the beauty of the heart

Look,
IT makes me cry,
tear drop,
pulse
we vibe.
Pretty rosy reds
take my breath
make me pump icy blue
the beauty of the heart
an open canvas.

OPEN
cut deep
-Surgery
deep into the psyche.
Little Birdie, Little Birdie
get me all …
tears in my eye
that beauty
THAT BEAUTY
so pretty I cry.

Feelings sprinkled
from margin to margin
barging into each other
electromagnetic lightning
they vibe.
Buzz, buzz
prick…thorns
bristled- get away!
Bristles!
Bristles paint
dip the toe.

Skin rough n’ tough n tumble
like a desert plant
straw man of the desert
strong man
of the desert. Desierto
deserted te siento.
Caterpillar kicked
that shell
to the curve.
Caterpillar spread
those wings out
brush against
those white lady fingers
curving long like
a calling.
Caterpillar spread those
wings out way out
sway, glide across
the canvas
like an open heart
SURGERY.


Beauty
you make me selfish.
Make me
wanna make it
all about me.
Grab you
pin you to my wall
hang you
see you up
against my wall
like a classic
vintage love
rough around the edges
yellow wood rings.
Oh, the years!
Pin you up against my wall
cold, so cold
those walls
warm them up
melt them away
with your pumps
not those 3-inch heels
make your legs straight like an easel’s,
Pumps, as in beat of your heart.
Pumps, as in throbs in your cunt.
Pumps, in and out of you.
Make me feel new
let me erase that past.
Pass the past please.
No, not the past
rewrite a new script
with you.
Help me
Play the part
Play along
Turn the page
and a corner together.
Like a signature
an autograph,
pointing the finger,
in a corner.
I’m naming it what it is
right in the corner
with my hook finger
pushing your buttons…
right there.
Putting my mouth into it
Standing behind my words
like a backup singer
backing my words up.
My words
a string around your finger
helping you remember
me I’m there.

Beauty
pour all over me-
liquid light.
Fresh like a morning
You arouse me
pulling
from the best of me.

Dulce media noche (or, "First Birthday Poem Ever")

I want to be inside you
when the clock strikes
12 midnight, new day.
New Year.
New.
EXPERIENCE
your birth with you
you slide down that water
slide, flow.
There she flows!
Like showers
on flowers.
Not flowers
still wetness.
Petals? Lips?
I still put
nose up in it.

When the clock strikes
twelve, I want to make
you pulsate
like Big Ben.
Pulse on the roof of your mouth
choking on your tongue.
We get gutta’
You get guttural
I take it personal
and hold you
accountable let’s
Get personal here.
I hold you account.
Pardon my accent
I meant en cuenta
No es en cuenta si no
cuentas.

Cuenta hasta 12
1…2..3 breath
4...5…6 and push through
7…8...9 it’s like being in a dark closet
counting down Bloody Mary.
SCARY
but you gotta look
a TrIGGer
in the face.
Let’s face it
it’s like a quake
rolls up on you
stomach even turns.
Get under a table
One hand on some fixtures
It’s for your safety this time.
With your other hand
cover your head
not your eyes
need them for glaring
don’t turn away
hand over your head!
You’ve got this shit covered.
“Do you want to stop
talking about it?”
---Nope, can’t must
not waste energy.
It doesn’t matter
Pardon my accent
It doesn’t mother
nothing nurturing about
turning the other cheek
on the truth
turning on your heel
I will dig my heels
Like spokes
Digo, spikes.
One
spoke,
hable,
hablar
hablamos
hablaremos
at a time.
new EXPERIENCE.


Won’t sacrifice
Line for the rhyme
Nor the rhyme
for the reason.
For no reason?
No matter
Pardon my accent.
I meant madre.
Madre que te partió
Bendita sea.
Bendita tu eres
Entre todas
Tu vientre
en tu vientre
A las doce
A las DOCE…doce
Dolce
Sweet
Dulce
Media
Noche.

La noche esta a medias
Ven, ay que llenarla
Tengo muchas ideas.
Mid-night, fill you up
with the sound of kisses
poppin off your ear
up to thirty kisses
one for every year.
Fill Mid-night up with whispered TEQUIEROS,
with feelings so fast they pull you out your dream
Fly out your mouth like a shooting star
And I catch them,
like a shooting star,
out the corner of my eye.
Really, the corner of my ear.
Feeling cornered when exposed to truths
those exposed truths
your lips reveal
like an open window
letting me see inside.
Your words…Welcome me
like a mat, they sustain me
in the still darkness of the night
one we try to fill
but really fills us
Dolce
Sweet
Dulce
Noche.

distill

Proud
clouds
stirred
about the evening sky
wild tigers, heavy
pregnant
with drops
of rain.

Tepid rain
timid rain
lands on my face
tender kisses.
The wind
nips at my ears
…I love wet-windy nights.

The next morning
get out of bed.
Good morning.
Back stiff with chills
cold morning
press my nose against the window
fog it up
my hot breath
looks like yesterday’s sky.
I pop it open..
poke my head
into the wet cold
air burns my nostrils
slides down my throat
my knees buckle
suddenly gotta pee.
Get hooked by the sky’s
Grey glare
She’s still unsettled.
Even after a full night of flushing out.

Jade and Serpent

Feels
good.
Feels
so good
when you ask about
my needs.
Feels good
to hear you ask
if I’m ok after
I’ve just broken your…
Damn!
Look at your O flow
fills my hand’s cup
Overflow.
It flows over
my bulging veins
down
my stressed wrist
pumps, pumping
your Cunt-spring.
Agua manantial
quenches my Serpent.
Me Thirsty Serpent.
You liquid Jade.
Obsidian Serpent
mirroring my soul.
Virgin who? Virgin blood?
Virgin whatever! Ey!
Ay como me gustas.
Ay como me gusta darte
tus gustos.
Take your breath away
Susto!
Me asusto
when you’ve just broken my
Super woman façade
you on your knees
ask about my needs.
You don’t wait for my reply
slide your mouth on me
kiss me from my knees
nibble up my thighs
outer, inner in between
your kisses land
perfect suctions
send me pulsing.
Feels so good.


Ask me.
Ask me if I’m ok
after I’ve lost my breath for you
your kisses,
your kindness
is royal
gonna call you your Highness
but you’re an Angel
leave me breathless
with tenderness
it’s the best.
Makes me feel
like I just sprung
into the mouth
of the Grand Canyon.
Sprung head first
over your smarts,
smart assiness
over your ass.
Stand there and stir it!
Hotness in the kitchen
give me that angle
so I can see that ass that sprung me.
Make me feel.
Make you feel
my intent
it’s intense.

Beg?
Nobody begs around here
except
for me not to stop going deeper.
Ay asi!
You let me go inside
deep, high.
Deeeeeeeep.
Give your heart a squeeze
from inside.
Drenched- I leave you.
Cum, sweat, tears.
Don’t tell me
you’re not going to beg
me.
That’s intense.
Your words baffled me,
salty water down my throat.
I came to you like the waves
whispered my feelings to you
they reached your ears
in a mad rush like
waves of emotions
bully me down, face scraping the sand.
I came to your shore with my feelings
knowing shit could easily evaporate-
white foam in the sand.
Eyes to eyes
color de cielo
y tierra
you top me
but the world turns.
Nose to nose
Fucken bloodhounds
your lips
pink petals
neighbor mine.
The tip of my toungue
knocking
for some of that suga’
let her in.
That’s close!
How close we get?

"Heaven."
Someone once painted a picture of it
for me.
I was in it, hand in the air
“pump the breaks!”
por que mira quien llego
de una manera muy comun
mi Angelita
su imagen envolvida en un texto.
Mira quien llego
Mi angelita
disfrazada de primera comunion.
My Angel skinny, mixed and young
“fill me up”
Angelita
“with the joy of living”.

Heaven is where the home is
home is what you make it.
Change percetion like you change
the channel
not #5 either that’s so generic.
Generic, that’s not what you are
Angel you are rare
like, like, like
angels walking on Earth
you ground me.




See the actuall painting "Heaven" that I referenced here;it's a piece by Alma Lopez. I’m one of the models. http://almalopez.net/digital/digital.html

You’re Cent$itive

If you’re sensitive
and you know it
close your ears.
If you’re sensitive
and you know it
close your ears.
If you’re sensitive
and you know it
cause your face
will fo’ sho’
show it
If you’re sensitive
and you know it
close
your
ears.

Close
closer to me
voy a chismear
smear the truth
all over your face
como mierda.
Comen mierda
los policiticos
los Pop-artistas
los pinche ricos
rubbing their dollar bills
in our faces
sweaty balls, t-bagging our pride
Brown, white, male
Female glitz and glam.
We eat it up- fetishists
we like to have shit fed
to us.
Twisted B-D-S-M
Emphasis on the D
DISGRACE


Meanwhile we’re off!!!
Every Monday off
to the fucken races.
The rat game
Que quieres pinche rata!
Nada guey
Solo trato de sobrevivir
De eso se trata.

I dig my balled up fists
deep in my pockets
only come up
with last year’s dreams
cant’ even afford lint balls.
So what’s the point then?
Time to jump off
this hamster wheel.
Can’t continue to wheel em
nor deal em anymore
with the same prevention messages
the darker they are the harder they fall.
More fall
to this disease
poverty pockets spilling
over with needs
shelter, education,
love, meds.
For their diabetes, ADD
And now HIV.
Give those folks a hug!
You see those tracks
they’ve been laid for a while
now, we’ve known for a while
now that poverty is the root
of many ills.
Poverty is a disease
That can’t be cured,
You say?
Whoa!
At ease
Paht na’
Now see them here
bootstraps
you’ve been telling me
forever to pull me
Myself up from them.
Up, up and out of poverty.
I pull hard, harder
from under me!
The darker they are
The harder they fall.


In the dark about
Prevention
resources.
In the dark
cause the lights
were cut off.
All of the lights
All of the lights
We’re sitting in the dark
Here baby- cause they cut off
All of the lights.
In the dark
Like Highland Park, Michigan
can’t see them pull
another one over us
them thieves
those job makers
promised
they were Gonna make it rain
on our asses.

The debt ceiling is falling
The debt ceiling is falling
Jobs are dropping
1 of out 5 men
out of a job man
that’s 8% unemployment rate man
unless you’re a black man
you’re dealing with 16% man.
16 must be the number
outta work
outta school
out on bail
no BAIL OUT
outta luck.
1 in 16 black men
diagnosed with HIV at some point.
Oh what’s the point?!
Jobs take a dip
HIV/AIDS hitting another
tip of the community
Young Black Men
I stand here angry
fists in my pocket
pointing at the ground.
So pissed off I taste metal.
Wish I could take it out
On metal
a black Maybach?
Maybe one day
will also do it for a good cause
Unleashing anger
doing it for a good cause
Maybe one day.
For now we wait
Will go down?
Sit down and wait
Add your name to the list
Of those that wait
Are waiting for
Rent money
A job
Housing
Meds
Financial aid
Aid.
Where’s my check?
Wish I could
write off the pain
of getting screwed another day.

Por el altar

Por el altar
(for Gaspar. Dia de los muertos '99)

Dos amigas
con corazónes de niños
and grains of El Paso desert sand
rolling around in their memories
open themselves up
with tamales, dulces, tequila, mescal
two decks of cards- sin el Joker
and Cuban cigars
to welcome their visitors
who come from a long journey of many moons and suns
that glowed over Patzcuaro, Michoacan
and Oaxaca.

They arrive, las amistades, tias , abuelos past lovers
pasan por el camino de ese altar
guided by the morse-code of candle flickers
tantalized by the aroma of foods
and the desire to indulge en sus viejos vicios.

Soon el cuarto se llena de energia y de calor.
words and laughter that bruises their sides
drift to the heavens
on clouds of gray-green smoke
while images of Xena flicker on the t.v. set
followed by her warrior’s call
when she thrashes the villains and seduces the goddesses.
The rest of the night las dos amigas sit with their tongues
coated with taste of quemado from the mescal
their bellies bloated from the tamales, cheeks rosy-red
and their visitors watching from above.

Denial

Can I have you on your back
For one more night
…would that be alright?
To let your hair spill all over my sheets
and make a bigger mess of things.

Let's take it back
to two stars colliding in some far away universe
generating the ripples that brought us together.
I'll cloak myself in our reality, como La Virgen in her robe,
a reality OF full moons,
bare hearts
and one broken cherub

I want to get high off the scent
that drifts in the crook of your neck
and fantasize…
that you loved me with the truth till the end
that you loved me as your lover
your partner
your friend…
Let's shed our clothes
glide our hands and tongues
along each other’s contours
close our eyes
sift through the memories
searching for the hole to mend.
We'll feel as one lying side by side
making my full-size feel twin-size with our tightness.
You'll spread your legs for me
one last time,
unfold your lips like you used to
and take me in.
I'll cup your chocha with mine
imagine two hot pussies
Drenched in one another!
I'll feel your body tremor underneath me
you'll pull me deeper
open us wider
get us wetter.
The last chapter
our hard fucking melts our pussies
limp,red
into each other
rawness burning up and down our lips
flowing down our thighs.
We'll lay there like two old volcanoes
gasping ashes of our love into the sky
where specs of it sparkle till the dawn-
the ones that fall back down on us,
will make us look aged.
I'll gather fistfuls of our ashes
cram them into my pockets
then bury them at the base of a tree
water it so that the ashes get absorbed into its roots.
Hopefully,
the tree will be a guayabo
and every summer our love that once existed
will blossom
coloring the palette
of those who eat it.

Hijas de Juarez

Mausoleo
I lived in el D.F. when I first heard this word. I’d get up every morning to go to school, would wait on a seemingly abandoned road for the pesero to slow down enough for me to hop on board. By the time I’d get on, people were already hanging from the back door of the pesero. The inside was crammed with men and women slick and scented with clumps of sleep in their eyes, but all set to start their day. I’d wait for it¬–the huge arc with a cherub fastened right in the middle to appear before us–as if ascending out of the earth. From the front, the Mausoleo looked like a dull marble wall hanging from the sky from invisible cords. The gray wall was checkered with metal plaques, with names inscribed like cicatrices. This Mausoleo was right in the middle of sparse buildings, vast parched land, and was surrounded by dusty stones. It stood one mile from my apartment, and one mile from el periferico. I would always think, “What an odd place to lay people to rest.”
Los Desiertos
Los desiertos de norteamerica no son tan deshabitados como pensamos. El desierto del Mojave, which stretches from southeastern California to Nevada, is rich with Joshua trees, while saguaros speckle the landscape of Arizona –but yucca and lechugilla are not the only things that grow in Chihuahua’s desert. El desierto de Chihuahua contiene un mausoleo. It is a lonely mausoleum where tumbleweeds anxiously race across, and cacti stand around like crosses. Strips of different colored cloths, the lace of a dress, the sleeve of a schoolgirl’s sweater, and the ribbon that once interlaced a braid, all flap back and forth like bodiless wings in the wind. There are no plaques on this mausoleum, cause there are no walls; there’s only a roof of polluted air, endless sky, and a floor made from female remains, chanclas, patent leather shoes y huaraches.
This mausoleum is where precious flowers come to rest–flowers that were yanked from their roots too early, and never allowed bloom. These flowers are undetectable to the naked eye. They don’t leave a scented trail when caressed by the wind, but we know they exist because they leave vestiges of their presence knotted in murmured prayers, and in the shape of pink crosses. There are people who’ve had these flowers in their lives; they woke every morning to see their flowers get bigger, because they nurtured them with love. These people look like you and me; they walk to the mercados, get their hands dirty, and enjoy café de la hoya in pensive sips. But, when you come across such a person “buenas tardes,” while crossing the street, you notice they wear a certain look on their face, as if someone is holding them by their soul. That’s the look of someone who had their flower taken in silence, and left with a void that will resonate forever in their hearts. Many people believe that the mausoleum is watched-over by a guardian that stands atop of the mountain. They say the guardian stands tall, with his arms spread, as if ready to catch the disappearing flowers in his arms as they rise to heaven. Many others believe that the guardian is nothing but a mirage–another one of the desert’s false promises. After all, what type of guardian would allow for the flowers to be taken in the first place? The flower mourners have come together, joining their pain and hope; they use these forces to rake over the desert–turning over every ajo lily, desert zinnia, primrose, poppy, fairy duster, and chuparosa, in search of their flowers.

January 10, 2003
In a place called Stevenson Ranch, where a part of the California desert is plagued by the mushrooming of suburbia, a man squatted atop of a 400-year-old oak. It is a massive oak, thick with age, and it roots lie deep–deeper than any of the pro-expansionists’ thoughts could ever go. However, the oak stands inconveniently in the path of a planned highway-widening project. The tree-squatter fixed himself to the tree for ten weeks in support of the tree’s life. The tree was spared. For ten years now the precious flowers del desierto de Chihuahua have been disappearing. Over four hundred have been reported missing. Where do we need to squat to stop el lote bravo from expanding?


Note: Every year the Teatro Friday Kahlo has a run of "las Mujeres de Juarez". It is important for us to support this show because it keeps the death of these women in our conscious...to this day the killings continue, to this day no one still gives a dam. http://fridakahlotheater.org/Juarez.htm

Wise with Me

It’s been almost three months to the day
since the last time I felt your body
naked, and sticky with mine…
still the echoes of our fucking
wash over me in spurts.
At least I no longer smell you in my sheets,
nor emit you through my pores-

I am standing before a mirror and spot
the craters on my shoulders from the times
your fingernails clung to me.
how I wish for something immediate to fill them.
Then there are the three scars
near my lower back
deep and ribbed
hieroglyphs of our fucking
oh how good I made you feel!
So good, you wanted to take a piece of me, a
chip to carry around in your pocket
A chip you can pull out whenever you want to smile
remembering those times when
We overflowed with love
Choked on loss
Those times when I became your…
You became my
Receptacle.

I have since shared my body.
But only after I recoiled from the idea a few times
did I give myself selfishly
shielded my wounds with desire, spilled my secretes,
not staying long enough to find out if they would be kept.
Welcomed one set of open arms
then another
filled the holes in my mattress
With the flesh, juices and moans of otra mujer
only to be alone with my gluttony.

Samaritan

there is no mystery really. no wounds so deep only your kisses and hugs can unearth. I like the pain. plain and simple. Will you still fuck me? Do you still desire me now that you know there’s no one to rescue here…maybe you of course la que me pide que la haga sentir. I will be your Samaritan.

Ode to an Ass

ODE TO AN ASS

To an ass
that ass
meaty
fine,
that asshole
that I met
wet
my mouth
my palate
sticky with lick.
Let me
prick
you there
with my tongue.
Let me
go a ring
I mean I’ll ream
around and around
rings
those wrinkles
brown
your anis star
twinkled at me
when I blew
kisses and sprinkled
spit at it
smooth
ready
slick.
Makes me crass
to like ass?
PAZ!
ZAZ!
split the deep seam
of your ass
with my face.
In your ass
comfy
cozy
cheeks to cheeks
I whisper into
your folds.


Te echas pa tras?
Por detras bien duro te doy.
Pero no hoy.
No hoy.
Quiero saber
quien eres
Ve como soy…
Aunqe no como hoy
Me voy a esperar
Recordar those times
you bent over before me
for me before.
Acted like you were picking debris
You must’ve seen some shit
I didn’t see?
I saw your ass
shaped like a guitar pick
When you bent
BEND over for me.

That day-remember
the stickiness
on my leather seats.
I licked then split
your ass cheek.
SMACK!!!
Red lickeddy split
red it turned my hand burned
not enough to jump back
from your back
Let me in on that!
Let me snack on that back
Cause I snacks on the back.

Ode to an ass
that you were
plenty of
times to me.
Set me free
Set me free
from this love holding me
like a glove.
Accessory
Concealer
DISCLAIMER.
“Set me free!”
Free Love, set me free”
Your words
reassured me
let me know that you heard
“You hurt me.”
I’m sorry
“I’m sorry” never meant
anything to you
cause “what does an apology do?’
What to do? What to do?
with those words
coming from you.
Eee, you’re an ass.

How do I learn
not to scorn,
control my viciousness?
Horns they poke out from my head.
No, wait
that’s my snake rearing its evil head.
WHERE’S MY PREY!!!
Where’s my pray
I just
I jizz
I just lust
to unleash this venom.


Ode to an asshole!
Ode to this asshole clenched
tight
not uptight
tightening up my act
like Kegels.
Can’t live
waiting
for that Hour.
Happy.
Hour.
Hour of happiness.
Our happiness.
I don’t want it 50/50
I want to keep it 100
Won’t give you half of me.
Here take a rest
of me.
Rest yourself on me.

Ode to this ass
you kiss
caress like that pet
that stole your heart.
It illuminates
like Swarovski
your eyes radiate
when I unveil.
On your Knees!
Expose this ass to you
hail this ass
and don’t trip
cause I like it when you treat
ME
Like a pretty girl,
all nice and shit.
Cause I am
all nice and shit!
Here Pretty, Pretty!
I know you like to run
your mouth
nibble here, suck there
such care.

Care

I do and I can
I don’t need you
hanging on
like Spiderman.
Yeah I said it hence
this ode
to ass
composed by
this ass
that’s trying to grow
like corn.
Ears listening
putting my reel
aside-look at your picture.
Realized that everything doesn’t have to come
with a side of me.

Take a rest of me
But not my right
side cause that’s my
WRITE side
also my tight side.
Who needs bondage!
I am wrapped
in this stress.
Stress stressing me out!
Stressing on my stress?
“Does this stress make me look stressed out?”
This stress is stressing me out ☹
Winding me up
See my titties?
Nah you don’t
my chest concaves
fall into myself.
Hold on to my muscles
they have knots
mass on mass
Mas y mas
you can climb
Like those mountains?
- I’ll give ya a boost!
- like you give to me
- a shot
- a jolt
- positive energy
- radio waves in action
- they cook the flesh
- we press
- up tight.
- Up tight you feel my back
- show concern
- tell me “I’ll rub it out,
- your shooting arm
- your typing wrist
- your “fuck me with it,” fist”
Curing me with kindness
Tickled pickle I absorb.
Give it to me
HARD
like an asshole
slaps an ass.
I will take it.

Pull you close
plant your ass
on my lap.
Take a hit of you
to the head.
My nose
to your head
my drug
fill you in my lungs
feel you
in
my lungsssss
feel you.

Fresas y chocolate

No,
this is not to remind
you of how I painted my pussy lips
strawberry for you
and speckled them with chocolate
But to tell you that I can't stop
thinking about you
crawling towards me
like a sex-hungry woman…
prowling
anxious to jump on me
and munch on my chocha.
So crawl to me
my lover
when you are hungry
when you have the munchies
or just a craving.
My back is healed-
it’s a smooth brown canvas.
Don't your teeth itch
To clamp down hard on it?
Harder!
Be mean to it…please
I admit that I LOVE
it when you rub on
my stubbled head
but thinking of your fingers
tangled in my hair
makes my clit hard
and feeling my clit hard
makes me yearn
to have your tongue
whip it!

Draft #9 since 2006

OMG acabo de terminar mi guion. Correction, I've just finished shedding a few tears after completing my script! Phew, it feels so good...I tried not to be perfect, tried to just write what the story was feeding me....acabo de terminar esta revision de mi guion

CoCK BLoCK

It’s too long
No one is going to like it
Go to sleep, go to sleep
Go to sleep little audience.
You think anyone really wants to
see
hear
feel it?
You think anyone really wants?


I want’s
Call me Sir Wants-a-lot
of motivation
Something- kryptonite
I write
for the haters that’s what
Why I gotta
Wanna
Gonna do what I do
It’s for the haters
Doubting my ability
like a codependent
already seeing me
fall.
Ready to catch me
stand me
on my own
two feet
planted before me
I fall again into the cycle
Call me recycled.
Yes I am
a catch
not for your traps
or webs of issues
not about me
helping not about me.
Helping me out
not picking up
another habit
not making you a habit.


Really,
you think you’re going to finish
It’s all the smoke
Smoking mirrors
Slows you down
brings you in
recoil into you
Like you do on that stoners couch
Ouch!
Holy water, scents of sage
It’s for the haters
I hear you now
and I feel you later
Hater

And you think
the community
The politics
All sounds
like tricks to me
And you!
THINK
fast
here is a firework
“PoP” in the sky
crackles in my eye
IMPUNITY
Preachy Preach
Who will see it
It’s too long
You really think you belong
in the conversation?

My response
Breathrelax
Chant
camouflage
the haters
Each piece of me
I reveal
Rebel with a pen
plain rebel
Revel in the exposition
Exhibition
Like “Art in the Street”
here is my art
Read this shit
Will compose till
I’m a ruca rocking it
Till my wheels
In my head
pop off.
Doing it for the haters
The Greek Chorus
In my mind
Of my nightmares
Dragging on like that
Clingier than pollen
Germinating
Germs.
Gonna grind you out
Make you fainter with time
Grind out each line
drown OUT
sound OUT
shout OUT
To the H-A-T-E-R-S

Tetris

There once was a big hole
a whole lot
of emptiness.
Right there
You see it?
Of course not
Cause there is nothing there!
Not sure if it’s void
of hope though.
But then it wouldn’t be empty
it would be hope full.
There are moments
when I feel full.

You fool!
Me!
See
those moments
that I strive
for
I want more.
Breathing,
POSTURE
foot strike
Strides
Usain Bolt-like
towards my life.

He’s a part
of my Tetris
Art,
my boy
WRITING
my cAts
my kId
my kIts
my boIs
some kicks.
Him
Work
Love
play
Pray to Huehues
that they stay
these moments
Live them
9 to 5
not living for a 9 to 5
don’t want it
don’t don’t
don’t want it .

He’s my student
one more I want to reach
I teach
preach
perched up there in front.
Their future I want to keep in front
of me their
future
shape
well rounded.

There once was a big hole
a whole lot
of emptiness.
Then my fairy-butch mother
then another and another
told me
showed me
there are possibilities
RUNNING rivers down
Me a mountain
Of ideas
Merging
to the… see.

Playing to my strengths
I gotta keep it right
nothing left
must accept the truth.
I make you question
that’s the truth.
Knowledge worker
massaging those thoughts
feeding off the thoughts
VULTURE!
Thoughts
you disseminate
deeper than
your status
they pollinate
my insides
damn you
you Dandelion
shaking me up like that.
Knowledge working
It’s working
this teaching thing for me.
There is more I want to
Orchestrate
Now hear this
Maestro!
Maestra
Mr. Prof.
not Dr.
Don’t doctor me
I don’t doctor myself
Cause I’ve wasted too, many days
feeling wasted
rusting with resentment
bitterness burning my tripas
like Patron

I am a Patron.
Master of my work.
Work for him
nurture him
little plant
GROW.
I’ll feed you with stories
Fertilize with Encouragement
you to create
play with you in the sun.
You create a beauty
I admire
learn from the colors
you magnify.
Smile for me little one
just
Smile.

Confession...

There are those times when feelings are so disorienting, feelings that intimacy like a skeleton key manages to set free. Sometimes they are intense feelings that have nothing to do with what just happened. It happened to... And sometimes it happened during their heavy playing, emotions that had no business being there surfaced all uninvited. Well sort of, they say don’t hate the player hate the game but with BDSM, it was a game of “dropping my guard for you. I am going to fall back and I know you will catch me, in your web of leather strokes and skin-melting-hot- metals. I will be vulnerable with you, to save my vulnerability, be able to trust again. Catch me please.” BDSM, like ALL relationships, is a tough game. It’s easier saying you’re going to let go then actually doing it. It’s not always our choice either to lose it, and BDSM creates that illusion; CONTROL give it and take it. Consent. Bringing down my walls conceptually. But our heart, our mighty mind collide, like all great forces they clash, shifts those faults- were our roots lie and how does one cover up when we are literally naked, sprawled out before another.

Amigas eroticas (or What the Cameras Didn't Capture)

It started when I saw you naked in the hotel bathroom,
I heard the water drop with urgency
anxious to glisten against your backside.
I walked towards you
to hand you your razor, as you nicely asked.
I approached the bathroom
wondering if the Grizzlies were capable of finding
that underdog fire inside them to beat
the San Antonio Spurs- at least one game.
You parted the curtain,
bent over, reached out for the razor with your left hand
perched your right one on the edge of the tub
while the water smacked off your ass
your hard nipples
waved hypnotically before me.
As the razor flowed from my hand to the floor
I imagined myself walking into the tub,
lifting you so you could hold onto the towel rack
that hung from the ceiling
placing your thighs on my shoulders
and you Cobraing your legs around my neck.
My breath constricted
I forced my tongue through your thighs
Buried it hot and deep inside your chocha,
drinking you como agua de coco right out of its shell
You tasting sweet
And being so wet, I could hear the ocean in your moans.
You begging "Please,
stop
I can't cum anymore,"
I try to stop myself
pull my face away from your pussy
but my lips…
my lips are too, locked
In a French kiss with your clit.
I blinked after 3 seconds and there you were
Still reaching out
For your razor.
I walked away, my pussy lips ruffled with excitement
And tried to concentrate on the sweaty men on TV.

Later that night we exchanged kisses, big ones
small ones, some loose others more involved
as my erection- cause women get hard too
swelled between my legs.
You slipped into your dreams
while wetness collected between my thighs.

The next day we talked and laughed
sometimes even held hands like sweethearts
dodged countless joggers while
languages from all over the world
buzzed and chirped about us.
Soon my longing for you got hotter n' stickier
than the D.C. humidity.

No expectations but overflowing
With anticipation I treaded through the hours

Then I saw you-
walking towards me
Dressed in black from head to toe
your nails the color of fire,
lips dark as plums,
your back bare and lickable
and feet strapped to those 3 inch leather hills,
and my pussy flowed like a cascada.
Right then and there I knew those heals would be digging into my back
later that night
along with U setting my "pent up energy free" con tus dedos
your piercing rubbing against my clit
imprinting your ganas on my arms, back and ass
I'd have your scent under my nails spread across my lips
And I'd finally get to braid my nakedness with yours.

(Image: Anna P. Sutton "I Surrender:)

My Motivation

Stroke
Strokes
across the tight smooth
canvass
vast
strokes
fine strokes
pelitos on her belly fine.
Strokes thick
like thumbs
pressed
pressing windpipe.

Strokes
I don’t get I give to myself.
Strokes I can’t get
I give to myself.

If I were
your Master would
you would do
what I’d say?
I’d say
write me sonnets
paint me views
meant only for a blind woman
help me see
make me savor
cook me
meals with your
sauce
sauciness
satire.

Stroke
me
my ego
there you go
like that
you like that
self confidence in me
ego
let go my Ego
roam free it go
fast it go zoom
sweep you off your
feet.
Please don’t jump
over
my broom.
That’s crossing the line.
Be like me
like me
I don’t like
too, much.
Serial
Seriousness
No more
I’m serious. Not marathon
Mono-gamer anymore
I’m serious.

Each day I am faced by my values
the things I like appear
in so many shapes and sizes.
They are so scattered- wanna connect the dots
hand gliding across
from one dot value
to the other. Valuable
information revealed
I see the picture clear.

See her
My Motivation
Lose myself in her
my labyrinth
has me turning corners
doing tricks
to reach her center
where I feel showered
on fire
in light.

The room spins
my breath
feels like a fur ball
hurts my chest.
You make me forget
simple things
like an exhale.
You remind me
that yes I can.
Have it all
Each day
each time with you
is a déjà vu?
Nah, you’re just my dream
coming true.
My Motivation.

Mi Mujer

Mi mujer


Al mirar en sus ojos
color cajeta
me pierdo en mi imaginación,
veo su corazón latiendo
por mi
fuerte como el palpite del mío
chocando contra mi pecho.

Sus labios son finos y suaves
Como bombones
Al tocarlos con los míos
Se desbaratan como burbujas
es la sensación
que me dan sus besos
burbujeos
en mis labios
mi cuerpo se llene de emoción

Su belleza de mujer domina
todo mis sueños.
Dominante
Dominatrix
su belleza es un don
la veo por las noches
su figura consume
mis pensamientos todo el día.
Belleza omnipresente
por dentro, por fuera
consumo de lo que me muestra.

Me consume el deseo
de tocar su cuerpo
rozar su piel canela
como la de la Malinche
deseo pecaminoso
causa rechazo.
Pero así lo dijo el destino
Y estiro su rizos
suaves y sedosos, los atrapo
entre mis dientes y los estiro
sus rizos fragantes a coco,
me invitan a que entierre
mi cara en ellos.
Me hacen cosquillas en las nariz
como el olor de aquellos churros
con canela que saboreábamos
cada domingo después de misa.

Me acaricia
sus manos
aprietan mis pechos
como preparando masa
para tamales
la acurruco entre mi pecho
susurro en su oído
“Mámame”
siento su boca caliente, pegajosa
resbalosa, resbalando su lengua
sobre mi pezón
se acerca a mi
su boca roza mi boca
“hazme el amor” me pide.
Le doy
un besito seguido por otro
mas largo y profundo
nuestro lenguas bailando
al ritmo, palabras y ternura
de Juan Gabriel.
Pensamientos
Volviéndose en actos
En hechos
Haciendo cosas de enamorados.

Besos y caricias interrumpidas
Por te quieros
le echan leña a nuestro pasión
ya ardiente
quema, arde
te hace llorar
como chile habanero.
Siento su humedad que escurre
entre sus piernas
su pulque
la bebida de mis antepasados
beberé como los reyes.
Me alimento de su cuerpo
me animo al oír la gruir de placer.
Es me diosa, le como, chupo
Mamo como si cometiera
Un sacrificio.
Es mi diosa
Tonantzin
Diosa azteca piel bronceada estoy para satisfacer
Se desea que la ame
Así lo hare un y otra vez porque es mi mujer

aspiración con aguja fina

agrandamiento de células malignas
es el cáncer
que me come por dentro
convirtiendo nos en enemigos,
en mi propia
mi peor enemiga.
Por que la verdad
ni quien me pare
ni quien me mantenga

si que el rechazo fractura el ego
luego uno se pasa la vida buscando
ese refuerzo positivo
fracturas se curan
no olvidar lo caminado
ese golpe no fue por torpe
tope topare con mi destino
siento el frio en las
venas aunque no tengo nada
nada pa’ perder
solo el alma que se
marchita
se marcha
de mi cuerpo
simplemente
una cavidad
simple
seré
pero seré!

I AM TAKING THE RISK.

Punto.

I Bet it Does

I.
Your big, swollen breasts
bloated, in pain
bad pain
how it feels good.
I bet it does

II.
I feel sad
guilty when I think
about the pain.
Makes me wet-
Your breast, tender with pain
many times they’ve felt that way
because of me.
Bad pain how it feels so good
it does.


III.
I sniff my fingers
Sweet, wet pussy
on my tips
sweet wet pussy on MY tip.
Made me want to
and I did tap
that ass
many times
made it mine.
Distance has made my
heart grow
less fearful.


IV.
Fuck me…
fucking you.
Watch me cum!
they way I’ve had you watch before
I don’t have to touch you to fuck you
I never did
Why do I feel like I have to now
find our mojo
that mental connection
not just brain sex
those times
when cell minutes were used up
With you giving me your busts.
Mobile to mobile
Please believe I was giving you mine
Cause that’s how it feels to want
I want you
I have to surpass
We can surpass
I bet we does…

Puro

Has “clic”
toma una foto.
Una foto
lo mas cercas
que puedo llegar
en mi intento en detener
el tiempo.
Como me hace tranza
el tiempo no se puede retener
dejo la cinta del destino correr.
Me tienen en una tranza
mi sueños
estoy presente
en mi piel
en mi corazón pero
no deja de parecer un sueño.
Mis palabras
Parajos migrantes
viajan por doquiera.
Viajo por mis palabras
celebradas
en otras tierras
en otras almas se entierran.
Pero como las golondrinas
regresan , me vuelven
a mi centro.
San Antonio te tengo en mi
espíritu y tu lo sabrás
Cada vez
que veas
esta foto
fíjate
“en la sombra de mis ojos
te perderás en mi mirada."

Purge

(inspired by all this LA rain)



I’m going to purge you out of me.
I’m going to purge you out of my system.

I’m going to purge you out with music.
Canciones de amor que me llenan de dolor.
I’ll listen to them over and over, until
My ears and heart become numb to the words.

I’m going to purge you out with my tears
cry myself to sleep until there are no more tears left to be shed
My pillow soaking up all the evidence

I’m going to purge you out al estilo Jalisco ¡AJUA!
Con una botella de tequila!
Drinking myself into frenzy… stumbling my way out of your memories.

I’m going to purge you out with these fingers
Tracing them all over my body
Over all your abandoned trails, seeking that one spot
Touching it, loving it, repossessing it.

I’m going to give myself a limpia with old journals
Poems and the letters never read.
Piling them up and building an altar to memories
emotions and hope…dead

Finally, I’m going to purge myself with a fuck.
Slide, glide and sweat you out…Umm
release you with a moan.


Note: This was my first publication ever, it appeared in Westwind: a Journal of Critical Studies out of UCLA while I was an undergrad.

¿Por que te deje?

¿Por que te deje?
¿Por que dejo?
¿Por que me dejo?
Por que recurro
al abandono
precisamente cuando siento
el completo abandono
de mis emociones?
Esta pauta
Es mi salvavidas
La dulce amargura
Que me alimenta
Me da fuerzas
Para regresar
a mi
Centro
Lleno de ecos
De rechazo
Te rechazo
Pero en vano
Al fin me quedo sola
Con mi indiferencia
una
por siempre inflexible
aunque la trate de negar.

So...let it be

I stopped
drinking
smoking
fucking.
Stopped
putting shit IN ME
and shit started
popping INside ME
come up
come out
come out
wherever you are
out of ME.
Sobriety
has me
feeling
some shit
I don’t even like
like anger
sours my stomach
pains my side, my head, shoulder
the root- a damaged heart.

Shit
busted open like a frozen pipe
shit
erupted this New York morning
making me feel all woody
stiff
no longer numbed
making me feel
yesterday too.
Feels like road rage.
Caged in my car.
Caged by my thoughts.
Can’t stop
thinking how far ahead of me you are
guess you took the carpool out of us,
to the next exit
the next rest stop
the next butch
out of this mess.
I’m just a right lane
waiting for the next accident
to happen.
Are you in?
Are you out?
Hurry merge!
You don’t know
and don’t even
understand my signals.
I should learn to read the
Sig alerts.
Foot on the gas
catch that bitch
on Rebound Ave.
thummbing it for the next
town
or I’ll cross her
on that turnstile
called your life.

All this time you had me fooled
WORST
all this time I had ME fooled.
So I think
like brainteasers
keep thinking of that smoking gun.
Shit
busted open!
Your texting at night
what the fuck!
your face
crammed into your phone
giggling, gushing
shit busted open
like you’re all alone
me right there beside you
like your carpool
taking up space.
Should’ve taken that
smoking gun to head
woken my ass up.
BITCH see the light!
Shinning bright in your eyes
like your smile
at the phone’s screen
big like an emoticon
what the fuck did it mean?
But my eyes were shut tight
vexed
busting at the seems.
Only thing I could do is let tears
stream
down
my
face
lost in the night.
Shit
busted
opened.

So perplexed at how
History repeats itself
No matter how much I want
It’s not my story.
Did away with monogamy
Why have to worry about cheating…
DISLOYALTY
So I say
TRUTH
it just
HURTS
when they go away.
They’ve all played it
like a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Wanted to avoid history from repeating itself?
So I say.

I can impose my own rules
but can’t seem to win this game
Relationships?
So fucken lame!
Like a duck I dipped
my head under water
holding my breath
blowing bubbles
wishing that things will get better
tomorrow.
Tomorrow, tomorrow
I loved you
tomorrow.
The sun did come up
but my time was up
I upchucked
my love
the loyalty.
Let you be
the ex that you want to be
Ex-lover
ex-friend
ex-fantasy
Excuses, no more!

I stopped.
Drinking
smoking
fucking
I stopped
putting shit in me
and shit came up
out of me
feeling
some shit.
Holding that mirror up to my face
closer than your phone to your face
I gotta face my demons
I’m not all smiles either
shits got me on edge.
With Mistress I pledged
to be clean
not putting shit in me
on her I lean.
I learn…I let go.

It hurts to know
I lived that lie for a while
put my life on cruise control.
Denial.
That’s my style
But I’m getting a make-over
doing it without the hangover
without the mushroom cloud
to enshroud
no more looking like a mountain
all covered in mist, obscured
green with envy
at your texts
too yellow to face you
making me redder with rage
then spirit got so low
I got blue.
Come here sobriety
let me get a taste of you.
Gonna make
MYSELF
Primary
do away with secondary
emotions
not passive aggressive
aggressively passionate
making myself bust
with pride and prejudice
towards a better way
towards getting better
clearing the way
clearing the air
They way that breaks-ups go
it gets frio,
feo,
far
then removed.
but we can’t…
I can’t this time
time to shift gears
cause I wanna keep the boy near
to my heart
even post-his two moms
post won’t equal apart
he won’t be a part
of my history.
Present.

Not making my emotions atomic
Letting them get mountainous
Gotta get cracking
Like a single-tail
Blurting out my demons
So!
Call me tattle-tale
I don’t care
when all my stuff is said and done
Mistress’s paintings have just begun
Our work, our collabos,
@= C+A
are the smoking gun.
We’ve committed
a crime against
unproductiveness
geniuses at work
working hard
working shit out
making our spirits
strong as steel
to steal your breath away
dealing with our storms
making our internal chaos
come to a stand still.

I want forgiveness
I can’t continue
to hope for
control of history
can’t hope that you
would have.
Can’t change the times
when I didn’t
when I could’ve.
I can…
So you
changed the scenery?
Shit I prefer the 101 any day over
The 5 going up north…
No more making the other
Feel tail gated
No- to riding each other’s ass
gotta get my
eyes off the rear
view.

I have to not lose sight of things
How blessed I am
to be here again and again
consistently creating
ascertains that
I’ve come with certainty
It’s beautiful
what I see
all the shit that’s
come up
come out
comes out of
me

nada de nada

In my room painting the walls, finally gonna finish. No music or tv in the background just the sound of my fur babies making funny noises in their sleep. I don’t dare to talk, the brush sh-sh-sh-sh keeps telling me to be quiet. Shhhh, up my wall and shhhhhh down my wall covering my trim in gold, very golden like crown royal, and a blue fit for royalty. I don’t want to feel like a King nor a Queen just royal. Shhhh, my brush whispers secretes that remind me of you, how you throw yourself into your work. How you threw yourself into that last work, poured the last drop of energy depleted and sick, how this made me want to throw myself into your work roll around in it, wade in the colors, touch every spot where your hands have been. Your hands how much they turn me on. Your hands so caring to the canvas, delicate they are they way they invade each blank spot with life. Spread that angel wings dust echa mis fantasias a volar. Spread those fingers, reach wide, gather the paint then squeeze till it oozes, like ecstasy though my legs.

Believing in the Master Plan...un verso a la vez, Dios mio

Love
Is like a fucken game
of hot-hands
I put mine over yours
for a quick second
move them away
before
the sting
of your slap
I don’t avoid all the time.
I put them there again
and I fall asleep
Dare I say it- I’m
too, much in my head
my thoughts wound
rubber band tight
look at my temples
how they’re not revered
they’re mounds of tension.
That’s what my square jaw
is all about, I’m not
really all that
Hollywood
Can’t play the part
in a romantic comedy
cause I get slapped
around by love
Love, love live
Live to love.


Can’t quite
get a handle on what makes
ME so special
Special? that’s me
Questioning the wrong
things again. Your arms
draped around me cuz,
you pecking my face
with kisses cuz
and me
dumb struck not knowing
why? Why are you so happy
why? you giving me so much love
that makes me shy away
shrivel up like a belly button
but not quiet healed.
Heel! Heel!
Makes it stop
Heal, heals
Doesn’t always make it go away
Trusting, accepting kindness
potential love
my Achilles heel
Not gonna fuck it up cuz
Naw, it’s not gonna go down
like that
It’s not gonna go down
My head
My heart
My spirits, keep ‘em high
Keep getting, keep getting
keep ‘em high
these vibes that we feel

I feel
Your strokes
I trust them
the pictures they create
our relationship
a photo novella
my words
Your strokes
I trust them
the vibes
my words to Your brush
Your words to my ears
a composting
for our artistic souls
my collaborator
I’m on the tip, Your tip
said so Yourself
keeping me close
Believe it or not
And I do
Believe in You
That You see
“nada por aqui, nada por aca”
just sincerity pumping
from my heart
Your eternal corroborator
witness to Your force
Love
Is like a fucken game
of hot hands
I put mine over Yours
I wait
Steady, steady
I salivate, get wet a little
Then savor the sting
Over and over
Your hands on
my skin
Your skin
I can smell all day
The scent of metal from Your
Collar, locked around Your neck
hanging next to the key from
the lock around my neck
Your skin
I can smell all day
the cinnamon of it
the spicy chiles from Your garden
the sawdust trapped in Your sweat

Love
Is like a fucken game
of hotness
there where I lie
In between Your crotch
Right there in heaven
in between Your crotch
is heaven
A little piece of heaven
there I lie
there I belong
belong to You
You tell me
“tell Me that you love Me”
I do
cause I belong to You
I look into Your eyes
and tell You that I love You
so much
deeply I do
deeply I will go
with You
You freak
You dreamer
You’re my leap year
a
giver
lover You

Love
Is like
You.

Don't get it twisted

My pieces are not meant to portray BDSM as mean/scary but rather to show how intense sexual/sensual feelings and desires can be, how they are suppressed too, many times cause we are unable to express them for some reason or another. When they are released it can be scary and definitely intense. So yes to homo, yes to sex, yes to eat and be eaten- survival of the fittest. When I look up in the mirror and I don't know who or what is looking back at me...it feels good. The answer is the end. I don't want to know the answer if it'll mean the end. Besides, if I didn't go for the scary I wouldn't be who I am, wouldn't have the Mistress that I have nor be on the path I'm on. Master plan...here we come.

Soldadera de Amor

It is what it is.
A disgrace
a mustache
a uni-brow
on a pretty face.
No matter how much
you consume her
you all can’t be Frida
La sufrida, vivio
su vida.
Subidas y bajadas
Haci es la vida.

Now that there
is someone….(ugh!)
some pain that you
no one
wants to feel
some pain that kills
some pain that makes you
wanna kill
yourself
quick like a leap
or slow like depression
of your soul
put yourself down
down
in a little black box
Aha! Hence my intrigue.
Not my destiny but my mind.
So not free to
so not free
Not expunged of those memories
I say I can’t remember but
como los cargo encima
como el peso del matrimonio
… some pain that makes you wanna kill.
But she didn’t
she didn’t kill herself!
She painted her imperfections
with perfection.
She paints her imperfections
with inflections
with inflections
with inflec-tionnnnnnnnn-ssssssss
Painting deliciousness
on tongues.

She paints her imperfections for me
letting me in to what got into her.
Her spinal column is pillar strong
I see it in her stance.
Her hugs
soft and secure like a tree
I stand with her
I kneel
at her side
near her spats.
Where she likes to see me.
She likes the view
so much so she built herself a tree house
to get a closer look.
Look!
A little piece of heaven.
heaven
haven
of my trust
haven of my lust
haven of my fears and
that big ol’ mean bitch I carried inside me
refusing to let me live
so I thrust that bitch, thrust her out
…almost all out
and into her
Mistress
/
Trust
/
Mistress
/
keeper of…
dominator of…
protector of…

War begets war?
Violence begets violence?
Not to the Soldaderas de amor
aquellas mujeres con el espiritu arañado
que han logrado despues de todo
todo todo aquel rollo…a amar a la vida
“Viva la Vida!”
vivio la vida hasta la muerte
even with her
spinal column\broken
collar bone\broken
ribs, pelvis\broken
her leg 11 times\breaks.
She breaks me down
puts me back together
Coyolxauhqui
moon goddess
surrounded by brothers
the stars
shattering the darkness of the sky
rays of life.

Reik my soul
raking my back
With her nails
/
flogger
\
single tail
…
a trail
3 tracks
mi cuero arañado
…bear claws
she gets beastly on me.
SOY beastia
Por su cuero
Staining my back red
inflaming my back
amor que arde.
Her ass on my head
muffling my thoughts
I feel her legs naked
or in cuero
around my neck.
Dayum!
She gives the best hugs.

War begets war violence begets violence
Search for perfection begets…
Aha! That’s a tricky question
cause I don’t show my imperfections
see
even after a drunken night,
hung-over depressed
waking up in last-night’s outfit
I feign togetherness.

I’ve never been a cheater
but man am I cheating life!
I should be treating life
like a book, a story I want to read
It’s not in our destiny
It’s in our mind.
Please don’t mind
me as I unwind
spiral down
this vortex
called life
it is what it is…

(@= C+A image/Anna P. Sutton: words/Claudia Rodriguez:)