What Ways

What is family?
What is happiness?
What is long love?
The second you think you have it figured,
The poles reverse,
And you are thrust into a new labyrinth,
Like a modern dance,
Sharp and melancholy,
What a sad world we live in.
You can only trust you,
But that is not humane,
And with such a view,
We will bring destruction upon ourselves.
The desire to proliferate changes life,
Without you are free,
But are you complete?
Are you ignorantly young?
Always playing?
I am back to questions.
Back to the beginning of a new book,
Unable to commit to any one cover,
Forever nomadic,
I live on buses,
I am stressed out,
By everything but me.
Everything is temporary,
No matter how all-encompassing it feels at times,
Does that mean nothing is dependable?
I have to let go.
I am not in control.
In this reality,
There are too many ways of living,
Too many ways to pursue.
And what is most important,
Is no longer necessary,
Or respected,
Or desired,
Are we all that selfish?
What is our world coming to?


Copyright © 2014

Coming Home

I feel you pulling in a direction unknown,
My mind chaotically sprinting,
Only when it comes to you,
Spring, fall, winter, summer,
Six months, twelve countries,
Disoriented as hell,
Overwhelmingly bursting with thought, ideas, inspiration,
Anticipation is poisoning me,
My bladder is about to explode,
A new moon now,
But I must wait for it to be full to see it with you,
I'm tired,
And ready for your arms,
Will you like the changes I've made?
Will I like the changes you've made?
Time is spacious,
Love is opaque,
Money is relative,
Nature is forever,
The trees have never looked so beautiful,
The wine has never tasted so sweet,
But I long for you,
Is it in vain?
Sleep escapes me,
I fear the hair fracture I imposed,
Will grow to a fatal break,
Before I am able to cast it,
And kiss it well,
Three weeks before our lips will meet,
And I can't seem to take a deep breath,
I knew from the moment we met,
It would be easy,
But I always seem to make it difficult,
Now you are so distracted,
I don't even know if you are there,
Do you resent me?
I'm coming home,
Is it too late?
I pray not,
For my dreams are heavy,
In breath, effort, and reward,
I smell your knowledge,
I love your acceptance,
I hope to mirror your strength,
And heal the destruction I've burdened it,
I love you and I can't wait to see you,
I am coming home baby,
I am coming home to you.


Copyright © 2014

Our Time

Happiness so pure, it flows,
Tears so thick, the clarity is hard to see through,
Pink backs and yellow scales,
Brown water and green everywhere,
Blood passed as initiation,
The symbiosis is appreciated,
The respect is profound,
The inspiration is a ring of fire,
That grows with dancing,
And the chanting of birds that swim through the love disguised as wind,
Wind which sings with colors incapable of duplication as perfect as a drop of water,
Mother is king and queen, and all that matters,
I just wish to be a part of it,
And maybe one with it,
A feat as steep as the cliffs that house the parrots that rule the sky,
A feat as hot as the lavas that scrape the volcanoes which rule the land,
A feat as demanding as lungs for white air that rule a human life,
Man is blind,
Blind as eyes wide open with calased cartiacs impairing all and dreaming for sight,
Phacoimulsification of judgment,
Of comfort,
Of indulgence and ignorance is necessary,
The ring of the fire is complete and surrounding,
Reassuring in its immersion,
Mirroring our much needed effort,
Emulating our required devotion,
Exposing our disposed pomegranate of attempts,
Like a kiss from a mistress,
Man tiptoes in after curfew,
I hope, pray, believe we still have time,
Time to be honest animals,
And pay our debts to the oceans,
I feel the drumming within me,
Melodically getting faster,
It's time to join the fight,
Sharpen my arrows and collect poison from our frogs,
It's time to join arms and polish my words,
It's time to succumb to the sun and harbor its warmth,
It's time to jump in front of the herd and diverge,
Diverge to simplicity,
Diverge to the stressless plains,
Diverge to where the horses roamed and buffalo lived,
It's time to learn from hieroglyphics and myths,
It's time to listen to our brothers and sisters,
It's time for man to be good again,
It's time,
It is our time,
And I am restless and ready,
To make it our time,
Our time to fix our mistakes and clean up all the liter,
It is time,
It is our time,
To make things right,
To give the power back to Mother,
And walk into the sunset proudly, equally, and rightfully runner up,
A silver medal shared with the snakes, ravens and sharks,
It is time,
It is our time,
To happily release the reins and join the higher society of the indigenous,
It is time,
It is our time,
To drop our guns,
Pick up our moccasins,
Take a deep breath,
And enjoy the peyote of life as it should be lived,
It is time to make change and caterpillar into one with the earth, once again.


Copyright © 2014

One in a Bunch

What is one branch on a Willow?
One game for an athlete?
One rainfall in a winter?
One letter in the alphabet?
What is one street in a city?
One star in the night?
One bird in a flock?
One beer in college?
What's one flavor in a stew?
One chapter in a book?
One grape in a bottle of wine?
One petal in a sunflower?
What's one hill in California?
One seed in a watermelon?
One laugh in Super Troopers?
One mussel on a beach?
What is one squash in a patch?
One freckle on my face?
One garbanzo in hummus?
One note on your guitar?
What is one year apart when we will share a lifetime?


Copyright © 2014

Argentina

Stable in your humor, Stable in your touch,
Stable in the happy memory of you,
Memories of your bed,
Memories of your rhythm,
Memories of your connection,
Deeper than any other,
Will there be another?
With a dream never to be told,
I see a white elegant dress and your daughter holding flowers,
Under the stars,
Forever dancing,
Spinning on gold with everyone who matters,
My fairytale with no weight,
I can see it,
I can feel it,
But it will never grasp ground,
Without your embrace,
Crazy thoughts of two months born,
This is a first,
Does that mean my only?
In your country now,
But you are still so far.
This is my place,
Regardless of you,
And you are in your place,
Regardless of me,
Deceptively smoother living,
Resistance and lack of touch will be carved on our tomb,
But you don’t know what is right for me,
It is unfair,
For you to blindly choose our destiny,
Without a word from me,
And the silver sword is,
You think you are doing right by me.
You are not.
It is what is right for her,
And easy for you to have ground,
Ground to blame,
And ground to stand on,
Are you happy?
I’ve been searching for a home,
Since you’ve been gone.
It’s all ruins in Cusco,
They’re floating in Puno,
There is no life in Atacama,
That would be for me,
Córdoba would be the middle bear’s bed,
But you tainted it with your dream,
The road is my home presently,
I can’t seem to sit still,
My soles itch for new lands,
I am young and open,
Excited and strong,
Bittersweet completion,
Un camino Nuevo para mi,
Dangerous, seductive, lonesome,
I want it all.
So I will follow this path for now.
Please learn from Neruda,
Please explain your cowardness,
Please be the strength of last year,
I need to hear it from you,
I need to know this is what you want,
Not what you need to survive,
I need you to convince me,
But that would require confidence,
One more sight could prove it all,
But you are too scared.
That will have to do for closure.
Time will pass,
Hopefully with my broken heart.
I am where I feel at home,
And I hope you are too.
There are always choices,
I hope you know that,
And her thick veil is not covering your sight.
My boat will sail north,
Destinations not yet decided.
I hope you find your strength,
While I am actively searching for mine.
I hope you are living honestly,
For I cannot bare another thought.
I hope you are happy with the time we shared.
I am, I was, and now I am gone.
Gone from you,
Gone from this.
I am light and free,
Living in the moment,
And ready for my new life,
Or whatever sounds good at the time…


Coauthor: the beautiful Miss Sheva Marie Falaki


Copyright © 2014

Straddling a Crevasse

The flare has been ignited.
What the fuck am I supposed to do.
I only find you my home.
Not Marin.
Not San Francisco.
Not Santiago.
Not the Road.
Just you and my thoughts.
I feel I am loosing my direction.
My rock is eroding.
And I don't know what to do.
I am alone.
There is no where to run.
I need hope or a hop.
I am not strong enough for an in between.
My legs are straddling the crevasse,
Which is steadily growing and I need to commit.
Otherwise, a fall is inevitable.
I don't want to admit such weakness.
Not even to myself,
For that gives it truth.
But I can't sit idle.
Please find yourself.
Find your voice.
Find your confidence.
Find your desires.
For I can't see them now.
Such fear is born.
Combined with a lack of presence,
Lack of definitive hope,
That only fuels the burn.
Please find yourself.
Before the crevasse gets too big.
How do I send smoke signals from Mendoza?
How do I send love on a Peruvian penguin and expect it to get to you?
How do I send myself without going at all?
Such fantasies are being sewn.
Fantasies you may never know.
I hope to caterpillar them into our life.
But you must build the cacoon.
I love you blue.
I just hope you find us in your tunnel.
And please let me know when you do...



Copyright © 2014

Collecting Stones

Playing in my dreams of times years away,
Toying with my hearts and my hopes,
The path is forked,
But I yearn deeply for both paths,
Fulfilling one in my reality and one in my sleep,
I silently hope to view your mirror,
With a wish tied to an anklet wisked away in the devil's throat,
A wish that cannot be spoken,
A wish that is carried by the powers of Iguaçú,
A wish that is whole.
I will search the world for myself for I have already found you,
I see those eyes in the sparing blue of a butterfly's flight,
In the dimpled smile of a native child,
In the ancient love shown on the beaches of honey,
I desire you to count my freckles and kiss my sunned skin,
I look at the moon and hope you are looking at me too,
I want to share all the waterfalls with you,
But for now I must be patient,
I must swim this river until it finds your delta,
It's not that we are growing apart,
It's that we are independently preparing,
Becoming the people we want to be,
One must find happiness within,
Before it can be shared like rain,
I am busy collecting stones,
Ceasing only when the weight demands,
But my basket is light for now.
My sail will naturally point north,
When it is finally full,
And on that day,
You will be on the dock,
Independently driven,
With a sunflower in hand and a straight back,
With an exchange lacking in only words,
You will proudly lift my stones and I will smile,
And we will know that all is right,
Grasp hands and watch the sunset,
For then, life will begin.



Copyright © 2014

Honey

On the island of honey,
In a land of harps and rain,
Where the trees look like pompoms,
I feel the warm love of family,
On an overcast morning,
I have sun in my mind,
And strength in my soul,
I feel pride for my sister, my mother,
My father, my lover,
I feel whole,
And I feel at peace on my lonesome journey.


Copyright © 2014

The Color Orange

I had a dream last night,

Where I defined the color orange.

With a lens of yester years,

I saw you as a deep harvest moon.

May it be wrong,

May it be evolution,

My subconscious rang poppy orange.

Not a burnt pumpkin,

Nor a fluorescent highlighter,

But more a tangerine or an apricot or a carrot,

With a purple shine from a blinding beam of sunlight.

It was pure, clean, golden orange.

The best shade.

Maybe it’s the sweetness,

Like calm sun through a dried fallen leaf,

The orange of a monarch butterfly,

Sharp against a blue summer sky,

Or a bright mango sunset with purple impaling mountains.

It is a bursting shade of orange.

A short haired woman interpreted differently,

She saw it her way,

I appreciate the contrast,

I appreciate the connection,

I appreciate the compassion,

But I like my shade best.


Copyright © 2014