Wednesday, December 20, 2006


We go from one rave to the other
for we do not believe in
getting up early to work the next day
get up from bed
if both your set of balls are not stuck together
like when Daddy
found the stray dogs
attached to each other’s balls
he had to hose them
in water quite winter cold.
We go from one bed to the other
hoping to find the one
with the right amount of warmth
and the right body to emanate it from
if you believe in things like love
commitment, and the equation
that states that the sum of those two parts
equals felicity, whether domestic or not.
We go like maenads
for if we cannot have love before our 30’s
we will enter a state of frenzy
this city is too cruel
too cold
for a cold bed with just one body in it
lonely is cruel
as is the frenzy of finding another.


If knowledge is air
then your head is wise
if and only if your bridge
to the Akashic Records
is still latent in the mitochondria
of your genes.
Knowledge is air
as air is sword
bring Ragnarok along
with Excalibur
and El Cid’s Espada Colada
challenging the moors
as Greeks challenge the Amazons and centaurs
and everything that is not Greek
depicted with beastly big phalluses
and lower behavior
Knowledge is still air
if air is in your head
if we reminisce
if we remember
for if thought is energy
knowledge is real power
the telekinesis of God
brought to us, not by bitten forbidden fruit
but by maieutics
which is another way of saying
to remember what is already there
as knowledge itself is air.

Tuesday, November 21, 2006


Ball o’ light flies
to blue-white Buddha
as i pray for you
cousin of AIDS
interceding for your life.
Mandorla of golden hope
opens up in me forefront
as i reach the state of intercession
before the intercessors of humans
before Mary and the other gods.
Five pointed star spreads around this meditation
as zen becomes me
as i become you
as you become dust
cousin of AIDS.
Ball o’ light
as i gather the prayers
of intercession from others
to others
and the tragedy is
that i abduct their intercessions
to use them for you
cousin of AIDS
to bind your eyes open
to sew you lips together
to force your blood to work
the miracle of life
cousin of AIDS
so that you don’t die on me.


“Pop goes the dreamer”
as our neo-faith goes boom
in the heads of the preachers
and the Jesus-guys
popping up the dreams
bubbles of a better year chardonnay
sparkles of glitter in your head
as we preach our neo-faith of common sense
and take back the power
from the Jesus-guys
faith is vacuum in Hourglass
faith is the energy of the thousands
then, please, lend me you rosary beads
so i can firestart my starfire
in a beautiful pandemonium
of bare ungloved larceny
of old, arthritic beliefs.
“Pop goes the dreamer”
you say to me,
and then it becomes a password
a greeting
a salute
a better way to spend life
dreaming it all
faith is the current of thousands
faith is the spell of thousands
faith is the age of the world,
and after that, i started to fear salutes
and politics
and any faith that can be shared
for in sharing, faith becomes an ugly pandemonium
hubbub of possible Devil mayhem
brother vs brother
mothers vs daughters
humans against their kin
and then, in the darkness of oppression
we can dream no more.


Ruin goes both ways
and 360° all over Midwest
as wind twirls
and takes men with their gonads
to Momby
and all those left over
in E. City.
Ruin goes all ways
as the impending punishment
come from the Hand O’Glory
--the one that wrote all those old commandments—
sweeps as pyroclasm
bent on erasure.
Ruin goes everywhere
as we strive to remember
to save something from God
to keep something to ourselves
so we don’t forget
just how close we were of becoming Him.

Thursday, November 16, 2006


Rain is the happiest season
as droplets of water fall
silently at first
then shouting their comeback
falling hard on their heads
in beautiful, sinful suicide.

Rain is the happiest month
as the air turns white
at an arm’s length
the youngsters comming out
of the high school in the other street
running and laughing under the rain.

Rain is the happiest month
as i coil between shades and sheets
looking for a warmer setting
crawling for the two arms
that shall get me to comfort X zone
from the Y is it so cold excuse of a month.

Then comes the sun
and Rain becomes the month of evanescence
and i pass out of sight with no alcohol
passing out of memory
for nobody saw me leave
they were too busy with the rain.


i saw you dancing
trying to stop time
attractive and impressive through being quite richly colorful or sumptuous
you were dancing
and i saw you stop time
a child turns to child no more
a child forever in hold of that call
i saw you dancing
trying to stop time
everytime God’s stars
turned to white horses and caravels
made of God’s cigarrette smoke
in your dance
to stop time
and name the last discovered planet Xena
resplendent in the air
as i walk on the Old Ways
stoping to dance
and i see you stop time.


World is thy white whorl
if wind turns to water
in a much more than easy manner
for thy bukes start to fry the fish
he shall give to the many and needy
fish, bread and tulips
and thy world spinning around a white whorl
maelstrom in other parts of the world
thy world
waiting forever for the ruin
that lies around the corner.

Wednesday, November 01, 2006


The beast is a beast
not because of devilry or witchery
but for his beauty
if you don’t believe me
ask Mata Hari
or whoever was Filimelé
my friend is not Jewish
although he has a beard
and big ears
and has a name of kike
although he’s not a New York kike
and probably doesn’t know who Mata Hari was
or Filimelé for what matters
my friend has a beauty of his own
although no devil inside Brazilian rum bottles
and no taste for devilish mischief.
“The beast is a beast…
-I heard his radio say-
not because of devilry or witchery
but for his beauty”
just ask my friend Kike
although he’s not a kike.

Wednesday, October 25, 2006


Dear Amaterasu
kami goddess of Rising Sun
to say AIDS cannot be cured
is to admit that there are doors with no exit
even if I can leave through the same door I came in
for I am not a legend told by drunk sailors
or urban tale told by crystal-meth high HIVers
don’t judge my sweet bliss of denial
for darkness also provides
cozy joints and happy corners
infections are infectious
only as much as I want them to be
don’t judge me
for not taking my meds
even after all the struggle of those who came before me
for I am me
and by Buddhist pledge
I decide what’s best
although it’s not like I’m playing Messiah
martyr or a simple kind of lulu
but it’s my pagoda with dragons
and talking lions
and beautiful sceneries
full of wise okamis
and sakuras in bloom and glory
it’s my temple
my mind and body
and AIDS cannot defeat
this will of impervious weather
for my will is a storm of many tornadoes
pink petals of sakuras
revolving around these viruses that I command
not to reproduce
and to leave by force of will
and Amaterasu’s howl.

Saturday, August 19, 2006


I call your name
through a million pairs
of tighty whities
not knowing that you are free ball nation
looking for something other
than Batman and Superman underoos
I know that you fall
forever into the child within
never knowing that you are being watched
through loop and small glory holes
in the restrooms of a deceased Walmart
I call your name
before you be raped
by Holy Man Under Command of God
leave this house
leave this planet
leave this world
be free before he yanks down
your underoos.

Thursday, August 17, 2006


To correlate is correspondence
as power becomes orb
by means of our magic
and positive vibrations
correspondence is ascension
as we speak to demons
to intercede for us before the angels
for we too want to become
the Hosts of Heaven
the Hordes of Hell
the Eons of the Earth
in this and any Saturday
ṣĕ b ā'ō t for me
anytime, possibly next week
if you have nothing else to do
after we go to the movies
to ascend forever
to put God on all fours
rape him and smear his face
with our dominion forever
ascension corresponds to us
we undeserving children
of burned Bibles
and upside down saints.