Month: July 2008

of leeches in my secret spots

poetry

yesterday we picked
mud from our tires
after an hour climb
through wet jungle
mounting the summit of dup thoi

go back the way we came?
or try a new single track down

remember good decision bad decision?

mud and leaves
my brake fully locked
as we sledded down the hill
on thousand dollar mountain bikes

hopping fallen trees
and waiting for the fog to clear
sliding and slipping
and more mud in our tires

a joy until
i picked leeches from my legs.
imagine a forest so thick
so moist and so warm

i found a leech stuck to my
unmentionables
on the ride down
and still have a large red bruise

man scar or not
that was stinkin’ fun
dup thoi

Together We Stood, Alone We Fell

poetry

They have made a statue of us for all the pain and misery that can never be washed away.
We were the ones who never got what they deserved.
We were meant to survive when others live. Do they live,though?
Or is it one more puerile misconception?
Harassing thoughts of us trampled on and made to scrounge for food.
We were fools the day we let ourselves get born.

So many dawns and evenings passing us by, with us stuck and sticky with anguish and fear that we may die unfulfilled, unmade. So much space, and air wasted on us. We were innocent, incapacitated with our defective will to life. We were shells; beautiful and redundant in this painful harrowing world beauty. Where was the awe, the worship owed to all the pretty things created just for us? The sun smiled and our limbs shivered and shrieked out of weariness from the sun that only does as expected warming skins and things. A terrible understanding of our undignified, unsettling collection of hours, while our bodies gradually turn to dust.

We were companions of misfortune in our young tender years; disasters at every corner.Yet, we would imagine and dream a god dying for our sins and no one else’ s.
But between oceans, and lands; vast, painfully vast, we became strangers…

The other

poetry

I thought I would remove the “self” from my convoluted mind
the self which only exists, contorted, exalted in your eyes
to please you or revolt you; the other

There won’t be no prickling shame if it weren’t for you-the other
the other’ s self I can’t escape or hide from

I would erase you if it weren’t a crime-sin and more shame from the other
the other’ s self which resists, galvanized and contrived by my brain
taught to hallucinate you and accept you; the other

It’s as if we are back to back and each facing a mirror where we’d sometimes
catch each other’ reflections; A vision where we can never meet- the other

I ought to shed my “self” and your “self” from my awareness’s shelf
maybe it’s all a mirage where nothing subsists beyond our selves.

[If] death’s-agreeable and unpredictable,
why walk away?
After all there won’t be no needling pain if it weren’t for you- the other
the true other – I can’t ever hold or get close to.

Till I’m 30

poetry

It might be nice to be 30,
or older, so that my
feelings would not be hurt so
when both Uzbek and American
students label me as such;
or I could admit to myself
that my premature male-pattern-
baldness could be read as a
symbol of having lived 30+ years.
However, I choose to believe that
my baldness isn’t that bad,
and it won’t be for the next
three years, four months, and seventeen days.

vocationally i could see myself being a man…

poetry

of edible wooden colored planks
and beaches of white powder sand
of grainy office carpet in brown and tan
and tile of white porcelain
of sunshine without any sunglasses
and eye gouging pain from squinting
of air conditioning, freezing cold bedrooms
and pounds of blankets while fighting sunburn
of mexican, italian, barbeque, pizza, burgers,
and beer, whine, scotch, gin, margaritas

of joy
of rest
of fun

but not so much of fame
i think it would go straight to my head
evening out my clown-esque feet of
10 gallon floppy enormousness
keeping me humble in my inevitable
slow mopey gait

–
p.s.
i’d call it my vacation vocation
and i’d walk tall and straight
proud of my disproportionately dense torso

Love Letter

poetry

I love you-Goodbye.

I’ll always remember you-inside.

Of Mind, Body, and Soul-like the rest,

Mind and Soul I’ll remember-of you the best.

I’ll always know you were the love of my life

Through the sickness, the pain, and all the strife.

Saying goodbye was the hardest thing I hope to ever do,

I could only wish that it wasn’t to you.

For you raised me lovestrong.

Now I wish I could say-God’s will is wrong,

But faith in HIS plan is right,

Whether you do or don’t-survive the night

Mother, I love you-Goodbye