Bonito

Since a blog should be a source of inspiration and not a chore, this year I am only updating when the moment feels right.  Today is a moment. 

Another beautiful song that shows us poetry can be found in any line of any song, book, post card,...thought.

Bonito, todo me parece bonito
Bonita mañana
bonito lugar
bonita la cama
qué bien se ve el mar
bonito es el día
y acaba de empezar bonita la vida
respira, respira, respira

El teléfono suena, mi pana se queja
la cosa va mal, la vida le pesa
que vivir así ya no le interesa
que seguir así no vale la pena
se perdió el amor, se acabó la fiesta
ya no anda el motor que empuja la tierra
la vida es un chiste con triste final
el futuro no existe pero yo le digo...

Bonito todo me parece bonito

Bonita la paz, bonita la vida
bonito volver a nacer cada día
bonita la verdad cuando no suena a mentira
bonita la amistad, bonita la risa
bonita la gente cuando hay calidad
bonita la gente que no se arrepiente
que gana y que pierde, que habla y no miente
bonita la gente por eso yo digo...

Bonito, todo me parece bonito

Qué bonito que te va cuando te va bonito,
qué bonito que te va

Bonito, todo me parece bonito
La mar la mañana, la casa, la sombra,
la tierra, la paz y la vida que pasa.
Bonito, todo me parece bonito.
Tu calma, tu salsa, la mancha en la
espalda, tu cara, tus ganas el fin de semana

Bonita la gente que viene y que va
bonita la gente que no se detiene
bonita la gente que no tiene edad
que escucha, que entiende, que tiene y que da

Bonito Portet, bonito Peret
bonita la rumba, bonito José
bonita la brisa que no tiene prisa
bonito este día, respira, respira
Bonita la gente cuando es de verdad
Bonita la gente que es diferente
Que tiembla, que siente
Que vive el presente
bonita la gente que estuvo y no está.

Bonito, todo me parece bonito.

Qué bonito que te va cuando te va bonito,
qué bonito que te va.
Qué bonito que se está cuando se está
bonito qué bonito que se está.

Bonito, todo me parece bonito

Jarabe De Palo

Waiting

The Waiting Place…
…for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come,
or a plane to go, the mail to come,
or the rain to go or the phone to ring,
or the snow to snow or waiting around for a
Yes or a No or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.

Waiting for the fish to bite
or waiting for wind to fly a kite
or waiting around for Friday night
or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake or a pot to boil,
or a Better Break or a sting of pearls,
or a pair of pants or a wig with curls,
or Another Chance.
Everyone is just waiting.

NO!That’s not for you!

Somehow you’ll escape all that waiting and staying.
You’ll find the bright places
where Boom Bands are playing.

-Dr. Seuss

I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You

by Pablo Neruda

I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.

I love you only because it’s you the one I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

 

Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel
Ray, stealing my key to true calm.

In this part of the story I am the one who

Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.

Steady we go

The Tortoise

Always to want to
go back, to correct
an error, ease a

guilt, see how a friend
is doing. And yet
one doesnt, except

in memory, in
dreams. The land remains
desolate. Always

the feeling is of
terrible slowness
overtaking haste

Cid Corman

A Birthday Laugh- 26

Stay Young




Happy birthday, always stay young,
Even if you, remain unsung.
Do not let youth, escape your soul,
If you do, you’ll look like a troll.Happy Birthday, always stay young,
Act like a kid, show off your tongue.
If you receive, awkward stares,
Join the zoo, and send in the bears.

Happy birthday, always stay young,
If you smoke, you might lose a lung,
Exercise is the ideal cure,
Youthful feelings; let me assure.

Happy birthday, always stay young,
Deceptive years, occasionally flung.
Hope you never, change one bit,
Stay young and never childhood quit.

It May Be Late, But It’s Not Too Late
By Tom Mulhern

It’s your birthday, woop-de-doo
Another year you’ve made it through

Some parts were high and some were low
But where exactly did the rest of it go?
And what is it that you have to show?

A few gray hairs, a pound or two
But about those dreams of things you’ll do . . .
Like learn to play tuba, or visit Katmandu
Or read “War and Peace” all the way through?

Whatever secret wish you may hold
Sensibly cautious, or outrageously bold
My wish for you, no matter how old
Is to act out some stories as yet untold

Age and Laughter

Happy Birthday, you’re not getting old,
Stay in the game, it’s not time to fold.
Wrinkles and grey hair, are just a new look,
Countless experiences, you should write in a book.

A birthday is seldom, a serious occasion,
Try not to take it, like the d-day invasion.
Laughter and jokes are within sight,
Stock up on both, all through the night.

Time waits for no one

Zen Koan

 
A Cup of Tea

Nan-in, a Japanese master during the Meiji era (1868-1912), received a university professor who came to inquire about Zen.

Nan-in served tea. He poured his visitor's cup full, and then kept on pouring.

The professor watched the overflow until he no longer could restrain himself. "It is overfull. No more will go in!"

"Like this cup," Nan-in said, "you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?"

Broken Love

The walls were painted with a dark crimson liquid and the words read "Died from a broken heart."  Nothing more nothing less, just the echoing silence of unrequited love.  Left behind were memories and heartache, the pieces of the puzzle strewn in every direction.  Family, friends and lovers trying to put the pieces together but they knew all along.  Each one held a key note to this sad symphony, they say "If only i'd listened more...cared mored."  Nothing but a cry in the dark the end has come and gone.  Her heart was too heavy the burden weighing down her every thought.  The only heart capable of stopping such a tragedy was an unforgiving heart.  Beating to a dark strange beat wrapped in a callous shell, unable to feel the writing on the wall.

The feel of the cold basin, the pulsing veins torn open gushing exploding.  One final act for the one thing worth living for.  Love.

The writings on the wall, the shout, the cry, the moment frozen in time.  One single smear as the words poured on her final canvas "Died from a broken heart." 

VML

Notes

Words for my children

on

Driving:

You need to drive like you're confident in your abilities but at the same time everyday will be a new adventure.  You don't know if you're going to find a unicorn or a dragon so always be prepared.

Love,

Vanessa

Automatons

What if we mess up civilization at its core.

That part so deep and vital that it's needed to sustain humanity.

Intimacy.

If we lose that we become the aliens, the aliens we have feared for years.

-VML

11/11/11

The Falling Star
I saw a star slide down the sky, Blinding the north as it went by, Too burning and too quick to hold, Too lovely to be bought or sold, Good only to make wishes on And then forever to be gone.   by Sara Teasdale

Fearless

Roll the Dice

by Charles Bukowski
if you’re going to try, go all the
way.
otherwise, don’t even start.

if you’re going to try, go all the
way. this could mean losing girlfriends,
wives, relatives, jobs and
maybe your mind.

go all the way.
it could mean not eating for 3 or
4 days.
it could mean freezing on a
park bench.
it could mean jail,
it could mean derision,
mockery,
isolation.
isolation is the gift,
all the others are a test of your
endurance, of
how much you really want to
do it.
and you’ll do it
despite rejection and the
worst odds
and it will be better than
anything else
you can imagine.

if you’re going to try,
go all the way.
there is no other feeling like
that.
you will be alone with the
gods
and the nights will flame with
fire.

do it, do it, do it.
do it.

all the way
all the way.
you will ride life straight to
perfect laughter,
it’s the only good fight
there is.

Rambling

Thoughts from a friend who likes to put a different spin on this noun we call writing.

HUM-OR

"Some people don’t really understand humor, sometimes the very falsehood or absurdity of a statement, and not the message itself, is what is funny. If you believe the statement itself to be true, and you don’t pick up the subtleties, then the point of the joke is lost on you."

Rene Hernandez

Rambling

Sometimes I feel like writing

and when my pen hits the paper

it’s like i’m not even trying

words just fill the page

like the tide when it’s rising.

There are no rules to which I abide

I just put down what comes to mind

This here is my shelter

don’t mistake it for a place to hide.

The real me comes through with each letter

I can clear my thoughts, get out of a bind

for worse or for better

At least it’s a recess

to un-stress and unwind.

My natural talent is there

like an uncut sculpture

stone bare

with a little effort and workmanship

some schooling on the subject

or an apprenticeship

I could turn this

into my longest relationship.

i just refuse to let myself slip

into old age

slowly becoming mentally deranged.

So if you enjoyed this quip

be hip

and leave me a tip.

Rene Hernandez

Pure Night

Nonsensical Rhythm

Yellow drops of drizzle,  jupiter gum drops- a time of pink clouds floating on an isle of disbelief.  Time stands still days turn to nights, life stops and starts.  We see the end we see the beginning time stops for no one, who stops for you? Top of the morning end of the night, lifes a breeze chilly and dry.  Move the mountain, glide off the cliff take a breathe and enjoy the riff.  Lose the moment gain the memory- time, time, time...tick tock tick tock clocks and smocks, life goes round and round.  Little yellow butterflies float in the breeze, what do you see?  I see a box a big round box, squeeze in squeeze out leave a mark push it in.  Leave me behind, pull me in close.  Pink swirls of melted twirls keep the movement flowing, glowing, lights and twilights keep me inside the outside of this window. 

VML

(Trying a writing game, writing without thinking.)

L'Amour

Midnight Fairytales

 

Flowers in the Sink

I am sorry,

but I have filled

your bathroom sink

with wildflowers.

You cannot use it

to wash away your

eyeshadow and blush

and certainly not

to brush the evening

from your teeth,

but you may,

if it please you,

pick one or two --

orange poppy,

purple lemon mint,

white yarrow, perhaps,

to take with you

to bed.

Gabriel Gadfly

Life

Pretty words, Sharp hooks, Helium Balloons

You Fit Into Me                                        
Margaret Atwood

you fit into me
like a hook into an eye

a fish hook
an open eye

Sex Without Love
Sharon Olds

How do they do it, the ones who make love
without love? Beautiful as dancers,
gliding over each other like ice-skaters
over the ice, fingers hooked
inside each others bodies, faces
red as steak, wine, wet as the
children at birth whose mothers are going to
give them away. How do they come to the
come to the God come to the
still waters, and not love
the one who came there with them, light
rising slowly as steam off their joined
skin? These are the true religious,
the purists, the pros, the ones who will not
accept a false Messiah, love the
priest instead of the God. They do not
mistake the lover for their own pleasure,
they are like great runners: they know they are alone
with the road surface, the cold, the wind,
the fit of their shoes, their over-all cardio-
vascular health—just factors, like the partner
in the bed, and not the truth, which is the
single body alone in the universe
against its own best time.

Hope 

On Valentine’s, a buzz
around the flower bins in the strip mall.
Outside, icy sidewalks, grubby snow.
Young men, mostly, on their lunch-break, hover
over the roses and gerberas.
A woman carries a helium balloon,
exclaiming to her friends, glad
she’s found the right thing.
Down the aisle, an old man
hesitates, gripping his cart
with its scant gleanings of bachelor food:
one-serving canned soups, Doritos,
sliced bread.  He is unshaven,
graceless, dressed like someone
who’s never had much.
In his right hand, askew, a lone
red rose in a cellophane holder
like those ruffs they put around dogs
to keep them away
from their wounds.

Beautiful Mind

The mind I love must have wild places, a tangled orchard where dark damsons drop in heavy grass, an overgrown little wood, the chance of a snake or two, a pool that nobody's fathomed the depth of, and paths threaded with flowers planted by the mind.- Katherine Mansfield