Thursday, November 25, 2010


There are days
when I’ve got wings sending me here and there,
all the while gliding above the dirt I see below

There are days
when I’m covered in the mud I allegedly created and
drag my companions through the mire and guck

There are days
when I make the choice to establish
protection to veil the war I’m trying to

On those days,
They are just as likely to
quiet Their tunnel vision, set to full-speed on my faults
as They are to load all arsenal
and blame their way into my blood

There are days
when I believe my accusers
there are days
when I believe in the power of
stubborn protection and the risk in
tough love

and then there are those days
when I get stuck in the quicksand
and I don’t know if it was me or
that put me there

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Deconstructing Legend--poem

What happened to the legendary strength?
Was "legendary" mythological when transformed into

I don’t understand how hindsight is seeing
when blinders have been fastened tight while walking,
crawling through the mire of today, then
then the next couple of days
(or was it weeks? months?)

and it all blurs, it all smudges
onto the canvas of what tomorrow was
supposed to look like
eons ago
or was it just yesterday?

What’s so legendary
about forgetting what day or moment
or unit of time
marks the transition from ok
to “not so much?”

What is the legend behind
surviving dying when
he left me behind
and yet I’m behind
on the 3D hamster wheel in the centre of my
picture of what today and tomorrow and all the years ahead
are supposed to look like?

The two don’t mesh, do they—
the wheel and the picture,
the death and the survival
the legend and the fall
the divide of her
and me—who I used to be,
all the love in my life can’t seem to waken
all the love dead, in my stomach,
unmoving and unliving,
waiting for her to return
to smash away the blinders, the smudgy background—
turn my eyes to the fore of
tomorrow’s sight
to a new story of who the survivor
could be.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

The Internet Debate and the Tragedy of its Misuse

I wish they had more time to debate this out. I like what she has to say. Bullying should never be used lightly, but I think the man was getting confused with his side of the "argument(?)." This is a very sticky issue in terms of what "jargon" to label the act that the two sorry-excuses-for-human-beings did. Was it a hate crime? Was it bullying? Was it simple "meanness?"

What can you contribute from the law sector? The social work sector? Religious? Cultural? Anything.

I'd like to open this discussion to those who will participate.

My friend told me about this case and said I'd probably want to blog about it. He was most right. The inception of internet ... "violence" ... and misuse for purposes of humiliation and defamation has developed into a full-blown path of destruction that is exceeding our capacity to contain it any time soon. Here I am, using the internet to share with you my thoughts and request your input.

My questions to you:
1) What do YOU think will come of this case, should come of this case, or should have come of this case in regard to the legal and social jargon applied to it and the sanctions for the two students' behaviour?
2) How can we contain such horrible acts from coming to fruition in the future?
3) Feel free to comment on videos like this: and the "It Gets Better" campaign out there

My last question:
4) Why the hell do these types of things keep happening--in fact, why are they happening even more now? Like they say in the CNN video, too, it shouldn't matter who was in with Tyler...his privacy was invaded, he was humiliated. But, the tragic reality is that if it had been a heterosexual encounter you can bet that no videos would have been leaked in the name of trying to ruin and humiliate a boy who just wanted to have some privacy to do something he has EVERY RIGHT to do.

Thursday, September 30, 2010

Horror Movie--poem

There are shards in my eyes from watching the past
the movie’s not the best but it likes to play
I can’t tell if the glass still rests
or if scars replaced the spaces where
windows of innocence broke,
exploded, embedded in my lens
I try to watch the future
with this speckled movie screen
but darkness stains the sun
trying to purify my tomorrow’s
the water’s coming in—it’s just the
tide of my tears—
they’ll drain away soon
but until then
they flood and erase the
infection of the shards
so I can’t tell they’re there
for an intermission sublime
are they scars? are they shards?
for I’m only seeing black
and not bleeding from the
wreckage in my past’s climax
where’s the end—the finale?
This can’t be a saga
or I’ll go blind from finding
to make the screen blank.

Monday, September 20, 2010


I don’t know what I’m looking for—
it’s hard to say, in the dark
until I see lights at the end of some tunnel that I’m searching for
searching for the opening to a brighter future
where grounded certainty melts into anti-gravity belief
in something bigger, something cliché but so much better
than that written stuff in
library books
and verses from a man who claims to speak
the Truths of
whomever reigns within and outside of this place called
Human existence

He? She? It?
all too contrite—
there’s something brewing inside me,
waiting to find the light
that glistens on the feathers of His wings and Her wings and theirs
beating in the sun-ray magic of whenever-o’clock to shine upon me
when a smile hits my face or anger thrusts out between my teeth
and clenches my heart in its fist
or drowns my eyes in acid tears from the times when I forgot
what it means to breathe Your Love

I’m in your tunnel, your realm of mystery that you dubbed
with all the love you could muster and inject into beings
that sometimes look a stranger to your vision of what
we could be
I’m in your world, and all the while,
some messengers have encrypted your lyrics
that were meant to be sung
instead of warped into an eerie bedtime story
that scares faith into ultimatums, pulling it away from the
drive pushing foot before foot, through the cool night air,
onward to what you said in my heart
is Tomorrow with glory on my side,
because you’re not walking with me,
you’re inside me
you are me
and so much more—
I can’t call you by name,
for none would do

but I believe,
I believe in You.

Wednesday, September 08, 2010


I’m an open book
my own life colours the pages
while I’m not so sure whose hands to allow
to hold my cover and read me ‘til I’m
a memory
I know my story—from start to cloudy
future come
though I can’t predict what precedes “The End”

are my Chapter One
the darkness took over Two and most of my pages
until I read between
the lines
and saw my saving graces in the I’s of those
who saw me for a work of art instead of

yet every time a quote of reassurance dances across
my present Chapter
my history seeps through
with the eulogy I wrote and continue to recite because
the ink threatens to bleed forever on the heart of my

I’m waiting for the light of tomorrow
to dry up the legacy I wrote for you
instead of the heritage you truly left
hidden in my driving force and inspiration
to keep writing these words

I may have caught a glimpse in His eyes
of the light my words crave to stem out of
my introduction and bloom into a glorious
end but
will His words drown out the pain I wrote
and let stain tomorrow’s paragraphs of
fairytale proportions
or fade into the ebony smudges of fear left
unspoken but written all over the margins
so nothing can be implied
save for the plea for an editor
to clean up yesterday’s errors with crimson words
of hope
and the chance to
begin again

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

The Request--poem

What would I write for you,
As the words impatiently throb in my fingertips,
yearning to unleash onto your vision and permeate your
Could they flow as I exhale,
dance across the page,
or linger on my lips—
no more than a whisper in the private hours of the night?

Would my limbs express what lyrics
my blood demands—
could any music assuage the racing
internal melody?

Yet, my core threatens to burst
through the membrane of my shield
as you stand before me,

While my frame freezes,
the notes that were my gifted words
beneath my consciousness roll by—
some waltzing to the dance of tomorrow,
as others creep to the dirge of yesterday.
Your fingertips disturb the entrancement
holding my present captive.
With a twinkle in your eye, a curve in your lip,
my fingers meet yours to do what my words failed to.

The rumbling beat thrums between our chests,
urging me on to unleash the letters
forming the sweetest request.

Can you feel it, the percussion,
the temptation to move through rhythmic time
shall we discover tomorrow’s melody
as one—
shall we do what I could not on my own,
at least not without my muse—
Shall we dance?

Monday, August 23, 2010

The Lesson-poem

For you, Daddy

You must know
that looking at you
is like staring into
any given mirror.
The love inside
and behind these eyes
is right there,
reflected into your very own.

You must know
the mem’ry of your kind face
hasn’t died-
I see it still Upon my own-
more so when I’ve something to be
proud of.

You must know
though I didn’t cry on the day,
which I regard as the time of night
when monsters roam,
and I’m blind though I try
to fumble around
for some semblance of
Life, Vitality, and Hope,
I suffocate for what feels like forever,
trapped in abysmal agony,
only to wake up to
as if someone threw me
in frigid waters-

I’ve absorbed it all,
every drop I could,
then I let them pour through
though I couldn’t help it.
I’ve been your waterfall
whether you like it
(or not)
but you must know,
You must know.

You must know
that the childhood dream
of dressing in Love-
enrobed in White,
has turned to ash-
for it won’t be your hand
guiding mine down the path
to Tomorrow.

You must know
your name nigh became
a ghost
we’re all too scared to acknowledge,
for the pain will rush back,
my hair will stand up,
the Chill will return,
then I’ll fumble again.

You must know
that despite all this nonsense,
despite all these words
that are feeble compared
to the legacy you bestowed me,
flowing through these grateful
I’ll never know
how to express
how much I love you-
I’ll never know
how long
the World will last,
how long
time will drone on,
then cruelly whip past-

You must know
that’s how long I’ll hold you in
my heart.

You must know,
and if you don’t,
here it is,
here it lives.

Monday, June 28, 2010

10 pm -- poem

It’s ten o’clock and my heart’s still pounding
I’m glad to know it works but
it’s overkill

you screamed at me and my ears didn’t break
my heart bruised from the tidal sound waves, though
I kind of wish it would stop its percussion
giving me a headache from this

I reacted like a snake
but the poison’s in my blood,
nauseating my future
unless I can

pray harder than a nun,
to the God I choose to believe in
yet choice isn’t really mine—
I was chosen to live through this

like every hurricane, tidal wave,
flood, and plague
there’s a day of static living,
unnoticed heartbeats,
near-death breaths,
gazes on horizons
from which we expect
the sun

so here’s to tomorrow,
or the next day if that’s what’s meant
to be
the calm after this storm
or the one before the next

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Alejandro video rant.

For those of you who've seen the video, don't fret. I didn't quite know what to make of the meaning at first, either. I thought it was beautifully done (as usual). I did think some of the imagery pushed even my boundaries a bit....until I got thinking and reading.

I read some interesting "explanations" or views of what the video means to different people. Here's one such example:

My take? Well, let’s first look at how I feel/think about other people’s interpretations. Yes, it appears to represent gay love and what condemnation that the LGBT community gets from society in general and from religion. Religion is obviously a huge symbol in this video.

One person's explanation said they thought Gaga was Alejandro in the video. This concept really struck me as ingenious. Gaga is a representation of a gay man who is condemned and killed by society and religion for his sexuality. It makes a lot of sense if you watch the video.

She could be representing the LGBT community through the eyes of Catholicism and Christianity. Hence, as a representation of the LGBT community, she swallows her religion because of its conflicting ideals with her own (i.e. she swallows the rosary) and burns in the end because she isn't straight. The other nuances in the video could be interpreted in different ways (i.e. the machine gun bra, the crazy goggles that distort reality, the heart on a platter, etc.)...

What I personally got from the video is as follows.

The imagery in the beginning of the men marching with the Star of David and other metal symbols of religion signifies how men are supposed to be masculine and aggressive in our society. You soon find out they’re really not aggressive. They’re not Nazis (as they appear in their uniforms), but victims of fascist-like powers in society that repress them. They have to fight for their love and fight society for the right to express themselves.

Her face is also juxtaposed with a man sitting on a bed with a gun. (You don’t see the gun ‘til later). I feel that she’s the expression of his frustration with not being able to express himself or his sexuality. She tries to stay aloof and ignorant to reality to not have to face society with those cloudy goggles on. In a way, she represents society because she’s got her blinders on and sits far away from the world in her tower. She’s actually a vampire in that first scene—a monster trying to silence and hide what the men are trying show her and make her hear. She tries to deny everything they represent and gains power out of their silence and repression.

The next scene with the guys on the beds and the ropes are again a symbol of how society tries to control how men and women should express sexuality. She tries to pull them this way and that. But, she realizes she can’t. They will love how they love. They feel the pull, they feel the pain of the ropes but can’t help how they feel inside.

It’s no accident that she’s a bit androgynous in this video. The androgyny helps her to transition from one symbolic character to the next. At first, she is representative of society and therefore restrictive. She’s trying to be in control. After she realizes she can’t be in control, she becomes a religious symbol. The upside down crosses and the sacrificial nature of the scene where she’s surrounded by the men throwing her around shows how religion condemns homosexuality. Religion conflicts with a gay person’s freedom of expression. As she submits to her true nature and “frees herself,” off comes the religious robes. They stop attacking her but almost revere her sexuality.

Again, the machine gun bra could be a symbol of how the LGBT community has to fight for their sexuality. She has to use her sexuality as a weapon to win freedom. She’s also surrounded by men in military uniform. The fight to win freedom of expression doesn’t really turn out too well for her (or Alejandro if that’s who she is representing), though. She tries to be free of the religious hold on her—of the condemnation from society. Yet, she’s last seen in the most religiously symbolic form of the video: as a seemingly dying nun in red. She swallows the rosary as this last character because of her “impurity.” Her sexuality and representation of the LGBT gets her killed. She disintegrates in the very end. Therefore, to twist your mind further, she could very well be the body in the coffin at the beginning.

Weird video? Yup. Lots of symbolism? Definitely. And no, this video isn’t a copy of anything Madonna. I came across some comments that accuse Gaga of copying Madonna’s “Vogue” video. It boils my blood when people say she’s copying Madonna because, unlike Madonna, she tries to convey a message that transcends a quality of simple entertainment and sexual deviance. She smacks society in the face with what it does best: making entertainment out of the suffering of repressed people. Madonna challenged society’s ideas of sexual freedom, but didn’t go nearly as deep as Gaga does.

(just fyi: Gaga herself said in an interview that the video is about celebrating gay love and the bravery they need to face society 

Tuesday, May 18, 2010


Which one to choose?

The toxins of the night, singing their siren song,
beckoning the gluttonous child to go forth
and devour
my next conquest
where your skin is my canvas
if you’ll only give me the colours you feel
so I can craft my legacy


there you are, deaf to my tune
deaf to my heart’s percussion pulsing the sirens along
or maybe I’m muted in your orchestra of possibility.

Do I decide to retreat, coward myself into a person
who cloaks in the guise of ordinary disorder,
unsure of what my standards are except for the notion
that they exist
in those whose nights express what their days should not,
forcing myself to believe their sunlit smiles all the while.

My morning presents danger, in my
intrusive desires, clouding the light of my dreams.
These day-mares exposed to my mind’s jury controlled
by the orchestra you conduct, unaware.
Their symphony condemns the personification of these thoughts,
solidifying the poison within.
You’re my freedom’s expression,
and my captivity’s master—
my what if’s are my shackles and chains.

Whichever I choose, the outcome won’t shine
with the sun that exposes all sin.
In the dusk of my patience,
your orchestra’s verdict awaits its release.

Whichever I choose, the poison will linger,
in veins reaching out to flow with you,
or in placebo words of love and affection
given to those who would take it—only to hide it in darkness,
where the sun cannot reach it
where my heart will freeze
and the song will die while
your symphony roars.

Thursday, May 13, 2010


I'll never forget.
I wrote this a while ago, but it came to mind recently.


I was there,
It happened,
and I couldn’t wait to leave.
My mind’s departure marked
for a smooth escape.

at ten-after-a-decent-hour,
my feet guided me home,
of the shadow
on my tired

The mind has a way
of waging wars
against the body,
numbing reason,
giving cause
to sickly sensations.

Guilt’s a man-made thing,
yet woman-made was mine.
for Fault cannot be extracted
from where Guilt sank its
venomous teeth.

Reality’s an anvil
that crashes down
on my Coyote-dumb
so comical is the sight
but the result
is something
Gruesome aftermath
of the weight of one’s deeds,
splattering composure
on the canvas of my past,
mixed with the bite-marks
from Guilt’s poisonous
bears the cancerous
invading the flesh.

Frost can burn,
with each brewing regret
rushed to the forefront
of my private
leaving scars
like a book-
A document of what was,
what is,
what could be
if the venom is allowed
to remain.

I can’t see the sun,
or the moon’s
lustrous glow,
only the scenes
like a movie,
inscribed on
my skin.

Moment after
agonizing moment,
the what if’s cackle at me,
(if I had only left before
the scenes began).

The scar was
reminder enough,
but became prescription
when denial
froze my senses-
Except for

Fool me once,
and you carry Fault’s Torch.

Fool me twice,
and my Guilt
transforms from lesions
and burns
of your cruelty,
to a permanent
reminding me of what
I should have done,
reminding me of you.

sins slice through
reality’s grasp,
and shackle my wrists
behind my back,
so I can’t siphon
the poison
you forced me to allow,
embracing guilt,
embracing the pain,
for the physical
woes are nil
compared to the Tattoo’s
condemning reign.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010


It's April and it's cold. Quelle Grande Surprise. But, le soleil is shining. Like my franglais? Me neither.

*sigh* I'm slowly getting back into being fit again, and I'm going to try some new eating habits. No anti-Candida diets or anything because that may kill me right now. You'd have to pry the chocolate out of my dead fingers to do it...but I'd be dead so it wouldn't matter.

I digress: comme toujours.

I did P90X ( religiously for almost two months. I got sick for a week, and had to finish school. That whole lovely process took about a month. I've worked out since then and even did a couple of the P90X workouts. I wanted to just jump back into P90X over May and June, but that ain't happening with summer school coming up. Looks like I'll have to make up a workout routine that's a bit more humane during May. I'll need to get my sleep and working out one-plus hours a day is not feasible. *SIGH*

Oh well. That's ok, right? I should probably be concentrating on restoring my bod anyway. School kicked my ass. Time to kick some ass myself. (can I say "ass" on here? Is "arse" better? Now I've said too many times that it doesn't matter.)

That's another thing... Will I make it back to boxing class? I feel like it's been eons since I've been. Oy. We'll see!

Stay tuned...

(or not... you really don't have to, honest. ^^)

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Looking In--speculation

I have braces.

They hurt sometimes,
My back's been hurting, too,
I've been eating badly,
I haven't worked out regularly for the last few weeks,
I jumped off the P90X bandwagon and am finding it hard to jump back on,
I haven't been getting enough sleep,
I still have to clean the chaos that is my room,
I'm dangerously low on cash,
I'm on the outside looking in...

At a life where I have a family,
My sister loves me a lot,
My mom's the strongest woman I know,
I have friends who care,
A shirt on my back,
Pants, too, 'cause pants are good,
comfy shoes,
The ability to run, work out, and dance,
Glasses so I can see,
Contacts for when I want to see less but look different,
Invisalign so my smile will look better someday soon...

I have braces.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010


In the sun I feel your warmth
in the darkness, your absence
I can’t seem to find happiness
in a medium of light

when it rains, my sins trickle far away
when it snows, my memories freeze
and torture
what sanity shivers within
when the wind blows through me
my soul goes with it—over the mountain tops
where we looked down on our highway to
and freedom to wander through time and back again
through all the landscapes that pull us on

With the changing of Your Season,
my skin shed the warmth
I got all too familiar with the rays from Above
reflected in your eyes

Dress me in your dreams
I’ll wear them with pride and don them for
the heavens

Dress me in your hopes
I’ll make them my armour
for I must now face Tomorrow
without you by my side

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Our Song--poem

If there was a song deep in my heart
who would it be for
and what would be the point?
Would it be a tribute for good or anger
or to answer the ever-throbbing question:

I wish I knew the words so I could get them off my skin
out of my mind and blood
hiding beneath the scars.
Even if I could compose
a masterpiece or limerick
you wouldn’t gasp in awe
or surprise
at what’s going on inside me.

I have a notion that’s making me ill
And tastes too bitter and still—
you don’t care at all about mind,
body, spirit—of the one who’s writing
these words.

The joke could fasten easily on my shoulders
For I’m mad, yes and disappointment’s
No stranger.

But the punchline
and mainline from my crux to
these words
is I’m affirming my fixation but
doubting the elation
I ever felt
about who this song was written for.

Thursday, March 11, 2010


They were there along,
but we discovered them together—
I didn’t care much about them
Until one day, I pattered along
not wanting to be with my kind.
You seemed to transpire with an incoming breeze,
traipsing in from the brightening
Your presence struck me,
I froze on the path,
not noticing the X marking my voyage’s
Instead of a simple greeting,
you spread your Wings—
more handsome than any I’d
I fluttered my own, though meagre in comparison
and you urged me to follow
We left Earth below us,
and took on the
The old Fly-scape looked unfamiliar and
Instead of condensed rain,
I saw rainbows through the wisps—
Ever more will I love the
Great Clouds
I used to ignore.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Pseudo-Proclamation, poem

I’ll say it—but I won’t.
I’m scared.

How stupid does that sound?

When you ask me, you’ll hear the ocean—
you’re on hold after all while I slip away

Innuendo: there’s lots
piled up between Us to which we contribute

It’s frustrating, I know,
especially when the thought (or theory) slaps my cheek,
forcing my focus on This
sickening possibility—probability?
that our dance is just a Disney

Some of it is ‘cause only a fool would
in the notion that we’ll just (together) “be”
with no bumps, scratches, scars,
on our egos and sanity
but my body wants to audition
the score anyhow.

I’ve said it but I haven’t.
and I...think the words would wither
before they touched your cognition of
What if?
for a couple of wondering wiles and bods.

I’ve said it. But I won’t.
It scares me, so I’ll Crush instead.
It’s infuriating, but at least
now you know.


can you hear the beast
(it’s breathing, hot upon my neck)—
this mask may meet with each tantalizing
tempting the
I touch up the veneer with my experienced
keeping my guise in check

before It can claw its way from my
I’ll assuage It with the promise of letting It

when the Great One wanes its icy light
illuminating the vermin we’re to
penetrating their facades
for I see
reflected in their twisted

tear off the mask
breathe in
Beast out—
a calculating Monster with flare

cue from the Moon,
it’s time to embrace my
with these Passenger’s arms
of this thrilling
Fitting In

Sunday, February 21, 2010


I want to want you,
I want to say something
so you’ll turn your head and come
to me.

I want to ask you
for affection and attention
so we could curl up together
and exhale the night away.

Yet I’m sitting here, seemingly
lost in what if’s with every step
I take, back
towards where we first saw
eye-to-eye, and foresaw
bliss in our first “tell” without the
innuendo’d “show.”

And you’re on my mind tonight
it’s a repetitive thing—like how I’ve been
chasing my tale—
a cycle of wonder, wander, want—

Then what?

That’s so feline:
wanting things—
or seeming to and all the while
I’m wanting You

Thursday, February 04, 2010

ash to Ash--poem

Let me be in the sun—
I’ll burn for the right reasons
instead of letting this blood
for an unobtainable ghost.

Let me be in the sun—
I’m gluttonous for light
in this dust-cloud
of the delusions in
my waking dreams.

Let me be in the sun—
I’ll thrive or fly to
at least I’ll be something new, something fresh
and flowering
or a soaring wraith of fire.

Let me be in the sun—
since you won’t let me be in you.
Any scalding I bear
will be gentler, dear,
than how I burned for