"Life is the dancer and you are the dance."
Eckhart Tolle

Thursday, September 30, 2010

Indians poets united thursay think tanks #17 equality

From the sierras
Living off the land
A simple life with no luxuries
Our land?
Our rights?
Like animals cast aside
Our traditions matter none
A hunger strike
To alert the world
We are the indigenous
From the sierras

process notes:
There is a horrible
situation going on in the state of Oaxaca.
The indigenous have no rights.
If you would like to read more here is the link:

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Charles Bukowski-Alone with everybody

Flesh covers the bone

and they put

brain and

Sometimes a soul

and the women

vases against the walls

and the men drink too

and nobody finds the one

but still



in bed

flesh covers

bone and

flesh searches for more meat.

there is no possibility:

we are all trapped

a destination


nobody ever finds the one.

slums are filled

landfills are filled

asylums are filled

the graveyards fill


Mine we write poems color scheme #21

Cobalt blue carries through, it strikes. Red sums up the feelings of anger. Combined it is the purple of royalty that rushes in with great awry. Felt under the light blue sky. Flash red - yellow of the orange sun, with its heat. It floats here in this universe, set them free. Bursts, splashes and splatters to the foreground. Mixed together, becoming a kaleidoscope of colours.
Blue red yellow green
These colours fly around me
Combined, they are mine

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

`the only way round it` monday poetry potluck-Kings, Queens and Warriors

You may pass for a shilling into the grotto

As intravenous superfluous desire

trembles inside you

An ebb tide comes back

Larceny is not extinct

Pugnacious with your poor query

Listen to this


The trees

Noon dwarfs as you paddle

to be conventional with your art

Listen to this

as I obfuscate

An oval queen has become kingly

Can you hear it?

Monday, September 27, 2010

Hope carry on tuesday #72

It started out as a feeling
Which grew into hope:
I searched in open drawers,
looked in locked-up wardrobes.
Could never find what I wanted.
I ran into the yard, stumbled upon a rose bush,
bleeding, red and coppery to my senses,
dripping on the pavement into crevices,
in warm, circular pools, coagulating,
formed, crusted, little dried up rivers.
My hope was all I had, now it's lost.

Sunday, September 26, 2010

Wish you were here

To all of you, who I miss so much!

Love and Hope poets united poetry pantry #10 / sunday scribblings #234-love

Will I die with anger in my heart?
I think not.
Will you die with happiness?
I hope so.
Can we live together in peace?
Could be, don’t know just yet.
Do I love you?
Of course, I do.
It is love that makes the world twirl.
Round and round, it spins.
When right, it fits like a glove-perfectly.
It sits beside you, when things feel wrong.
Through trouble and despair, love eases the pain.

Saturday, September 25, 2010

The Kinks - Tired of Waiting

I am not so whimsy writer’s island #22 whimsy

Pretty girls with pink ribbons and curls
Grow up to be women
Tough little boys with army truck toys
Grow up to be men
Puppies say please, while scratching their fleas
Grow up to be dogs
Play ring around the rosey, it’s a pocket full of posey
Hopscotch in the park, hide 'n' seek in the dark
At the edge of the yellowbrick road, tell me do you see a toad
If you do, give him a kiss

Thursday, September 23, 2010

cannot escape big tent poetry #21 haibun

Set the flowers down or put them in a vase. Water is the element, so needed to sustain. Walk on walls, with broken glass, too fitting for my taste. I could see you on the horizon. Balls of fire sent from the sky. Where fairies in disguise are hiding.

Water fire glass
Ice melts-flowers wilt in the sun
Much to my surprise

Old witches stand around to watch, you beautify, as they age.
Take seeds of pleasure from their pockets and turn them into gold.
As ice forms on withered brows. Frozen and ready to crumble.
Oh, isn’t it hell getting old. Immortality is never vexed.

Beautiful gold seeds
Scattered on the open fields
Death can’t be denied

Viejo mi querido viejo - Piero

Es un buen tipo mi viejo
que anda solo y esperando
tiene la tristeza larga
de tanto venir andando

Yo lo miro desde lejos
pero somos tan distintos
es que crecio con el siglo
con tranvia y vino tinto

Viejo mi querido viejo
ahora ya camina lerdo
como perdonando el viento
yo soy tu sangre mi viejo
soy tu silencio y tu tiempo

El tiene los ojos buenos
y una figura pesada
la edad se le vino encima
sin carnaval ni comparsa

Yo tengo los años nuevos
y el hombre los años viejos
el dolor lo lleva dentro
y tiene historias sin tiempo

Viejo mi querido viejo
ahora ya camina lerdo
como perdonando el viento
yo soy tu sangre mi viejo
soy tu silencio y tu tiempo

yo soy tu sangre mi viejo
yo soy tu silencio y tu tiempo

yo soy tu sangre mi viejo

Viejo mi querido viejo

dia de los muertos poets united #16 thursday think tank autumn

With the chill in the air, coolness reminds me of,
a time to set up the altar with photos, incense and candles
Sugar skulls for the children-angelitos, we honor your departure
Offerings of food and drinks for our deceased
Visits to the panteon, tombs painted with colourful art
Place marigolds, the flower of the dead, on the graves
to entice the souls, guide them on their journey back to earth
As the mariachi plays: songs, laughter and dance
Monarch butterflies, return from summers in the north,
bringing the spirits of the departed
La catrina does her dance, the veil between the living
and dead is lifted, we will rejoice

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Eugenia León & Lila Downs "EL FEO" -- The Ugly

The third verse of this song is in Zapoteco:

If you talk about my girl
If you talk about me in your presence
Tell them I'm your black saint
Tell them I'm your black saint

I am an ugly
An ugly man who knows love
With all his heart
You really want

Paginí kavenash, paduagüinge,
Kaveka Paginí pechimilu
Shllindidó, pati ndanganá feuna
Shllindidó, pati ndanganá feuna
Li mananu, cafeum Garana shi
Rudgidubilashidó, nesachagan alhelí
Li mananu, cafeum Garana shi
Rudgidubilashidó, nesachagan alhelí

I am an ugly
An ugly man who knows love
With all his heart
You really want.

My life - My rules we write poems #20 exceptions

I don’t believe in organized religion
(It slices me into pieces)
(I’m so tired of its drivel)
I make no excuses for my beliefs
(I believe in me and family)
(It makes you wish you had a home)
I expect you to follow your beliefs
(Feel free to speak your mind)
(You can’t when your tongue’s tied in knots)
While I am on a path I have chosen
(I’m content with myself)
(Body, mind and spirit)
I make no exceptions to this rule

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Eugenia León & Lila Downs "LA BRUJA"

And here are the lyrics of the first few verses:

Ay que bonito es volar (Oh, how lovely it is to fly)
A las dos de la mañana (At two o'clock in the morning)
A las dos de la mañana (At two o'clock in the morning)
Ay que bonito es volar, ay mama (Oh, how lovely it is to fly! Oh, Mama)

Subir y dejarse caer (To rise and let oneself fall)
En los brazos de una dama (In the arms of a woman)
En los brazos de una dama (In the arms of a woman)
Y hasta quisiera llorar, ay mama (I almost feel like weeping, Oh, Mama)

Me agarra la bruja (The witch grabs me)
Me lleva a su casa (She takes me to her house)
Me vuelve maceta (She turns me into a flower pot)
Y una calabaza (And into a pumpkin)

Me agarra la bruja (The witch grabs me)
Me lleva al cerrito (She takes me to the hills)
Me vuelve maceta (She turns me into a flower pot)
Y una calabazito (And into a little pumpkin)

Ay dígame, ay dígame, ay dígame usted! (Oh, tell me, Oh tell me, Oh tell me, please!)
¿Cuantas criaturitas se ha chupado usted? (How many children have you sucked dry of life?)
Ninguna, ninguna, ninguna ¿no ve? (None, none, none. Don’t you see?)
Que ando en pretensiones de chuparme a usted! (It is you I intend to suck dry!)

Monday, September 20, 2010

''as I sleep'' monday poetry potluck #2 night

Darkness covers me like a sheet of linen
A moon dances in my iris made of clay
As stars collide into explosions of tiny particles
The world sleeps in fine silk scarves of yesterday
Weave them together, so the patterns are smooth
When the light comes, may they turn into dust

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Lucinda Williams: Sweet Old World

A beautiful song about leaving this earth.

a broken heart and love lost poets united poetry pantry #9

From where I sit, I see your craggy face
As you kneel next to the body of your love
She sleeps-a motionless instance
Poison in her body, a dagger to the chest
Remaining dormant
While you still live, as smoke rises from deep inside
A warning for the mortals
The battle is never won from a volatile moment
As snow and ice cover your motionless forms-forever

*process notes:
This is written (loosely) based
on the legend of the two volcanoes
here in Puebla. Popocatepetl and Iztaccihuatl.
For more information on the legend visit:

Saturday, September 18, 2010

'we are just like fish' writer's island #21 fisherman

It is the heart of man:
To find souls in ponds
without fins or gills, that can breathe
in confined spaces.
Or is it the heart of man:
To seek amphibians walking
on crutches because their legs don't work.
What happened to the liquid surrounding them?
The heart and soul of man
as you throw me a line, I try to catch it.

Friday, September 17, 2010

Paul Hyde - We Will Have Won

big tent poetry #20 “wordle”

Go cliché yourself
Get a backbone and quit trying to use mine
It’s your answer that perplexes me
While you skirt round the object
Half-eaten subjects lay on the table
As bees swarm and chant and leave debris
With filthy footprints and broken stingers
Temporary docks support your childish ways
As the story is embellished without evidence

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Ballet(Swan Lake) by Kirove Ballet

STING - Brand New Day-teachers-someone I once loved / poets united #15 Leonard Cohen

always the right time: never wrong
exits became entrances in a place where everything
seemed askew; emotions high and nothing normal;
then paint touched a canvas: magic was created
windows flung on paths to highways
opening a book: the universe was revealed lands
visited and a life became vibrant with words and shapes

Someone I once loved
I want to bundle up wrap myself in furs: to protect me from
The chill I feel whenever you’re around: cast aside those
imprudent possessions and let them rot in era: or put them in a safety
box with heavy weights: and throw it in the sea to watch it sink:
the coldness is abusive it chafes my mind and soul
I must cover up to keep a thick layer between you and I

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

'see you later' we write poems #19 begin with music

I got misty eyes as they said farewell
always goodbye means:
Never to meet again
au revoir, adios, ciao, hasta nunca
As he placed a veil before my eyes
to protect me from the harshness of light
fall into the cavern of impediment
Did you get misty-eyed as well?
it’s so much easier to remove castles
from my eyes while kings and queens
dance a promenade with fancy fans
swaying to the rhythm of a forgotten sound
Silken powdered noses don’t sense treachery
while under the perfect sadness of farewell

Monday, September 13, 2010

a mask I wear monday poetry potluck #1

hide behind triumphant smiles
as somber ones bow their heads
in shame
horns blare certain notes
a disguise I wear to our masquerade
while the sordid details jam from a surface
yearly we meet in the same place to walk
the edge with primeval attitude
remove your mask and I will mine

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Alison and I on 9-11-01 poets united #8 poetry pantry

As you sit: listen to the sound of clip-clip-clip
Laughter in the room
Wisps of hair fall to the floor: dead and no longer
Uneasy in your chair, the cape is much too tight
Bringing veins to the surface of your neck
Clip-clip-clip don’t you look divine, styled and so nice
Then that horrid moment catches your attention
As you watch the second plane hit-clip-clip-clip
It begins to crumble
Sorrow and disbelief has replaced all
That moment in your life

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Left alone writer`s island #20 last redwood

Landscapes once green and vibrant with color now have become barren.
Languid dreams are no longer mine. I am all alone to remember the beginning . . .
Lifeless extensions hanging from a corset of time sprouting nothingness . . .
Landfills gather at the basin of my feet. And tangle hysteria with fear.
Lurking vultures want my flesh for theirs and plant seeds in cored-out worm holes.
Leaning slightly to the proximity of the height, gravity has pulled me closer to the earth.
Leaves on my arms have disintegrated. Lost in the putrid air of destruction.

Friday, September 10, 2010

big tent poetry #19 “Think of something you said. Now write what you wish you had said.”

Sure I’ll meet you there at six

I really didn’t feel like going

(Thanks just the same)

If I had missed that bus would it have been this way

as I stepped off a platform to transform myself

into another situation surrounding me in this world

I tapped my feet to the sound of

Engines roaring - silver shoes and black tights

While blue bandanas filled up the rooms tied in knots of yesterday

What if I had changed my mind at the last second

Do you think I’d feel specks of crystal lights that flash

round me as I’m consumed eternally

Thursday, September 9, 2010

she has always been there (dedicated to my mom Sylvia) poets united #14 the wall

She places gold and silver filigree on divine shelves
that reach to the sky and mixes clouds with mist
caught high up in the golden trees with shiny leaves
that never turn or rust even in tiresome times

She places her hands upon lightness while flurries
of indecision trouble spirits wandering alone
searching for comfort from frigid tones
where ice and slippery landslides cascade. . .

Forming shadows on the heart
she places everything where it belongs
so no metal, iron, clay nor stone walls
can obstruct the flow . . .

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

There is me - then there is you we write poems #18 need to know basis

Moderate - perceptive all by surfaces
Serene - tolerance most effected
Fanatical - petulant with sandpaper moves
Enduring and felt as abrasions on the soul

Not sympathetic - nor kind
Insolent or rude in speech or behavior
Character of capricious ill humor
Hands firmly clutching hips

Feet spread far apart to halter the fall
Boast and exult most times out of reach
Two are exactly like one - nothing too amazing
Too much to bother with – too boring

*I would like to explain this poem a bit.
This is about someone I knew in the past.
Although I never did consider them a friend.
They certainly did leave quite an impression
on me.

Sunday, September 5, 2010

'angel' poet's united #7 poetry pantry

Elegant hair like cornsilk that flows in wisps
heavenly to touch: will jolt ire from a darkened
corner: kiln the porcelain that pricks beneath
the surface: no harm to be found: walk under
the shade of certain nuptials: though sordid
tongues have no equal: carnivorous beings
walk with the anarchy: hear the trilogy call
her name

Saturday, September 4, 2010

music is ... writer's island #19 breakthrough

oration is triumphant with wonder
as movement is finely seeped in cleaves
syncopation returning and encapsulating
sown and ladled thickly on surfaces smooth
cunning as worn with erosion on its
crowded paths of blistering sunbursts
run in brilliant waves of purple hues hanging
in florescent green with sparkles of light
that seem to breakthrough sound softly

Thursday, September 2, 2010

'The weather is changing' big tent poetry #18 'poems hang out where life is'

As the climate changes I feel the chill deep

within me. Winter in the air, grey sky morning.

Rainy - such coldness in every drop that falls

from dark clouds in the mood. Slick roads like glass

shine in iridescent lights. Fauna consumes wetness.

A mantón wraps round to keep in warmth.

With patterns of Aztecan gods fire, earth, wind, rain.

Sacrificed young virgins to appease angry gods.

Spilt blood on cold stone slabs. As the winters came

and left harsh winds and muddy ground with imprints of existence.

*Process notes:
It has been raining every day and it's getting cold.
Winter is on the way.
I have also been having lots of discussions about
early Mexican history.

a chance encounter poets united #13 kiss

A softness of touch feels like feathers wisping by.
Sending shivers of pleasure through the particles: mine
Coloured rose upon labios plump: soft.
Brush against each other to meet suspended in time.
It is lingering, caressing, consuming: a first kiss.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

As I fall we write poems #17

Flowered smiles that flee in turbulent times
Sadness flows with definite ease
Superstition not something I adhere to
Karma is part of life but it’s always in perspective
Am I so off-balance just like the stilts
I use to walk high above the crowded lanes
rough and righteous lined with sharp rocks
Tomorrow is another day then I can file my feelings away
Only to fling false pride in the furthest direction