Work weekends.

I don’t think anyone’s chasing you my friend,
why don’t you take a rest.

There’s no money to be earned nor
value to be added.

Chances are you’re doing something important,
lift your eyes & clear your head.

Nothing at all trivial or wasteful about
spending time to reflect.

I know there’re chores to fill & websites to build,
but do you still remember to what end?

You can’t serve others by losing yourself
it’s a laboring circle just know it’s all in your hand.

I want you.

I want you I want your
body writhing against mine.
I want you I want your
face wet against my neck.

I want you I want your
cock & balls inside.
I want you I want you
on your knees & beg.

I want you I want your
eyes tracing mine.
I want you I want you
make that sound divine.

I want you I want your
cup fills the way you like.
I want you I want you
forget about the cracks.

I want you I want you
across space & time.
I want you I want you
just a bit more than that.

Think.

I resent the fact that I can think,
to learn to discern to disguise.

Give me the birds & bees’ mind,
live by the open sky & die when it’s time.

Instead I have curiosities to spill
too often the answers are not even real.

The friends you greet, the books you read,
contradictions, slippery slides, dancing with mime.

Don’t know what we are really here for
maybe the Bible really got it right.

We can all go home again in the blink of eye
if we all just hug, get down on our knees and repent.

Nah, of course nobody’s on the same page any more,
love is 0s and 1s moving at the speed of bullets and flashlights.

So what to do in the mean time,
fancy pants crawling with ants?

We are reptile, monkey & short of a modern man.
Who needs who I wonder which one is more prone to suicide.

If we indeed swallowed the fruit of wisdom,
free will comes with the burden to fight like a demon.

So how about we forget religion, money and politics,
try to use this thing that made us into such hypocrites.

This right, wrong, outta box, dimension & the universe.
Profound, confused, carry on with hidden faces.

Either here or there I think I recognize this place,
long ago, four foot two already knew all of these.

Are you strong enough to give it a go
knowing there’s really not a path?

Or are you still craving the promised deal
with everything organized, covered and tidied up.

Here goes the headline selling conflicts with both hands up,
as seen on tv, download the app, *wink*x2, don’t blame me.

A rat in the trench.

The way forward is down. Ming surveys the once-familiar neighborhood and finds it vastly enhanced. The three dimensional building blocks have their y-axis extended to the impossible negative. Who knew there was a world underneath the city where there’re pipes and power-lines and whatever else busy-bodies that there might be. This negative space was brought into the world by the trenches some workers have dug up right by the side-walks surrounding all the buildings, making a maze out of what was a rather plain and boring day-time landscape. They are pretty deep too, or at least as deep as Ming, who is of eleven years of age, so that if she just hunches a little bit, she can just disappear entirely into the newly turned-over unsuspecting earth.

You may think it’s a bit odd for a child to be wanting to play inside the dirty holes rather than anywhere else. But think about it: earth, tree, outta-sight, no adults can see nor hear, exploration, new! How can you not be tempted. Ming has no choice, the alternative for her would be to ignore this possibly once-a-lifetime experience (for quite a few things are once-a-lifetime events for Ming) and be a strict surface-dweller which she does not even think as an option. So she digs in.

It’s even better than she imagined. Once she’s down inside the narrow space, she finds there’s actually plenty of room once her world-view adjusts. Funny it looks a bit intimidating and dismal from above, but once you are inside, there’s a whole other world greeting her. There’s not just dirt, but roots being exposed for the first time and oh, since it’s spring time, the tree-trimming crew just been around the block and the aftermath, the discarded, still green-leaved branches are now conveniently covering the trench in intervals with their limbs and leaves piling up, resembling little fairy-houses. So there’re these pretty, spring-green, dangling bundles of baby-leaves occasionally delighting even further the already giggly newborn rat underneath.

All the neighborhood friends she has, where are they at? They must all be scattered around, so it will also be fun to randomly bumping into one of them. Some of them are hiding in the trimmed branches, giving Ming great ideas of what she can also do. Is it a rat or is it a monkey? Why not both. With the leaves as concealing canopy, branches form sitting rooms and the trench below gives plenty of leg room, Ming finds herself content for the moment, just looking at the leaves inches from her face, feeling her nimble limbs adjusting to the shapes of the branch and how the branch is taking her weight, not minding at all the dirt that has found its way upon her person. “But of course, what can be more natural than that.”

The maze though is what Ming discovers that she likes the best. It conceals the world from Ming and Ming from the world. Nobody needs to see how dirty she is, or how much fun she’s having not caring about anything nor thinking about anything. “What’s the next level above having fun?” Time moves differently when no one’s marching on a schedule, when they just move however they like. Time becomes more abstract yet more intimate like a thick coat warping around you making you more aware of and comfortable with yourself, to look into the world with more confidence and awareness. It’s heavenly is what Ming is thinking.

It’s been a couple of weeks like this. Ming makes no new friends that she can remember, except the little more than the surface of the earth, the wilting pruned tree branches still laying on top of the trenches and the dragonflies who enjoy a good shade as well as anybody. It is a quiet time for Ming, the best kind where she can hide in the sunlight and still hear the world around and above her, where she can go everywhere as she pleased, undetected. “Ah, this is the rat life.”

Love. Lust.

When I hold you like this
I become a heart.
Brimming with joy, pulsing
with the beats of your harp.

Slices of heaven,
one piece at a time.
Can’t fantom iciness
has ever entered our minds.

You’re ever so gentle or
do you still hesitate?
We both know the perils
of desperate souls seeking mate.

You say it’s a special drug,
a chemical relay.
You’ve done it before
& I’ve seen the scars.

You are so beautiful though,
broken, not just sum of parts.
A Picasso, jagged,
breath-taking piece of art.

Which is why without you
life can feel so hollow.
I will keep wetting your lips,
so you can bear that cross.

They are laughing all the while
thinking we are lost cause.
For we are the practitioners of magic,
the alchemy of love & lust.

Afterthought.

As I lie down to die
one final time.
Don’t wanna say goodbye,
you’ve already left.

All these years
filled with tears.
Even the thunder
couldn’t shake my fears.

After all that’s
said & done,
nothing much
left to hide.

Had I known that
the path is through you,
I’d kept my heart &
you would not have died.

The last drops of
blood have dried.
Surprised how much
I had bled.

You & I are
two sides of one coin:
eternal light touching
eternal night.

A tale told of
a life mis-led.
Still angel wings
flapping overhead.

Can’t pray any more
with my last breath.
Been waiting too long
for me to confess.

This life went
just as planned.
You are the enemy,
& I lost, you won.

Period Talk – June Edition.

period-tango-slim-2.png “I’m nothing if not confused” many a person uttered that line with such finality you’d suspect they’re gonna be alright. That fatalism brings its own solution as I resigned to spend my weekend with the “guest” who for once knocked on my biological door on a Friday. Kindly enough. I thought it would be easy too. A bit chatty and uncommonly “sociable” are the side effects of being a bit high from internal chemical somersaults and blood-loss. It’d be fun with the in-laws.

Except, I over-slept. Still in bed at 11 o’clock on a Sunday while I should be serving tea for these other guests. I was in a cozy, hazy dream and only vaguely aware of my companion’s “subtle” cues of should-be-obvious-but-not-to-me noises as he got up at 10:30am. I guess I should be the one with the tea and breakfast ready. My bad. I wish I didn’t have to see that glance from the in-law’s eyes. The utter disapproval or disgust that she must have reserved for me all that morning. It mirrored my own. I wondered how much a failure I am for not being a good host, a good “daughter”, a good companion to an exceptional and long-suffering son.

The wound is a familiar one. You’d think I’d have learned how to take it by now. Then again, maybe not. I realized something though. It is my fault. For still looking for others for validation. For still blaming myself for being who I am. For still taking this passive-aggressive crap as a matter-of-course. I am my own human-being. I will live with it. In the meantime you can serve your own tea, pretty please.

May your flow be smooth.