Corner of Soul & Search

Blind eye talk

2011-03-14T05:56:00.000-04:00

Eye miss her.

Letting go...

2010-12-26T13:10:00.001-05:00

Wondering how to do it. Realizing that just because I've done it in the past doesn't mean it makes it easier. As simple as I like to enjoy life, I still seem attached to shit being complicated.

LA is right around the corner. I could really use this space for myself now. Away from the pressure of expectation and into the world of creative self-awareness and action.

Damn that sounds so sexy right now.

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Preparation...

2010-12-14T09:57:00.001-05:00

California is approaching every passing day. All I must say is when you finally declare that you are ready to take on the life you say you want, be prepared for the universe to test your will for it. My marriage isn't working, I completed my music album and I'm creating an acting career that is taking me to LA in January. I've gone through so many emotional states within the past 2 months, I'm surprised I still have friends lol. Not really, but you get it.

Who I am can never fail.

Mad love.

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New Audio Track: LOST PRAYER FOR GAZA

2010-07-17T02:45:00.003-04:00

Here is the link for Lost Prayer for Gaza

You can either stream the music or download it for your listening pleasure. Give it to as many people as you can!

Love and blessings,

Goya Robles

I vs. Me

2009-12-14T22:09:00.004-05:00

Signs of a new time
Relativity bending
Bind eye withdraw shine
I can still smell me ending

Visionary lies
No heart; words to martyr me
See my greatness die
I start; cut the artery

Archer, pierce my flesh

Made of mother's love and steel

Brother, I know death

Beyond what your God reveals

Ancient times mirror

Every step along the way

Jesus been walked past

Different faces to the name

Spend eternity

Observe the self-perjury

Of people I love

Actions lacking urgency

I walk among them

Who's guilty of no action?

"I cannot be them"

Denial breaks interaction

Spirit, body lost

Mind is hanging on to flower

Scent is gone away

Matrix ready to devour

Lost in thought again

Pathways lead back to my soul

God is inside me

Am I ready to let go?

Go with it...

2009-09-08T01:33:00.004-04:00

I can never stress the importance of following your gut. Intelligence doesn't only come from the mind, but the body. It's sad to see someone you love deny themselves. And it seems to be a very big theme in my life right now. People who are very close to me, as well as people who are not...

Denying themselves...

In a way that I'm not sure if they will come back. Which is a bittersweet realization in a way. On one end, my view of people as pure possibility also has it's opposing reality - that there are people that will never live into what is to be their greatness. Some people refuse to look at themselves and blame everything outside of their being. Some see but deny. And others are too scared to move forward to break those patterns.

These lessons are here for me to confront. It's no coincidence that they have appeared in the fashion that they have. It's one of those "deja vu" moments where taking a stand also means not taking people's bullshit. And sometimes, it's taking that stand that demonstrates one of the most powerful elements of love.

Fresh air.

Just remember this:

"Wherever you are is the entry point."
- Kabir

where am i going?

2009-08-21T23:36:00.000-04:00

2009-07-10T22:04:00.001-04:00

"A dream is none if there are no scars of battle
Strap your boots.
Heaven is hell to create."

Transitions...

2009-06-22T02:53:00.002-04:00

It's been a little rough, eh? By the way, if you hear of any part time job openings going on in the evenings, holla. I need it!

After finishing one chapter, starting a new one has been daunting to say the least. At least I've been active in my craft. I've had the opportunity to work on an original piece called "How I Survive" that my friend Angel Dillemuth has been working on. Talent, man. Talent. And the piece is no coincidence. No piece that I work on ever has been a coincidence. It always has something that I must confront myself.

Plus, I've had some really good luck in some respect. I have had the privilege of being seen by Ellen Burstyn and Bradley Cooper. All I have to say is - hard work pays off. People remember you. So put in the work. Because people are watching and rooting for you.

And...I'm getting married in August! I'm actually excited about it and can't wait. I have a beautiful woman who is always by my side. And I'm grateful that I am learning to get out of my own way and appreciating my life.

By the way, come see me. July 10-12 at Lehman College. I will be performing "How I Survive" once again.

Mi gente...

I will leave you with a quote by Samuel Beckett:

"A man's work is in danger of deteriorating when he thinks he has found the one best formula for doing it. If he thinks that, he is likely to feel that all he needs merely to go on is repeating himself...so long as a person is searching for better ways of doing his work, he is fairly safe."

A Chapter Closing...

2009-05-06T01:18:00.002-04:00

It's been a beautiful 3 years. I'm finally graduating with my MFA degree from the Actors Studio Drama School!

This path has transformed my life. I love my life! Even though I'm in crazy debt...I'm still filled with joy. LOL Who knew...

I have an off-Broadway show going up this week. Opening night is tomorrow. So much has gone into this project. And I'm excited to share it with all of you. With the world.

Yo M...

This all started from watching you in "Platanos..."
Thank you for your inspiration. One never knows when they will discover their drive and passion.

Bueno...
There is a lot of good in my life. And I'm looking forward to taking on my life head on...

Extremities. Damn, you've been quite the heart-wrenching piece, haven't you? You've unlocked my soul.

J-Moe...brotherhood is something sacred. Thank you for preserving that. Thank you for pushing me (even against my will lol) to becoming the best and most truthful actor I could be. It's not even acting...it's just being...

Love and blessings...

A Lost Prayer for Gaza

2009-02-20T17:39:00.003-05:00

Undeveloped bones scattered in shrapnel and white phosphorous...
Somebody prayed hear...there are too many prayers here...
There is no sight here...

Bleeding needles dipped in shattered nightmares feed the veins of ancient burial grounds in Palestine...
Except the corpses are still alive and breathing...
Targeted in places where refuge and sanctuary mean "Seek and Destroy" to the conqueror...

Smart bombs and other Weapons of Mass Corruption play chess on battered lands, where a child is not a child but an animal of a different kind...
Where Israeli checkmates look like the bloody carcauses of childhood dreams...
Where heavenly kingdoms promised by God remain distant and hopeless background music to melodic bombings that sing Nazi showtunes...
And one would figure coming from a bloodline forced to sing death hymns in Aushweitz, maybe it would want to change the track...

And Obama, I've never even thought about trusting the vision of any president in my lifetime...
So congratulations - you have my attention...
But I'm watching you with dilated pupils of stolen souls and underground railroads...
And I want you to know that just because your election made history...
That your silence also makes history...
That how your spending over 12 hours visiting Israeli officials and 45 minutes with officials in Gaza is anything but the "justice and freedom for all" mantra that is autonomously recited and never really spoken too often anymore...
That our "Made in USA" stamps on weapon shipments to Israel is just another way America the Free enters covert wars without ever really declaring the war in the first place...

That guinea pigs come in human form...
Where 1,330 Palestinians murdered is proportionate to 13 Israeli soldiers killed - 3 of them being "friendly fire"...
Where 437 children have been slaughtered between the blink of an eye and eyes that never blink again...
Where 437 children scream for peace in deaf ears from a purgatory they were never taught to escape...
Where the number 437 is swallowed by media henchmen who have something at stake in keeping the military industrial complex alive with no off-switch in sight...

I saw his picture. Two holes...one through the right-center side of the sternum...
The other through his right chest cavity an inch above his areola...
And eyes that wanted to live a long life...but wouldn't...
And the dark confusion that surrounded his body...
I asked myself...

"Why is this ok? This could be my child. This is my child"

Do not confuse my words.
I love my Israeli brothers and sisters who stand in solidarity and condemn the killing fields I speak of.

This is a lost prayer. This is the mother seeking the Merciful for a voice that will calm her soul after giving her child back to the earth which seems like rubble from Sodom and Gomorrah...

This is the prayer that was never found. The prayer forgotten only by the ones shooting damnation at their own kind...

This is the prayer that saved a life in the womb... And got lost during birth crawling through not-so-ancient landmines...

This is a prayer...
And God...if you exist... I want you to know...

I'm watching...

In your name...

Amen...

Get this slideshow here

Acknowledgement #1

2009-02-06T11:35:00.002-05:00

I've given up drinking.

I never really acknowledged it as a milestone for me. So here it is. Hurraah.
It's been a challenge though. My acting teacher, Susan Aston, congratulated me and made a comment...

"You've made a step towards being more conscious...of yourself and of your life. This is when it gets challenging. Old relationships are broken and new ones are made. That is what comes with this choice."

She said something like that. Anyway...

There have been some subtle (and not so subtle) changes. There was a point where I was drinking almost everyday last semester. And it is no surprise my work ethic sucked ass last semester too. But now that drinking is not an option for me, I'm facing things in my life that I've been ignoring or "surviving" through. Like, what the fuck am I going to do when I get out of school? I'm going to be over $150,000 in debt. And my parents co-signed my loans. So I'm not about to do them dirty and not pay. I'm getting married in August. Which I do get excited about when I'm not complaining about my life and am in my body in the present. God forbid I let my mind wander. Let it wander for too long and I leave anything and everything.

But now that I acknowledged all those things and put them out in the open...they aren't as scary anymore. And my life really is great. And my Ceiba familia is amazing. Every single person adds a new harmony to the life song we are creating. Sometimes it may sound off-tune, but that's because learning a new song takes practice. Mastery is around the corner.

That's it. Mastery is around the corner. We just have to practice. Practice, practice, practice. I don't know why, but that doesn't seem scary anymore. To know that I can actually master my life.

There are two more things that I would like to give up:

1. Vitamins (Just one last time with my people and I'm good)
2. Not trusting myself

Love and blessings,

Goya

Paint the Mic: A Powerhouse in the Making...

2009-01-08T00:48:00.002-05:00

Our first event was a success. Way beyond what we imagined. So many people came out to see our creation. Our baby. Every poet had a contribution. Every audience member came to create inspiration in the room. And the paintings that we're created with the work is amazing!

Thank you for making this happen. It felt right. It felt more than right. Something opened up. And I was there to claim that space.

Love and blessings...

A Phoenix Doesn't Always Rise

2008-12-11T08:34:00.001-05:00

I know you've never been told you were beautiful.
As your eyes look at mine, the search to find yourself has been a lost one before my rebirth into this life cycle.
Every word and every thought recycled from every lash and every drop of blood he beat out of your veins, like living through a crucifixion. And I could imagine your prayers being agonizing searches for a saviour who would listen. Except only you stood with yourself. And the imprints of fists that swung like a pendullem cutting deeper into your wishes and dreams to be held.
You took what you could get.
And if that meant snorting artificial dreams into the orifice that yearns life so you could make it seem like you could have a real life, then I see your dillema.
I see why you stayed away. The fear that the decay that ate you away would pass to me and him was one that terrorized that child that screamed God save me. And when she didn't show, how betrayed every cell in your body felt. Each day the emptiness became your sanctuary. Your mother watching someone elses demons being exorcised upon her sacred son was like a terrorist act in the womb, torturous blows inflicted to find a truth that was never inside of you in the first place.
You took what you could get.
Except all you took was bits a pieces of childhood dreams and made them far from your reach. And if you only stayed long enough to reach and see the beauty you passed on, maybe you would have stayed longer and reached farther. Because your music composed my body in a harmony that makes the sun dance in my pupils and chant healing melodies in my heart. Your visions lit his path to galaxies that spoke life into his hand. And your heart gave birth to the angel that you screamed for when you still searched for the faith in yourself.
Sometimes I feel like you already died. And it's hard to find the strength in myself to reach into that place within you that still loved himself. That part of you that still knows that hope is always a place to resurrect yourself. That the grave was never meant for you. And that time doesn't have to run from you anymore.
But you take what you could get.
So we come back to this same point and survive it more. Because surviving gives us an excuse to live with excuses.
But I live to see you rise out of your ashes. And a phoenix rising is worth as many lifetimes as it takes. But its more painful to know that it sits in its own soot, waiting for the winds of forgotten sorrows to come blow it away.

Glimpse in Darkness

2008-09-28T10:37:00.003-04:00

(Eintous)

Darkness

Clouds the corners

Of every door open

Searching freedom in every cell

Minds with bars bleed sorrows

Most hearts and minds

Unfound

Until

A glimpse of light

Focuses the pupils

On the gift we call The Present

And just for a moment

The beautiful

Is I

Yet now

A question speaks

Who am I in this world?

Our answer fills the voids of space

With many chosen fates

Only one path

To walk

Who weeps

After one sees

The blood and intestines

Of a man I once called brother

Feeding grounds with our food

A mother's tears

An empire

Darkness

Surrounds the life

Of every being alive

Shackles of our choice tell the world

Who really gives a shit?

Then just sit down

Give up

That glimpse

A moment of light

Haunts the dark room where life

Hides from itself and dies standing

Until the glimpse comes back

Broken record

Your life

Knowing Pains

2008-09-15T12:29:00.003-04:00

It never gets easier.

Everyday is another opportunity to transform yourself. And even with the more frequency that one practices self transformation and just "being"...

It never gets any easier. The fears. The anger. The sadness. The stubbornness.

Practice makes consciousness.

Be careful with the choice you make. Because once you're "awake", it never goes away.

Don't get me wrong. It's beautiful. When one reveals itself to itself, the experience of infinity becomes present.

It gets harder when, after that experience, we go back into the world we have been living in and discover all the places in which we've been hiding - refusing to reveal our "infinity" to anyone else.

The dead walk in a daze, oblivious to the sunshine on the horizon. Once they see it, though, life creeps in their spine. And it hurts their eyes until...well, it just hurts for a very long time. You can look away and pretend to be dead and blind. But you know that you are not. And it's the knowing that hurts more than looking into the sun.

"Our presence automatically liberates others"

2008-08-15T00:00:00.002-04:00

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves,

"who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented & fabulous?"

Actually,

who are you not to be?

You are a child of God.

Your playing small doesn't serve the world.

There's nothing enlightend about shrinking

so that other people won't feel insecure around you.

We are all meant to shine, as children do.

We are born to make manifest the glory of God

that is within us.

It's not just in some of us;

it's in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine,

we unconsiously give other people permission

to do the same.

As we're liberated from our own fear,

our presence automatically liberates others."

Nelson Mandela

Inaugural Speech

1994

Standing Now

2008-08-14T23:55:00.002-04:00

I get the importance of action

I can complain all I want...

I can give all the reasons I want about why I can't...

More like why I won't...

How I feel isn't necessarily the truth about who I am or who you are...

It really is about where I stand...

Like...

Love isn't how I feel...

It's where I stand

No matter what I feel or what I think...

I promise to stand in love

El Sentido, no?

2008-07-19T13:50:00.003-04:00

Feelings aren't everything

I've felt good plenty times

I'm sure we all have too

That was never the point

Most words are usually about the person speaking them

Not about the contribution of it

No wonder we've come to this crossroads

Speak like you give something...

Everything of yourself

Anything of yourself

Winning no longer is important in the face of giving oneself

Then again, I could just be full of shit though...

Most of us are anyways...

Feel me?

The "Info" You Need

2008-07-03T19:43:00.010-04:00

I've been reading a lot about the year 2012. I even had a friend bring it up randomly in conversation today. The whole idea that there is a shift in human consciousness. Or that our world as we know will will change in a way that will alter humanity forever. Or that there are masterminds through 13 historic bloodlines that dangle world nations on puppet strings. And the puppet show hasn't started yet. Or maybe it has and we're waiting for something that we can never see because we've been conditioned to stay unconscious. And don't let me forget about the RFID chip that will be mandatory for everyone to implement. And how the Federal Reserve is not a government agency but a private bank. And how they have a monopoly on the printing of all paper money. And they just keep printing...
And printing...
And printing...
With no financial backing. I think the dollar is worth about 3 cents now.
And how the IRS is an independent organization separate from our government. And how it's sole design is to collect our income taxes to pay England money the US owes since the Civil War. And how we are walking slaves living with blind eyes. Damn.

The list goes on.

So much to worry about.
So much energy to wonder how much say we really have in this life, right?

My question is, why give so much energy to ideas that don't empower us?

I'm not saying to ignore the damage that vanquish the possibilities of our greatness...

But to address situations of other people's actions like we are powerless...

So we get angry and "fight the system" to mask the cowardice of how we listen to ourselves.

And we wonder why things don't change.

Because Hitler was just a possibility of who we can be.

Because Malcolm was just a possibility of who we can be.

And we recite hatred for people in power because they remind us of what fails in us.

Failed school systems...Military Industrial Complex...Prison Industrial Complex...Private armies...Secret Prisons...Blackwater...Bush...Cheney...Rumsfeld...McCain...Clinton...Obama...Rockerfeller...

Morgan...Warburg...Halliburton...Bilderberg Group...Council on Foreign Relations...Trilateral Commission...Skull & Bones...33rd Degree Masons...New World Order...

What does this all mean?

Information.

All of it. Just information.

The information you read and watch and listen to doesn't have to become part of your identity.

CBS...MTV...TNT...ABC...NBC...BET...VH1...

Constructs that you can make a part of your sense of self...or not.

That is the true power of choice.

Why is it that we concentrate so much on what our outer perspective of reality is?

Doesn't the inner self create the outer self?

Mommy always told me that God was the answer.

So I prayed. I prayed like I was taught to pray. But then I began wondering who I was praying to.

So I searched. I searched and searched and searched who this "God" was.

Things like Jesus was black.

And the anglo-saxon depiction of Jesus was actually the face of Cesare Borgia, son of Pope Alexander VI.

And the cross being a pagan astrological symbol depicting the sun.

And I did so much searching that I was convinced that I knew "God" better than others. I "knew" that everyone was praying to a false God, and I had the knowledge to prove it.

So then I started praying again. Like I now taught myself through all the information I learned, because I "found" God.

And you know what changed?

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

Still the same emptiness. Still the same doubt.

And God was foreign to me more than ever.

All these ideas of who God is.

And none of them came from me.

And one day, it hit me.

I kept looking for myself outside of myself.

I was terrified of asking myself the question I was asking the rest of the world...

Who am I?

There is no information out there that can give you who you are.

Only you can create yourself.

No one can say that their perspective is absolute.

It is not even possible to pinpoint the exact location of an electron.

It moves constantly. It is only possible to measure the probability of where it will move next.

The universe is all probability.

And probability equals possibility.

And that is who we are.

Possibilities.

Love Angels

2008-05-29T15:01:00.008-04:00

I've walked a lot

Many times with lost aims and destinations

I've walked with a dedication that had my limbs ache when I stopped

So I kept walking to avoid the aches that break souls like angels on a stake

But there was this one moment carrying time where I paused my walk and there were no aches...

No pains...

And I looked to my side and found a gem so bright, it would challenge the light of Christ to fight for his life...

And I'm not talking any fightin'

But "Battle of the Titans", Hiroshima in the heavens igniting so bright, when Buddha catches sight, then he rethinks his existence on the right path, fightin'

Because that's what light does

This gem obscured time for a few moments I thought belonged to me

It was so bright

And blinding

I fought my way through it

I fought and fought

and wept and fought

and cried and fought

and died and fought until clarity prayed for my eyes

And I saw everything

I saw her with her bottle

and her black hair

and her dark brown chocolate eyes that sang soft lullabies when deep wounds clashed

and lashed our innocence

and her curled torso expressing a vague memory of a safe womb sometime, someplace

And the peaceful terrain of her brain bruised

and the second of life we would all lose as her delicate skull hit the floor

And the babysitter so scared that she failed God, she said nothing...

not knowing that by saying nothing, that second God failed us

And breathless lungs and angels on a stake crying and old souls dying

and guilty fathers walking in a distance

and her biting my fingers every instance I stole her bottle

And her whispers of love angels that held my heart every time he raped me

and how they ripped me

and how they raped my

and how they raped me right next to your love angels

and how I would have died without your love angels and their soft lullabies

And mommy's repressed reservoir of tears expressed all over my body

and my grandfather's repressed reservoir of tears expressed all over her body

and ignored whispers from love angels

and a closed casket holding a gem too bright for scarred eyes to see

so it stays closed

And whispers that scream love angels so loud

I scared myself to sleep

I scared myself deaf and blind

and I lost my mind in your casket

and I lost my soul in your casket

and I lost your soul in my casket

And the gem got so bright, I couldn't look at it anymore

I couldn't bear witness to the reality of the sickness that existed in every inch inside the path I was walking on

And I went back to find that you loved my soul with each angel you whispered into it

and you gave me my soul back

you gave me my life back

What a beautiful gem this was

And as I proceeded to place this gem in my pocket, I realized why it was there

It was part of the path

That is what made the path so necessary

So I placed the gem in the casket and left it wide open for all to see

who choose to see

Now I go for walks and stop to feel everything

And guess what...

It don't hurt no more...

painting by Rassouli

"He's only as real as I am"

2008-05-23T17:18:00.003-04:00

Striking chords in you are like blinding swords reflecting off dilated anger.

And it builds. Behind the "real" is a fragile will to surpass the broken glass that once concealed his touch.

On you.

Replay. The replay button is broken. And every chapter has forgotten your story. Except his.

I know it. Because it plays in my background symphony too.

My trick. I let it play for others to hear. Every pain and every glory touches laughter in our story. I'm dancing with your rage like a savage in a cage. Hard to see through the haze in the baggage you replay.

Walking in the daze of the real. Our people are only as real as we are. Always.

Not many beings in existence have mastered the "real" yet. A few maybe.

I cry all the time. But not always in the form of a tear strolling down my face. I laugh all the time. But not always with my diaphragm contracting happiness with a hearty sound.

Real is real. What we say real is belongs to the form we give it.

Watch what forms you give away. 'Cause karma is a ricochet of replay buttons broken.

Eye love I but eye can't see I. I can only see I.

So who loves eye?

I do.

'Every person is the best person they know how to be"

2008-05-17T00:46:00.000-04:00

We speak the same language.

I'm sorry for the assumption of your words.

Truly.

Soul Magic

2008-05-14T22:08:00.002-04:00

Experiences have always been retained in the perception of the person going through them.

Magic is everywhere. And I've spent countless days searching for it. In every book I read. In every word I wrote. In every step and every conversation and every prayer.

And then it hit me.

I don't have to describe life experiences to search for magic. I am the magic. I am the sage.

Yet, I get that now I can share just to share. Connecting consciousness with each word I write. With every step I take and every conversation that God empowers from my being.

I share myself knowing that I could never translate the full experience of any past moment for you. And I still share it. Like a poet's veins filled with old blood. And the only way to bleed that old life is to cut those veins open and fertilize the world with it, leaving painful memories to feed new life and heal old wounds of those who need it. Including my own.

Sometimes magic is in the translation.

Depends on who is speaking and listening.

Eye remember her walking through the grass. And the music that found me when I lost my soul in the pain.

Transformation. Here and now.

I love you. When I open my eyes and see that first glimpse of light in the morning shining through the window. I know I could never describe the glimpse or the light. But I can give you my eyes and the life in them.

It's like magic.

Extremities...

2008-05-03T08:21:00.003-04:00

I am playing a man called Raul in the play Extremities by William Mastrosimone. We've been working on this play for the last four months. Last night was the night that it almost fell apart.

I play a rapist. So the energy that I call upon within myself is a very dark hurt and pain, masked in deep hatred and anger. And it came out last night. In the middle of the rape scene. I felt the impulse to stop and I didn't. I kept going on with the scene. And my fellow actress yelled, "stop Goya!" with great fear in her eyes and ran out the room.

I can't begin to tell you how that felt. But I'll try. I felt crushed. I went to the back of the blackbox theater and sobbed. So hard. And the actors and my director would come to quiet me down and I screamed. And I kept sobbing. I kept sobbing because I forgot how much it hurt me. I forgot that when I was raped as a little kid, it hurt. It hurt me so bad. I remembered the blood. And the pain. And his smell. And how happy I was before it hurt.

After so many tears, we somehow reunited as a cast and prayed. And we really prayed. And we got present to the need of this world hearing this story. Because of the hurt. Because people need this. They need to witness the brutality and the breakdown in the human condition in its rawest form.

Thank you. We prayed to you. And you reunited us.

I love you.

Storytelling

2008-01-24T23:32:00.000-05:00

Clouds may be so high
Earth below our toes
Everything between -
stories that are told

Lies in the machine
Corpse with no tombstone
Everything unclean -
all stories untold

When will we all see
the danger at home?
Disguises beneath
which freedoms are shown

Clouds may be so high
Earth below our toes
When will we all choose
which stories are told?

Blind Eyes

2007-12-22T18:22:00.000-05:00

Attachment seems nice

Until it takes life

Withering away

Blistering each day

Looking at your face

I stay wondering

When truth will infect

Each cell inside you

Reflect your blind eyes

To see your voice cry

These days are so long

The nights are so long

Each moment between

Seems like work to love

Was always enough

Stars don't know their eyes

If they did: no war

Blind stars love warfare

See no reflections

See harm with no eyes

Don't pass away please

Not before learning

Your meaning of free

12/3/2007

2007-12-03T11:24:00.000-05:00

I don't know who reads this.

I don't know if I ever really cared. Being scared in the realms of transformation have been nightmares on repeat. I wake up screaming. I scream as loud as I can. Messiahs tremble with bleeding hearts as they show their faces to my naked pupils.

What is it that you want me to learn? I know that I have it good. That I am healthy...that I have this talent...that I have this love...that I can dream.

Why do you choke me so? I hate you with an intensity of Katrina memories and unanswered doubts. I hate you in a way that if I was to physically see you, I would crush the life out of you. Except you don't have life. Any life that you have belongs to me. And I give it to you. And that is why I hate you so. I hate you because I would gladly kill you and yet I give you my life. I have spent my life killing my soul. And you've never been sorry for it. Ever. And you never will.

Not everything a poet says is a poem. Not everything you speak comes from your soul. It's a sickness we all have...and the cure is in our hands...in our hearts...and the courage to bring it forth hides itself.

I don't know what you want me to learn anymore. I don't know what you want me to feel anymore. I don't know what you want me to cry to anymore. Who am I? I don't know it anymore. What is this world? My whole life has been searching for you. So where the fuck are you!? Where!? Even if you condemn me, at least I would know.

Where do I go from here? Please...for the love of God...where???

Lies everywhere. Truth everywhere. And they look identical. Twins in the womb of God's paradox. Growing...splitting...speaking to one another...my brother...come back. Mommy...come back...Papi...come back...Hermana bella..please come back. I'm still in the cradle. I'm stuck in the cradle. There is blood in my tear ducts...crying without the conviction of my soul.

I love you. And I know you hear me deep inside. I love you. I love you...
Don't slip away baby. You have the strength I know you do. I will never leave you. I never have. I can still smell your hands. And the smell of your happiness has taught me to dance in a way I have never believed in until I saw you. I've died in the eyes of many, but I have never passed. No, beautiful. I am more alive than I have ever been. Just keep your eyes on me. Each time you fall...
I will always rise with you.
I will even fall with you.

Why did you leave me? You did leave! I'm so sorry I didn't see you. I'm so sorry I didn't pry open the casket and let you smell the life in my hands one more time. I'm so sorry mi reina. Please don't leave me again. Please stay. Stay here. Show me. Teach me who I am. Guide me to myself...

There is no glory in your pain. It is a dead end. You still have to walk...you still have to live. I can kiss you with the power of who you are. But you have to know that I only exist in your willingness to live. I will not live anywhere else.

Jessica Michelle Robles
R.I.P.
January 2, 1981 - January 5, 1998

I Am

2007-10-06T09:03:00.001-04:00

I am you...
But just so you acknowledge the power that tread on these words - listen closely...
For I am the feeling revealing concealing thoughts born through the foreskin of Almighty proportions...
Consummating my essence in Egyptian tombs, making majestic Cleopatra and Nefertiti jealous I wasn't conceived in their wombs.

I am the faith Yoruba saints use to change the arrogant faces of Christian slave owners..
For I am the deranged feeling of rage potent within fragmented broken African bones that scream on the cold floor of the Atlantic Ocean...
And I stay watcing the lonely ghost of Yoshua as he walks on it...

I am the hidden spaces within your children's history pages tied on a noose...
And I still smell the blood on Massa's apron...

I am the fetus of light growing on the uteral walls of the daughter of Zion, for I am God's fingertips ever so gently massaging the clitoris of Milky Way mistresses while impregnating the Earth's pyrimids...
Fuck it, while I'm at it, I'll violently rape the Dead Sea scrolls, fertilize its scriptures and have each book show how the tyranny of men stole the face off your souls while having each verse reposition the global axis so I could hopscotch off continents and knock a mountain top off Kilimanjaro...

See that I am the internal organs of Iraqi women and children spread across 3rd world ghetto landscapes, where the sunrise glistens off bloodshed while harmonizing to the repetitious meledy of...

"BOOM!!!...TCH TCH TCH TCH TCH TCH!...Get that sandy nigger right there!!...BOOM!!!...TCH TCH TCH TCH TCH TCH!...Damn that monkey can run soldier. Don't let him get away, BLACKWATER!!"

I am the feeling of 2 1/2 million Sudanese refugees that scream prayers towards Mecca so hard, the force from their breath alone could collapse their lungs.
So I engage in Star Wars and skywalk with that force, shaking techtonic plates that make waves kiss the heavens and make pain crash down your block like rising stocks on 9/11...

I am the pain your endure as you seek the truth of self. I am the awareness you wish you never discovered and regret to own because you remember ignorance feeling so much better. I am also the feeling of knowing that once you start the search, you can never turn back...
For I am God...
I am light...
I am the revelations that tip toes in your dream while using the ancient energy in your solar plexus to send encrypted messages back to the Boom of the Big Bang and rewrite the written word of Genesis into explosive sentences that once spoken, transcend the spiritual evolution of humanity...

I am the idea patiently waiting in the bullet trajectory of Malcolm's rifle...
I am the bullet fragments embedded in the spine of Dr. King's Dream...which isn't just his anyways...
I am the life that sleeps with death rows around the globe and the potential inmates at Guantanamo waiting in the ovaries of the woman you make love to...
I am the 13 cycles of menstration smeared on your flag and the fallen stars never to be etched on its dry blood...

I am the silhouette of the Koran being purified in Holy toliet water and the voice of Elohim crying to the beatboxes of rock-solid jailhouses Elvis never knew shit about...
I am the confusion of sodomized intrusion by empires from our past lives...and each time we're reborn, we let them take more...
We've been raped so much that the touch of love feels no different than a lapdance on our deathbed in the year 1984 and Big Brother won't stop watching us...

I am the revolution that isn't televised...
The evolution some fail to recognize...
I am the Harlem drumlines on the 2 & 3 trains banging away at rhythmic paces like Black Panther faces marching to sacred mantras of salvation...

I am the realization that our interpretations of life are not the universal truth...
People don't die for freedom and truth...they die because they die...
They don't lie to us to preserve our securitiy in life...they lie because they lie...
Why do we give power to the notion that our contribution isn't enough to transform the world?
We won't speak and be a stand for others just so that we can look good for the egos of our neighbors.
So we walk past the homeless man who is drunk off the fumes from his beer can because our reasons for life don't allow the space for anything else...

See, who I see myself to be recreates the souls around me.
And the possibilities I chose to be are love and power...

Why?

"'Cause I am whatever I say I am...
If I wasn't, then why would I say I am...
In the paper, the news, everyday I am...
I don't know, it's just the way I am..."

Beats of Salvation

2007-10-06T08:40:00.000-04:00

I contain IMMORTAL TECHNIQUES that that reek HAVOC on MOBBS of DEEP OUTKASTs trying to make COMMON SENSE of the control of COMPANY FLOWS...
See, the ciity called "We love black people" west of KANYE stopped sounding ALICIA'S KEYS in the seabreeze, where 50 CENT is a blessing because of it's scarcity in the hood.
And I watch CYPRESS HILL MOS DEF ROC STEADY to the heartbeat of the street light...
Even though it gets more faint by the hour...
That's why my TU-POCkets are NOTORIOUS for cussing out every DEAD PREZ it sees...

From A to Z my NATURE speaks secret oral traditions from the tomb of NAStradamus - plus he introduced me to this FOXY BROWN goddess that could change the "Ooo Ooo Ooo Ooo's" from the DE LA SOULS all over the globe.
Anyways, I CALLED QUEST and requested A TRIBE that could BUSTA RHYMES through the present oval office dictator and RAKIM while declaring him a PUBLIC ENEMY in the eyes of DIALATED PEOPLES...
See I've developed a METHOD MAN could use to catch OL' DIRTY BASTARDS after the disaster in your poverty...

Now I smoke a BIG L of high quality CANIBUS in my dreams and consult with a KILLAH PRIEST and we speak about BONE THUGS who cry out N' HARMONY as the warrior legacy in our GANGSTARRS pass through the underworld into a HOUSE OF PAIN, where lost souls "Jump Around" aimlessly searching for a loophole.
But the search becomes LUDACRIS. And we keep feeding this purgatory our SUNZ OF MAN, while all the FAT JOES in those corporate skyrisers BEATNUTS and skeet all over the industry with every BLACK THOUGHT they empower.

They've become the BIG PUNISHERS of the soul of HipHop.

Unless we dig in the Earth and find THE ROOTS of THE GAME, we'll havea bunch of BIRDMEN acting JUVENILE representing our lives...

SAVE HIPHOP

Perceptions

2007-06-16T11:23:00.000-04:00

Clarity.

Meanings are ours. Everything else belongs to everything beyond me.

Only when the self is diminished will the ego relinquish its death grip of the soul.

Time.

Thoughts are light transactions between consciousness and infinity.

Love is the only passage that disspiates meanings of self, displaying the paradoxes of percetions through sacrificing our need to control every moment.

Our perceptions are prisons because they do not allow others to come into being beyond what WE believe them to be.

I was once told that love is the sacrifice of something from someone that allowed another being to just "be".

How true that is.

I love you for who you are and for who you are not.

We cannot perceive love.

Love is love. Life is life.

The meanings are ours.

Soul Chains

2007-05-02T19:55:00.000-04:00

A sickness infects my stomach
Universal love compromised
by ego's improvised judgements
Each mistake dwells in every cell
that resonates my divine sound
To learn her is to learn myself
So when I own her transgressions
self expressions change complexion
inside my inner light spectrum
Darkness consumes my vision
Where is the God from within?
Why is free will allowed to be
expressed in the midst of bloody
wars between the soul and the mind?
Why does truth hurt?
Why do we hurt truth?
What 'truth' have I learned?
Love is only free as
the truth expressing it
Bondage makes the chains on the soul
feel just like the comfort of home
But once 3rd eye gains sight
those same chains light that home aflame
Scorched by the fire of self awareness
we are forced to search for waters to quench
the fire's hunger
Standing too long in these high flames
slowly evaporate the soul
Where is the oasis?
Where is our salvation?

God, she will inhale the vapors
my soul leaves behind

Won't you?

Reflections, pt.2

2007-03-21T02:22:00.000-04:00

Here he comes. Nice and strong. And willing.
He comes here to change. He comes here because he loves. Because he can.
And yet, the room looks off. Because the horizon isn't what hhe thought it was.
No mater how hard he concentrates, his sight is a little off balance.
So he cries in a bathtub as the shower attempts to cleanse his attachments away.
And then he transforms into this 3 year old. The one that was never held.
The one that was denied the chance to glimmer light.
And he looks around in the tub. And he sobs.
He sobs.
He sobs.
Because he doesn't know if he can love her like he wants to. Like he needs to.
She is so powerful. So powerful that my child does nothing but bow its head...
Bow its head into fallen memories and unloved anthems that caress his feet.
And he pouts. And tries to fall asleep in the tub.
His body transfiguring with the uncompromising shape of the tub.
His neck hurts. But he doesn't care. He won't move. He can't.
He sleeps. Crying in his sleep. Because he doesn't know how to love her.
How to love himself. He's always trying to figure what love is.
Why didn't you hold me when I needed you?
Why didn't you listen to the prayers in my screams?
Why? Why won't you let me love my own life?
That's all I want. Is to love my life. So why won't you let me?
He wakes up.
It's 2:22am.
The pain is still there.

He walks. Where?

Who knows.

Reflections, pt.1

2007-03-16T23:49:00.000-04:00

I try to act like my words reflect my heart. The truth is, I don't know what they reflect anymore.
Just emtpy shells of fear-stricken passions that hesitate at every impulse.
I shake now when I write. Because I can't see what is in front of me.
Blindness takes new forms in every movement. So I know I'm moving...
Just don't know where those movements are taking me.

I'm stuck. Like a bullet without incentive.
Like a Buddha who changed his mind...and there was never a warning.
How do I speak what is mine and own it?
Once you know the flow of the patterns in the universe...
And befriend them like sacred manuscripts from the lips of infinity...
How do you turn back?

You can't. And that's all it takes. One look. One reflection of self.
After that...one can never be the same.

I know there is a beauty to this. But I find myself convincing myself of those words...
Rather than absorbing the truth in its vibrations...

I'm done for today.

Paz

11/26/06

2006-11-26T18:03:00.000-05:00

He's withering away...
The patches on his skin are the black holes of his sorrows...
His liver chokes on his veins and struggles to maintain it's dignified status...
His eyes are sobbing behind the strained laughter his vocal flaps push out...
Painkillers numb the pain, but kill his soul in the process...

And I'm watching all this as he holds in sins that I don't believe in anyway...
The pain is overwhelming. So is hers. So is the man who sleeps on the subway platform downstairs who chants the last verses of his freedom to the ashes that fall from his cigarette.
I've never realized how sick everything is around me. The beauty I see in the world struggles to touch the perceptions within our actions...
There's a disease going around. And I see it. I feel it.

Go away. Please. I wake up every morning to the sound of sufferage.
So much now that waking up has become a burden that the heavens didn't want anymore...and it saw me paying attention and handed it down to me.

I want to tell you to take it back. I want to admit that I wasn't ready to witness and feel this.
But I can't...can't I?

He's withering away. And I know he loves me. He just never believed that he deserved it. That he deserved anything. She also feels the same way. And as I write this, I'm realizing the irony of it.
She has greatness that I fear she may not want to grasp.
And I'm wondering if I have the strength to endure.

If you exist...now is the time.

Mi Casa Dulce

2006-10-15T19:49:00.000-04:00

Sanctuary of memories & suppressed energies
Identities blended with uncertainty
Burdens weighing souls down...

Emergency...
Free me...

I can't get out of this closet
More like I don't want to leave this closet
I leave deposits of my being on the floor and the bed
Suppression is the only expression of love she knows...
So that is all she gives to her child to grow...

Rage...I love you
Hate...I love you
Rape...I love you

Hearing footsteps traveling up the stairs rips the nerves in my spine to be hung on the wall as a shrine...
No wonder my mind is so hard to find...
She weeps...He sleeps...
Peacekeepers go to war as they walk on my floor
Gunshots spark at the mouths of love's question...wounding the souls connections to its life purpose...
There's food cooking on the stove and it smells of blood and suffering with a few more dashes of tears than my taste buds are willing to accept

This is my home...
So wipe your feet when you come in

Involuntary Sound

2006-09-21T10:51:00.000-04:00

Vibrating with uneven conscious
Speak nonsense never but my spoken word observes world monuments
Illustrating humanity’s visions when I make love to you
So why can’t you stay with me? Am I not good enough?
I scream inside like Harriet’s eyes watching her flesh lay tracks on her getaway train
And when I release this scream…you bow to cowardice when lethargy walks through the door…

I will own you. One day.

Period.

Freedom is a Woman

2006-09-01T19:24:00.000-04:00

I haven't forgot about you. Just that, remembering is becoming harder than I realized.
I'm leaving you.
But I don't know what for yet.
I met someone else.
She's nice. She hides behind her own beauty...
But divinity tends to do that sometimes, eh?

I'm leaving. I don't know what for yet. But if feels right.
Rational thought could never comprehend the life I speak of.
I am the water droplets on every rose pedal that decides to bloom.
I am the fetus that changes the frequency within every mother.
9 months is only the beginning. And there is no beginning. So try to comprehend my origin.

I don't even know what direction these words are heading in. Well...
Actually I tell a lie. All this leads back to her. She is the one. Her life is engraved in my hands.
My poetry never belonged to me. Because they are her words. Her life. Her being.

Happiness is more that a state of mind. It is the mind state redefined through...

Her. She's a fucking alien. She has to be. This world couldn't have produced such a light.
Blinding at first. Even to herself.

I got my shades on. Haha.

Love making with her permeates every wall like old slave souls from China breaking dynasties in time to strip the Great Wall from its feet. Talk about being paraplegic.

I can't even walk without her.

Yet she is always flying over my soul.

She's such a show off.

Sight (unfinished)

2006-08-04T17:36:00.000-04:00

Humility...
A beautiful crime...
Serenity...
Spread like coke lines...
Tranquility...
A carcauss hanging from its spine outside the window...
The maternal protector of these lands introduced herself as a widow...
Bloody rivers to bathe in...my skin aging to raging vilifications of my brothers and sisters...
Her marriage was broken from the begininng...
Convincing mankind that its spirit was a sinful imperfection unworthy of divine reciprocity...
Listen...please listen...

I beg you...

Indigenous children exhale virgin truth on the surface of my iris...
My pupils teach my visions algorithms consistent with Egyptian brilliance on papyrus...
That's why my sight is night light to the suffering...
And I see you coming for my brothers and sisters...

I won't let you take them...

Tuskegee-like philosophizers waiving a flag painted in "bad blood"...
Colonizers infecting everything we plug our minds into...
Recycling images the blind chisel onto our warriors of the new age...
I baptize myself in my own tears as I witness this global sphere filled with deities of the universe being convinced into prisons no bigger than the mind...
As I raise myself from waters of disparity, I sample the streams by pouring the roaring screams into my dreams and call upon Yeshua to nuture my feet and dare him to walk on this painful water...

Walk with me...

Through thick and thin...
Though truth is thin in human courts, the smokescreen over the all-seeing eye on my dollar bill is so thick, it confuses truth with tricks - making our pursuit to happiness a sick epidemic of gangsta baby boomer consumers who lose the groove to soul music due to hiding drumlines from Native faces and exchanging history pages for misplacement...

Run...

I'm asking you to run as fast as your legs won't let you...
As large as your lungs don't expand...
As hard as your nostrils don't suck air in...
And as strong as your heart won't beat...
Because liberation never gave a shit about anything but itself...
Yet, without it...

Everything is nothing. And we are everything.

So...please...

Walk with me...

The Beginning (Part I)

2006-07-07T15:59:00.000-04:00

(Written in June 2001)

I see slightly through these cataracts secret agent bastards have used to blind my eyesight...
As savage acts hide behind light...my words train the average cats their divine rights
Teach how to envision in darkness...
Using precision with vision...so when my gentlemen embark on missions...
They can start detecting agents positions whose aim is to take patrons who've risen within this crazed mazed political prison and make ways to take the pot that you piss in...
Extinction Level Event...Disaster Strikes faster when tell-lie-visions apprehend the attention of the masses by henchmen claming that you are now missing?
I watch crimson skies glisten with the blood of mankind's children as demon spies hide in guys inside this patriotic disguise, imprisoning minds...
I spit in the face of corruption's demise
I do this by having my physical image transcripted specific in heiroglyphics
Have a nation re-visit my grave as a relay instructions to grace a race to pave a new lave of the gifted
So as to counterbalance a system thats done malice since way before the depiction of Nixon...
And produced the proudest and foulest of hitmen empowered by cowards consistent on giving ignorance a chance to slip in...
Causing coniption between black and spic men...
When in reality, we are all the same thing...

Sweet Sustinence

2006-07-06T19:31:00.000-04:00

This is for a friend that lives to no end
For friends depend on God-sent sustinence to survive

So hear is an apple for your thoughts...
Strawberries for dreams...
Bananas and vanilla ice cream finish you so nicely...
And I'm always in the mood to make a good shake...

This is for a friend that lives to no end
Sometimes the end tickles my friend's spine
And yet, she depends on God-sent sustinence to survive
So I pray when I retain her thoughts...that's what produces the apple...
I chant when I see her dreams...that's what produces the ever-so-sweet strawberries...
And the bananas and ice cream...I don't even know what part of her that comes from...

So here is my sustinence to you

I only hope that it is as enlightenly fullfilling as your soul fights...
Because reminders are always a blessing, no matter how hard the stuggle...

Paz

Drug Addiction

2006-06-29T09:30:00.000-04:00

(Written in April 2001)

Seasoned passions...
Cults & pacts and suicide actions...
What I'm asking? God's many sequels...damn, why so many?
"Religion is opium for the masses"
Opium...we have plenty see...
This Marxian theory has set me in a frenzy
Injecting poison so deadly, wars between your God and my demons have me fighting vigorously like spermicide trying to fight Holy semen
And since we're on the subject of comparing religion to sexual fission...
Let's talk about how King James molested the Bible with his spiritual advising H.I.V. men...
And you want me to believe that God's speaking is through this reading?

Do you know what I believe in?
The power of reason...
The images of villages filled with niggers and taino spics, killed with dilligence...
Do you know who your God is?

I doubt it...
Your God isn't one of innocence but of ignorance...
Because God is not your God but MAN...
But God Damn!
But God is Damned!
But we have damned Jehovah by claiming to be his witness, but what have you seen?
But I've seen you...oh yes, I've seen you...kneeling down to white porcelain idols to be saved...
But, what the fuck is a man made stature gonna save you from?
I'm better off saying something riduculous like there's such thing as a Roman Catholic Buddhist asking Allah about the Big Bang Theory...
So, who really is asking "You must fear me"...?
But SATAN means what?
I'll tell you what SATAN means...
Savage Anarchy Through Anglosaxan Nations...so
On your dollar bill it says, In God We Trust...
Yet, monetary funds in my pocket says in Satan I distrust 'cause...
Hypocrisy logically implemented in the subconscious in this opium we call religion
Inflicting false visions of heaven...
But what about the number 7?
What about my 1 mind putting 2 + 3 together, never 4getting to make 5 senses that hear, taste, touch, see and smell who is really behind this drug...your "God" (6) and my "Satan" (7)
Making them the same thing...
Yet the only difference is...
Is that I know, and you don't...
That you're addicted, and I'm not...

My Hand Spoke

2006-06-18T21:17:00.000-04:00

My hand spoke to me
It said that rebel blood pumps through its capillaries
And it misses the feeling
I turned my palms to face the stars in the ceiling
Watching my lifeline stretch like pipelines across untold dreamscapes
Rebel music is born in foresight
I tune inspiration with strands of light so that soulful chords ignite with might
I place these chords in my hand
Re-illustrating the beauty of the interminable strive for love
That's what keeps me raising my hand to the celestial sphere

My hand spoke to me from the heavens
God herself touched my fingertips with the truth that caress her lips
She kissed them and rearranged each line in my fingerprints into a straight path
Engaging me in a journey...reclaiming an innocence I lost as a child
She then kissed the hard scars on each knuckle
Healing the prisons of thought that I so fought with my life
And with each exhale, the chords in my hands modulated to the music of her face
Her eyes deprived the grave my hand once rested in
Transfiguring the mysteries within the undertones of her passages

And after so long...I spoke back

I love you

Loyalty

2006-06-09T16:08:00.000-04:00

Chasing truth changes faces...

It changed yours today...
Delicate words disturb lies inside cried out, dried out eyes...
Suprising uprisings inside me outlining my soul's frequency...
Even though there is no "me"...
Loyalty was never supposed to hurt...
But I embrace it the same...
Because the shame of its pain is more bearable than the actual game of lies & deceit...

I wear my transgressions like a new button-down shirt...
I rock my suffering like a fresh fitted, with the visor to the side redefining the way the sun shines on every cheek-ridden teardrop that falls from the skyline of my pupils...

And I walk with love...like some crisp, black war boots...

But I can't find them anywhere. And I see heavy terrain ahead...

...

It hurts. Badly. Like God's back turned after hearing the burn in your voice...

What is Loyalty?

I'll keep walking. Through all the pain. All of it. Today's infinity sees tomorrows infinity. I'm bound to find it.

"I am not a liberator. Liberators do not exist. The people liberate themselves."
- Ernesto "Che" Guevara

America, Our Homeland

2006-06-02T11:29:00.000-04:00

We're living in a place where you're told how to live...
Oppressing the spirit...surveillance up in your crib...
Can't you hear it? To them genocide is a science...
Homeland Security and Death now have an alliance...

To all you motherfuckers talking ya shit...
All I do is ball up my fist...let the sound of truth crawl up my wrist
And let the force of my revolution slip you a kiss...
Uncle Sam will be the first I dismiss...
For the miseducation of a nation of kids...
Making them think that the only way to make it in this...is to sign on the line to enlist...
At any moment, they're holding the power to make you extinct...
Sort of like the explosion of towers gone in a blink...
You think you're flossing dog?
The cost is you're a pawn in a link of chess games played strategically by the cold-blooded elite...
Tactically keeping you mentally weak...
So what's the use of Freedom of Speech if you don't know what the fuck to speak?
Do me the favor and stop teaching boys to preach the poison and take a seat...
'Cause hiphop beats without truth destroys the seeds meant to keep the oppressor asleep...

We're living in a place where you're told how to live...
Oppressing the spirit...surveillance up in your crib...
Can't you hear it? To them genocide is a science...
Homeland Security and Death now have an alliance...

The future is bleak, and now handled by a demon Council on Foreign Relations
Social automation controlling your soul...
They play with genocidal war and hatred to balance inflation whenever depression is expressed in economic situations...
Why the hell you think there's no hesitation in the continuation of gentrification...
And this is the realization that you want me to live in?
In addition, you condemn the conditions of Islamic traditions...yet let the pope and Vatican pitch in priests in the churches and into the missions...
Hide in confessions, butt-fucking your children...
Then when church is in sessions, you let them teach lies in your lessons...
So keep praying to Lucifer in disguise...
How do you expect me to praise Jesus Christ when it's the same story of Horace, Osiris and Isis...?
If life is so priceless, why the fuck do you keep ignoring the crisis?
So get off the floor and get ready to fight this...
'Cause it's coming to your door, who gives a fuck if you like it...

Past Goodbye

2006-06-02T09:06:00.000-04:00

I wave goodbye from a distance...
Every instance, the past imprints legacies...
Some rise and blossom...while others fall and seem forgotten...

I wave goodbye from a distance...
Wishing it wasn't so distant, so I sit and listen to echoes of the past...
Whispering angelic divinations as it permeates through the concrete of missed fortunes...
Waiting has the ability to entrap the powerful...
But the melody in these whispers...
So beautiful...my ears submit to its tune...

It can be hard to say goodbye...
Especially from a distance...

So I wave...

Game

2006-05-29T17:51:00.000-04:00

Right decisions...wrong decisions. No such thing.
Positions of life perspectives...what comes next are actions you bring.

The Game. Those who strive for change play it.
Walking on endless platforms, hoping it leads to a detour into heaven-like answers, easing the trouble in questions born from our own Hades...

We wait. I wait. Just like you did...like you still do...
Or do you?

Questions like "What should I do" and "What should I say" seem to delay what was and is supposed to be inevitable...
How is destiny decided? The cosmos collide with such certainty...
Don't you wish decisions that we make to define us would be instilled with that same certainty?

The Game. Some levels so hard to conquer.

We ready?

Eye of God

2006-05-25T13:16:00.000-04:00

I thought the best way to describe who and what we are...is to show it...

Here is an image (actually, a composite of many images) taken by NASA with the Hubbel telescope. It is known by astronomers as the Helix Nebula. It is a trillion-mile long tunnel of gases. It is approximately 650 light years away, and its angular size alone is about 3 light years distance. It is located in the constellation Aquarius (for those who know about the transition in the universe that is believed to take place sooner than later...the irony, right?)

Now...

Define beauty...

I Write...

2006-05-24T20:06:00.000-04:00

I write because I'm happy...
I write because I'm free...

With no fear...
With no limit...like stars that shift without time itself...
Like dreams that seem to estimate the location of God herself...

I write because I'm happy...
Because I'm free...

Read this freedom...
Believe its reason to survive the treason of its illusion...
While I write this moment...I am truly free...

And so are you...

A Poet's Question

2006-05-23T13:01:00.000-04:00

What is a poet?
Is it how my words make graceful landscapes in places where great pains take the blueprints of conscious spirit?
When I speak, I translate divine tongues into tsunami tides, unveiling cries from a Mother Earth yearning to ease its embellishing devastation...
That humanity has disconnected itself from the Source...
And I...I guide those cries back to the skies...
My words make love to sunlight...photosynthesizing truth, crystallizing its roots...
Now take a bite of this Strange Fruit...
I carry the City of God in my bloodline...so slavemaster, cut me if you dare...I only bleed sunshine!

So...

What is a poet? Very simply...
Mortal incarnations of metaphysical incantations whispering...whispering...whispering changes through releasing vibrations in the wind...
Through lucid dreamwalks, I walk on timelines - getting drunk off the fabric of space and high by snorting Greek constellations and rearranging them so that no label limits the path of what has, is, and always will be infinite...
I had a "ménage a trois " with Taurus and Aquarius...we got so lost in the euphoria of sacred bliss, we confused the Mayans trying to figure out what age it is...
Isis promised Saint Thomas to bear my children in the womb of Venus, so as to diversify the meaning of spiritual genius...

Poetic prophets...because that is what true poets are...prophets
And within the power of my consonants, I impregnate higher consciousness that shake anahata chakras with the force of a Christian apocalypse...so just imagine what my childbirth was like...
And these vowels...these vowels encase our salvation...connecting complacent thought and souls caught in a recycling matrix...so as to break the foundation of fate and place it in...my...pen...
Then when transcendence is needed in this world, I inject the penpoint into my temple and let the ink worship my existence...

See...poets are the ultimate proof that God exists in a raised fist...
And revolution is just a half truth...
And we all know that half truths can be used as half lies in disguise...and if "revolution" were a part of a phrase...it would be the italics emphasizing the REAL underlying truth...TO EXIST FREE...
Many nights I wake from sleep, weeping fire which burn my ancestors trying to heal broken words...
I have broken many words...most of them my own...now I exhaust myself mending them back so as to recite declarations that change the ways Bible pages read...
I close my eyes and redesign skylines of the universe, making music with quasars through counterpoint...relinquishing pains that have kept my soul in labor...dilating prematurely...imprisoning me to reincarnation for so many millennia in this world...bursting the placenta that protects my third eye...

And as painful as that sounds...that is a poet.

The Mirror

2006-05-22T08:55:00.000-04:00

You ever look into a mirror? Past the reflections, grasping selections of only the most passionate intentions...

You ever look into a mirror? And all you see...is your soul...after soul...after soul...after soul...its almost like you can actually physically see infinity. I try to be in a state of tranquility when I visit "me" but...distractions sometimes distorts the image into a Picasso-like setting, embedding tumultuous endings to an already unsteady beginning...

You ever look into a mirror? Finally seeing a revolution in an empty shell...then not being able to see it again. It hurts. Sometimes it comes back, and you notice it holding the universe and placing it in your hands. Until you forget that you are an extension of that divinity. That's when the pain streams in.

You ever look into a mirror?

I look in the mirror. Imagine that.

The Patriot

2006-05-20T11:04:00.000-04:00

The Patriot...

Walking around in a local town near you...pledging allegience to a flag...
White stars cause supernovas...flash boiling red blood under rebel blue skies...
Do you know what it takes to build a prison?
Well...it's sort of like retail

Attention all MACY'S customers...
Welcome to our End of Season Blowout Sale! Where you can find anything and everything on sale for a limited time of forever...

Fascism is having a clearance sale in Cell Block 13...
The warden is sporting humanity around his neck for a bargain, taking bling bling to a whole other level...
Diamonds dug out of dark skin...

The Patriot...

Army boot straps...army fatigues defining a league of our own...
Boot prints stain grounds with false truths...reminding us that the slave trade didn't end with Roots...
The World Bank of indentured servants...we're just walking and talking currency...
With the net value of our metaphysical beings, we have built the residence for dead presidents, shit...I see my slavemasters every time I open my wallet...
Animal farms getting tired of making the farmer fat...so plump and far that living under him God seems to confuse love with lethargy...

The Patriot...

Brothers I will never get to meet because conservative strategies refuse to see the war at home...
"Bombs Over Baghdad" go off in our streets every second, while robots in blue and black uniforms shine badges of death and democracy...
Politicians with this ideology taking so many Different Strokes, even Willis is having a hard time figuring out what the fuck they talking about...
And you think Family Matters to them? It's a Full House in the White house, and you...and you...and you...and you...just don't...fit...
See, Charles was never In Charge since the elite who control presidential brotherhoods are at large...

PUERTO RICO!!!
A tragic example of how imperialism sleeps with the enemy, getting drunk off death like new Hennessey...
Y Ahora...Los Gritos no solo vienen de Lares...
Piercing cries from spirits in agony, passing me and wrapping me with a bandage of hope, but the healing process is so fucking so...

Did you know that if the New World Order were a sex scene...we would be in desperate need of a rape kit...
No...Stop...Don't...
Lady Liberty bleeds opium...
Rupy colored crystals trickle down legs of black cotton robes...

The Patriot must always remember... Freedom can never be given...only taken...

For Our Sake

2006-05-20T10:35:00.000-04:00

For your sake and mine...do not reveal love confined...
Is love free? I hope so...
It's supposed to be driving free will...and it's a horrible passenger...

For your sake and mine...do not reveal love confined...
Unless...you reveal it free

Quiet Girl

2006-05-19T16:37:00.000-04:00

"I would liken you
To a night without stars
Were it not for your eyes
I would liken you
To a sleep without dreams
Were it not for your songs."

Langston Hughes, Quiet Girl

Love has many depths, and so much life. All you have to do...is look. Paz

Fresh pain for sale...

2006-05-15T16:47:00.000-04:00

I'm too much of a poet sometimes. I guess it comes with the territory. To utter words of true wisdom, a being must be in a vulnerable state. And that sucks sometimes, right? Yet, to fear the hurt that comes with vulnerability is choosing to hide from the descrepancies of life. And as painful as it can be to confront those pains...I just can't hide. Damned if you do...damned if you don't. You're just more damned if you don't...

This blog shit is hot lol.