UTOPIA

a dreamscape to manifest the physical

Month: October, 2015

Ace of Cups

If you poured yourself in a cup
I would drink you up like
A smooth sumatra blend
Like exotic Hawaiian Kona that
I’d have to refill
again and again and again

If you poured yourself in a cup
Some cool tall smoothie
I would suck you, swallow you
The straw discarded
So to smother my lips
With your juice and berries
So to drench my tongue
With everything that you are
Every molecule of you
I could ingest
My stomach rumbling
Digesting some and wanting more
While you move through me
Intimately
Slowly
So so beautifully

If you pured yourself
Didn’t let fear interfere
I’d be here
Drinking you
Gulping you
Thinking you
Giving you
Me
In a glass full of this
Succulent ass

We are already
Liquid
Fluid
The perfect swirl
Of soft hardness
Of dirty purity
Of atoms in the eve
Charged ecstatic electrons

We are past life reunited
Long missing then
Found and bound like wrists tied tight
Might I sight last night
For your reference, dearest
When we breathed each other
Exploded into a billion pieces
Floated into a million universes
Loaded countless lifetimes into our cells
And came home finally
To our arms
Interwoven and locked like
I will never let you die again
Without me

There is a cup on the counter
Drink me, love
Swallow me whole

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Valetudinarian

I think of you every time I see 

A Hepatitis C commercial

It’s not because you have it

It’s because you think you have it

Every time you’re overtired 

You’re really adorable 

For a hypochondriac though

You giggle and you know 

You’re being ridiculous

At least you seem to know

After you’ve become rested

My mother’s hypochondria isn’t cute 

Especially when she lied about 

Having a brain tumor 

Because she was mad at me 

I don’t know why she was mad

Maybe because I “made her fat” 

When she was pregnant with me

She told me that once

It was hard to forget 

She forgot about her brain tumor though

When I checked in about it

A few months later

A concerned daughter

And she got mad at me again

For making up lies

And intentionally hurting her

Even though I have her tumor in a text

The commercial is over now

I’m not ever going to have kids 

I don’t want to get fat 

Like The Breathing Tao

And when you prove to my
Intimidated intimacy
That it can be revealed
Unbutton
Unwrap
Unravel
So skin to skin
And press
Just holding

First

she was drawing a field with flowers and a stream. she thought it was real. then her teacher came up to her as she was coloring the grass green. she had been filling in the space, back and forth, methodically, attempting to cover any white paper that was peeping through. the teacher said, “does grass grow sideways?” then she learned to see.

Non-Profit Prophet

I am a non-profit prophet because I sort-of get it

I’m no sage

… but …

I do know that life is meaningless if

You’re obsessed with matching sets of silverware

Cultivating your nails and hair

And never spend time with your SOUL

I wonder how many people know about the lunar eclipse tonight

The clouds try to keep it out of sight but

I see through them

I zoom into them and float in the memory of the former me

The Sun & Moon become one and my ego becomes undone

I AM the starlight

The flame ignited

The right versus wrong

I am strong now

I remember my first Pow-Wow a few hundred years ago

Under the glow of this very moon

Except it was noon and as soon as the ceremony was over

I bent and saw a clover which breathed me in and released me as Oxygen

I went into the lungs of ALL men and women and for a moment

The world inhaled in unison

There was a Hushhhhhh

On the Planet

When they exhaled

It was this very moment

With the Lunar Eclipse

Kisses on the lips of lovers

Darkness under covers

A hummingbird hovers honeysuckle and time buckles, unnoticed

As a crest crashes in the sea

The former me joins the presiding we and we are the Essence

The past becoming the present becoming the future

While I try to nurture Collective Memory and

Soothe the wounds of denial

Filter through the forgotten file looking for the wings of man

The “I can” attitude, the cure for rude behavior

The savior within the self

I thought I saw forgiveness on this shelf but it seems to be missing

Where did all this greed come from?

When I was young I often spoke of speaking to the sun

I said that’s where my ideas came from

So my Aunt Dot said to me “you must’ve been born here 9 times already”

It flew over my head or

I took it for granted and then

Forgot it for a while until I saw it in her smile right before she left this planet

So while I’m still here I’ll try to outsmart fear

I will not fear being different if it makes me Grow

I encourage you to do the same

Take aim to remain within the realm of intense Adoration

Of every good willed motivation

Of the lasting vibration of eternal breath and the loving of YOU

You are WE, all woven together in the superstring

Which is why you feel me when I sing and

The song crosses oceans and causes motion which makes someone, somewhere,

Hum, or drum, or

Thumb through the pages of

The Forgotten File

And AWAKEN

Rain

The rain is liquid passion
All falling without question
Dripping only to its destiny it oozes in cracks
And smears its way through stones
Following the path created for or by it
It doesn’t ask
It doesn’t know
It only flows

Adventures in Shakespeare: Getting There {Throwback 6.29.10}

I’ve had many adventures since I left Austin, so many that it feels I’ve been gone for weeks. The train ride was awesome; I made a couple of buddies along the way that were handy in keeping things interesting, especially as cabin fever set in. The ride itself was much faster & more comfortable than I anticipated. I was directed to a lower cabin car which has wider seats, more leg room, & only 12 seats. This cabin had 5 riders besides myself so I had two fat seats, with more leg room than I have legs, all to myself, making a generally pleasant ride with the exception of “The Queen of The Train”: a woman in her 50s who rides the rails often and ruled our car with her giant vocal chords which were active most of the time and usually had nothing interesting to broadcast.

We arrived in Los Angeles at about 7am on Friday, June 6th. Considering I hadn’t had coffee yet and no food since the night before, it seemed like an eternity for me to get my bike out of train storage. The brand new box I put my bike in in Austin was beat to hell and buried under 30 giant boxes belonging to a family of 5 that were moving to California from the East Coast. I twitched in anticipation of getting my sweetheart out from under that heap. Finally, after a gazillion years, I ripped through the little pieces of cardboard that barely remained on my bike and swiftly straightened my handlebars and put my pedals back on. Passengers aren’t usually allowed in the receiving area but that didn’t stop me from test riding my bike in giant figure eights in the belly of L.A.’s Amtrak station. Now that my bike was working I was ready to go get lost, which I did swiftly!

I wanted to ride my bike the 13 miles to the hotel in Westwood but now it was 8:30am and I still hadn’t had coffee. Additionally, upon lifting my bags, I realized that somehow they were heavier than I planned for them to be. Some gremlin must’ve stuffed some extra tools in there while I wasn’t looking. So I asked around about a bus only to learn that the folks in LA are either confused or confusing when it comes to describing their bus system. After 3 failed attempts at understanding the bus in my caffeine free state, I tied my luggage onto my bike rack with bungee cords, did some strange maneuvering of my limbs, and managed to get on my bike. I then used nothing but will power to make it go, without falling over, through downtown traffic, during rush hour, all the while kicking myself that I didn’t shell out the dough for some paniers to balance my heavy load. My GPS picked this moment to go apeshit and kept telling me I was in the middle of a dirt field in Indiana and other blatant lies. Literally, Indiana. Again I had to rely on the vague descriptions of the people of Los Angeles. OK Go straight. Turn left on 7th street. Got it.

After 9 wavy uphill miles of 7th street where I crossed 3 freeways and hit a dead end before finding the street I was supposed to turn on from there, I had to practice my broken portunol (a rare mix of portuguese and spanish that I learned in Brazil) with an old Mexican man walking his granddaughter to school. He told me I was ass backwards. I turned around and went a few blocks while questioning my language skills. A lady was watering her roses and spoke some English. She confirmed that I was ass backwards and gave me a bottle of water for my crazy/stupid bike ride. She didn’t exactly say that, but her face said it. Somehow the 9 mile return was also a steep uphill. I mean STEEP – like really really hard without a load & impossible with 60 pounds on your back. Was it 60 pounds? It felt like 60 pounds. It was too early for this, I didn’t have enough water, and my bags weren’t packed right so any further description of this segment would just result in a lot of cursing.

I finally found myself downtown again and GPS was toying with me as to which bus to take. I was a couple of blocks from where my droid was telling me to go and standing directly beneath a bus sign that said Westwood. I decided to listen to the sign. The fascinating adventure of bussing in LA shortly ensued. Lifting my monstrously heavy bike with the bulk of my belongings strapped onto it onto a bus where the driver is too pissed off at her lot in life to lower the bus was only the beginning. Yay, more pre-coffee oddly shaped exercise for me. Huff. I get on. She hits the gas pedal and immediately starts yelling at me that I put my bike on wrong and it’s going to fall off. So I stand there, helplessly watching it wobble and waiver while waiting for her to stop driving like a maniac so I can go fix it before the bus rolls over it. “Get behind the yellow line!!”, she screams as she continues to torture me for three jerky, stop & go, city blocks before stopping to watch me lift, twist, & lift my heavy life properly onto the bike rack. I finally get to squeeze me & my overstuffed turtle shell of gear through this sardine can to ensure my place among many indescribable smells & sounds. I try not to look completely overwhelmed but my eyes are bulging and I spastically keep leaning forward to see the names of the upcoming streets, hoping & promising to turn my back on atheism if my stop comes soon. I think I picked the busiest bus with the longest route in LA, and for all the whining I’ve done about how Austin lacks diversity, let me just say, I found it all on that bus. That delectable intimacy lasted about 45 minutes.

I get off the bus and it wasn’t soon enough so I continue to turn my back on god. The hotel is a mere block and a half away and I begin to feel relief but it is snatched out of my heart when the grumpy old imbecile behind the counter tells me my room isn’t ready and he doesn’t know when it will be as he practices facial twitches which indicate that I am the bain of his existence. He was almost as much of a brat as the bus driver but I have yet to get coffee and all those smells on the bus have made me testy and impatient. I proceed to gently put him in his place for being a bad human. He backs down and helps me put my belongings into a storage closet. Me & my empty bike go out for coffee. Finally.

After two hours of ambling through the UCLA area my room is ready. I unload, catch up on some breathing, and soon I’m driving with my long lost cousin and her precious offspring. I spend the next two days getting to know my young, thrice removed cousins and biking the area. My favorite ride was to Santa Monica Pier and all along the beach down to Venice. The bike path is just the right distance from the actual scene that you’re close enough to laugh at it without actually having to touch it. On the way back to the hotel I stopped for Persian Ice Cream which is potentially the most divine flavor I’ve ever tasted. Then, ZAP!, I’m off to the jobby job in Thousand Oaks. Getting there, accomplished.

Let Your Soul Breathe {revised}

When I try to analyze the lives of those around me

I see a strong, independent, community

When I look out to my Nation

I see much more frustration & miscommunication

I see stagnation and a lack of cooperation

The Sacrifice of Will for an insatiable dollar bill

Is there a lesson?

Yes.

This problem in society

This prim attitude of living for the proverbial me

Will sink skin deep and goad into a more painful inevitability

Or, so it often seems, though my dreams predict a better aftermath

Still an aftermath, indeed

I live for the dream and what it’s worth

I live for Mother Earth

To bring back the balance

So I dance to real music and beats

Not the mainstream daydream that churns money for thieves

People! Wake Up!

Release your crutches from your clutches!

Not much can be done when you’ve gone from suckin’ your thumb

To suckin’ on some Hennessey

Seek clarity!

You don’t impress me ‘cause you’re blingin’

I want someone who’s bringing Consciousness

Divinity

Something to Inspire me

A gas guzzling SUV doesn’t make you tougher or smarter when you

Barter your soul every time you roll out your driveway

Picket fences do not make everything ok!

That Soda in your hand is swelling your glands

Not to mention hypertension and diabetes running rampant in this land

And skin plagued with cancer for the vanity of tan

Darker skin desired yet racism hasn’t retired

Our disease is a fast food invention and one of convenience

Eat a veggie

Ride a bike

You might like yourself better if you could see clearly

But with the side effects of prescription drugs, fast food, & money

Our mental health as a nation got dropped at the last station stop

Stop! Put the burger down!

My community is strong but it won’t be long until McDonald’s marches over

Walmarts and Range Rovers maneuver their way in and we’ll be running again

WE of nomadic notion, born of Ocean and Earth, continual rebirth

While vultures of material thieve for a serial number

And mass produced goods, living according to shoulds:

Gotta be a lawyer, make that cheddar, so everything will be better

Create your Fate with no debate about the gate to happiness

It is not found in Gucci or Guess

And Stress is a by-product of poor decision

Malnutrition

And living by someone else’s standards

Let Your Soul Breathe

Hurdle

Her dear heart is still a bit broken
Lost naïveté a reminiscent token
Of when backstabbers weren’t so prevalent
Of when people said what they actually meant
Living en garde isn’t what she cares to do
She’d rather believe that all are true
Sadly that’s not the world we live in today
Too many lost, self-absorbed people in the way
Jump the hurdle don’t give in
There’s nothing worse than being like them

A Search For Solace

I’m trying to solicit solace

Facilitate a flawless way of being

But the motions are weening and wavering

Fluttering like the wings of beija-flor

Flower kisser

Hummingbird

I try to listen to the word of goddess

But I’m restless in my distress of being a perfectionist

My expectations are high so I lean on my relentless drive but

Nobody seems to see it so I try to sit quiet

And let my ancestors lessons filter into me

& so I keep having these dreams of a serene state

where I contemplate everything and begin seeing it is nothing

No. Thing.

But then I wake in this body in this bed in this house in this city and I am

Surrounded by things

Why can I breathe under water and turn staffs into snakes only while sleeping?

I want to wake with my power, bring it to work with me

Ride my totem wolf down the city streets but the beat sleeps in my bed

and waits for me to slumber again

I try to reproduce it with my pen but it dissipates

Throughout the day my spirit mates with with ideas

Flirts with the fantasy of truth

And youth leaves minute by minute…

How can I balance?

Coexist with cars and computers – that hummmm-

Electrical and maniacal turning people and the botanical planet into cement moment after moment

This dent in consciousness has to be banged out – override the doubt

Now how might we go about that?

Perhaps looking at the moon and not being afraid to howl

Perhaps watching the formations of birds and joining them

Yes join them you have wings

Those things that itch beneath your skin

They’re masked by terms like freedom

A beautiful term don’t get me wrong but

When’s the last time you found yourself belting a song walking down the street

Not afraid of embarrassment making a beat on a newspaper stand

Or just lived completely and fervently from the rhythm of your soul

When’s the last time you let yourself lose control & found gratitude in chaos.

It may appease us as a mass western culture to leave our dreams in bed but look around

we are becoming the walking dead led by the dollar & material possessions

Stressin’ because we don’t have enough

What we lack in actuality is community

ADD culture brought to you by streamlined ads and annual fads that are

born dead still born but you can still be born anew

That’s why im talking to you so we can get it together

Lets dialogue then dance and make ourselves better

Healing is a thought away

Love is a choice

Now please join me while I OM