Ode to My Passport

Ode to My Passport

8-14 -15-13

OH not-so-golden-ticket to freedom
I don't know where I'd be without you
Actually that's not true
I know exactly where I'd be without you

but I don't know who I would be

Because of you I have discovered
more of who I am
And I found that definition
supersedes and transcends
home sweet home
overbearing barrier codes
or flagrantly self-serving flags

while still taking a little from each

Traveling has stretched my mind out
It uncoils my conditioning
Has shown me that we are all cocooned against our will
The more we are taught to ignore our wings

The less we navigate our bodies
away
from the comfort of the chrysalis

OH weathered flipbook of worldly administrative wonders
because of you I am a stamp collector
but I use them to mail myself around the globe
And though I've only been to 11 of the 196 countries
on 4 of the 7 continents
those fractions have made me whole
a more human being
I realized the lines inside my head that seemed
to be sensible borders
were cracks
causing crevices in my understanding
Keeping me from connecting
with the universal parts of us

OH magical object in my life
that isn’t really magical
since it’s just a little leathery booklet
that nobody can even read
The fuller you get the more fulfilled my life becomes
You are like my portrait of Dorian Gray
but you keep me young in the most beautiful way possible
by conjuring my spirit out its shell
to dance the flamenco with flamingos in Brazil

Okay
I haven’t done that but…
it sounds fun
Sounds like a good example right?
I could do that if I wanted to because I have a…
Never mind
lemme try again

OH future tracking device for the NSA
You keep me young in the most beautiful way possible
By conjuring my spirit out of its conical shell
To dance on beaches
Jump off bridges
Float with rivers
Cave open caves
Hike up glaciers
Chase down penguins
Fly off motorbikes
Sit on the ocean’s floor
Swim through a crowd of sweaty people
Pray for a “real toilet”
Succumb to pristine chapels and beehive malls
Climb ancient history to watch the latest sun set
Love a people or a culture I would have never known
Laugh with children I share no words with
Hang motionless by a rubber rope
in the middle of a canyon
like a spider from its web

That’s how many of us are now
Spiders dangling from a thread
looking up at this marvelous creation
going, “Huh, look at that.
That looks pretty cool.
Wonder where that came from.
Maybe I should go check it out.
Naaaaaaa.
I’ll just hang out here.
Gotta save some money anyway.”

 
All of you too averse to traverse our private speck of universe
for longer than it takes Venus to run around the Sun
I beg you to reconsider
Go sit with the beggars in Cambodia
Go meet the thieves in Rome
Go eat the strange food of supposed strangers
and taste their native tongues
Fill your pupils with all this colorful disco-ball
shimmers and shutters with
Our world is not what you think
It is incredibly what it is
And there’s no way you can
wrap your mind around that
until you have unwrapped
the scar spangled bandages
banded over your eyes

Once you do that
you will behold from such great heights
You will know nomads
and bond with vagabonds
wherever you may roam
You will finally understand
as you gaze into our existence
that this is our Never Never Land
But you should never say never

 








 





OH hallpass of safe passage through airy ports of absurd security
I want you to know
that I never get front row seats at concerts
but I always get a window seat when I fly
because every time I look outside
at the endless supply of beauty
known as planet Earth
I count my lucky stars
in the nebulas of citylight
in the clusters of cumulus cloud emitting iridescent white
To be here living is itself
an Ode to Joy
And I am thankful
that like the clouds
I am caught
in an invisible current
carrying me out
to see

All the pictures (except the first one) are my own and were taken in various parts of Thailand, my home for the past 7 years. God bless it! 

My New Year's Poem

1- 1-12 - 2013

"To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment." ~ Emerson

I’d like to think I’m getting better at living through the years.
As each one passes, I’ve surmounted a few more fears
and left behind some tendencies to get tangled up in gears
that slow down my clock and bring little more than tears.

By focusing on my goals and their respective causes,
I’ve found a source of stability between the loves and losses.
It’s offered me a strength that I use to my advantage,
as I try to live with grace, while incurring minimal more damage.

This isn’t about perfection or even being better than others,
but a belief that you and I are only as good as our gutters,
as our weaknesses and flaws constantly stabbing us in the back
like a city that's being flooded by its very own crap.

It’s a tricky thing we’re given when we’re handed the controls,
of a life others half built and may have blindly filled with holes.
Like landmines in our foundation, or a blueprint full of errors,
and we pick up where they left off amongst the comedy of terrors.

Yet we’re expected to make it work like we all know what we’re doing,
like the world has a use for us that we are knowledgeably pursuing.
But for most it would seem we’re all searching for a light
to illuminate the room with the best parts of life.

It’s safe to say where that room is, we’ve heard it all our lives
as we busy our dizzy selves like desperate houseflies,
from the mouths of our greatest minds and the stories they have told,
to the remarkably simple truths spoken by our young and old.

“You have to look within,” they say, “til you’re not afraid of what you see,
because every time you look away…you lose sight of the enemy.
The only one who can hold you down and keep you from becoming
everything you’ve ever dreamed, without the slightest bit of cunning,

just the goodness of love, along with a beautiful faith
that you weren’t put here to be a victim on behalf of the human race.
That there is more to you than this, whatever this is,
just as there is more to love than a lust for hugs and kisses.

To never stop digging deeper like you’re searching for a bullet
that could be infecting parts of your life with x amounts of bullshit.”
This is what they say to the rest of us, who are as clever as cartoons,
always expecting to get better, without putting pressure on the wounds.

~

This is what I saw growing up, and I’d be damned if I followed suit,
so I broke my pact with the devil, and threw the bible down the chute.
I accepted no one’s answers but the ones I found myself,
and began to pay attention to the thoughts that filled my shelf.

I found that many were not my own, and few were even true,
like my perceptions had been catered by a society with the flu
and a sickness had been spreading that was simply called ‘The Norm’:
once it got its pound of flesh, you were bound to be deformed.

So I resolved to make a change, protect whatever I was
from a world that sought to make me accept whatever it does
as gospels and love and the way things ought to be,
like I can’t tell the difference between truth and falsity.

This was all disturbing, but I found a place inside
where I could be myself and I didn’t have to hide
how much I really loved to live or what made me feel alive,
and in this place I found my art…and that’s when I began to thrive.


 I didn’t think I was good at anything for the better part of my life,
but my writing made that line of thinking slow and then it jackknifed.
I felt like I really had something, and it was incredibly fun,
but I also incessantly doubted myself and was incredibly dumb.

I didn’t have the confidence to do what I needed to do,
and never felt the freedom to follow my dreams through.
Eventually I let it all go, because I didn’t believe in myself.
How often do we squander our unvalued wealth?

However, as you see, that’s not the end of this story,
and I have managed to reclaim a bit of my former glory,
and have put it to good use in some interesting ways
that make my life feel like a ship aptly called, “To Better Days.”

There’s a place for my art in the world that I didn’t see before.
It was there all along, but I was blind to the door
and no one seemed to notice my stumbling potential,
so I figured I was kidding myself thinking this was special.

It was my favorite thing in the world and I treated it like a hobby,
told myself to forget my dreams, and that betrayal was ungodly.
It broke my spirit and made me hate all that I was.
My art atrophied in self-loathing.  My big bang became a blasé buzz.

But it never went away, it just got very very quiet,
like I went from flyin planes, to a desk job at the Hyatt.
The itch was always there to get back into the air
but I had to spend my days acting like I didn’t care.

I was a fool to stop it and to think it could be stopped.
All I did was hang an anvil that would naturally be dropped
on my dumbfounded head almost ten years later,
and the force knocked so much sense, it turned my skull into a crater.

Now I write every day, I am happy to report!
Whether poems thoughts or songs, even essays and letters
the words won’t stop coming out! But…long story short,
as time passed and brought experience, I broke free from my fears,
and slowly found my way back into the stratosphere.

It may not always be great and I’m rarely very technical,
but I enjoy what I make and performing is a spectacle
that I can’t believe I’m a part of, it was once a “wildest dream.”
And now every chance I get makes my inner child scream

with the joy of Christmas presents or a great birthday surprise.
I’ve reached a place in life where all the blessings are undisguised.
And I can’t believe the fortune I had in my hands all this time!
Who knew you could make life better…just by making rhymes?

The power of a purpose is that of a resounding call,
calling everyone who heard it to take that leap despite the fall.
I’ve heard mine loud and clear now, but it was there all along,
and I do not think I’m alone in that. I think we all have a song

that we are meant to sing, that would tell you where you belong,
so you can live without the constant, crippling fear of being wrong.
Because none of that matters, not one judgment is eternal.
The system is designed so you can escape any inferno,

from the one in your head, to the violence you feel and see,
but whether you go up or down is up to you entirely.
You sow the seeds of your future, or you let them be sown,
but whatever you end up with is only yours to own. 

The world is a crazy place, no doubt. Of this, we’re well aware.
Some are born in opportunity, while others in despair.
And while that might make some dreams far-fetched, greatness is always possible.
The abominable only exist as long as allowed by the indomitable.

~

  At this point, all I hope for is to become more of what I am,
to better my self, and if I can, to help my fellow man.
Because I know something of his struggle, I’ve been on both sides,
but you’ll find me smilin in the middle now, cuz I know it’s just a ride.

I cannot ask for much more from life (if you could only see what I’ve been given),
but I see how much more can be done with the storyline I’m livin,
so I try to bend it in more alignment with the universe’s laws,
so I may do that work much longer. God willing, Insh’Allah. 

_

Bed of Nails

3-10-00

The expectations of a parent

                 are like nails

   held to their children's back

Held just close enough to make it

                    apparent

      what will happen if they

                        slack

Because of this

                        the kids walk fine lines

                              like tight ropes

        while bearing unnecessary pressure

        and they do this all in hopes

                                  living up to their parents'

                                       measure

They're forced into invisible molds

    (an act the parent will never admit)

       and every time the children

             do exactly what they're told

       the molds become

                           a better fit

Permanently filling shoes

                 they should only

    be trying on

  As they are served

a full plate of values

  and they don't get to leave the table 

 'til every last pea is gone

Parents allow fear

   to become the source of their love

 Never meaning it to do any harm

But there's a line between guidance

      and a helpful shove

  and when it's crossed

     there is cause for alarm

But as children are

   tucked in for the night

 their parent's

       smiles hang high overhead

  Though the kids are told

      everything will be all right

    they still feel the prick of

                nails in their bed     

Strongmen

11-1-2004

This guy I work with

“He’s a house,” as people who flit around his porch light say

A giant    like my brother, 6’6” and wide like a flag       thick like a pillar

Probably rips phones books like muscle-Ts        just to kill time

Too big for his own joints

Walks like Frankenstein’s monster

Works security here

Would’ve made a great bully

if it wasn’t for that goofy smile on his…

Might not even shave yet

Face of a little boy with a caterpillar        tickling his cavernous hand

Only this big kid is kind of dumb               you can tell

a little Lennie       and I suddenly wish my brother      was dumb

Here     this spitting image of his senior photo

is standing in front of me        grinning    like he smells candy

or a cheerleader      named Candy     and my brother    with all his brains

boxed    in a surly scowl       is sitting behind bars

he can’t bend

_

Sticks & Stones ~ The Untold Story

 Down below is a video of my latest performance, which was on Thursday at The Opposite, supporting Bangkok Poetry. 

 The poem is old but I've never performed it before. As I told the crowd, I wrote it in university for an assignment. I read it to the class as a part of the assignment, but this was before I was aware of or into performance poetry so I definitely didn't write it with this art form in mind. But once I got back into it these past two years, I started going back through my older stuff looking for pieces that might be somehow WORK as a live performance. This is one that caught my eye. I added it to my list a few months ago, and even recorded an audio file (as I do with anything I'm getting ready to perform) and occasionally listened to it in the playlist to start the long process of internalizing it. Because it's written in blank verse, these poems take time. But if you can start puttin little pieces in your head well in advance, that can make the crunch time (when you  know you NEED to have it ready) go a lot faster and easier. As it was with this poem. 

I've been thinking about performing it lately. It came to mind as a possible foil to the poem I did at Bed Supperclub about kids. Before I knew what Junior wanted me to do exactly (how much time/how many pieces) I was preparing myself for any possibility. So sticks and stones were on my mind. 

But that night only called for one poem, so I put it back on the back back burner. And then when I got word of the next poetry night--but only after someone nudged me when I said I wasn't sure if I would do it or not And I WOKE UP--then I finally thought about what poem I would do. I could've done the Montecristo kids poem, but...I've already done it twice now, and three times in a row.......kinda makes me turn my lip up. I have issues with repetition. Even THOUGH none of the people from the first two performances were probably even at that poetry night....it bugs me. Maybe it's cuz I think it's bad for the poem. To use it so flippantly. Like it only has so many uses in its life and I don't wanna use them all up too quick. Does that make sense to you? I really have no idea, but that's kinda how I see it. The more you use something, the more you see something, the more you are exposed to it, the more it loses its power, or its power over you. This isn't true for EVERYTHING, but a lot. I'm probably being overly cautious with this particular example, but...there is more to it than that as well.

 Anyway, so yeah, I didn't really feel like performing that poem again so soon. Which brought me to remember the poem down below. And as I soon as I thought about it, I was like, "Alright, cool. Let's do it. The time has come." And I started practicing it like a week in advance. Even changed a few words around and ADDED a whole section to it. There's a verse/paragraph that wasn't there before. I had the idea to add it months ago and it still appealed to me so I did. It's a pretty cool performance piece now. Very solid in content. And, the performance of it itself went down really well. They seemed to really like the piece. And...I messed up a little bit, but no biggie. When you mess up on a light poem, it's way more forgivable than when you mess up on a real serious or heavy poem. Speaking for myself. Even though I changed the pronouns to you for some reason. But yeah, it was cool. 

Check out the video, lemme know what you think. PEACE!

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Sticks & Stones:

The Untold Story

 

 9-24-2002

                                                        “If he only knew now
                                                                                       what he knew then”
                                                                                                            -Eddie Vedder

I remember a time
  when the word “play”
   wasn’t sexual
 and “fudge” 
was as close as I got 
     to the “F” word

  It just 
   felt 
  wrong

I remember a state of mind
  in which it was logically possible
  to jump out of tree
   while gripping the thin plastic handles
     of a white grocery bag
  and parachute 
             to the ground

  Only after the sudden landing thinking
    “I must not have been high enough”

I remember a place
   where my imagination
     was my imaginary friend
   and I spent the whole days
     outside trying to keep up
         with him
  as my real friends and I
 blew things up
     with rock grenades
 (sound effects included)
 and fearlessly
       shot ninjas out of trees
    with lethal guns made of
          sticks, toilet paper rolls
and electrical tape

  We were fighting for our lives

But I know now
we were fighting
for our childhood

I remember my friends.  They were brothers, Franky and Marcial.  They lived up the street, and I played with them almost everyday during the summers, yet the only memory I have of them being inside my house was for a birthday party.  The acre of land around my house was enough. That land was ours.  The trees, dirt, and dry, brittle bushes, were so rich and fertile, we planted our imagination in them everyday and grew battlegrounds budding with forts made from the trees’ discarded skin.  It was magical.  Sometimes when one of us had to go ask permission to go to the other’s house, which ever two stayed behind would close their eyes and chant, “I hope he can. I hope he can. I hope he can. I hope he can,” until the other came back with an answer.  And every time we did that…it worked.  It never failed us. The tighter we squeezed our eyes closed the better. “I hope he can. I hope he can. I hope he can. I hope he can.” That was how powerful we were.  That was our magic.

I even remember one time where we wanted to go up to their house so I had to ask permission but I didn’t wannu cuz my mom was in such a foul mood that day that I knew she’d say no and then just by being near her I might spontaneously end up in trouble. But they really wanted me to come over, so I was like “alright, I’ll go ask but don’t do it, don’t do I hope he can.” Cuz I knew it wasn’t gonna work and we were so amazed by this power’s existence that…I didn’t want to break it, and if there was anything more powerful than our collective hopes it was definitely my mother’s anger. And we really only used it in the most urgent situations, like…a new toy, and that day wasn’t anything special so I didn’t think it was worth it. So I was like don’t do it, and they said, okay, we won’t. So I went inside and asked my mom and was like Hey mommmm, do you think I could go up to Frankie’s for a little bit and she said…“Sure,” and I was like !!!!!  but I couldn’t do that so I was like 0_0, and kinda slowly backed out the door and as soon as I got outside I ran like crazy to Frankie and Marcial like OH MY GOSH, YOU GUYS, YOU WONT BELIEVE....and as soon as I got over the hill I see them sittin there…

“I hope he can I hope he can I hope he can I hope he can I hope he can…”

It worked every time

I remember when they moved.  I remember thinking how strange it was that families would just “move.”  It made me happy to know that my family would never do that.  I knew we weren’t like them.  We would always live in that house that we moved out of a year later.  I didn’t know.  I didn’t know I would never see Franky and Marcial ever again.  I didn’t know what we had, that we were magicians.  I didn’t know that power would weaken like the bite of guilt hidden behind each curse word, or what “innocence” even was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

I'm not sure exactly when this was, but it is the house that is in this poem. I took this pic the last time I visited that town in...late 2004/early 2005, somewhere around there.  When we lived there (15 years earlier) it looked so different. Grass in the yards with climbing rose bushes and various other flowers and small trees. Quite beautiful. But at least you get to see somethin of what I'm talking about. I still love that house. Still wish I could teleport it, just like I did when I was a kid.

Like Water, Like Son

This is a poem that I recently performed at a charity event raising money for an orphanage in North-Western Thailand. The story behind the poem can be found here. The video is of the actual performance, it's not without its flaws, there are a handful of tiny changes I would make if I could do it again, but overall I'm pretty happy with it, so check it out, lemme know what you think! And the words are down below.  PEACE! 

Like Water, Like Son 

       
We have to be more careful
with this power that we wield
over every living child
whose fate has not been sealed
whose life still has a purpose
that has yet to be revealed
We have to warn them of the darkest parts
and be their human shields
teach them all about the world
and the greed that it instills
show them there’s two sides to life
and each and every thrill
Cuz kids are like cups
just waiting to be filled
you should know that every drop
you put in is gonna build
a bridge to this feeling
a link to some sensation
in no time they will be reeling
between peace and titillation
with no idea that life is stealing
the most Pristine Natural Formation…

The Mind of an Innocent Being

…free from fear’s indoctrination

Free from that persistent feeling
that we live in suffocation
free to feel their own souls breathing
without the heat of condemnation
free to know the healing powers
of their childish elation
Free to Be a Human Being…

before the bullshit’s saturation

before the mind hits maturation

and they don’t believe in anything
besides success and masturbation
at the expense of everything

…the world’s bastardization

We don’t talk to children enough
we still don’t talk to our kids about love or sex
we don’t talk to our teens about rape
we don’t talk to our sons about arrogance
we don’t talk to our daughters about strength
like we don’t want them to know how strong they could be

we hardly ever explain why we do what we do
like they don’t need to know…like we don’t even know
like there’s no meaning in any of it

Our denial
Our fear-laden inability to be honest with ourselves stops us
from being honest with them

about the most important things

our weaknesses throughout life
our struggle within
our regrets
and all those fears
that we couldn’t even put into words until our early twenties

…and so the weaknesses of the father are visited upon the son
over and over again

I see it all the time
I know a father who has never acknowledged the scars on his own daughter’s wrists
I know a father who has never spoken the word love to any of his children
I know a mother who has never talked to her son about why he ran away from home
…like it never happened, even though it changed everything

How can we protect em if we lie to ourselves
How can we prepare them for reality, when we can’t even face it

We have to be more honest with them
about what we believe and what we’ve learned
and what we have no fucking clue about
before they miss the point of all of this
so caught up in what they’re “supposed to do”
and they think what they have on the outside
is more important than what’s in here

Let’s be a little more aware
of this cycle that exists
of the echoes it puts out
and the way that it can twist
every thing we never say
into tiny catalysts
that cause our kids
to think it’s normal
to solve problems with their fists
to live a life that’s nothing more
than a number on a list
and distrust every single difference
til no one can coexist

We’re like water,
WE’RE LIKE WATER
you can treat this like a fact
because whatever you put in
I promise you will get it back

we’re like water, we’re like water
and kids are the clearest springs
and whatever WE put in them
is what the future brings

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~