La lluvia en la Primavera

Sepia tones, sepia tones! 
We sketched a picture of the world in sepia tones.
In rich shades of brown. 
Like the earth that dirtied our souls.
A rich bourbon brown burned in our throats, 
freckled our smiling cheeks…
and in patterns decorated our frowns.

Sepia tones, sepia tones!
Like the dirt we kicked up when we danced!
Earthen, gilded, browns.
Bright as our glowing chocolate eyes
My, how they shine, deep in there trance.
Like celebratory violins, 
Harmoniously, melding all the other instruments
Into their musical romance.

Sepia tones, sepia tones!
A shade like the mountains of my frustrations,
and the hills of our desires.
Wooden browns, like the boxes of our treasures
Buried beneath a russet earth,
Aging, and abandoned. left to slowly expire.

Sepia tones, sepia tones!
Dirty browns like the body armor of roaches;
only here to consume and spoil our goods.
Like the cupboards we use to hide things behind.
Umber, as of the stout lagers we smash glass to glass,
As we tell each other tales,
Of the things in life we hope to find.

Sepia tones, Sepia tones!
An oak colored memory of the pickets that
Fenced in our childhood dreams,
The softly burnt hues of our summer skins,
The amber shade in which our old souls croon.
The colour of stitches nature uses, 
Uses to bind and mend us together with at the seams.

Sepia tones, Sepia tones!
We sketched a picture of the world in sepia tones. 
We captured a portrait of earth
of her flesh and of her bones. 
Sepia tones the rawness of our nature 
But a gentle mystery,
Let us blow the dirt off the old common unknown.

The lighthouse lit the way,
I was seduced by her beauty, her bright lights I followed.
A scholar, student of geology.
Show me the world.
I seek to experience all the degrees of your latitude. 
My kodak eyes will capture you, store you in my mind
project you in dreams
and in landscapes of carefully thought out words. 

Upon the small and mighty hill,
Equipped with only an ill working compass,
And a half naked map with routes to certain treasures,
Of both the Idealistic and Realistic type,
and some blanks with the intent of creating my own path. 
Like a fever to my body, with un an insatiable urge I fell Ill,

With a knapsack containing an army of adventure and a collection of smiles
torn out newspaper headlines,
some self made checklists,
containing things to achieve before death finds me,
A yearning soul, young, dreamy and ripe. 
hike the trails of the Himalayas to a Nepalize tune.
To tap to African beats, train through the Alps
partake in Amazonian dances under tropical rains
I have a list perhaps I shall begin my journey in June. 

Learning the art of cutting back.
As I forecast this flicker of a future before me
with this odd  new tool some may call a budget- 
a bizarre yet curious concept;
I may never understand why one would choose,
to cut back on matters of the heart. 

If I was not human but a digital device
There would be an explosion of pixelations,
every time that you depart.
In the galaxies beyond us
atoms dance at speeds beyond our perception of light.

I am the weight of a feather
with a heaviness so soft.
Falling to earth with a weighted fury
desiring to remain frozen in time
in that place beyond our earth
where together we glow so amazingly bright.

The air she burns cold of an arctic fire,
a frosty polar air singing to my forgotten bones
and all the numbed nerves aching to be remembered.
Meet me there, meet me everywhere
We’ve never been closer yet never felt so far apart.

North to south we have traveled, 
Here we meet at the equator of our hemispheres,
Weightless with surrender to gravity,
breathless from our long journey of desire,
Remain still, as our bodies lay parallel,
I am gently shattered by the magnetic pull apart.
Remain still, let the sound waves whisper in our ears. 

If science she is systematic,
and we learn of her through experimentation,
if art is her opposite,  
the ruler of chaotic things, fill me of uncontrolled explosions.
a chemistry beyond our earth.

Beyond the horizon the mountains so majestic
covered in a delicate blanket of soil and soft rose hued snow
tangible natural matter, of each other so opposite.
Old dirty deeds meshed with replenished innocence.
A pictorial diploma life has given me- an attempt at understanding,
these things I have come to know.

When I was first welcomed to the jungle,
by a giant panther I was mauled,
Before taking my wallet and a giant bite of my neck,
She gently warned me it was for my own good.
She took all my money, Bleeding half to death she left me.
and with my debt acrueing.
(she later reimbursed me, in the mail sent a check.)

In that tall grass is where you found me,
gave me a glass of water, tended to my wounds.
and offered an odd thing called love,
something I had not yet heard of,
yet didn’t seem a thing I should refuse.

 Like Timmy’s famous plunge down the well
Is how fast and deep for me you fell,
Your eyes sparkled with a glint
at the gentleness of my nature
and the fiery sass of the feirce defense mechanism
With which the beating had unfortunately gifted me.

We spent a summer collecting cards,
with a delicacy using them to craft an unsteady house on the sands.
At nite we’d build a fire for warmth
fall asleep to the beating of our hearts,
and the soft songs you’d sing.
In the night I ran in tears due to my fear of endings,
and from the little I knew,
of something that was defintely a start.

I grabbed my collection of miscellaneous weapons
I had been secretly gathering and hiding,
I knew you’d come looking upon realization of my vanishing.
In trenches alone I slept with one eye open
armored in spears and jagged pieces of wood I’d gathered from shipwrecks,
And my only friend the giant pinecone named Wilson.

The search party came. I successfully remained concealed.
For years I could hear you softly singing into the stars
in the distance.
I’d fall soundly asleep to its sound,
in my home beneath the surface of the earth clutching my giant pinecone.

When the music stopped, in curiosity I grew.
I sent out my best pigeon in search of word. She never came back:
her disappearance sparked my concern.
After the failure to return of the second, third, fourth bird,
I knew your new home must be so safe, so warm.
If you ever wonder if I’m still wandering,
My dear I so greatly feared, I wonder too.

my vision may have been blurred
that day when i met you.
perhaps it was the sugar rush
that made me so dizzy, oh so faint.
but I was on a roll that day!
the world was my lollipop!
and with that smile so sweet…
you looked but just a lick away.

don’t eat candy off the floor!
we’ve surely all been warned.
we eyed each other
above stolen smiles.
but like ET,
we follow that reeses pieces trail
gobbling up more and more.
…innocence defiled,
like a starved mischeivious little bear
right to danger’s door.

and the lights were so bright.
flickering rhythmically
with our heartbeats.
mine, twice as fast
cracked out from all the treats!
our lives so trite
hyped, hyper, blood rushing through veins…

maybe it was the color of your sweater,
that made you look like a 
delicious forbidden fruit.
temptation.
what is this anyway?
let’s run away together.

..a lovely liason
i am bound i am bind 
what is to understand?
its beauty
pure…dumb and blind.
this place is but earth
existing of the land.
let’s abuse its beauty
drink her waters, touch her skies
feel her feelings…lets go
..take my hand.

I heard there’s a place a way’s away.
where the skies are 
made of marmalade. 
soft like a dream.
The flowers grow vivid and wild
and the trees are but of tangerine.

to the station lets hurry
I have the map! a gps, 
treats for the road…
a treasure under my chest…
a tingling under this dress.

under soft kisses
and the shaking of knees
lets leave here!
…abandon all ghosts and fears
lets take the L train!
like lemmings to sea
there ain’t no measure
of all that can be.

to the land, so lush and warm from sun!
down that road, follow me.
lets savor these gentle kisses.
…sweet, soft, tasting of bubblegum
you and i
one plus one.
silly and sweet ain’t that the truth?
my darling, my sugar tooth.

i ran outta quarters to flick at the wall 
the game of heads or tails gave me 
no assistance in making my decision
of whether to share with you
my troubles.
but fuck it you dont deserve it to know.
this love can die inside me 
like an aborted baby.
its mine, i made it so i can destroy it.
your eyes aren’t the only on earth
like the pacifics not the only ocean,
but theres only one of me 
theres but one of you,
kinda like the earth has but one moon.
but this too shall pass.
ill bury it and throw 
an elaborate ceremony in its passing. 
in the night we will all dance around 
wind in our hair wine in our hands,
we will sing we will dance.
then shed tears upon realization
were celabrating our own passing.

world’s got me feelin a bit global…Thai
not good like sauces of peanuts..
crushed and beat, more like a young cheap whore.
in the mornings i strap on some snazzy shoes
stroll the streets door to door
in my hand, the best
possible written copy of myself…
with beaming stars in giant eyes
from this life hoping for more.

heavy eyes
it may be time for bed
ill play some mellow tunes
turn up the heat
warm the room
gather some pillows
to lay my tired head.

another wasted day, among a wasted week
in a somewhat wasted life.
I have moved not all the day
yet burn weary with exhaustion.
a pile of hay to lay this
tired body i seek.

i remove my shoes.
then one sock at a time.
stuff them in tiny little drawers.
take the brain out my skull,
the heart out my chest,
put them in a bottle 
I’ll toss out to sea
in hopes that they find yours.

over in bed
my aching soul i lay to rest.
close the blinds close my eyes
think of your weight above me
our hands in our hairs
our bodies heart to heart
chest to chest
like the music in my ears, just a beat away.

count the sheep, count the stars
to the side of the bed set the alarm.
a new day brings a new parade
lists and lists of benefits and features
years of education and schools
practice and refinement 
of endless books and tools…
to walk the dirty streets daily
and for pennies sell my passions and soul
to hungry rats
whom feast on wide-eyed young fools.

at least i’ve known the softness of your hands
the honesty in your soul;
laughed a few times at your silly little quips
on my constant quests for gold
you calmed my tears
and admired the aged scales 
on my serpent body.

rest is sometimes possible
when I channel the soothing of your voice
its freshness, its sincerity
it provides a gentle warmth.
its not a mousetrap.
it can’t, won’t change this world.
but at least its a blanket, hay for rodents,
makes this night not so cold.

Options…choices…decisions…
their stimuli drives me mad on a daily basis!
yet without them this world would be sheer tyranny
and I would be but like a snake; dragging myself
about this earth on my belly
nothing but a slave to the instinct of survival.

A diamond in the rough
well believe me i scrub and i scrub
cleanses, potions, solutions.
Perhaps its the atmosphere, the LA pollution.
that makes removing this layer of dirt and grime
off the flesh so tough.

Perhaps if i sit myself out in the rain,
let it pour down,
flush away the decay,
potions fluids and alchemy…
inside is where its most polluted
a surface cleansing is oh so useless, in vain.

Hard keepin the dirt off your shoulders
in such a tightly crowded place
where trains, planes, and automobiles,
bear the citizens’ scars.

Perhaps if i collect pennies off these
downtown streets
gather up all the coins beneath the cars,
i could buy myself a raft float down the LA river
head all the way south to the Mississipi
and come back with a story to tell.

…no time for tellin stories in this town
where it rains tears of ghosts
the ones that died to leave here a legacy behind.

And when your feelin a little cheapened
a little chewed,
with a mild case of homesick blues..

Take your bruised little heart off your sleeve
head down to the hollyood boulevard
buy a facial, some scrubs and some creams.
 Then take a walk on those filthy little stars
bearing the names of this town’s martyrs
that died for the silly little dreams
both theirs and ours.