Thursday, October 09, 2014

Felix: A Tribute Part I

Sweet almond shaped soft brown stared me in the eyes, naked desire written all over him, his stance, and his gestalt. I became more curious the clearer it became that he was intent on conquering me although I couldn’t understand why.
Felix was beautiful to look at; five feet nine, lithe, strong sinewy muscles, small frame but extremely well formed. Curvy at the waist and hips, I could see muscled physique under his T-shirt. Felix had beautiful golden skin with curly black hair almost too his shoulders, a little less curly than a Jewish Afro. I watched the sunlight through his hair and my curiosity turned to admiration.
I have never felt beautiful excepting a few rare occasions. My flabby body always made me feel inadequate and it seemed no matter how hard I exercised I could only lessen the plight that plagued my self esteem.
He stood there staring at me, he tossed his head, his black curly changed through sun streams, sienna autumn hair strands bathed in color, sparkling eyes have golden light.
He told me later he envisioned us together bathing naked in a river, me suntanned becoming more beautiful, such a delight. He said that was the moment he knew he wanted me to be his wife.
I stared back, being defiant and sure I can do too what he is doing.
“Your eyes are beautiful, the color keeps changing while I’m looking at you.”
“Really, but I could use a new body if you know what a mean.”
Surprised by his compliment, I took a moment. I was used to men wanting sex with me for apparently no other reason than to have sex, so I was burned and wary of going any route near that. Such disappointments not to find love the way I wanted.
He grinned widely. “What’s your name? I’m Felix. I want to be with you.”
“Really,” I drawled sarcastically in my nasal New Yawk voice. “Any other requests at this time? I’m taking them by the bushel tonight. You’re the fifth to want to be with me tonight.”
In my peripheral vision I saw other people watching us and other women staring at him in a way that embarrassed me. Two guys looked my way and quickly turned away to watch the gals who were watching Felix. The dudes were impervious; they didn’t see that the gals were busy. I recall the girl’s bodies, with the little butts peeking out from beneath their short shorts. Felix didn’t glance their way. Passersby looking to avail themselves on someone other than me did stop to look at peek-a-boo butts. I had become accustomed to the daily assholes seeking a place to deep six their dicks. It makes me tired.
Felix laughed, “Wow, a woman who seeks her mind. Just what I’ve always wanted. …Come over here and talk to me. I don’t bite.”
His desire burned me. My face felt hot, I knew I colored scarlet. My mouth spoke for me. “You come here, why should I go there.”
He grinned and came closer, holding out his hand. “Com’on shake hands at least.”
I put out my hand, and he kissed it. “I don’t want you for tonight,” he said, “I want you forever.”
I felt like we’d turned invisible. Our eyes entered a locked embrace. People pretended not to see us.
He whispered in my ear, bringing his mouth close to my ear, his breath making me shiver.
“Let them all go and we’ll go for a walk alone.”
I was paralyzed, and sat down while he stood watch over me. “Let’s go,” he said, offering me his hand. When I gave it to him he kissed it softly his lips pressing. I wondered if he done some tongue, it felt so wet it tickled. He gave a pull and we walked out together, eyes locked the entire time. Time stood still while I fell in love.
Our eyes slowly parted as if we were saying goodbye to another life.
I laughed, glowing with his desire for me. Not that I didn’t desire him. I was definitely turned on. I had no place to take him.  
My uterus felt like it was throbbing. The heat made my stomach churn, my body impassioned.
 We sat watching the sunset at Fort Tryon Park. He held my hand and gazed into my eyes. “I’ve never met anyone with eyes like the sea to get lost in. You’re beautiful!” His eyes held a moonlit gaze bathing me in praise. His words made my uterus spasm as though his dick was inside me.
Listening to him speak, his words flowing over me like soft warm water, I lost my balance and got carried away in a flood of romantic banter.
He let go of my hand and put his arm around my shoulders. We sat quietly watching. He leaned over and pushed my head to his shoulder. “That’s better, maybe now I can hear your thoughts.”
After this hot introduction would you believe it was two months before we had sex? Felix came every night to see me after work. Where ever we went we went together. I always made him laugh. It was either that or he became angry, no in between for him. Frustration made him angry and he didn’t like to be talked back to in spite of our first meeting. I am not sure if this is how he meant to conquer me or if he gave it any thought at all and was totally always in a form of reaction. My desire steamed like lava on a mountain running downhill.  
I always felt like it was Déjà Vu except when he was angry. He exploded often. Our first fight occurred when I asked, “Just curious, what are you.” He stared at me blankly, his eyes narrowing.
“What do you mean? I’m a citizen of the world he said.”
“Well that’s some bullshit,” I quickly retorted. I know you’re from Santo Domingo.”
“I don’t associate myself with other Dominicans and if you know where I’m from, then what are you asking?”
The words stuck on my tongue. “Race, I wonder what color you are. You have such beautiful skin color and I wonder what you are.”
“I’m not going to answer that! You’re prejudiced or you wouldn’t ask that question.”
“I’m more curious than prejudiced,” I explained. “Your skin is so golden tan, I just figure you have more race than white.”
“I told you I’m a citizen of the world.”
“Maybe you don’t know and that’s why you won’t reply?”
“Don’t keep going there, or I’m out of here.”
I let it go and ended up crying feeling very misunderstood. I had never been accused of racism before because I was one of the few people in my neighborhood to always hang out with all the minorities. Seemed like I couldn’t make friends with my own kind. Sometime later I saw his Dominican passport and his race was listed as Indio. I figured that was what they called it when they had no clue and the person looked like they were dipped in light gold with caramel shadows. Felix was lovely to look at, and seemed perfect. I couldn’t know or fooled myself about all the indicators of something off as I always do when I am falling in love or in love.
Later he confessed he’d loved me at from the first moment we met. Felix would gaze into my eyes, and my breasts ached, my nipples longed to be elongated by sucking and his touch. Imagine the letdown when we finally had sex and I realized he had no experience, plus he was very inhibited, all that on top of ejaculating within three minutes. Sex improved with comfort, taking time, lying entwined in each other and talking for hours like new lovers do.
I struggle to recall wrongs and rights. Our visions of love were different but we were both wrong and right. We were two wounded birds. It’s as though others similarly afflicted could smell my wounds from far they’d flock my way. Neither of us had ever experience true love where someone will sacrifice himself for you. We only knew what we’d seen before and we didn’t know how to create something new either.
My hormones raged for compensation wanting more than thrills. When he entered me, my uterus skipped a beat. He moved in my vagina to a beat only we heard. I saw it in his mouth, the curve of his lips, that feeling of condescension that he knew he could have me and I was his. I had no choice in this young foolish love that can’t find its way on a slow snaked day where it rains all day, and when day is about to end, finally the sun shines once more. Déjà Vu all over again.




*My son's father, Felix, passed away two years ago today.

Tuesday, October 07, 2014

WICKEDNESS LIVES

I want to kill the bastard who did this to you
Hunt him down like the animal he is
First I want to flay away 
his skin like back in the day,
Slowly peel the layers of skin in fine strips 
Translucent like onion but much thinner
Watch his face; enjoy his screams
For mercy, enjoy misery I create

I want to torture him for you
Torture him like he did to you
Make him feel the pain he caused you
Instead he got away scot-free,
I would have made him pay
Hurt him like he hurt you

He should’ve been jailed at the very least
Inmates hate child abusers in jail
They would shiv him
In jail he’d get nailed
Your mother let him get away with this

Mom allowed your stepdad to abuse you too
No one wanted your Dad to pay the piper
Your uncle wanted to kill him
Beloved grandma urged him to let it go,
So uncle shoved it under his hat

Your father doesn’t deserve to survive
Only if he lives in great pain
You paid the price for their sins

Monday, September 15, 2014

Dream A Dream For Me Lover

I dreamed this two weeks ago.
I am with Missy, my young grad school buddy.  She’s with a new boyfriend, someone I never met before. I recognize this as strange in my dream, knowing she's now married with children. Bob, my boyfriend, Missy, and my son, Joey are all there together. Bob is with us yet seconds later is rapping to some chick about 15 feet away. I walk towards them, but when I get there, Bob’s disappeared into thin air. 
“Where's Bob?"  I ask.
Joey says, “In the store, buying beer.”
         Missy and I are walking together downtown on Broadway alone. We’re on our way to visit my Dad down on 162nd street. It’s a long walk from Sickle Street (Close to Dykeman Street) in Washington Heights.
This is before Washington Heights became Hudson Heights, before gentrification. For me it will always be The Heights.
Missy and I are strolling slowly, talking, taking our time.  We run into Alan Abel, the big 'Get Even' Scam Man Prankster, Bob had introduced me to.
I say, “Hi Alan, how are you?”
Alan says, “Hey, how’re ya’? You’re the woman involved with Bob, that young English fellow I met you with in Oxford?” Alan is speaking while pulling out all these clothes from somewhere. I can’t figure out where they’re coming from. 
Missy says excitedly, “Lets share everything.”
“Excellent,” I agree, forgetting my concern about where the stuff is coming from.
I pull out a tight colorful skirt. I feel Missy’s eyes on it. I say, “Oh Missy, that wouldn't fit you, you're too big.” I realize I spoke without thinking. Missy's not big anymore plus I'm worried I hurt her feelings. I quickly say, “Oh you're not big anymore.” Too late, the words are spoken.
         Missy, Alan and I wind up in my apartment’s home office. Alan is using my fax to make copies. I remember Bob putting cellophane wrappers on the roller that holds the fax paper. Later he refills with paper. I can't remember why Bob was using cellophane but suddenly realize Bob’s trying to trap me into doing something sexual with Alan. He is using cellophane to create a tracking record on fax.
Alan continues to make copies using the fax machine.
Alan says, “I really appreciate you letting me use your machine this way.”
I smell something funny burning inside the fax.  Suddenly the copy button pops up and out of the machine.
I say, “Oh shit Bob warned me about how careful I have to be with this fax.  He gave me this long list of do's and don'ts. Repeated over and over, ‘don't use white out, no scotch tape either, don’t touch buttons,’ and truth is I’m guilty and he’ll say I broke the fax.”
         Alan focuses on me. Alan says, “How much do you care about this Bob guy?”
“I'm crazy about him and can’t understand why he makes me unhappy. I wonder if any man can give me what I want or need.”
         Missy cuts in, “Do you both feel the same about faithfulness?”
 Alan tells Missy, 'No, the real problem is she has not found anyone to meet her needs or make her happy.”        
Alan turns to include me, “But, why aren't you faithful?” 
“You mean unfaithful because I'm hanging out with you here?' 
Right beside me suddenly is some guy standing there who wasn't there a second before. Someone I’ve never seen before.
I defend myself, “Oh, we don't have sex. And although I've been unfaithful, I'd much rather be faithful, but somehow, when I get unhappy I also get unfaithful."  I pause and take a breath. 
         "Is that it?" Alan said. He smiled slightly, added in his strong pretend English accent, "Well, that's all right then, some people are unfaithful just for the hell of it."
         "No," Missy said, "There's more to it than that.”
Alan has his mind made up. He starts making lists of the pros and cons about my relationship with Bob. Instead of reading the lists, I watch him feeding the lists through the fax to make copies. I see he's taped relevant and matching stuff together to better organize themes. I get worried about the fax.  
“Alan” I say, “you will break the fax putting paper through with tape.”
         Scene switches again. Alan and I are sitting together on rocks at an outdoor garden. We are completely alone and isolated. Alan moves closer behind me. The waterfall, rocky, slippery, with lush wild flowers, granite rocks glinting, mesmerizes me. Beautiful, and wild, yet tended to. I want to climb down but it's about a five-foot drop. I worry if I can’t get down I won't be able to climb back up without help. I stand there enjoying a familiar rapture, Alan’s powerful energy combined with the moment’s tranquility. I am enraptured yet captive.
         I feel Alan’s body pressing against mine. His growing erection presses against my butt. “I want you to be mine,” he said. "Even though I’m crazy beyond what you’ve ever known before, I believe we can make it.” He leaned in, bent his head.
         Dizziness overcame me, hunger clawed at me. My stomach lurched with fear of getting involved and let down again, and still I raised my lips to greet his.
         Eyes wide open, gazing deep inside mine, hurt inside the hunger’s so deep, I feel my womb throb with desire.

Thursday, September 04, 2014

Moodiness

If only I weren’t lonely
If I could be satisfied
If I didn’t know you
If I believed you wouldn’t have lied
If I could be sure you really tried
If I could take your word
If you didn’t sabotage our love
At every turn
If only I hadn’t been burned
So many times before you
If I only had eyes for you
I know in my heart you were never true
Still can’t seem to stop myself wanting you
Still can’t stop feeling so lonely and blue
Can’t stop wanting to hear the sound of your voice

I gave up on you and me
You left me alone
Felt like a clown for wanting you
For believing your pretenses
For believing you were demure
For our ephemeral dalliance
For our creation,
An Elysian delight
Crushed by epiphany
Crude awakening
To halcyon fantasy
Surreptitious whispers
Feel so down
Feel like a part of you is with me
Feel a need to have you with me
Even if life with you could never be
Dreams survive in my head



Kind of reminds me of If by Rudyard Kipling written in 1943 which is still very valid today.


+Enrico Miguel Thomas

*  Enrico called me "The white female Tupac" which I consider a great compliment!


+Brad Eubanks 


Monday, August 04, 2014

Spit Poetic Love and Life’s Shit Splits


Be the love you want to give
Give love to live life
Let love dissipate strife
Let love give and get love
Love who you’re with
If you can’t be with whom you love
Give it all you’ve got
A pep talk on love
Be who you want to love
Wish you’d stop shoving me away
A voice from above
My true love
Live the love you want to give
Be the love you want to get
See love I give
Give love I get
Be the love I see
Give the love I want to be
Can’t control thoughts and feelings that come through me
Can control what I do about them
Can’t be who you expect me to be
Can only be who I am

I am talking to the framer, Igball, when artist lady interrupts my flow.
Artist lady says, “Hey wait, you’re speaking about the artist guy, the one with the scars across his face.”
Oh my, I say to myself in my head.
Aloud I reply, “He’d be so angry to have you define him that way, ‘by scars that line his face.’”
“How’d you meet?” asked Igball.
“I went to meet him to watch him paint. Guards chased him away from the sidewalk where he painted. I wanted him to paint where he wanted to, and he asked me to speak to the guards. So I spoke to them to protect his rights.”
“Another guard came to talk to me, not the one who’d chased Enrico away. He said, ‘I saw you earlier painting on the street when I came to work. I recognized you by your scars.’
“Enrico went off. ‘You recognized me by my scars. How are my scars relevant to this situation? Now I know you’re violating my human rights.’ I didn’t see his scars. I looked into his eyes. His eyes looking back into mine mesmerized me. It wasn’t until the guard pointed them out that I saw his scars.”
“Oh I do hope you won’t tell him what I said,” artist lady said, “I just wanted to identify him. He’s very beautiful.” She said, “Gorgeous, don’t get me wrong. Then I went home and cried all night.”
I listened to her, looked in her eyes and died a little more inside.
“You’d cry more if you were me,” I said.  “He has a mean streak. He told me, ‘Blame my parents who abused me.’ I want to report his father and mother for abuse but every state has different laws, and in Los Angeles, it’s too late to report. They got away with it. I hang out with him and he gets angry very easy, every little thing sets him off, becomes an offense. If he heard you now he’d get very angry like he did when the guard said he recognized him by his scars.”
“Well, please don’t tell him,” she pleaded.
I wrote it all here instead.
Igball stared in my eyes and saw me, ‘the me’ who I feel I am.


Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

She wished she knew
But she hasn’t got a clue
What she did
When all is said and done
She didn’t even have fun
She’d fooled herself
Believed sex made them closer
He complained continuously
They’d had sex too soon
Like there was a rulebook to follow
On time limits before sex

Plenty of time had passed
In her eyes
Three times a week for four weeks
Six hours each time
Hold hands; tell stories at French Roast,
Walk empty city streets at 3 a.m.
Sometimes, she’d drive him home
He’d hug her tightly, 
Chastely kiss her forehead
Press his groin to hers

Truly she had no clue as to what set him off
Clearly sex made him vulnerable
Afterwards he pushed her away
Picked arguments, and
Communication went astray
He proceeded to insult, belittle and ridicule her
Like her ex-husband used to do

She wrote him a note, “I wish you well,”
He wrote back he wished her the same
“Fundamentally,” he explained,
“I wanted us to get along.
We’re both highly sensitive creatures
And without meaning to
We push each other’s buttons.”
She decided
He was hazardous to her health
Sex for him creates distance, not intimacy
She’d label him
Toxic after sex
If she knew before
What she knows now

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