into the talk session, remembering my dedication to mindfulness years ago. My anxiety followed me into adulthood. I think mindfulness can be out of reach, stupid.
And yet, I looked out of her dusty, sun filled window decorated with three vases of dry arrangements. My mind started to posture into how warm and antique this image felt. I felt hot, quiet tears building up from feeling that peace again.

I’m falling. But not in love.
I’m falling
And you are too. We’re falling to a bitter end
Yet again.

And this time, the end does not seem to be
as sugarcoated as it once was.
Or seemed to be.

There once was a man who entered a pub
He sat down at the bar counter and ordered a drink
Minding his own business
Enjoying a cold beer sliding down his throat like silk
When a stranger approached him and took a seat right next to him
After some small talk the stranger asked the man
May I ask you a personal question?
The man replied, Sure!
He knew what was coming
He had heard this line so many times before
He also knew that the married stranger who had two kids was looking for something that he couldn't find at home
Are you gay asked the stranger blatantly?
Yes, I am, answered the man!
Why do you ask?
Not to worry said the stranger
I have lots of gay friends and they're actually nice people
Actually? responded the man
Yes, said the curious stranger
Then the man said to the stranger
Alright, so you've asked me a personal question
It's only fair that I should ask you a personal question too, right?
Right, said the stranger
Are you straight asked the man
Of course the stranger replied!
Not to worry replied the man
I have lots of straight friends and they're actually nice people

The image of you is vague
Everything you says
Everything you claim
I doubt them
You are not a real person
You are just a vision
You are an idea in my thought
Perhaps my illusion...
Fell for your charms
Sugarcoated words
Unrealistic expectations...
You are not even human
You are...
What you are ...
Is only virtual....

Look me in the eyes
Speak of sugarcoated lies
It will be then when I realize
That you and I were meant to die

this is a love letter not a goodbye.....
it has been a year since our argument
and so much has changed.
maybe it's because we are on different sides of the revolving earth
or maybe it's because you  just don't care any longer.
but i thought i'd take the time and write you this;
i still love you.
and i’m sorry my last letter made you feel nothing
and i’m sorry that i had to leave and i never tried again.
this past year i’ve been thinking about us, you;
where we went wrong
and where we didn’t.
and i guess i still don’t have anwser; all i know is that you gave up on me quicker than i gave up on you.
i hope next summer when i visit we can finally close the wound
because to me it doesn’t feel like it’s been bandaged, only sugarcoated…
but i guess that’s what we do for love.
when i picture my life, still at home,  
i picture you and i;
and what we would have done together.
everyone says we would have gotten together; they couldn’t guess for how long; but they knew.
and mum says i would have taken you to my dance and we would have laughed, kissed and made terrible jokes and pulled pranks on people we didn’t even know.
i heard you’ve been hanging out with the wrong people;
i always knew that would happen.
and it pains and disgusts me that you’re throwing away your life;
i want to fix it so badly
but i don’t think i can from my dim lit desk halfway around the world.
when we’ve talked breifly;
i try to make your life a living hell
so you know what it feels like.
but then i remember that you just don’t care.
and when i asked if you remember what happened that cold july night;
you respond
‘no, i just don’t care.’
and why would i want to be with someone like that anyway?
my last letter was confusing,
i admit.
i was angry and upset and i just wanted you to love me.
but i’ve learned now that you can’t make people love you.
and i’ve learned that if you really want to say something…

...say it…

Tis the season to be dying
Not too jolly are the lines I'm writing
The hymns mimic my weeping soul
A tune strung with a broken bow

Frail lullabies drenched in sorrow
Wilting with the fading greens
We inhale clouds of dusty air
Cold and fragile as my spine

Tingling numbness in my heart
Like frost bites from within
The finale of an orchestra
An epilogue of sorts

Wintry hails in my disturbed mind
Raining like misfired bullets
From a shoddy gun
Burning letters into my hands

The poetry I craft not pretty
Lacking tales of sugarcoated reality
Mostly **** and somewhat edgy
Infused with truth and too much realitys

Scars are fireworks.
They dance like breaths,
breath, pause, breath, pause.
Breathing is a cry for help.
You brushed my forehead with your fingertips
like wind and smiles and time
and what kisses are supposed to be.
Like time, time, time,
memory typewriters tick and tock.
They sound like footsteps,
like pallbearers and raindrops
and heartbeats and whispers and
time and time and time and time.

Scars are like spiderwebs
and patterns in half-full coffee mugs
and scales that shield, that measure.
and they're like empty stairs
and definitions the textbook wouldn't accept.

Scars are dreams.
A skirt and skin and whatever else that implies.
Scars are consensual, like sugarcoated suicides.
Scars are bodies.
Bend them, break them,
cracked contortionists.
Watch stardust pours from eyes
and arcing, narrow roads.

Peace of mind,
Let it grind,
Huffing through my sentiments,
No words left behind

You said you're fathomless,
A riddle and meaningful,
High objections, genuine rejections
How come you make me stutter like a fool?

I want my poems to bit,
Vigorous and keen to have teeth,
So the venom in each letter shall sink in---
To your skin, may heap

You said you're logic
Then where's your common sense?
Clearly, you're imperceptive,
Because I know how you're tensed

Attempting to toss me a bullet of pressure,
Locating the verge of anxiety
You're none of the amenable people,
Who would understand and know its variety

Sugarcoated scars and deep comprehension
Thin head's blurry, that's why you have complications
No offense though---

Keep your mouth on line, you half presented amateur
Go ahead and be conceited like an apathetic's chimes
But honestly, at all, you don't even have a
Peace of mind

I've been here before
Listened to your feet crunch the shards of glass and shattered hearts
Wiping the remnants of liquor and bitterness from liar's lips
As your night of sugarcoated revelry comes to an end 
The facade falls
Cracks
Echoing with the slam of a shotglass that pulses through ears
And thumps through my brain with your sneer of rejection
Your eyes don't shy from mine
But they are discolored with arrogance
Hardened by vanity
As cold and empty as the bottle that sweats against my palm
If I close my own
I could reach for a memory of the past
For a sunbeam's reflection highlighting the contours of your skin
Or the childish purity in unquestioned belief
But tonight, they will stay locked 
I will watch the candied venom drip from your curling lips, drawing me back under a veil of falsity
And see us for what we really are
I am no longer the same.
I won't be your entertainment
Your distraction
Your pastime or plaything
The show is over.
I've been here before 
But this is the last time I'll come back.

abstract endings assaulting

     pedestrian beginnings,

save yourself before

    you're too late

    for your own game,

choking on bourgeois

  mind-control  interludes

under a spell of

    plebeian sugarcoated reality

  whitewashed with

   iridescent rainbow colors

     and unicorn attitudes,

come out, come out

  wherever you are

    from behind

    those glossed over walls

     and blush-fogged glasses,

jack and jill weren't

   fetching at all,

he royally ******* her

   on the way down,

there's a world beyond

   blanched veneers

      and vanilla excuses

    concealed in resolute

       conventional facade's

           of vindication