Confessional. Witness. Archive. A grounding, where nothing….where I don’t come to die. Ever. My wishing well. My #WriteOrDie I hope this is a treasure for those that find it.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Compton O.G.
How many words?
A thousand is what they say.
And what say you
this picture says?
Can you tell I’m listening?
Growing like Alice before your eyes?
My chest
limp
hot air balloon
gets bigger
each bag I drop.
ABANDONMENT,
CruTches,
don’t want to be lame.
Enough with the bottoming
coming on top
like an immigrant
Amalia.
Daughter of an immigrant
work till you lose
your home
your family
roots
humanity
self
Amelia
mind.
Work to get that flame
going higher
gets me higher
happy
deep as smile lines.
Epiphany
opening like a drawbridge
rusted with years
of tears
for fears
now rosebuds open in my chest
ideas pop like stys before my eyes
and I feel.
I feel it stinging
hangnail
and I feel.
I can say it all
I’m a Compton O.G
Oh GirL
Oh geez!
Orale Guey!
O.G.
from Compton
Original Genius
descendant from
the line of OG authors
from Compton
Oh Gosh!
Wait no descendants?
Def not as long a list
as the physically gifted
star ballers’
we’ve produce
I must ascend.
But you don’t see
all that
in this picture that’s worth
a thousand words.
Just dropped 192
still owe you…
Moving on
with the story
my life as a storyteller
constant theme.
Next season on Compton’s OG…
whatever I want
whatever
I want.
Do I ruin it all
for yall?
I
Compton’s OG.
Original Genius.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
35 Capas
Me gano
Megalo…
Me gano
Megalo…
Me gano, mano
la tercera es la vencida.
So, hay les va!
Caducidad
deshacer con el desperdicio
como dead skin.
Como se dice?
35 capas
talla duro, raspa
esa capa
como coreana.
Convierte piel
liviana,
como se dice “rice paper”?
Resbalosa.
Brillosa
como recién nacida.
Talla!
Vuelve a nacer
a lo mas básico
1 + 1 son 2.
Talla!
Hay mas que pulir!
Pulir es vivir.
Todavía mas que borrar.
Pero como ARDE!
Te hace recordar
actos pasados…
toma DOS.
Te hace recordar
actos pasados disque pa borrar
el pasado.
Tacón
como rompehielos
rompe piel
cercas de mis costillas
siento escurrir
un chorrito de sangre.
Despacito
como la verdad revelada.
Pero nada revela
carne blanca
como unos chicotazos.
RAPIDOS!
Dejando sus huellas calientes
como un cerillo.
Rápidos, como le vida de un cerillo.
1- chicotazo
2- chicotazos
3- para encender mi espalda
No me estorbes
mis pensamientos
mis emociones
me estorban.
Se ponen en mi camino
les doy la vuelta
y mi vida es un ciclo
vicioso.
Talla, mas!
Ya mero
como cofre
tu piel
un espejo.
Talla,
ya te puedes ver.
Capa 36
la unica que cuenta
usala como traje de emperador!
Veelo! Si no lo vez
es por ignorante-
mejor se sincera.
Megalo…
Me gano
Megalo…
Me gano, mano
la tercera es la vencida.
So, hay les va!
Caducidad
deshacer con el desperdicio
como dead skin.
Como se dice?
35 capas
talla duro, raspa
esa capa
como coreana.
Convierte piel
liviana,
como se dice “rice paper”?
Resbalosa.
Brillosa
como recién nacida.
Talla!
Vuelve a nacer
a lo mas básico
1 + 1 son 2.
Talla!
Hay mas que pulir!
Pulir es vivir.
Todavía mas que borrar.
Pero como ARDE!
Te hace recordar
actos pasados…
toma DOS.
Te hace recordar
actos pasados disque pa borrar
el pasado.
Tacón
como rompehielos
rompe piel
cercas de mis costillas
siento escurrir
un chorrito de sangre.
Despacito
como la verdad revelada.
Pero nada revela
carne blanca
como unos chicotazos.
RAPIDOS!
Dejando sus huellas calientes
como un cerillo.
Rápidos, como le vida de un cerillo.
1- chicotazo
2- chicotazos
3- para encender mi espalda
No me estorbes
mis pensamientos
mis emociones
me estorban.
Se ponen en mi camino
les doy la vuelta
y mi vida es un ciclo
vicioso.
Talla, mas!
Ya mero
como cofre
tu piel
un espejo.
Talla,
ya te puedes ver.
Capa 36
la unica que cuenta
usala como traje de emperador!
Veelo! Si no lo vez
es por ignorante-
mejor se sincera.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Good Sub: Part II
“Let’s see, what else is left for me?” B scanned her to-do-list “wear your leather bodysuit .”
B giggled at the idea of her suit being a “full-bodysuit” it looked more like a bunch of leather strips masterfully braided together by Daddy’s best friend and leather extraordinaire, Pig. No one designed leather gear like Pig who managed to make those strips of leather look so good, sexy and fashion forward. Daddy loved the bodysuit and B loved getting him all wet and hard. She got him hard and he fucked her; win-win situations excited her. The truth was that the bodysuit was also one of B’s favorites. The suite exposed so much of her skin, looking more like an “outline” of a bodysuit. Thick leather strips covered her nipples, with a built in ass-lift, the bodysuit was not quite crotch-less but framed her pussy lips perfectly; keeping them under pressure as if bound. She felt fucken nasty in it and desirable, always ready and open…always for her Daddy.
“I’m ready for you,” B would say looking straight into his eyes. B could pinpoint the second Daddy was fully turned on- something about the way his left eyebrow twitched. “I’m ready for you,” B would repeat just to see the twitch again. B liked to Top, but not in a snap-a-wrathful-whip-slashing-skin type of way but she used her words, her looks snapped at Daddy to the core. TWITCH.
Her bodysuit was just another way that B took a snap at Daddy. She liked that it was bare in the crotch, it saved time, he was always so hungry for her cunt and B loved letting him have it. He wanted her so much, B could tell the way he fucked her pussy as if it was going extinct, he fucked her as if his dick would be forever out of commission. No one had ever made B feel like that before, like her pussy walls were collapsing onto each other, like her soul was being expunged. For good or for bad Daddy always fucked her the same.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Good Sub: Part I
B looked at the clock, the tiny multicolored brackets flashed with vigor, it was her alarm reminding her that Daddy would be home in thirty minutes. Her nipples wet, cold and hard peered from the clammy water. She dreaded getting out of the bath. She loved to soak in hot water seasoned with mint and lavender scented Epson salts- just as Daddy had taught her to do. He stressed the importance of self-care to B, “how can I expect you to take care of my needs if you don’t know how to take care of your own,” he insisted.
B couldn’t refute, it took a lot of hard work to please Daddy. Today alone she had already shined 4 pair of boots, cleaned his chaps and vests, untangled floggers, set up the play room:
1. candles lit,
2. Daddy’s toy chest unlocked.
3. lube
4. gloves
5. First Aid kit
6. water and snacks
7. music set at the appropriate level
She stepped out the tub and checked her cunt in the mirror and admired her recently trimmed pubic hairs; a fine layer. Not too fine nothing too, prepubescent for Daddy. He liked his little girls to look grown. She trimmed herself right over the trashcan her brown shavings flaked right on top of the white crumpled tissues, in plain sight for Daddy to see, just a little something for the pig in him. Twenty minutes and counting, B needed to hurry. Knowing Daddy, he had packed his brief case, grabbed his coat, walked out of his office, locked the door, jiggled it one, two, three times to make sure it was locked, wished his Program Assistant a good afternoon, grabbed his sunglasses out of his left breast pocket and skipped out of the office at five on the dot.
Her Daddy, so handsome so ritualistic she loved his discipline. Daddy’s rules, everywhere she turned. The bed always nice and tidy, slippers peaking out from under the bed, floors vacuumed every third day, boots never scuffed, his favorite cock along with his other “pieces” stored in the third drawer of his dresser. Always stored ribbed red condoms for his brown cock, the one he liked to fuck her with the most, and the underwear he bought her always crotch-less if she was going to wear any at all. B was rewarded, deeply, sinfully painfully every time she followed Daddy’s rules. Ssss fuck! Time was ticking and she was so wet from daydreaming, pussy throbbing she took a deep breath, trying to control her cunt’ s pounding. Cunt pounding! Cunt pounding! Cunt pounding. Seventeen minutes to get ready and counting! She exhaled, and read over her list of tasks, she had a few yet to complete.
B couldn’t refute, it took a lot of hard work to please Daddy. Today alone she had already shined 4 pair of boots, cleaned his chaps and vests, untangled floggers, set up the play room:
1. candles lit,
2. Daddy’s toy chest unlocked.
3. lube
4. gloves
5. First Aid kit
6. water and snacks
7. music set at the appropriate level
She stepped out the tub and checked her cunt in the mirror and admired her recently trimmed pubic hairs; a fine layer. Not too fine nothing too, prepubescent for Daddy. He liked his little girls to look grown. She trimmed herself right over the trashcan her brown shavings flaked right on top of the white crumpled tissues, in plain sight for Daddy to see, just a little something for the pig in him. Twenty minutes and counting, B needed to hurry. Knowing Daddy, he had packed his brief case, grabbed his coat, walked out of his office, locked the door, jiggled it one, two, three times to make sure it was locked, wished his Program Assistant a good afternoon, grabbed his sunglasses out of his left breast pocket and skipped out of the office at five on the dot.
Her Daddy, so handsome so ritualistic she loved his discipline. Daddy’s rules, everywhere she turned. The bed always nice and tidy, slippers peaking out from under the bed, floors vacuumed every third day, boots never scuffed, his favorite cock along with his other “pieces” stored in the third drawer of his dresser. Always stored ribbed red condoms for his brown cock, the one he liked to fuck her with the most, and the underwear he bought her always crotch-less if she was going to wear any at all. B was rewarded, deeply, sinfully painfully every time she followed Daddy’s rules. Ssss fuck! Time was ticking and she was so wet from daydreaming, pussy throbbing she took a deep breath, trying to control her cunt’ s pounding. Cunt pounding! Cunt pounding! Cunt pounding. Seventeen minutes to get ready and counting! She exhaled, and read over her list of tasks, she had a few yet to complete.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Hating on Proposals
Dear Selection Committee,
You want me to tell you
why I deserve the money
what I’d do with the money?
How will I grow you, money?
I’m going to use your money
and make you look good.
Oh yeah, make you look
so fucken good.
Cause I’m good.
We good?
People gon’ say
“Damn, how did they know
she was good?”
And that just means you gooder
than me.
You’re GOOD.
You’re a mother FUCKING
genius
putting this genius on stage.
Yeah, I said genius….
who else does your institution
represent?
I need to puSh thiS Shit out!!!!!
Ssssss, but it hurts
brain like
impacted glands
have me dragging my ass around
Pinch!
Pinch that shit tight, squeeze
like a penny pincher.
Come now, give me that money.
Let me show you how loud I toot
toot, toot, toot-a-loot
a lot of praises
and raises of the bar
going up to it and ordering
falling in that order
and getting mine…
Bartender!
Me, Goaltender!
Tending my goals,
can’t have them dropping
like chickens in the heat.
Cause, see I’m from the hood
100%
from a working immigrant
to working like an immigrant.
Don’t you like to hear that?
How come we haven’t met?
I’ll have that money coming in
I’m talking gross
not net.
All this talk about money
gross.
Give me the money
and I’ll show you how it’s done.
1500 words?
What time is it?
Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit I’ve already won.
Before you know it,
you’ll have me
judging
3 or 4
your proposals.
You know it!
Asking me to do it again.
Great expectations
like a champion.
I’m a winner.
I’m a winner!
Enough with this word play.
Approve my proposal
I call it “Pay Day”!
Yours sincerely,
You want me to tell you
why I deserve the money
what I’d do with the money?
How will I grow you, money?
I’m going to use your money
and make you look good.
Oh yeah, make you look
so fucken good.
Cause I’m good.
We good?
People gon’ say
“Damn, how did they know
she was good?”
And that just means you gooder
than me.
You’re GOOD.
You’re a mother FUCKING
genius
putting this genius on stage.
Yeah, I said genius….
who else does your institution
represent?
I need to puSh thiS Shit out!!!!!
Ssssss, but it hurts
brain like
impacted glands
have me dragging my ass around
Pinch!
Pinch that shit tight, squeeze
like a penny pincher.
Come now, give me that money.
Let me show you how loud I toot
toot, toot, toot-a-loot
a lot of praises
and raises of the bar
going up to it and ordering
falling in that order
and getting mine…
Bartender!
Me, Goaltender!
Tending my goals,
can’t have them dropping
like chickens in the heat.
Cause, see I’m from the hood
100%
from a working immigrant
to working like an immigrant.
Don’t you like to hear that?
How come we haven’t met?
I’ll have that money coming in
I’m talking gross
not net.
All this talk about money
gross.
Give me the money
and I’ll show you how it’s done.
1500 words?
What time is it?
Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit I’ve already won.
Before you know it,
you’ll have me
judging
3 or 4
your proposals.
You know it!
Asking me to do it again.
Great expectations
like a champion.
I’m a winner.
I’m a winner!
Enough with this word play.
Approve my proposal
I call it “Pay Day”!
Yours sincerely,
Monday, August 20, 2012
Remedios
Unas cuantas cucharadas
de miel
mezclado con jugo de limón.
Jarabe agridulce, lubrica
esa resequedad en
mi garganta.
Amargura silenciosa
que ahorca.
Me ahogo- tos
que raspa contra mis paredes
ecos del pasado
atrapados, pulsando
contra mis amígdalas.
Es infeccioso
como mantra
se me graba-
la mala maña
de tragarme
mis emociones,
que telaraña
que al fin se escapa
como calentura por mis poros
de mi ser enfermizo.
Remedio…
Embragada en un libro.
Caminar en la playa.
Unas nalgadas.
Unos besitos.
Espalda arañada.
¿Una palabra
ajustada contra la pagina,
como cura?
La palabra en mi diario
me ajusta, como un quiropráctico.
Me ajustan palabras
Siempre restan
para otro día.
Mañana- siempre llegare
a mañana mientras tenga
algo pendiente que expresar.
Escribo para no sentirme sola
Saber que no estoy sola.
En soledad
Intento tocar
tu pecho.
Vaporub caliente
Desencadenándote
Enredando te
Con mis enredos.
Around my finger
pero te recuerdo
y te quiero-
Dulce.
Te de manzanilla.
Te de yerba buena.
Te de canela.
Te de naranja, con canela y un hueso de aguacate
Hervido.
Sábila,
resbalosa
fuerte,
olorosa a sobaco.
Chocha sudada
olor atrapado en tus bellitos.
Sábila,
babosa, resbalosa, cascara dura
suave y brilloso tu interior
apacigua las punzadas que siento.
Apacíguate
Tomó te
Tómate
Un shot de tequila
cosquillitas en mi garganta
Lagrimitas acarician
Mi mejía
como decía
Que siempre compartir
alegría.
APOYO
me dijiste
“tienes talento…
eso ay que compartir”
Comparto contigo
comparto con migo
me despido
Pero no sin ruido.
Como chicharrón
Siempre haciendo ruido.
Ruinas
Arruinan
el momento.
Con presión
Momentum
fluye como sangre
Aja!
Ajo para alivianar la sangre
no traerla pesada
causa mucha presión.
Aguadas
siento las patas
calambres, me voy a cagar!
El culo tronando
Estomago revuelto
Empiezo a sudar!
Mi cabeza…
Vuela
papalote
suspiros
veo zopilotes
apesta a mortura
veo mi muerte.
Toalla caliente
arde contra mis ovarios
no me cague
ni vomite
me vine.
ay que remedio.
de miel
mezclado con jugo de limón.
Jarabe agridulce, lubrica
esa resequedad en
mi garganta.
Amargura silenciosa
que ahorca.
Me ahogo- tos
que raspa contra mis paredes
ecos del pasado
atrapados, pulsando
contra mis amígdalas.
Es infeccioso
como mantra
se me graba-
la mala maña
de tragarme
mis emociones,
que telaraña
que al fin se escapa
como calentura por mis poros
de mi ser enfermizo.
Remedio…
Embragada en un libro.
Caminar en la playa.
Unas nalgadas.
Unos besitos.
Espalda arañada.
¿Una palabra
ajustada contra la pagina,
como cura?
La palabra en mi diario
me ajusta, como un quiropráctico.
Me ajustan palabras
Siempre restan
para otro día.
Mañana- siempre llegare
a mañana mientras tenga
algo pendiente que expresar.
Escribo para no sentirme sola
Saber que no estoy sola.
En soledad
Intento tocar
tu pecho.
Vaporub caliente
Desencadenándote
Enredando te
Con mis enredos.
Around my finger
pero te recuerdo
y te quiero-
Dulce.
Te de manzanilla.
Te de yerba buena.
Te de canela.
Te de naranja, con canela y un hueso de aguacate
Hervido.
Sábila,
resbalosa
fuerte,
olorosa a sobaco.
Chocha sudada
olor atrapado en tus bellitos.
Sábila,
babosa, resbalosa, cascara dura
suave y brilloso tu interior
apacigua las punzadas que siento.
Apacíguate
Tomó te
Tómate
Un shot de tequila
cosquillitas en mi garganta
Lagrimitas acarician
Mi mejía
como decía
Que siempre compartir
alegría.
APOYO
me dijiste
“tienes talento…
eso ay que compartir”
Comparto contigo
comparto con migo
me despido
Pero no sin ruido.
Como chicharrón
Siempre haciendo ruido.
Ruinas
Arruinan
el momento.
Con presión
Momentum
fluye como sangre
Aja!
Ajo para alivianar la sangre
no traerla pesada
causa mucha presión.
Aguadas
siento las patas
calambres, me voy a cagar!
El culo tronando
Estomago revuelto
Empiezo a sudar!
Mi cabeza…
Vuela
papalote
suspiros
veo zopilotes
apesta a mortura
veo mi muerte.
Toalla caliente
arde contra mis ovarios
no me cague
ni vomite
me vine.
ay que remedio.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Dreams Remembered
I dreamt,
I remember.
Finally,
been a long time!
No longer will I
say I don’t remember
my dreams,
no longer will I question
why I’m alive.
Dreams, my compass
guide me to what I want to be.
Can’t have higher aspirations
than when your brain is at its highest-
peaking.
Peek into my future,
close my eyes and see
in front of me.
When I forget what I’m doing,
what I’m set for,
specks of dreams
mark my pace
make my pace
faster, heart, pace
like REM!
Pace myself, stay on track.
Follow my dreams,
Optical illusions?
Mine!
Desires exposed.
Sitting atop this hill
overlooking Ooh-LA- LA- land
enchanted by the bruised sunset,
smog’s optical illusion,
reminding me that I used to dream.
Before I floated through this world
like smog, heavy visible layer
creating optical illusions
of wonder, I used to dream.
Fingers moving
fast.
My words taking
flight.
Me the simple marionette
controlled by my dreams
such manipulators
carrot on a stick-
showing me my shtick.
Hit replay
Re-play
Re-wrote
Re-ad
d-RE-am.
Something’s gonna stick.
Not living vicariously
through No-ONE
just living vigorously.
Mom dreamt that one day
I’d be a secretary
But what do I expect
outta me?
One
una
sola
can only dream.
I remember.
Finally,
been a long time!
No longer will I
say I don’t remember
my dreams,
no longer will I question
why I’m alive.
Dreams, my compass
guide me to what I want to be.
Can’t have higher aspirations
than when your brain is at its highest-
peaking.
Peek into my future,
close my eyes and see
in front of me.
When I forget what I’m doing,
what I’m set for,
specks of dreams
mark my pace
make my pace
faster, heart, pace
like REM!
Pace myself, stay on track.
Follow my dreams,
Optical illusions?
Mine!
Desires exposed.
Sitting atop this hill
overlooking Ooh-LA- LA- land
enchanted by the bruised sunset,
smog’s optical illusion,
reminding me that I used to dream.
Before I floated through this world
like smog, heavy visible layer
creating optical illusions
of wonder, I used to dream.
Fingers moving
fast.
My words taking
flight.
Me the simple marionette
controlled by my dreams
such manipulators
carrot on a stick-
showing me my shtick.
Hit replay
Re-play
Re-wrote
Re-ad
d-RE-am.
Something’s gonna stick.
Not living vicariously
through No-ONE
just living vigorously.
Mom dreamt that one day
I’d be a secretary
But what do I expect
outta me?
One
una
sola
can only dream.
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