Posted in Poems, poetry

Andromeda’s kiss (Day 26)

Tilt my head up
the starry sky cuff my chin
The full moon lunars
Oceanic breezes sail across my face
Taste the tsunami
As we draw closer,
planets begin to align
our lips touch
Sparkling comets flare
Supernova explode in nebulas nearby
Big bang theory is remarkable
Then I open my eye
Watch your constellations in the sky

Posted in Poems, poetry, Thoughts, Travel and review

Sushi (Day 8)

Let’s have sushi

She shouts with excitement

My mind ponders the notion

Okay, let’s do it

Curiously, she asked;

What do you like?

I am not sure

I don’t eat a lot of it.

Well, let’s try some

Okay. Poof!

dishes appear

Dragon, & Tiger

Each roll decked with

vegetables, rice, meat, peppers, & fruit

rolled up with a seaweed wrap

Eat one, pass; eat one, pass.

design with color and flavor

An artisan masterpieces

We raise our chopsticks

Kanpai

Our Selections; strategic

Power plays; epic

Chess pieces for dinner

A pacific rim commotion

Rook takes queen

send them passed the lips

Storm my mouth castle

Godzilla of flavors rain down on my tastes buds people

Destroy my palette dynasty

Fight my tongue shogun

Drum of tears and sweats

Pour from my pores

My face: a kabuki mask

The demon, shogun, clown, crying baby.

My anime eye envision Geisha

With Wasabi swords slice my senses swiftly

Touch, taste, sight, sound, smell

Separate sequentially.

Kanryo

We set our chopsticks down

She look at me and smile

Says something in Japanese

Grabs my hand and we sprint into the night.

silhouetted shadows surface swiftly

We wisp between stopped cars.

Damn you, gaijin

Gaijin? Shit.

I’m a ninja.

Into the alley, ascending steps.

We stand on Mount Fuji

Apartments

Her presence opens the door

And a fog of Smoke greets us

She giggles and disappears into the fog

I follow.

Dazed and confused

judo thrown onto a bed.

I lay down bewildered

Until the smoke clear

She appears

Naked

in front of the bed

With Wasabi and sake

She said,

Sushi?

Posted in Life decisions, poetry, Thoughts

The Office (Day 6)

Pass beyond a security door and enter large room to meet the time clock. The clock is a Nazi but that is okay, I have to punch it daily. I sit in a 4X5 cubic space in the center of the room. The enclosure has no window to eliminate the distraction of scenery and time. Pictures of beaches fill Bob’s cubicle wall but time carry a knife and comes by every hour to prick our necks. A reminder that our lives lost time. Time kills.

Gluten-free Jeanine silently finishes the last danish from the coffee table. This room would be a quiet place if, not for the tap, tap, tapping on the keyboards.

I monitor the monitors monitoring me. An audiovisual stand-off. As artificial lighting overhead illuminates. Jane tolerates a migraine daily. My calendar is my conscience that ponders what I ponder: garbage in – garbage out.

Dave got fired yesterday. Vultures circle his unmanned desk. I got dibs on the multi-colored markers.

From the break room, the smell of burnt popcorn wafts. It is the perfume of the damned. I scrap together six coins to pay the dealer’s new price: A-3, Snicker bar, please. Office refrigerator stores memories of employees long gone. Passive aggressive notes mark our slow descent into hell. Keep your hands off my sandwich – Phil. Boss brings her special creamer to work and signs her name on it. A sharpie will not stop me. I dump half in the sink and leave a thank you note from Phil.

I trick myself everyday by saying I belong here and this is what I deserve. My therapist says I’m in an abusive relationship with my job.

Yesterday, there was a training video about office shooters. Not sure, if it was prevention or tutorial. Will see how the next evaluation goes?

Posted in Poems, poetry, Travel and review

Silence at the railway station (day 5)

SILENO EN LA ESTACIÓN DE FERROCARRIL
By Sergio Raimondi
Acostado de lado, con un codo incómodo
apoyado en el cemento y la cabeza
tirada hacia atrás, duerme. Rodillas dobladas,
pies contra el culo, al aire la panza enorme,
boca abierta al cielo, chata nariz.
Esto es obra de dos o tres tetra-brik.
Si fuera de mármol estaría expuesto
en un museo de Roma, Londres o París
como ejemplo de arte helenístico.
Y no le molestarían las moscas.

Translated by me:

Lying on his side, with an uncomfortable elbow resting between the cement and his head, he lies on his back asleep. Knees bent, feet against his behind, huge belly to the sky, mouth opened, nose flat.

This is the work of 2 or 3 bottles.

If he were marble, he would he would be displayed in museums in Rome, London and Paris as an example of Hellenistic art. Plus, the flies wouldn’t bother him.

#writing #writer #poems #authors #railway #station #Hellenisticperiod #marble #rome #london #paris #napowrimo #napowrimo2018

Posted in Poems, poetry, Thoughts

Dark towers

I
Enter
Words of Dark
Suicide Thoughts
In to a cellphone
So when it’s discovered
People will read about me
And the demon that inside of me
Help, my mental is detached
I touch a screen of ghost
Poltergeist, they’re here
Numbers are pressed
It’s ringing
Hello?
No

Posted in Life decisions, Performing, poetry, Thoughts

Iambic: 6 months as a publisher

I created and published a local literary zine / guide book in Sacramento that has been in circulation for six months. It is called Iambic. Click here to head over to the Iambic Tab. I never thought I would be a magazine publisher but here is why I did it. This article below was added to Iambic issue 6:


Downtown Sacramento offers dozen of venues for art events. Second Saturday just shows a glimpse of it. On any given day, you can find visual arts, music, comedy, burlesques, and theater plays.

There is also large poetry community. I have been part of Sacramento poetry for the past two years. I entered the scene with little knowledge of the scope of poetry in Sacramento. Over the past two years, I have dedicated time and energy to seeking out as many poetry forums as I can find. I visited over a dozen venues and special events, met hundreds of poets in the area who regularly perform and have even worked with several on projects. What became apparent was that Sacramento lacked an up-to-date resource where people can seek out events, venues, coaches, and information about the Sacramento poetry scene. I looked at what had been established and decided that a zine would be appropriate for these three simple factors:

  1. Eskimo Pie website is online but it is not maintained anymore.

When I moved to Sacramento from Stockton in October 2015, I checked the Eskimo pie website (www.eskimopie.net). It offered a calendar for open mic venues and poetry events in the Central Valley community. It was established by Rebecca Morrison, well known poet in the Sacramento poetry community.  I had the fortune to meet Rebecca during her personal trip back to the states. The site became a great blueprint to model sections in Iambic.

  1. Display unknown people’s poetry, visual arts and short stories.

I learn one of the big caveats in literary magazines is that any work posted on social media is considered to be published. Poets and writers want to present their work to the masses but Industry wants to be the first to do it. Poets and writers early in their careers need small publications looking for new and unique works to feature them. Iambic offers a no-cost way to submit your work for consideration for publication. We publish frequently and our scope is very broad. I also created a “Youth Poet” section which feature poets less than 25 years of age.

  1. Be a guide to a large poetry community

I was alone when I moved to Sacramento.  I got a position at The Art institute, and was living with roommates.  My friend circle was bleak. I needed to find an activity to distract me from this. I discovered the Sacramento Poetry Center. I went to an open mic and was interested with poetry again.  So, I asked a few poets about other venues and they directed me to them.  So, I checked out all the open mic venues in the area and it became a habit. I started participating in open mics and studying to be a poet and spoken word artist. But, I notice that not all poets go to every open mic venue or workshop in town regularly.  Poets started noticing and asking me about different venues.  I would give them my analysis and I became known as a circuit poet.

Conclusion

I created Iambic to serve my poetry community as a guide since; there are a variety of venues for patrons and workshops for poets to work on their craft. But, it was also to make outsiders aware that a poetry scene exists. So, I have been publishing Iambic for 6 months. Here is to another successful six months!