I Fell in Love with a man from Mars

The_Martian_MET_DP824026

I fell in love
with a man from Mars
once
He was ten feet tall
He was ten feet tall

The Earth would shake
when he took a step
or at least
that’s how it felt when you’re small
that’s how it felt when you’re small

The hair on his chest
was purple and blue
his nipples were green, his fingers gray
and I used to bite them all
and I used to bite them all

How I desired to take him to bed
to lay him down
and make him MY man from Mars
but he just wanted to visit the mall
but he just wanted to visit the mall

“Look at these prices and models!
Look at these colors and brands too!
You can’t find any of them at the Martian stores
These shoes won’t come out until next fall!
These shoes won’t come out until next fall!”

MY man from Mars liked to dance
He’d put on extra extra extra extra large pants
Turn the radio on, shake his hips in front of the mirror
And ask me to take him out to a ball
And ask me to take him out to a ball

He used to caress my little boyish face
and give me that stupid grin
all the rows of teeth out of place
How my heart flew when my name he would call
How my heart flew when my name he would call

When my enemies would see us pass
with their devouring eyes and their eagle sharp claws
I’d always shout, “Between us
there has never been a wall!
there has never been a wall!”

I want to see you

Yoshitsuya_The_Lightning_Bolt

I want to see you
So I can greet you
I want to see you
So I can greet you

It’s the thunder
Hear the thunder
So I can greet you

It’s the fire
See the fire
So I can greet you

It’s the mother
Feel her rivers
So I can greet you

I want to see you
So I can greet you
I want to see you
So I can greet you

Stop
Why are you calling me?
Speak
Why would you bother me?

The rumble the rumble roars
The flaming the flaming flares
The serpent the serpent swims
The people the people sing

Tell me tell me your name
And I will dance
Tell me tell me your name
So we can drink

Tell me tell me your name
Earths will open up
Tell me tell me your name
Skys will open up

I do not want
I do not want to fall in
Protect me
Protect me from the edges within

Come come come to me
And we will dance
Come come come for me
So I can dance

Dance dance the darkness out
Dance dance the winds out
Dance dance the devils out
Dance dance misfortunate out

I call on you to stop the shivers
I call on you to hear the moon
I call on you to calm babes’ cries
I call on you when mountains shout

I want to see you
So I can greet you
I want to see you
So I can greet you

Good night good night
It’s the night
I want to see you
Tonight tonight

I want to see you TONIGHT!

Never trust a poet

Carl_Spitzweg_-_Der_arme_Poet_(Entwurf)
This talk of equality
sounds so very beautiful
but would you not sell them all out
for a brick of French cheese?

Would you not chop up their toes
and toss them in a stew
if someone offered to serve
your head on an album cover?

You speak to me of
challenges you’ve faced
I believe you
I do

But challenges come cheap
in this fucking world
and some people have a pile
a goddamn mountain collection

Maybe one day you’d give up the cheese
and the vinyl
but would you relinquish a suffering past
fucking would you?

We’re all Superman in our heads
we may even rage like Batman
but in our hearts, our stubborn little hearts
we’re still trembling knights of banality

When the queen is dead
we’d probably be moved to tears
but we’d sooner fight for prestige
than honor

We’d sooner lock ourselves in a cage
than free the world
and we’d rather live off death
than die living

It’s too cold out for odes to equality
so put a jacket on
and go back inside
or you’ll catch something

Far from books and desk
shivering, is no place
to long to be clever or original
it’s why they say: Never trust a poet!

Owl of Freedom

Jean Francois was the first black to rebel in Haiti
Take me to Haiti
I wish I was there now
put me on a boat
throw me on a plane

send me off to Haiti
Papa
send me off to Haiti
my mind is too weak

I couldn’t say how
I wish I knew how
something in the breeze
I feel it shaking in my heart

sweet airs of freedom
free me from the weak
and cowardly face
looking out of a mirror

I don’t see how
courage will find me
but it might, Papa
when I set foot in Haiti

like an alligator standing in a forest grove
waiting for the blessed blood of the future
I’m shivering, Good God
and the owl of freedom eludes me

as they play the drums
boom boom
as they play the drums
took took in the mountains behind the mountains

paint me a picture of Haiti
sing me a sweet song from Haiti
that’s all I have left, Good God
an image, a sound, a poem, a dance

a dream, my dream
or yours?
What are they worth?
What am I worth?

a student, a pilgrim, a loafer or a thief?
am I lying to you and myself?
no matter, leave some rum at the crossroads
and wait

hearing the train go by
hearing the wind go by
hearing the rain tap tap
and longing for Haiti

tell me again about victory
Papa, tell me again
I am nothing alone
we are nothing alone…

Looking up at the Moon

Winslow_Homer_-_Kissing_the_Moon.jpg
I remember looking up at the moon
bright yellow wondrous light
beauty

I remember looking up at the moon
and longing to cradle it
and say

My dear everything everything
is going to be alright
alright?

Why are you crying so
you who birth the day
mother to life?

I can’t explain what I saw
looking up at the sky
a chill?

A sadness a loneliness
a burrowing fear
I don’t know

But I felt deep inside me
all of love’s pain
in a glow

Preoccupied we forget
oft neglected orb
as you grow

You show us memories abandoned
other days other times
other eyes at play

We forget too many important things
understand too little
and suffer

how we suffer

Yet the moon is always there watching my dear
so shed no lonesome tears
just look up

She won’t take pain away
nothing or no one can
but she knows

Burning Snow

Burning_snow

I hate the white snow
Falling down on me
I hate when it gets cold

I hate your snowy city
Bearing down on me
I hate the chill before a storm

But it’s coming
Warmer airs are coming
Some 500 years past their date

The snow will stop falling
I’ll burn it all up
In a steamy bath for the sun

I will render dreams ash on the ground
Crispy charcoal will I make their gold and cry
Smoke out the lies! Smoke out the lies!

How I miss the tropical sun
How I loved its warm embrace
How it would swallow my fears

But it’s gone
and I’m gone
Lifeless paste no more

Happy to feel snow on my fingers
Ignoring the white ice inside
The moon died within, the sun dwindled within

Exu let me in
Ogum grant me a sword
Xango at my side I will strike

Let the snow be gone
May their horde of saints run
So our city might shiver no more

It is right to burn the snow
That torments us
It is right to turn the ice into rain

Kabuki Sundays: Dancing on a Big Wave under an August Summer Moon – Act I

Kuniyoshi_Utagawa,_Women_30
The curtain opens revealing the figures of Esmeralda and Diamante on stage. They are standing on a stone path holding beautiful umbrellas with intricate colored patterns and images. The artwork on Esmeralda’s umbrella depicts a giant fish leaping out of the water after a smaller fish that’s already in the air. On Diamante’s umbrella there is a purple plum tree in full bloom. Esmeralda is wearing a long elegant black ballroom gown with sequins. Diamante is wearing a short bright red strapless dress and bright blue socks.

Esmeralda is about to speak when a turkey enters stage left gobbling loudly. The animal struts in front of the the two characters, staring them down, before sprinting off stage right. A stage hand appears stage left panting and chases after it off stage right.

A light mist falls from above.

ESMERALDA: This rain is bad for my health.

DIAMANTE: Ok.

E: No, I’m serious. I can already feel a cold coming in the back of my throat.

D: Hmmmmm.

E: What do you mean ‘hmmmm’? Do you think I’m making it up?

D: Hmmmmm.

E: Diamante!

D: Well…. HRECH HRECH HRECH!

E: Sorry?

D: I said… HRECH HRECH HRECH!

E: What?

D: You smell bad, Esmeralda.

E: Diamante!

D: Putrid.

E: DIAMANTE!

D: VILE!

Esmeralda yanks on Diamante’s dress and rips a piece off, which she proudly waves in front of the audience. Diamante claws at Esmeralda, but she jumps aside. Diamante slaps her hard in the cheek. Esmeralda giggles and then sits down on a bench. Diamante moans, and then sits down shortly afterwards.

D: I do wish you’d take a bath though.

E: So do I. It sounds nice.

D: Yeah.

E: Yeah.

A phone rings. Esmeralda struggles to locate the phone before yanking it from underneath Diamante’s legs. Diamante sticks her tongue out at her and Esmeralda bats her away. She answers.

E: This is she.

D: I like shoes.

E: Hello?

D: I’m a beautiful woman normally, but with the right pair of shoes… wow, just wow!

E: You bastard, fuck off and die!

D: Esmeralda! That’s no way for a lady to talk.

Esmeralda looks at Diamante with a cold grin.

E: Fuck you, too!

D: What’s the matter with you?

E: It’s a mystery.

D: What do you mean?

E: Some bastard keeps calling me and hanging up before I can answer.

D: Maybe it’s Leon.

E: It’s not Leon.

D: You never know, it could be.

E: It’s not Leon!

D: Maybe you should let me answer next time. You’re probably scaring him away.

E: It’s not… You barely know him anyways.

D: He’s so beautiful!

E: I told you not to fall in love

The phone rings again. Diamante snatches the phone out of Esmeralda’s hand and runs away giggling and hides under a bush.

D: Hello? Hello? You gorgeous devil, are you there?

E: I should buy you your own phone so you stop taking mine.

Diamante, still crouching down, stares at the cellphone and frowns.

E: I told you it wasn’t Leon!

D: Why doesn’t he want to talk to me?

E: It’s not Leon! They probably want my credit card information.

D: So give it to them already! You might win a SmartCooker!

Diamante stands up and paces in front of Esmeralda, who massages her eyelids.

E: I’m not going to ask.

D: Haven’t you seen the videos on Youtube? You can cook an entire chicken and it will come out tasting like a fish!

E: It’s quite a time we live in!

D: It’s quite a time to live!

Inviting brass notes break in from offstage. Calling and responding to each other. Diamante looks at Esmeralda and nods, and they both stand up. Esmeralda sprints to a nearby trashcan, tosses her arm at her side and gallops back with periodic jumps. A drum line sounds. Esmeralda tosses her arm towards Diamante and nods again. Diamante dashes into Esmeralda’s arms, who proceeds to toss Diamante into the air, catch her again and spin around in a circle. An entire orchestra is now playing in the background. The drum is getting louder and louder.

Esmeralda puts Diamante back down at her side, they step apart, Esmeralda raises her right arm and Diamante raises her left, and they gaze off to God only knows where. The orchestra is getting faster and faster: BOOM-bah-bah! BOOM-bah-bah! Esmeralda and Diamante switches places and hold hands. They take two steps to the left and jump in the air, then they take two steps to the right and jump in the air. Then they jump backwards and throw their hands in the air.

Their steps are getting faster and faster. It’s hard to keep track of where their feet are at any one moment. They grab each other around the waist with their right arms and spin in circles. Faster and faster and faster and faster and…

The phone rings again. The music cuts. They stop suddenly and Esmeralda falls to the ground. Diamante hands her the phone.

E: Never mind I’ve got to get to work.

D: Me too!

Esmeralda places the phone on the bench and they both exit off opposite ends of the stage. The phone is still ringing after they’ve left.

(Click here to see Act II)

Splotches of red on gray

Seminole_Canyon_Park7
“I wanted to tell you a short story before I placed you in front of the wall and shot you. I wasn’t always such an angry young man. There were flowers and puppies in my past too, like everyone else. I blew on dandelions and dreamed of holding a girl’s hand.

“Life can be beautiful.

“I haven’t lost sight of that. I wouldn’t be here if I’d forgotten. But death can also be beautiful. That’s why we build countless monuments, big and small, in it’s honor. Even when we’re lying in the ground, we still aspire to soar up to the sky. Nobody gives a fuck about whether the pharaoh beat his wife thousands of years ago or treated his people with compassion or cruelty. No, they care about getting a selfie with the pyramids and ogling some lifeless wrapped up remains in a museum in case it springs to life.

“My father died when I was twelve. Or at least I think he died. They arrested him one day, and on the next day he was neither lying in the earth nor soaring in the sky. He was just inexplicably unjustifiably gone. They wouldn’t even speak his name.

“Sometimes I wonder where the girl from my dreams ended up. Is she designing dresses or mending them? Studying in Zurich or stuck in the same hole where we both grew up, now no longer a child but unable to ever quite reach adulthood? It’d be better if she stayed the young, beautiful, shy but still smiling girl with long dark brown hair and infinite freckles from my dreams. Maybe in another world she would have become my wife. Who can say?

“But I chose a different path. Cruel fate knocked me over and fashioned me into a speedy arrow, and now I must fly.

“Do you remember last year? It seemed like it was five straight months of endless protests and snow. Spring couldn’t have come any sooner, and when it did, it was like a flood. I’d never fired a gun before, but you changed all that.

“Maybe now you wish you weren’t such a coward. You wouldn’t be here in this situation now. And if I’m being honest, it could just as easily be me tied up and you with a gun in your hands. But it’s not. I thank God for that!

“I don’t want to die anymore than anybody else. But I’m a piece of shit. I drink too much, I smoke too much, I never shut my fucking mouth. Maybe I’d deserve it. Nevertheless there is the small fact that I’m right.

“You hesitated. I didn’t. You stepped on the tracks. Now the train to the future is bearing me forward shining its great light upon the patches of darkness. May injustice and barbarism be damned!”

It was an inconspicuous concrete wall, ugly and dull, now covered in splotches of red, and nobody could be sure whether the next rain would wash it off.

On the appropriateness of knives in cathedrals

La_Madone_de_São_Paulo_painting_by_Alexis_Diaz_and_INTI_in_São_Paulo_downtown

I don’t know what you mean
you mean
It’s like
Can’t feel my spleen
I’m bleeding

Came up to me
Said you wanted to worship
Feel free
But it hurts though
Like a dagger in the thigh though

Don’t know what you even mean
you mean
My pain is thirsty
For company to snort it up
Just playin

You’re looking worried
Worried
Don’t mean to hurt you
Just trying on words
Searching for that right fit

Fuck it
Fun is the wrong word
I’m trying to survive
Down on my knees
If it please you

Let go
And I’ll show you what I mean
I mean
I’m not what I seem though
There’s more I swear

It’s not much
But it’ll eat you up
Rawness
Is the name of the game
Or just skin rubbed red on the floor

Why can’t I feel the floor?
Beauty is overrated
When the sun is burning it off
Your prayers are outdated
Open your eyes

Faith in God
And revolutionary dreams
Funny shapes and the color green
It’s why I’m not dead
Busy looking for that tickling breeze

On Being an Artist

goyaSometimes I feel like I’m chasing after my own pain with a butterfly net, so that once or if I catch it, I can put it in a glass box in a zoo for people to come stare and bang at. Am really helping anybody? Or am I just tickling their egos while they jack off mine?

I was fine by myself. I was happy even. You can’t hurt anybody when you’re hiding in a pile of books. Why should I call attention to myself now? There’s too many fucking voices out there already. I despise them. There’s no peace outside. Just pretentious assholes. Do I wanna be another prick contributing to the noise?

What’s the point? I’m not beautiful. Neither are my words. The world is fucking ugly and disgusting. It’s dripping in the green runny mucus of greedy selfish arrogant bastards, who would be happy if some old lady tripped on their secretions and snapped her neck in two, but only as long as they knew it was their snot that’d done her in.

That’s when they tell us that mucus is beautiful. It’s hot. It’s in. It’s trending. Well, fuck me two times! If that’s beauty, I’d rather do something hideous. And anonymous. I’d rather pop my own pimples, thank you very much! NO CAMERAS ALLOWED!!

Everything’s different when I close my eyes. Then I can see. The bastard is tormenting me, wants me dead by 27. The inescapably bright light won’t let me sleep, and I can’t function when I don’t sleep! Is this a muse or my ego in a dress?

Some days all is so beautiful. I just wanna lay on the floor and penetrate my skin with it, rub it in my wounds, shove it up my nose, just get it inside me, burn the pain down to a wisp while the sink overflows and the inside of the fridge rots. Beauty is horrific and delicious. I can easily forget the day still goes by and that there is no one here but me.

Go ahead and laugh! At least my pain is a big fucking joke for somebody. My neuroses must seem adorable. Well, they’re not! They fucking suck! Everything I say sounds different once I’ve said it. My words are like balloons. Either I pop them, or they float away. Everything I create abandons me.

What’s the point? I’m condemned to be clever. This isn’t the 19th century. I can’t die a virgin and moan about unrequited love or die a patriot from tuberculosis. I can merely cry “authentically” while giving you a wink while crying on the inside.

So fuck you very much! I’m an artist.