the shape shifter

hey you!
yeaaah, you.
you with the mocked up fedora hat
with your loose cardigans
faux wool striped sweaters
oh… you think you got swag huh?

walking like you got a limp
spouting revolutionary words and thoughts
to revolutionary people with good hearts
hoping we will lick up all of your sweet macktivist pedagogy

oh, you read bell hooks?
now you a feminist?
you, black man, who only dates asian women
shift, change, shift, change, shift, change
as you discover cooler, hipper, more connected networks

you switch up your speak, style, and circle
to fit in to a group that masks your insecurities
your identity, gender, sexuality — all interchangable,
depending on the group flavor

you a cool cat now huh?
hanging with the boys
turning their mirror into your own
their fedoras, trimmed facial hair, and gray vests
becoming
yours

get a grip black man
you are you
stop dropping lovers, friends, and identity
just so you can appear as the cool calm collected popular black cat
to mask the vulnerable, confused, insecured self that you are.

stop giving me your lines
your insincere smiles
your half-hearted attempts at a friendship
that you threw away
the moment
you
decided
that fedoras and music producers
were cooler and hipper
than the rest of us

we back in high school again huh?
playing games
pretending
faking
posing
trying
so
hard
to
fit
in

it’s okay black man
i understand
finding your away around whiteness and blackness
is challenging
but i didn’t know
you were to leave a trail of broken friendships
behind you

so do me a favor cool collected masked macktivist
stop feeding us your bullshit
and just keep it straight up
(or queer up)
now THAT’S real talk.

GO BABY GO!!

Just got introduced to them... hollaa!

heartpumps

i want to offer a heart that can pump tears through your brown eyes
wash over deserts and dissolve salt in your wounds
leave the insides of your desolation sparkling clean
and offer trails of how to follow its path

i want arms so wide that it stretches to the circumference of the horizon
so i can hold you as you clutch your heart attacks
reflect sunrise onto your face and whisper to you:
don't be afraid to fall back on the stars and still land on the moon

i want to cram miles into my trunk and chuck it down the river
watch it absorb into the flow and sink to the earth
and maybe you will suddenly appear
bright eyed and in full patterned cardigan
ready to find cures to heart attacks
battle desolation with our lips
and search for comfort within these arms.

impressions

bold. you called me loud.
you called me strong. fierce.
out. you thought me unstoppable.

i sit in front of table top toppings
of adjectives and adverbs
picking some now and some later
to cover my nouns

i embody moving images
reflecting my need for strength
deflecting my desires for inclusion

you see me tough. hard.
smiles. you hear.
you feel my high energy. obnoxious.

i sit among other broken hearts
and depleted spirits
wearing the same trauma on my face
singing laughter to cover my cracks.

i exist in 3D and in full technicolor
i am now in hi fi
listen in HD
and you will hear moving pictures
of my inconsolable beating heart

Vin Baca

Oye loca! Vin baca...
Won't you come and keep me toasty
On this cool San Francisco night
Hold me close like your wool coat
Nuzzle my neck and pretend it's your scarf

Leave indentations on my pillow
Cocoon yourself in my blankets
But don't forget to reveal yourself with me
When morning breaks

Give me full early kisses
Hot breakfast and warm coffee
Hugs around the waist
And let's feel freedom
to hide in bed's solice
when the day gets too bright.

home coming

I wrote this after reading the details of the gang rape of a 15 year old girl by up to 20 boys and men after her homecoming dance. I still left speechless and at loss for its brutality.

Article: http://www.insidebayarea.com/top-stories/ci_13657301

Naw man, just hand her some of that cheap brandy
Yeah, fo sho, it's gonna do her good
Here baby, take a swig.
She's out dawg! Take her shit off!

Sounds of a fallen innocence
drowned out by rowdy bottles
and even rowdier belt buckles
Smacking lips and violent cheers
unzipped pants into torn skin

Get IN her man! Get it! Fuck that bitch!
It's my turn dawg!
This is fucking insane! You like that, you fucking whore?
Look at her! She loves it. That puta.

Twenty men crowded to see the sideshow
Jarring contrast between vicious manhood and unconscious girlhood
Dozens of eyes watching,
staring at violations that they cannot comprehend

These are men who wear XXL white tees and jeans that sag way too much
Men who sleep during history class and talk bravado during lunch
Men who flirt with mini skirts and stumble on their timbalands
Men who see their dreams punched in the face and vomited over
Men who get arrested as boys who need to become men to survive
Men who lost their boyhood and asked why?
Men who are boys that have just reached puberty

Boys who think they can become men by piercing their young manhood into young girls

Yo dawg! What's her name?
Who the fuck cares asshole? You want this pussy or what?
Give me some more of that juice!
Yeaaaah son! Fuck her harder!

Torn pearls and her pretty turquoise dress
Her 15 years waiting on the curb for dad
Followed trust into the darkness with tables and bottles
and XXL white tees
Drank the trust and let it melt away her consciousness

She felt grabbing, shoving, and a sharp sudden pain over her nose
The pain washes over her face and drips down her pretty turquoise dress
She follows blackness until she feels no more

Fuck, we gotta get out of here dawg! It ain't safe no more!
We're not done with her yet! You can leave if you want, you fag.
She has some tight ass pussy!
I think she's a virgin, blood.

Over one hundred and twenty minutes of ripped skin and pouring pain
Washed over innocence and destroyed boyhood
Beyond the comprehension of unaware grown ups and numb bystanders
Rumors swirling that night brought blue uniforms that scared boy scavengers
scattering into the streets and deep into their conscience

Compassion was raped today
Humanity draining the last remaining drops down numb faces
and erect boyhoods
Instead, brutality became whole and joined with fear
to create unstoppable massacre of the human capacity to love.

sleeping insecurities

Late night conversations
breeds inconsolable insomnia
lead eyes drag me deep into false dreams
awaking to confusion and half words

Pride keeps the conversation at bay
sinking as it struggles to find anchor
Your words swirl in my subconcious

Penetrating my dreams
making them into sub-fantasies
masking among real ones
i want to yell poser!

but i shuffle awake
smile and ask clarifying questions
to hide my sleeping insecurities.

Can we talk about how amazing this person is???

vials

i want to shelve my emotional memories into vials
label them carefully and line them up chronologically
from the most painful to the least guilty
occasionally opening them to sniff up wistful images

i want to admire them from afar and recount each of them
carefully selecting and researching each vial for imperfections and whatifs
feeling secure with its presence and anxiety of its fragility
mindful of its danger if cracked and spilled

i want to use it in heartful experiments
mixing
matching
concocting
doubting
excluding
developing
control groups
to match controlled feelings

i want to scribble notes
learn from its colorful reactions
conduct explosions after explosions
to perfect whole heartbreaks

i want to use each vial for strength
each whiff, courage
each cut, wisdom
until i am able to create a love so whole
fear can't penetrate its surface.

stars

you see me
you look through my chest
and see scattering stars like dust
you remind me of andromeda
whisking through the universe
in your green wrap
piercing galaxies with your diamond eyes
you walk through them
feet plush with planets
becomes cracked & calloused
bleeding oceans onto comets
crashing into suns that become supernovas
you will undo me
bending my heart into meteorites
that will light skies across worlds
so they will remember your impact.

flower flower

flower flower on the wall
who is the fairest one of all?
me! says the rose
i am classic romance
she poses an Audrey

blasphemy! yells the white lily
squeezes past the Audrey and
exclaims I am beautiful classy innocence!
and does a Diana

all of you lie! chirps the tulip
jumps up and down yelling
I am colorful youth!
she smiles Shirley

Petals fly, stems broken
Colors blur when flowers
fight for the title of perfection
what they don't know...
is that the daisies already
stole the crown.

what's in a lie?

What's in a lie?
That which we call betrayal
By any other name would smell just as shameful...

You gave me a cup full of wiggling untruths
Instructed me to drink it and feel better
I asked you what it was
and you told me it was your honesty

My heart split opened for you
poured out sticky revelations
and full kisses
offering embraces to comfort your wounded soul

I dangled from treetops and you picked each of my fingers
to let me fall into infested waters
I struggle to stay afloat
and you toss me an anvil
Yelling for me to keep my head up

You held my heart
Gave me squeezes to keep it beating
But gave me a heart attack instead

Each moment I held you
Each word exchange
Each kiss
Will be erased

I will start a blank slate without you
Your weakness is blinding
Your deception is unmatched
You spit disrespect to my face
And expect forgiveness

You have undeserved me
You will only receive my silence
And breathe in your guilt.

butterflies

for my mother.

How can words capture butterflies?
Born out of soft ugliness
Transformed into soaring grace
Existence in a handful of moments.

My mind use to beat my heart into tears when I thought of your nonexistence

Laundrytime heart pouring
Dreams cycled in and cycled out
Damp with overflowing frustrations
Words connecting hopes onto lines of reality
Your happiness put out under the sun to dry
Fading colors and shriveling hearts
Hearts that become raisins
Dark, wrinkled, and ambiguously sweet

Your recipes captured my tongue's imagination
Filling my tummy with warmth and undeniable love
I use to resent your lack of affection
Until I realized you poured all of your love,
your pride
your sense of self
into this bowl
Powered by these chopsticks
With every bite you hope I will know the pungent depth of your love.

I hope to never capture your grace
Rip the nets and bend the poles
I want you to soar into the sun
and land on sandy flowers
I want you to transcend your pain
and be overwhelmed with calmness

You broke your wings
and fell on your back
stared back into the sky
and drank up the cerulean
You sighed and wished for darkness
I hold your hand and wished for shooting stars

My heart beats my mind into amnesia.
Numbing tears and locking cries
Over your broken wings
Like Pandora's box
I attach wings to hope
Hope to clouds
Hoping you will soar again.

stuck

you're sticky like unforgiving gum
on the bottom of my chucks
making me curse the person who disrespected this concrete
searching for receipts, rocks, grass
anything to rid myself of this sticky mess

stubborn as a jammed lock after a hot day
you lock yourself to my sole and refuse to budge
letting me only take pieces off as consolation
teasing my unwillingness to stop

i scrape your pink stickiness with gravel
only making it worse
i sigh and put my foot down
i'll let you keep my sole company
for today.

Dreams

I had a dream.
Your eyes covered in purple shimmer.
I made you laugh.
And you told me that you're divorcee at 22.

I gave you two kisses.
One to say I'm sorry.
Another to wish you bluebirds in the spring.
Your laugh was clairvoyant as ever.

Hair accentuate shoulders.
Light yellow halos dance in the background.
Smiles weaving in between words.
Nouns dropping to adjectives falling to verbs

I thought we said goodbye and good riddance.
My subconscious telling me goodbyes are lyrical bridges.
Linking aged hindsights lost in slippery memories
to blurry foresights broadcasting mispronounced roads.

I awake to gray skies and dry mouth,
Vaguely aware of dreamy nostalgia.
I shake off the morning hazy.
Remembering.

2012 Bunk?

I found this article on Y! News, "2012 isn't the end of the world, Mayans insist".

The article says that most of this hype and hysteria is a Western thing,

"But most archaeologists, astronomers and Maya say the only thing likely to hit Earth is a meteor shower of New Age philosophy, pop astronomy, Internet doomsday rumors and TV specials..."

What Mayans are really worried about is,

"If I went to some Mayan-speaking communities and asked people what is going to happen in 2012, they wouldn't have any idea," said Jose Huchim, a Yucatan Mayan archaeologist. "That the world is going to end? They wouldn't believe you. We have real concerns these days, like rain."

This type of hysteria is similar if not exactly the same as the Y2K fiasco. Everyone always believes the world is going to end and use some ancient indigenous belief to fuel something that they don't even really understand. Western hysteria over the unknown is quite laughable.

What we should be frettin' over is the lack of water and food for the Mayans that are talked about so much.

"The Maya never said the world is going to end, they never said anything bad would happen necessarily, they're just recording this future anniversary on Monument Six."

Fistfuloftears

Silence can pierce ear drums. We swallow our words and attempt to flee from level 5 hurricanes heading to our cerebal.

I sit there and ask you what you want. You reply with a glance that frustrates and say nothing. Nothing that lays between us. Nothing between my painful desire and your ambivalence.

You sit there holding in every moment and selfishly savor them while I sit across from you and stare in confusion. I dangle from treetops trying to catch up to you. You reel me in with emotional honesty and leave me stranded, high from the ground when you knew I was scared of heights. You knew I was afraid of falling from heights so high to a ground so hard.

I hold your hands and lay my head down. Close my eyes and imagine this nonconversation is as light and pale as your yellow walls.

My ears ring from your nonwords and full glances. It is undeniable. You have shown me how to unlock my heart but refused to walk in. I will not conduct a sit-in for your honesty.

Instead, I will pack up my valuables and re-build the house I built for you. You hesitate a goodbye but I've already grieved your loss.


- From the yMobile

perfect moments

Me and my friend decided to do a poem a day. No matter how long or what it is. My 2nd day is below (my first were silly haikus).

October 9, 2009

I got lost in your curls
Buried in your fragrance
Surrounded by Pantene Pro-V
Succumbed to Jade perfume

We roughed and tumbled between purple cotton
Weaving our way around pillows and edges
Drowning in each others lips
You are my intoxication

Soft whispers and light licks
Ears, hands, fingers, touch
Mga pantulog hidden in corners
Traced maps between curves and kisses

Perfect moments trapped in spheres of embrace
Light pierced through
Setting shadows that drag us out
Our feet reluctantly kiss the floor

Dissolving quickly the paragon of perfection
Sharp verbage making papercuts
Causing amnesia until we navigate
Around curvatures again

slippery memories

September 2009

A chuckle and he turns on the left blinker.
Tick tick tick. Tick tick tick.
He stares ahead
He drives down memories and tries to capture them all
With fragmented nets and ripped bags
Some slip through and some get caught
A slippery mess of half truths and full laughs.

Remember when you use to climb that fence?
You would forget your keys! It was so high!
He asks me

I laugh and vaguely see the image of a 7 year old
Scaling a 6 feet impossibility

You remember this song?
He asks
You use to sing this all the time! You got to know half the song!

He smiles
Snacking on the treasures his net caught tonight

I turn and stare ahead.
At familiar lights, familiar roads, and slippery memories
Coming back to me through elusive smells in random hallways
Remembering a childhood with certain lines and only under certain lighting
Songs sung with forgotten lyrics

He sighs. When did 10 years past already?
Years sneaked by without asking for permission to go
Sneaks back in later with wrinkles, slow lungs, failed kidneys,
Addiction, lost dreams, and fragmented nets with slippery memories.

my dearest sisters

Forgot I had this blog... will be posting pieces I've written recently. Feel free to give feedback.

//

Inspired from all the broken women who carry strong cores.

my dearest sisters,

how are you?
i've been feeling you might be needing me
your contrived bravado
your nonchalant descriptions
of your self-destruction
your rawness covered with so much sawdust
you feel yourself made into wood
strong, wise, hard
hard enough to endure
hard enough to move pass pain
strong enough to brave the windstorms of life

but sister, i see you.

i see your rawness as it is
i see it bleeding you out
i see your heart break into so many pieces
each shard a sharp reminder
of blood spilled
heart broken
hope loss
spirit bankrupted
soul numbed

eyes that glaze over
like doughnuts
sweet by touch but heart attack
if ingested
it tells me hazy images of slaps, stripper poles,
grabby hands, dirty money and frozen friends in alleyways
heart beating outside your parent's house
still waiting for them to lock it safely away

your strength
our strength
to survive past
torn skin
black eyes
ripped vaginas
slaps
cold stares
g-strings
zoloft
beating hearts waiting
to be whole

let me
wipe
blow
shake
that sawdust off
let me kiss your wounds
bandage it with a million cries of freedom
let me pick up the shards of your heart
and glue it with redemption
etch hope and strength behind your ears
and whisper Sister, you are not alone.

Reality Dreams

Couple of weeks ago, there was a late night induced discussion on memory with some friends. We were discussing what a funny thing memory is and the convo switched to the movie Memento. It's about this man who is trying to avenge his wife's brutal murder though he has anterograde amnesia, so he only remembers up to his wife's death and every new experience is only remembered for 15 minutes. Insane. I know.

Discussion came around if something like that occurs to our brain and our perception of reality (based on memories) then how can we separate that from actual reality?

If you tell a lie enough times for long enough, do you start to believe it?

If you only remember what happened and not how you felt, does that mean you haven't really grown from it?

I think I'm struggling with something like that right now. Realization that I remember certain things and not the emotions associated with it (or forgot how it felt) or I don't remember it all. My troubles with memories are stark at it's worst and selective at its best.

The brain is such a great illusionist when it comes to pain and trauma. It masks and masks and masks to protect you. To protect your fragile sense of self and grip on sanity.

Renewal

Been a long-ass minute since I wrote here... first started for my own personal amusement then used for my Black Feminist Multimedia class for assignments and reflections. This has laid dormant for 3-4 years now...

It's ironic that some of my longest relationships I've ever had in my life are with blogs and online journals. Maybe it's really in my heart that I am in love with writing, processing, and sharing all of that. Ultimate forms of narcissism and release.

Yesterday was chein ying or in month of March for Chinese folks to pay respects to all our deceased family and friends. I went to my grandfather's grave... for the first time in recent memory. He died one year after I was born so I never knew him outside of stories and recalled memories. He was a husband and father. But as I was told a mean and ferocious one. One that beated my grandmother, his kids, and refused to let his daughters go to school. It was a short and un-memorable visit to his grave. One that his children did out of tradition and obligation. But the feelings that came out of it for me was how I am much more comfortable with my family than I was ever before. Now that I am grown and able to sustain myself and my own self-esteem, they're critiques and disapproval no longer haunts and tortures me the way they use too.

I've grown to understand to appreciate and love them while in stages of forgiveness for the childhood trauma. Family is family is family. I am learning to accept them for who they are and not for who I want them to be. Acceptance and letting go is the path of inner peace.

My roommate pointed out that I am quick to break plans with family over the slightest reason while go above and beyond to follow-through on plans with friends. Have to wonder what the thought process is with that one. I think it has something to do with my fear of being disappointed which was really prevalent when I was younger. So I made due and tried to create my own sense of family with people that I connected with and worked hard at maintaining that connection. This mentality and my own wall that I've built over the years to protect myself against the people that have mattered the most to me have blinded me to what has really been happening and what is happening now across that beautifully built and seemingly unbreakable wall.

Family love, self-love, and self-discovery is a constant process. A (r) evolutionary process. Like I been saying before, the only thing worth living for is change.

A repost from a entry that I wrote more that two years ago that still reigns true today:

"Persistent and unconquerable change. The Perpetual. The Constant. The only thing worth living for. Yes. Not love, not peace, not hate, not anger, not war, not money, not even paradise on Earth. But change. The evolution of our minds molded by our experiences. The mutation of our emotions based on repeated chemical imbalances stemming from broken hearts to broken spirits.

I am a nomad. I am the runner. I am in motion. I try to create for myself but in the end it is not in my constellation for me to settle. No matter how much I want it I know I will never be satisfied. I am in constant, consistent, perpetual, perplexing, rambling, rumbling, wondering, wandering state. I shouldn't be afraid of it anymore. I shouldn't be afraid of myself. With myself. In the end, that's who's really left. Me. I am the one looking in the mirror. I am the one dealing with the fickleness of my heart. I am the one stomping forward. I am the one that sleeps with me. I alone hold the power to change my reality. And in turn weave my own fabric of space and set my own dimensions."