Showing posts with label original. Show all posts
Showing posts with label original. Show all posts

Saturday, May 16, 2009

We Have Been Screaming... "

¡Hola! Everybody...
The weather has turned, so my online presence will be greatly diminished. I’m still looking for a summer fling, so hand in those applications! LOL

* * *

art by AnneKarin Glass

-=[ Nows: no. 12 ]=-


We have been screaming and moaning
and grinding and groaning enough,
God knows.

Our prurient points have been made.
We are still a bit frightened
here in the horizontal,
you and I.

So quiet now.
Soften yourself and listen.
Connected and motionless.

To the symphonic pulsing of our blood,
the crash of an eyelid,
the joyous trickle of a bead of sweat.

-- Edward-Yemíl Rosario

Saturday, April 18, 2009

They Were Always on the Outside...

¡Hola! Everybody...
It’s in the 70s here in The Center of the Known Universe, and there’s a free salsa concert in the Bronx, plus all the street fairs in all the boroughs. Everybody will be outside today, enjoying the weather, shopping, listening to poetry or music, looking at art...

Fuck suburbia! LOL

I usually set Saturday’s blog aside for the aesthetic sense...

* * *

Yesterdays [no. 1]


They were always on the outside
not because there was no door
but because it was where they
long ago chose to live.

I couldn't bring my world
to them, however I tried.

I could only extend the
invitation of an open hand.

Please replace me...
if you dare

Reach out for them...
if you care.

Listen to the silent screams
of these sad-eyed ladies

Share their finely tuned sorrows
when they join their pallid thin hands
with yours and guide you on their
journey to despair.

-- Edward-Yemíl Rosario

Saturday, March 14, 2009

Your First Bloody Death...

¡Hola! Everybody...
Still here, still writing. Still laughing at the Village Idiots... LOL

I’m being told by weathermen, some of whom apparently don’t believe the scientific consensus around global warming, that it’s the last weekend of winter. I can almost smell the shaving cream!

* * *

Now [no. 14]



Your trust, once owned,
oozed out of a bullet-hole
in your pretty back

and once gunned down

is enough for anyone.


Your first bloody death was funny

but your second would be foolish.


So a seasoned gunfighter

lives within you.

You sit only with your back

against the wall

and face the open door

when you love.


A twitching hand rides
high
above your oiled holster,

riding low on your hip,

and you wait only for

another stranger
to ride into your lonely town.

Saturday, February 28, 2009

Irakere (The Jungle)

¡Hola! Everybody...
I believe deranged people -- those not allowed outside without proper supervision -- make cyberspace their home in disproportionate numbers. I am not one to pass judgment. Whatever you say about me, you’ll have to admit that I’m slow to judgment.
However, being judgmental and using one’s judgment are two different things.

There is a woman who has allowed her anger to spill out to the point to where she’s even accused me publicly of being a pedophile. I believe she expresses subtle racist notions when it comes to Obama. She actually sent me that stupid email about Obama being the “antichrist,” perhaps you've seen it? Anyway, what’s her rationale (if such a word can be applied to her thinking)? According to her, I’m a pedophile because I posted a nude photo of a young girl a while back. I posted it as a jumping off point in a discussion about obscenity and art.

Now, pedophilia is a strong accusation, one not to be taken lightly. However, one must take the accusation with a grain of salt, considering the source. Here’s a woman who pays for men to travel to her home so they can have sex. She does this though she’s the mother of a teenaged girl. Furthermore, at least one of these “men” stole from her and then posted nude pictures of her all across the internet. He also went on extended rants about the sexual acts she did for him (felatio, etc.)

In fact, she once asked that I take the individual in question to task for his behavior (which I did). Normally, I would let this slide. After all, this is a woman who has admitted to a series of abusive relationships and who’s aggressive in her behavior. But I think that once you come out your ass, then you’re fair game. So Amy? Before you throw another rock, please get your own house in order? I certainly hope you do at least for your daughter’s sake. After this, I'm leaving her to her own bile...

I guess I should place pedophile on my list of character traits according the fragmented: Bigot, intolerant, asshole, sexist, intemperate, thin-skinned. C'mon psychos what else am I?

* * *


Nows [no. 23]



In some remote
rain forest,
under the approving eyes
of the ancient Orishas,
we took each other,
rudely,
like animals
of the jungle.

Teeth, fingers, lips
painted with the fruits
of our childlike foreplay,
we had our roll
in the tangled underbrush
and emerged,
scratched and bleeding,
staggering, jaunty an
rowdy with contempt
for all those timid animals
who still make noiseless love,
undressing in
the darkened chambers
of their shame.

-- Eddie

Saturday, February 14, 2009

The Tiny Cabaret...

¡Hola! Everybody...
I was supposed to go to Boston, but really, she’s insane. She’s beautiful, seductive, a willing lover, but she’s a fuckin’ psycho. and I can’t really do psychos right now. So, I called all my single friends, and we’re all going out en masse. Fuck the committed sheeple! Singlehood rules!

The point being is that you shouldn’t buy into the bullshit. The most important relationship in your life, is the one you cultivate with your [higher] self.

::smooches::

I’ve added a surprise for the ladies: please note my boi Stiffy and myself. As Stiffy would say: “We Hawt!” Girls?!! Bring your own condoms! LOL

* * *

-=[ Nows (no. 28) ]=-


I will be your main man
if you will be my leading lady.


The curtain will part,

to reveal a shower,
rehearsal for the opening
for our tiny cabaret.

I will be a Pirate,

a Thief,

a Rogue,

wearing only my sword,

and a blue bandana

around my neck.


You'll enter exploding.

Sexing your way

into my makeshift tent
wearing only your black beret
and those fuckin' bad-assed boots.


Never a game.
This is not a fantasy.

This is true.


We will act out

who we truly are.

And reach back in time

to what we must

have once been.
-- Edward-Yemíl Rosario

Love,
Eddie

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