Nisi Dominus Frustra: Psalm 127

Though His reasons be unbeknownst to us-

the calls we hear (cooed from doves and pigeons alike)
are as palpable and pulpatious as fresh orange juice
as solid and as sweet as cherry pits
and as potent as whiskey.

If you leave reason in mind
Wisdom is free within heart.

Lioness without Pride

Last night I fell into a deep sleep
For the first time in weeks,
And I dreamt of a lion cub.

how she ran with unyielding speed
and bounding agility.
Living the uninhibited life of youth/truth
In full play, full swing, and full acceptance
of the sandy planes and shady palms in her world.

Oh- She’d bask in the freedom
Of Mother Nature
Roam and ramble in the love
Of Father God
Indulge in the peace
Of Daughter Moon
And play in the presence
Of the Imperial Sun

However, her freedom was as defenseless as it was wild.
It was so fragile in fact that to call out to her,
Even the whisper of a name,
Rendered her futile and tame.
It destroyed her joyful spirit
Imprisoning this lioness in bars of spectacle and shame.

This cage made secure with insecurities,
is built on foundations of fear (black as soot)
barred by rods of expectation that are
bolted to the walls of ego
and welded to the chains of past/the shackles of future,
She is powerless behind the rusted locks of distrust.

And you and I, we’re looking on-
Daunted by the small structure’s cathedral like presence
We stand hand in hand in desperate wonderment
Of how to save the beautiful beast.

So distraught and so disheartened to see her imprisoned
I’ll cope with repeated defeated sighs
Just to find room to breathe.

So unhappy seeing those
big brown eyes long for their limitless spontaneity,
you’ll quiver beneath your mask of stone
with mere and dear prayers that she will be freed on her own.

As laughter turns to silence,
genuine efforts gradually become prison guards.

stalking her cell,
this Lioness without pride
ponders whether a trees roots
hold deeper than its branches grow
or if fireflies were meant for more than
simply to dazzle eyes.

Awaiting escape she humbly hungers for the unrestrained ambition which once defined her.

A Talent for Survival

Those two women Circumstance and Luck
with their four beautiful feet
Have rendered their magic done and vanished.

Last seen speeding away in an old sports car
Orange scarves blowing in the wind like
Blazing flames

We’ve been abandoned by those two light-footed fools,
Left,
too scared and too confused
To interpret the abysmal enchantment
Of feelings so peacefully asleep
Yet so restlessly awake.

They’ve stranded us,
left us holding only weary assumptions
That bear a weight on the mind that descends down to the chest
Crushing a great lightness which once resided there.

Alone, with the drone of the telephone
It rings and hums in consecutive monotone
Broken only by
'hello?'
In some foreign familiar language then
Quickly followed by quivering questions like
“Are you a friend or a lover?”

ahhh you see I’m one in the same
and for that we don’t really need a name
So hopefully you’ll hear my jazz when I say

Just accept my respect
And lets not let
This conversation get bent
Toward ice cold contempt
Because you and I drop subtle hints
Like pots and pans
That clash and clatter through the telephone window

So please please please
Don’t find defeat in the demons of distance
That plague our existence
And casue the resistance of love in this instant
Because

I won’t let our talent for survival
Become our loves rival.

I’ll take forever and turn it in to right now.

I’ll steal those worried words from your lips
replace them with a gentle kiss
and whisper back the comfort that will caress just like fingertips

But if those crazy ladies
Never come back
If they stay drunk with their friends
James and Jack
That’s fine.

But if they do come back this way,
When they do,

Esta todavia aqui
Esta todavia aqui

Mi amor
Tu amor

Esta todavia aqui

Gifts of Light

Who knows if the wind can tell time,
If it plans when to surround us with it’s might
And scoop us up into a passionate fury.

Talking while kissing,
Trembling while caressing,
Tonight,
Silence is outrivaled by heat
Fears subdued by need
And the tears that drop because of this
Are not lost
But live on
In what we have created
Because nothing else exists but this

And who can tell us if the light picks what it gives,
Choosing the hue of pale blue
from your ipod screen
to illuminate only our faces,
Making our eyes shine,
in the deepest shades
flickering at one another in playful desire.
Allowing nothing else to exist but this

So take a deep breath
Because nothing else exists but this
Nothing else exists
Nothing else exists
So please take a deep breath

For when the night’s mystery (God’s intended confusion) has ended
The sun will break in through split curtains
Casting rays of light (God’s clarity) in piercing orange across the room
Awaking me, causing you to move,
And we’ll know,
but question still if what has happened was real.

Though the love marks, left deep in skin
Will fade with time
And the morning’s calm and the television’s news
will cease the winds swooning fury

The sun ray's gift
is a beautiful image
(that will live on through every good-morning)
The image
of an exposed and sleeping rose covered in stars of varying size,
A smile of infinite meaning,
And a whisper of love
Telling us that through the morning light
and because of this
So much more can exist

Drinkability

A fresh hello
Said with the enthusiasm of a full days worth of stories behind it

Stories of wondering and wandering through
Elements taken in and exhaled out,
Of talon air untamed by inhabitants of “civil” demeanor
Of the seeds planted by the sun in the skin
unknowingly growing until sweet discovery is found in reflection

Stories, which couldn’t have been told at any.other.time.but now.
to speak in music-
to hear the piano’s jazz
Sing its blue notes that land like raindrops,
Beautiful in their rapid inconsistency,

We share; the jazz plays and plays.
Plays feelings as stable as driftwood afloat
Feelings that shrink and swell with desire

Tapping out notes
that pool into an ocean,
who’s coastline view I can tell is
so darn pleasing for your ear to see
because your expression reflects back at me
brighter than the water reflects back at the sun.

Eccentric jazz played through lips more enticing than you might think
with a voice so boisterous and sweetly singing
those forgotten notes; those unspoken thoughts
that milk through our veins and seep recklessly out our pours.

Through this undefinable melody
We are coerced to know that a tea’s drinkability
Is co-equal to one’s own thinkability/understandability/love(a)bility?

That this search of perfection in tea and in love
could only produce a moment –no longer-
Of strong, piping hot, and well steeped Love and Intellect
Before the feeling, in it's steaming conduction, cools and the taste becomes bitter.

But the jazz so fondly found will play on
(in laughter and in mind)
through night’s silence.

I was dreaming of white Christmases.
of green on red Christmases
of cinnamon smelling mornings Christmases
of cranberry sauce white wine turkey and pie Christmases.
Of wrapping paper chaos and football afternoons Christmases,
Christmases I’ll find under the rocks (the warmest places) of my memory.

Waking from this frosty white dream I notice something was different.
My PJ’s are too small and
Doors have to stand on tip-toes just to let me through
The walls are covered with Bona Natale cards, seasons greetings from smiling faces I don’t recognize.

And this year -When I looked that tree, it just disgusted me.
That grandiose tree who shined brighter even than the burning bush itself,
Decorated with dashing garments of gold
Shiny silver globes and a years worth of hopes,
With boxes upon boxes stacked around its base
Holding up its branches, as if to support the merriment.
Comfort and Joys backed by
Microsoft and toys

I decided then, that THIS year
there will be no sweaters given,
no socks, earrings, or shalls of linen,
no ugly hats or globes of falling snow,
no golf clubs or useless rugs to throw,
no Timbo, Nike, Nautica, Hilfiger, Versaci, Viton
Gucci, prada, BK, CK, DKNY, Guess, Rolex, Tiffany blood or diamond engravings passed around the living room.

This year-
I bagged up all the presents like I was the Grinch who stole consumerism,
threw them out the window just so I that could get rid of them.

Replaced 'em all with a sign on the front door that said:
“Welcome in, the presents are everywhere.”

Because Grandma, this year I got you a good hearty laugh,
And Papa, untie the ribbon of small talk and lets unwrap a good conversation,
Dad I give you all the admiration in the world,
And Mom, Merry Christmas here is the assurance that you can be proud of what you’ve raised.

Each year we inhabit holidays like humble homes our grandparents built
Treading over rituals like worn out paths in the carpet.
These worn down, yet resilient, traditions reconcile long term-long distance simply with laughter.
Each year regardless of who or what has changed, Tradition will always be the same.

Gorgeous and Her Holder

Gorgeous and her holder
Awaken; sand soaked and laughing
Violently happy as a boy with a puppy
Intoxicated just looking at each other

Gorgeous and her holder
Awaken; caught between the roar of the ocean
and the roar of the highway.
Even with our fingers laced as tight as they can cling
We’re both letting go, to begin again

Gorgeous and her holder
Fall asleep with lips interlocked and skin to ever loving skin.
We slip into one, the subconscious takes over to comprehend the kind of bliss you and I become.

When passion is divisible by its potential loneliness
We’re left kissing
Two pairs of eyes, shut
Minds open
Heartbeats synced
Ecstasy erupts
and we, Gorgeous and her holder,

Awaken;
Lips interlocked, skin to ever loving skin,
Both letting go to begin again