Thanks Mike for letting me get on this blog. I may not be a poet, but maybe some of my art can influence someones poem. Well if dinosaurs are your thing..haha. Anyways, i wanted to take the time to post an invitation to poets in the bay area:
The Individual Collective gallery is searching for local poets and spoken word artists to showcase their talent at the new venue in downtown Vallejo. Message me back ASAP if you are interested in taking part of this event. The flier is in the works so the sooner you message, guarantees a spot on the flier.
Title: Individual Collective presents…HellaPoetic
Hosts: Dyno and Ave
Where: IC Gallery
When: Friday, March 27,2009
Time:7-10pm
Emcee: Mandeep Sethi
Evening sounds by: DJ Rod Roc
Performers so far: Ave, Eileen Hidalgo, Earnest, and more.
Details: Individual Collective is presenting HellaPoetic featuring bay area poets and spoken word artists. The event is also including live art by Individual Collective and an acoustic performance by Swim to Sydney. In addition the topics of love, sex, and relationships will be covered by James and Marc of Lexationships.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Friday, March 6, 2009
"**Video Interviews w/ White Slough Residents**".
This isn't really a piece, but nonetheless, it's sentiments from the soul.
Vallejo homeless residents have been socially invisible for far too long. If you haven't heard, the homeless residents of the White Slough, a marshland area behind Sonoma Blvd., were "evicted" on Friday, 3/6/09 from their dwellings without any alternatives or aid. It's not the fault of the police or the city per say - it's our entire city's fault. And now we need to work together to find solutions. By advocating for our vulnerable homeless population, we're practicing real compassion and community, plus we'd be improving the quality of life in the city for ALL.
============================
From ServeOurVallejoHomeless.blogspot.com:
We feel that it's absolutely essential to hear from the residents themselves. We need to hear their stories. Marc Garman of Vallejo Independent Bulletin and community volunteer Doug Darling did some great work capturing sentiments shared by the some of the White Slough residents. But the real work was done by the homeless residents who resiliently continue to endure. Special thanks to those who graciously shared their stories with the public. Footage was shot on 3/4/09 and can be found at http://ibvallejo.com/ or http://vimeo.com/3497529.
We hope this adds a deeper human dimension to the oversimplified "issue" of homelessness in Vallejo.
White Slough Homeless Encampment--3/4/09 from Marc Garman on Vimeo.
To help, visit ServeOurVallejoHomeless.blogspot.com
or email ServeOurVallejoHomeless@gmail.com
Peace and Godspeed!
Vallejo homeless residents have been socially invisible for far too long. If you haven't heard, the homeless residents of the White Slough, a marshland area behind Sonoma Blvd., were "evicted" on Friday, 3/6/09 from their dwellings without any alternatives or aid. It's not the fault of the police or the city per say - it's our entire city's fault. And now we need to work together to find solutions. By advocating for our vulnerable homeless population, we're practicing real compassion and community, plus we'd be improving the quality of life in the city for ALL.
============================
From ServeOurVallejoHomeless.blogspot.com:
We feel that it's absolutely essential to hear from the residents themselves. We need to hear their stories. Marc Garman of Vallejo Independent Bulletin and community volunteer Doug Darling did some great work capturing sentiments shared by the some of the White Slough residents. But the real work was done by the homeless residents who resiliently continue to endure. Special thanks to those who graciously shared their stories with the public. Footage was shot on 3/4/09 and can be found at http://ibvallejo.com/ or http://vimeo.com/3497529.
We hope this adds a deeper human dimension to the oversimplified "issue" of homelessness in Vallejo.
White Slough Homeless Encampment--3/4/09 from Marc Garman on Vimeo.
To help, visit ServeOurVallejoHomeless.blogspot.com
or email ServeOurVallejoHomeless@gmail.com
Peace and Godspeed!
Monday, February 23, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
ah, to write again.
i feel like fucking up,
i'm aware that i'm in deep enough to hurt the both of us,
but, amor...i'm just scared.
because if we last long enough to somehow make the rest of our lives work,
i can't imagine the sacrifices that would have to be made.
one of us has to give up all that we've been working for.
so,
amor,
what should we be living towards?
i'm caged from all directions in this United System,
been climbing for higher education,
trying to reach the top of this metal only to awake everyday for with a sunny view of captivity;
been flying through time for bullshit i'm trying to be passionate about,
but only you inspire me nowadays.
it's all i know so, how can i leave this way? i won't ever want you to stay.
but, i admit,
i can't even dream anymore without you;
soon...again, soon, your overworked, two jobs back to back arms will be holding me in whatever little pool of seconds the world allows us to bask in.
i'm about let a beautiful brown brother feel that i'm falling in love with him all over, yet again.
'cause the scent of your tired skin and happy heart affect my tastebuds and
your name falls like honey from my lips for any reason.
i work harder, step happier, stand stronger,
knowing that when i relax into your tired bones, i deserve to be living beside you.
so sweet is this simple love, progressing all naturally.
and quite suddenly,
i understand why baduism states,
"you be boy and i'll be girl."
i've seen this in the world and this feeling is not new to me.
universe, ---he places me in his heart unfiltered;
sediments of shortcomings and regrets broken down by his hands towards these confusions of worth, clear like sudden epiphanies.
this is a simple romance,
cleansing purified water flaming ice through your chest.
it is not new to me,
but this happiness is.
this worry is.
everyday is suddenly new.
(this is incomplete.
plug: check out my radio show every tuesday 11AM to noon, KSFS.SFSU.EDU
listen to me talk stupid, play some jams, and occasionally do some words spoken!) hehe.
i'm aware that i'm in deep enough to hurt the both of us,
but, amor...i'm just scared.
because if we last long enough to somehow make the rest of our lives work,
i can't imagine the sacrifices that would have to be made.
one of us has to give up all that we've been working for.
so,
amor,
what should we be living towards?
i'm caged from all directions in this United System,
been climbing for higher education,
trying to reach the top of this metal only to awake everyday for with a sunny view of captivity;
been flying through time for bullshit i'm trying to be passionate about,
but only you inspire me nowadays.
it's all i know so, how can i leave this way? i won't ever want you to stay.
but, i admit,
i can't even dream anymore without you;
soon...again, soon, your overworked, two jobs back to back arms will be holding me in whatever little pool of seconds the world allows us to bask in.
i'm about let a beautiful brown brother feel that i'm falling in love with him all over, yet again.
'cause the scent of your tired skin and happy heart affect my tastebuds and
your name falls like honey from my lips for any reason.
i work harder, step happier, stand stronger,
knowing that when i relax into your tired bones, i deserve to be living beside you.
so sweet is this simple love, progressing all naturally.
and quite suddenly,
i understand why baduism states,
"you be boy and i'll be girl."
i've seen this in the world and this feeling is not new to me.
universe, ---he places me in his heart unfiltered;
sediments of shortcomings and regrets broken down by his hands towards these confusions of worth, clear like sudden epiphanies.
this is a simple romance,
cleansing purified water flaming ice through your chest.
it is not new to me,
but this happiness is.
this worry is.
everyday is suddenly new.
(this is incomplete.
plug: check out my radio show every tuesday 11AM to noon, KSFS.SFSU.EDU
listen to me talk stupid, play some jams, and occasionally do some words spoken!) hehe.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
she (pt2)
hmm [unfinished] but oh well, just decided to shareeee -->
she was a being strongest with no physical strength
it was in her gaze she directed the flow of gravity
i often dismissed the thought of telling her
how much i loved her
because it was such a weak statement
in comparison to all she represented for me
taught me
showed me
made me...
it was too easy to say
so easy to feel it
and so easy to know it
but so hard to prove
to show her...
but there must be some way to show her
because i know
she should know
and yet, although i hesitated to tell her
she must have been strong enough to know
already...
she was a being strongest with no physical strength
it was in her gaze she directed the flow of gravity
i often dismissed the thought of telling her
how much i loved her
because it was such a weak statement
in comparison to all she represented for me
taught me
showed me
made me...
it was too easy to say
so easy to feel it
and so easy to know it
but so hard to prove
to show her...
but there must be some way to show her
because i know
she should know
and yet, although i hesitated to tell her
she must have been strong enough to know
already...
Monday, December 15, 2008
winter rabbit ii.
the fog, which had embraced the blushing cheeks of this green city so intimately, finally lifted. and in it's absence came the misty haze of tires on wet pavement. the dulled mess of a palette above dripped sloppily across the tired rooftops as they hid the city's numbed hands and personalities behind stucco walls and insulation.
i hid it under my breath..
wandering through the slick ally ways of your retinas stirred the familiar smell of newly fallen rain and dead leaves that emanated through the cracks of the uneven pavement. thick golden espresso beat against the side of a paper cup, like a bass drum, and sloshed out of the lid, joining the company of the sky's secretions beside my uneven stride. the scent lingered and fell, shattering my reality into shards of broken thoughts. i looked down and saw the ripples in my reflection distort the clouds behind me. my backdrop. my makeshift existence. i stepped through it, disturbing the mirrored image. the grey tones lifted from the earth only to descend back to the firm, unforgiving surface from which they came. i watched the world around me fray at the seems. i focused on the corroding shorelines of your temper. pounding, pulsating, quaking and quivering. shake, surge, swell and succumb. the shimmering cadence of regret lining our dulled dispositions. a blurred skyline reflected off your telescope eyes. you bit the edge of your brittle wind-stricken fingers before raising them to adjust the frame in which you see the world. not knowing what else to do, i picked at the blue rubber that gripped the metal frame of our park bench. tell me your troubles, and i'll whisper my worries. bitch, complain, vent and let loose. i look down when i can't think of anything clever to tell you; looking up simply to nod my head to the beat of your fingertips as they drum softly against the walls of my feeble attempts of taking care of you.
"since it's green, let the leaves steep for no more than four minutes, otherwise the taste becomes bitter." i don't tell you this because who am i to decide your preferred taste. and i no longer know what tickles your taste buds and chapped lips. and i no longer know how the textures of color bend and fold against the sharp edges of your swagger. and i no longer know the rhythm in your footsteps, and the beat of your weak heart. but then again, not much has changed.
my words hit your pale forehead and slither down your nose. a crooked smile and chuckle cut through my paranoia.
i am having a conversation with your time limit. and i look at you, looking down, picking at the blue rubber that hugs the frame of the bench with remorse.
you will respond with an ever so quirky remark, because you have subscribed to my mind. i'll let technology be my scapegoat. you will depend on me and i will let you down, and i will build it up just so we can watch it fall. we will have many days of second hand hell and speak of what we once held on to so dearly. and at the end of it all, we'll return to the lives we have built in each other's absence. and i'll watch as you walk back to the smell of motor oil and changes in diet. and you will sit at your screen, pick apart my scattered phrases and correct my flaws, for that is what we do.
yes it's about you.
no i don't think you'll misunderstand.
can you hear me over the scratching of tires on wet pavement?
i don't know.
i hid it under my breath..
wandering through the slick ally ways of your retinas stirred the familiar smell of newly fallen rain and dead leaves that emanated through the cracks of the uneven pavement. thick golden espresso beat against the side of a paper cup, like a bass drum, and sloshed out of the lid, joining the company of the sky's secretions beside my uneven stride. the scent lingered and fell, shattering my reality into shards of broken thoughts. i looked down and saw the ripples in my reflection distort the clouds behind me. my backdrop. my makeshift existence. i stepped through it, disturbing the mirrored image. the grey tones lifted from the earth only to descend back to the firm, unforgiving surface from which they came. i watched the world around me fray at the seems. i focused on the corroding shorelines of your temper. pounding, pulsating, quaking and quivering. shake, surge, swell and succumb. the shimmering cadence of regret lining our dulled dispositions. a blurred skyline reflected off your telescope eyes. you bit the edge of your brittle wind-stricken fingers before raising them to adjust the frame in which you see the world. not knowing what else to do, i picked at the blue rubber that gripped the metal frame of our park bench. tell me your troubles, and i'll whisper my worries. bitch, complain, vent and let loose. i look down when i can't think of anything clever to tell you; looking up simply to nod my head to the beat of your fingertips as they drum softly against the walls of my feeble attempts of taking care of you.
"since it's green, let the leaves steep for no more than four minutes, otherwise the taste becomes bitter." i don't tell you this because who am i to decide your preferred taste. and i no longer know what tickles your taste buds and chapped lips. and i no longer know how the textures of color bend and fold against the sharp edges of your swagger. and i no longer know the rhythm in your footsteps, and the beat of your weak heart. but then again, not much has changed.
my words hit your pale forehead and slither down your nose. a crooked smile and chuckle cut through my paranoia.
i am having a conversation with your time limit. and i look at you, looking down, picking at the blue rubber that hugs the frame of the bench with remorse.
you will respond with an ever so quirky remark, because you have subscribed to my mind. i'll let technology be my scapegoat. you will depend on me and i will let you down, and i will build it up just so we can watch it fall. we will have many days of second hand hell and speak of what we once held on to so dearly. and at the end of it all, we'll return to the lives we have built in each other's absence. and i'll watch as you walk back to the smell of motor oil and changes in diet. and you will sit at your screen, pick apart my scattered phrases and correct my flaws, for that is what we do.
yes it's about you.
no i don't think you'll misunderstand.
can you hear me over the scratching of tires on wet pavement?
i don't know.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
february 2008
reminiscing on my thoughts as 2008 began...
and now it's ending:
...in the midst of all the simultaneous struggles that cause a triumph so worth every tear, this life is the most interesting paradox to live through. this year has been so indicative of the continuation i believed it to be: it wasn't my new start, but rather a transition back into the same reality -- it simply reminded me that time really is moving, regardless of the standstill i feel locked in. so my update: i am the same as i have been, as i'll ever be -- i still believe that everyday is a constant struggle to be a better person -- whatever those struggles, changes, and new perceptions may be.
i guess after all these years and experiences,
in the midst of this whirlwind of struggle and happiness,
in the midst of my imaginary mental standstill,
i am still holding onto the only piece of peace of mind i've ever had
that strength i find in the quiet calm
-- in the midst of constant change.
and now it's ending:
...in the midst of all the simultaneous struggles that cause a triumph so worth every tear, this life is the most interesting paradox to live through. this year has been so indicative of the continuation i believed it to be: it wasn't my new start, but rather a transition back into the same reality -- it simply reminded me that time really is moving, regardless of the standstill i feel locked in. so my update: i am the same as i have been, as i'll ever be -- i still believe that everyday is a constant struggle to be a better person -- whatever those struggles, changes, and new perceptions may be.
i guess after all these years and experiences,
in the midst of this whirlwind of struggle and happiness,
in the midst of my imaginary mental standstill,
i am still holding onto the only piece of peace of mind i've ever had
that strength i find in the quiet calm
-- in the midst of constant change.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
"The Struggle with Ambiguity"
I too am obsessed with numbers.
Obsessed with the excess of my own ambiguity.
Like releasing the gates, which only I can see.
But then I'm faced with a reality which blindly sets a tone over my ears
I can no longer hear…
And then a tone opaque covers my eyes.
I can no longer see…
Now the ambiguity engulfs me.
I've only dreaded these eyes and ears because of the alleyway I once walked down upon.
Couldn't see which track I was on,
Couldn't listen to the sound track to the song that played in my foreground.
Constantly blocking the way to a mind-state that overdubbed my understanding of what was real and what was fallacy.
"I too" is probably the overstatement.
"I too" is probably the misunderstanding
I for one, am probably subject to the lie which seemed like an investment in hope.
The faith of the future.
The faith of a future.
And as repetitive as it may seem.
You just don't see the irony that has erected from the scene.
Embarrassing it is to fit in a meme which I chose not to associate with
But the reality is that I did it again and placed myself behind the myth.
All because I chose not to let the belief wither and die.
Realizing that what I've visualized before was just a cloud in the sky.
Trust me,
I've came back down from that already and unstuck my head from the nimbus on high.
Got my head out the clouds because it seemed like an unlikely destination to be in.
This compilation of text seems so scatterbrained,
believe me, I hate the feelin'.
Meddling with the rhyme,
through the sun I see the times.
if only I can see ahead to the unveiling of the mind.
I would…
But we all know that its possibility is impossible when left to a coin toss.
Which causes us to understand the lasting fact that the loss is dreaded in the mist.
So that's it. now I just criss-cross it off the main list.
Or at least I try to.
Jus do me favor for now and reevaluate self for before you think this is about you.
Obsessed with the excess of my own ambiguity.
Like releasing the gates, which only I can see.
But then I'm faced with a reality which blindly sets a tone over my ears
I can no longer hear…
And then a tone opaque covers my eyes.
I can no longer see…
Now the ambiguity engulfs me.
I've only dreaded these eyes and ears because of the alleyway I once walked down upon.
Couldn't see which track I was on,
Couldn't listen to the sound track to the song that played in my foreground.
Constantly blocking the way to a mind-state that overdubbed my understanding of what was real and what was fallacy.
"I too" is probably the overstatement.
"I too" is probably the misunderstanding
I for one, am probably subject to the lie which seemed like an investment in hope.
The faith of the future.
The faith of a future.
And as repetitive as it may seem.
You just don't see the irony that has erected from the scene.
Embarrassing it is to fit in a meme which I chose not to associate with
But the reality is that I did it again and placed myself behind the myth.
All because I chose not to let the belief wither and die.
Realizing that what I've visualized before was just a cloud in the sky.
Trust me,
I've came back down from that already and unstuck my head from the nimbus on high.
Got my head out the clouds because it seemed like an unlikely destination to be in.
This compilation of text seems so scatterbrained,
believe me, I hate the feelin'.
Meddling with the rhyme,
through the sun I see the times.
if only I can see ahead to the unveiling of the mind.
I would…
But we all know that its possibility is impossible when left to a coin toss.
Which causes us to understand the lasting fact that the loss is dreaded in the mist.
So that's it. now I just criss-cross it off the main list.
Or at least I try to.
Jus do me favor for now and reevaluate self for before you think this is about you.
Monday, October 20, 2008
a snippet of my secret.
you’ve brought reading to another level,
i feel all flushed with fever.
but, instead of killing me softly,
I feel life in every morning after the unrest of the night.
I won’t listen to warnings of my heart being empty
when I know that within every single step,
my mind is getting stronger with the work out of sending vivid hopes of you from nerve to nerve.
my nerd,
my nerd,
you bring me to better aspirations,
I dream in the day again, far from R.E.M. cycles that don’t understand the loving kiss of the bright sun.
this pain you’ve jotted down has set my soul on fire
everyday since I have met you, I wonder,
have I found the spiritual confidence I have been looking for?
even if I was fooling myself I am completely grateful.
you might as well pass be the dunce hat and call me the city idiot if I didn’t take advantage of the hope and inspiration planted by your hands.
you write of love and of hope and I applaud you.
ashamedly,
I’m not even that honest when I write.
turn of phrase and double meanings,
a story within a planned out, well-executed concentration of words
yet, still so fearful of the messages I truly want to expose.
I’ve been so afraid of writing about you,
yet I dream about you listening,
you watching,
and you reading
knowing exactly which carefully chosen words are sincerely surrounded around my heart’s vision of you.
and,
I dream that one day, you’ll never have to write about hope so often, so in depth.
I know I can love you until you don’t accept loneliness anymore.
and, if that doesn’t work,
i’m going to love you every single lonely night for the rest of our existence,
so long as you love waking up on our side of the lonely world as much as I do.
your words.
you’ve somehow made me a better person.
I’m pushing forward, I’m pushing on.
sometimes, I am truly over it.
but, secretly, I read your writings,
because secretly,
I still dream of you.
i feel all flushed with fever.
but, instead of killing me softly,
I feel life in every morning after the unrest of the night.
I won’t listen to warnings of my heart being empty
when I know that within every single step,
my mind is getting stronger with the work out of sending vivid hopes of you from nerve to nerve.
my nerd,
my nerd,
you bring me to better aspirations,
I dream in the day again, far from R.E.M. cycles that don’t understand the loving kiss of the bright sun.
this pain you’ve jotted down has set my soul on fire
everyday since I have met you, I wonder,
have I found the spiritual confidence I have been looking for?
even if I was fooling myself I am completely grateful.
you might as well pass be the dunce hat and call me the city idiot if I didn’t take advantage of the hope and inspiration planted by your hands.
you write of love and of hope and I applaud you.
ashamedly,
I’m not even that honest when I write.
turn of phrase and double meanings,
a story within a planned out, well-executed concentration of words
yet, still so fearful of the messages I truly want to expose.
I’ve been so afraid of writing about you,
yet I dream about you listening,
you watching,
and you reading
knowing exactly which carefully chosen words are sincerely surrounded around my heart’s vision of you.
and,
I dream that one day, you’ll never have to write about hope so often, so in depth.
I know I can love you until you don’t accept loneliness anymore.
and, if that doesn’t work,
i’m going to love you every single lonely night for the rest of our existence,
so long as you love waking up on our side of the lonely world as much as I do.
your words.
you’ve somehow made me a better person.
I’m pushing forward, I’m pushing on.
sometimes, I am truly over it.
but, secretly, I read your writings,
because secretly,
I still dream of you.
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