Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 17, 2016

Bloody Sunday


When I told Robin I’d been recently hospitalized for intestinal hemorrhaging, she replied, “Age!” with an exclamation mark at the end.
Death gets us all at the bitter end, gets me, all my friends, my enemies.
Death claimed my best friend
Death follows me wherever I go
Along with age come thoughts of death
Know it’s coming, just not when. Wonder when we’ll breathe our last breath.
Realize mortality, no consequence if you lived slowly or fast
Our bodies not meant to last
All headed to the same ultimate destination
No avoiding this destiny, the roads you can’t out travel or unravel
Even those who last long
Say a little prayer for me
Meet their final demise, foe or friend
No one lasts, can’t outlive eventual age and then we find death or death finds us.
Either way could meet us.

Death defeats all
Death, our detonator,
We are one subversive nation under a godless nation
Each nation more fearless than the last
Bent on our destruction
Life a flamboyant dream – a mirror reality
Intend to wake up, find a new reality
Behavior more meaningful then worship
Of a God who doesn’t see
Look and See
Fears within
Domination cravings go both ways
Someone to lead, someone to follow
For livelihood or family
Not all of us have a choice
Life and death are abominations
Live and survive in illusion, idealization, analyzation, expectations, and explanations.
Nothing explains away inhumanity like fame and money combined

I want someone to get rid of our debt to China. Don’t want to live in the grace of their handouts and products we’re forced to consume, without knowledge of the cruelty involved in making them. I am tired of the cruelty of sweatshops where my crocs are made or clothes, tired of the cruelty in food production.
I want someone to stop the pain, someone who will hear the poor’s pleas about healthcare.
Someone to get rid of the lobbyists. As long as this system exists, the monetarists persist.
I want a government by the people, for the people, including the selected protected wealthy beyond words, minority.
We need a little enlightenment to destroy cruelty.
Live like architects of ourselves, build from bottom up.
Create a new society of enlightenment,
form a government for the people, by the people. 

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

CAMILLE

Your light snuffed out like this candle
I light in commemoration
Not permitted full potential
Never reaching maturation

Your flame put out prematurely,
Wounds my heart like a sword surely
Michael requests positive energy
To help her on her journey

Light a single white candle at sunset
Blue, yellow and red flames ascend
Many loved you, will not forget
I would redo, make amends

Stopped literally in your tracks
Flames soar; see you clutching red wine
Forced before time to pay death tax
Passion and spine created your shine

You were like my sister, my family
Joey recalled movie class, your arm
Resting on his shoulders, your words
Softly spoke, a blue rhapsody

Short winded, precise and clear
Owned the gift of repartee
Camille possessed much flair
With her, no boredom guarantee

Times gone, I snuff the candles light
My mind’s eye reminiscences
Memories live, my delight
Death abandons all; relentless



Monday, August 10, 2015

Loss and Bereavement - Tribute to Camille Vega-Willard

I recently heard my beloved friend, Camille Vega-Willard, passed away. Her husband Michael Willard wrote to let me know that Camille had passed away on August 4th and that he was "flying with her physical remains and sisters to let her join her mother and father in the family plot in Luquillo, Puerto Rico." Michael added, "Request good memories and positive energy to help her on her journey." As we age, it is inevitable that we will experience loss.

Here follow my good memories and thoughts about my dear beloved friend Camille.



I recall Camille fondly, nursing a bottle of fine and inexpensive red wine with her wit and intelligent banter, listening to her pontificate on a variety of subjects, listening to her short whispered insights and stories. Her lust for life and her love for Michael were evident in every word. She was fun to listen to too. She could discuss any subject with clarity and sensitivity. Camille knew how to use satire in her talk. She was very precise and short winded. Listening to her made me laugh and made me think. Camilla made me feel special, like my ramblings mattered.

I remember when we were at Columbia University together. I had a young child and Camille was very friendly. Camille convinced me to take a class on film with her. One day, my young son Joey, 7 years old at the time had no school and I had my movie class. The class was packed and Camille led me to in front of the front row of seats and we lay down to watch Fassbinder. Joey loved movies too. He ended with his head on Camille’s shoulder with her arm around him. After this, Joey loved Camille too. When I texted him that she’d passed, he came down and we commiserated several hours remembering Camille.  


I remember when Camille would do one-third the amount of work I did for a class and she’d pull an A and I’d pull a B or B+. She gave me her paper to study, telling me to say less and focus more. All of our professors loved her too. One came to weekly family dinners and it seemed like roles switched when his marriage was on the rocks and Camilla acted like his therapist.

I recall when she told me she’d met Michael. I asked how they got together. She told me that she’d been planning to go to Mexico to study a Gypsy community there and Michael protested that they’d just only met; he didn’t want her to go. Camille said she presented her solution: “Marry me and go with me to Mexico.” He did and they’d had a big adventure in Mexico.

Camilla was honest and forthright. You knew you could depend on her not to bullshit you. If you wanted the truth of what she thought, she’d give it to you straight. She wasn’t beyond offering coddling when needed either. Plus she was simply and deliciously beautiful, inside and out. Whoever knew Camille knew Camilla could make you feel special. Camille never tried hard to look sexy or pretty, she didn’t have to. She naturally had the most beautiful hair, the greatest skin, and she had va-va –voom!

Camille had many special talents. She made you feel like every utterance, every incantation, every word, was only meant for you and that your every utterance was just as meaningful. I remember how impressed I was when Camilla began exploring her more creative side with photography. Up till now I’d only seen her intellectual side. She even began producing her own photos in a dark room she designed and made with Michael’s help. Her photos were stories that began to develop into complex tales. She became very adept and I imagined her work in galleries. They were good, tasteful, and artsy.

I will achingly miss her. What I will hold dear in my memory is that Camille is a bright light who shined upon us in this world. I was blessed to have been included in part of her life.


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.