Some Months Ago I Felt It Coming (Revised)

Let it cook

Slowly

Under pearly gazes

-

Burn new forking paths of

a(n/o)ther/ intense eye-contact sublime

-

Let it sweep

Away

The after whatevers (whatever!)

By giving away, give in 

-

It is always your touch, whoever fondles my skin

Or forever to your lips, no matter whose I’ve brushed mine with. 

Have you acted the same?
Contradictorily, 

Inconsistently amazed

By glitter

Over everything

Because of immediacy

To (l)earn nothing

Like me? 

-

Overcooked, burned out, and swept under.
Back to,
Away from,
In a matter of weeks.
Acceptance is a luminous beam.
-
For the time being, at this time, you have chosen me.
The feeling storms towards to bat me in the face (.)

With a kiss

I anchor

The choice, 

I return

The blaze. 


__________________________________________________
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(previous draft)


Let it cook
Slowly
Under pearly gazes
-
Breathe new forking paths of
a(n/o)ther/ intense eye-contact sublime
-
Let it sweep
Away
The after whatevers (whatever!)
Nobody cares
What the name behind the face is
-
It is always your touch, no matter who fondles my skin
Or forevers to your lips, no matter whose I’ve brushed mine with.
Have you acted the same
Contradictory,
Inconsistently amazed
By glitter,
Over everything,
Because of immediacy,
To (l)earn nothing
Like me?
-
In the present for the time being, at this time, you have chosen me.
The feeling comes rushing towards to hit me in the face (.)
With a kiss,
I anchor
the choice,
I return
the blaze.

Who to blame (2nd draft)

In the morning, when I fling the alarm
I wonder who to blame
Or how to bend the day
There’s always some noise that disrupts the flow
Of my mind trynna breathe
And go through the million things
That I gotta do today and next month and in ten years
The more that you do
The more life that you lose
There’s a pressure that smothers, suffocates everything
And if you make it worse
Becomes irrelevant
At this point…
Today,
I don’t want to create excuses for myself
Or anybody else.

My mother says that in the years to come
I will feel the pain
Crawling down my neck
She says 'trust in God but don’t have faith in people'
And I have to laugh
Cause it’s their faith that have crea-
ted God, Mom.

But Dios,
Today,
I don’t want to justify my faith
Or challenge anybody else’s

But sometimes I wish we hadn’t thought the concept up in the first place.


Still, I have no space to question
Or maybe a little, but not enough
To challenge and change what’s grotesque of
A reality that is not fair enough
Always a fact, a statistic, nature
To some bullshit excuse that is not enough
That doesn’t suffice to answer
The lack of humanity that we show among us

It doesn’t suffice to answer
Why we’re brutal with everything that has been created for us.

Flame,
You fueled my desire
You gave the spin to a life that couldn’t start until it found you
Dreams,
Ignored for the better part
Of a plan that was up to par but not quite to my own values
Pulse,
Engine that fires my heart
I tried to complain to him about the fact that I couldn’t find you

(And I couldn't find you)

Wishful Thinking

As far as I'm aware of, I'm the only person I know who is so morally selfless and so fake to himself that I cannot wish something for myself and ONLY for myself, even when blowing an eyebrow into the air or my birthday candles.

Let me explain.

I'm an advocate of ideals. Unlike principles, ideals aren't necessarily the base for subsequent ideals, and they certainly don't care to address what some object should be like, how it should work, etc. Ideals aim for ultimate perfection, with no other purpose (necessarily) than attaining it.

An ideal: World peace.

I'm a man of ideals, but not of very many principles, which in other words means I have a lot of conceptual truths about myself and the world, but not a clue about how to live by them, act for them, or even how to respect them.

Comes a birthday candle.

My heart or something that acts like it instantly begins a feast of self-indulgence:

"I wish health for myself and my loved ones, that I get that job that I'm aiming for, that nothing bad...-"

Like a thunder, like that lover from 2 years ago who should be over you by now but instead cannot help but reappear like a bitter bitch, my conscience (my mind?) rushes in:

"What about world peace, Phineas? What about all the unfairness in the world, and the people who have never celebrated their birthday, who've never even had cake - those mothers who are loosing their children in non-sensical fights, wars or robberies, as you blow those candles..."

Yada,yada,yada.

All this happens in the split of a second. This is usually the time where everybody around you is done with their singing and clapping, has given you a second to perform your part of the ritual, and mutter:

So?

This is exactly when I have to say, "Give me a second. I'm thinking." I suspect this is what happens to everyone who takes too long to blow their birthday candles: A sudden moment of unbearable pressure and excitement, where all your selfless and selifsh Wishes gallop to the forefront, rushing for a chance to take the spotlight. I tend to think that this is a chance for that little person inside of us to really take a moment and reaffirm who we are.

Right there, I've defeated the purpose of the ritual of Wishing.

In my case, like I said, the fight is between my very immediate neccesities and sending positive vibes to this seemingly unfair universe (shouldn't these too be part of my immediate necessities???). It's too huge of a difference in scope, and usually my birthday Wish ends up being a forced mash-up, an almost incongruent mini-speech that may include sentences as ridiculous as "I wish for the well-being of my family and friends, as well as for those innocent souls in Darfur. And when I hoped for inner peace for myself earlier, I also wished it for humanity as a whole."

-----

Wishes, of course, should be spontaneous and free of conscience. They should come from the gut, and be sent to all dimensions with convincement. Personally, next time I will not apologize, rewrite or argue with myself when I Wish. Que así sea.

No! to Maxims, Aphorisms, Sayings, etc. TODAY: The means/ends justify the means/ends.

The means don't justify the ends, or the ends don't justify the means.
But whose means are we talking about, and what ends are we defending?
And what means are we applying, and whose ends are we trying to attain?

It's not only about whether one values outcome over process or vice versa, is it?

It shouldn't be about morals or rationality, certainly not ours'.
It should be about what's best for the animal species that is being exterminated, or the natural resource that is being exploited, or the children and the handicapped and the poor and the "different" that cannot defend themselves.

We should see through their eyes, and act. Not think, not feel. How irrelevant. Simple empathy, and even simpler but effective action.

Further,

What about us? What happens when we are the ones at a crossroads and we are the victim, the oppressed?

You might ask.

Happy Anywhere

The screamers, bible preachers give the ear the will to kill
The moaners, not addictive but still a sleeping pill
The hyperactive mirror a hippie’s nightmare
Who gives a damn? I can be happy anywhere.

Subways are the throats that swallow the minimum wage
Parks are the acid jokes Pavement tells its friends
I ate an apple that was modified with Tupperware
Who gives a damn? I can be happy anywhere.

Spoil me
And in the meantime claim
I’m happy
While I intoxicate myself dying
Slowly
I graffiti the city and shout
“Courageous!”
I need to hush the splash to enjoy a meal
But this is happy in the city and that’s fine with me

If there’s a green I’m not going, it will turn grey soon
That’s why I like it here: the rush is heavy but I get home soon

Some places borrow my scent and I borrow theirs
Some people borrow my love and I borrow theirs
Misterio! Life can feed on things that aren’t even there...
Fire the animal and be happy everywhere.

Spoil me
And in the meantime claim
I’m happy
While I intoxicate myself dying
Slowly
I graffiti the city and shout
“Courageous!”
I need to hush the splash to enjoy a meal
But this is happy in the city and that’s fine with me.

On meditation

There has to be some higher merit,
a beam of a more profound victory,
of a more earthy war won over,
in meditating on a public bus, on your way to work,
squeezed in between dozens of pre-occupied strangers,
case in hand, with a sensory overload that cannot be
shunned by simply closing your eyes
and concentrating on Breath.
It has to be more complete, as divine, more real than sitting in ardha padmasana
on dewed grass, in the middle of nowhere, in robes
or naked, with the rising sun
and the smell .f clear .xygen
and the sound .f maanasa
and the touch .f guyan mudra
filled to the bone () with the taste .f consciousness .

Centuries spent
for progress,
towards progress,
so that we can continue to despise our lives and others',
in different ways
but with the same intensity
as yesterday.

Leaving body

What's the highest demonstration of spiritual highness you can perform after dying?

It is clear to me that funerals are sick, an archaic pseudo-ritual that in truth symbolizes that ever present disregard for our flesh that most have always shown one way or another. Funerals are also about perpetuating the moaners' sense of loss and longing... hardly an act of love from the dead one.

Some say that a conversion to ashes is not only poetic but also serves to give everybody a sense of closure. We as spirits definately say goodbye to our body, which swiftly runs through a river or travels across mountains. They, as moaners and lovers, know that, symbolically at least, you're free and one with the world... sans the fungus.

But what about donating your body to science? One could think this is hardly a spiritual act, and shows more love to oneself and our imperfect kindreds than Nature or any other Higher power. But at the same time, only when you truly get to that amazing certainty level of knowing that one is undeniably, absolutely disembodied once dead, only then could you truly understand what donating your body to science really means.

In a way, this action is of a strength of character that would scare more than one.

Moreover, putting your body to further use once its biological clock has ceased to tick may seem too philantrophic, but in reality it could also talk about a strong faith in Humanity, ie. that humans' knowledge can , through the examination of your corpse, help others. That your useless, stiff corpse could be useful to somebody one last time; helping future visitors of the Earth to live better.

Romantic? No, but highly spiritual... perhaps.

The land we knew so well. Since the morning I’ve been asking how we gonna make the last thing in our lives the most important one, the single most impellent one. Together we start climbing, these rocks are meant for fighting; we kiss them with our fingers, all, our flexors giving us their all.

This is much ado for nothing, these are lovebirds burned on acid, but I can still hold your hand, I am willing to still hold your hand. 'Together we are something, something more than nothing', You say but I can’t tell You say, but I can’t tell.

I don’t wanna know the history of anything that you hold dear.
These are the rules by which to submit and never ask for anything.

To sleep you need it all, the feast is now a yawn, the farm has let the piglets out, I knew you wouldn’t leave without stabbing in my heart the words that would suffice to deepen this resilient doubt that you couldn’t do without. They never leave me alone with my Bombs…

It wasn’t until some years ago that the fear cut our soil like a plow, it turned it over like it had no real worth. It left me partly uncovered, left me mostly.

I needed patience long-lasting, but you kept on asking to leave the land we knew so well, and amid my confusion your body kept pushing, too holy to not feel again. But I wanted to say:
What if our lives are spared? What if what comes is the opposite? A relative opposite of despair? Yes, I meant to say: Why if danger never come like we expect it? I meant to say: What do you wanna spread if we can’t prevent it? What do you wanna censor if we can’t oppress it?

To win you need us all.but I can’t hold this gun no more, I should’ve stopped this long ago. They never leave us alone, they never leave us alone with our Bombs.

Come back to your body with a full, heavy inhalation. Fill up your lungs with air, start to feel Life germinating inside of you, nurturing you. Begin to move your fingertips and toes, slowly. Slowly. Nobody is rushing you. With another deep inhale, extend your arms behind your head, and stretch your spine. As you exhale, relax. Your eyes remain close, confronting utter voidness.

This is, ultimately, all you have left. Not love, not abundance, not absence, not even ourselves. At the end of the day, all we have is our breath, the air that visits, pullulates, and leaves us after a passing moment.

Stay like this for a few moments: controlling nothing, wanting nothing, needing nothing.