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Monday, July 14, 2014

Pricks of Pompous Pose

I whistle waver and wash-away.
The pain I knew but yesterday. 
Yesterday started with hearts held high. 
Only to be shattered by arrows of fate. 
Mountains of overwhelming abhorrence from every rose. 
The best girls of the garden already picked by pricks of pompous pose. 
No rose left unpicked. 
No girl left unspoiled. 
The pricks of pompous pose. 
Enjoyed pleasures. 
While I sat in silence. 
What good is living if not for joy and jubilation?
But heartache rejoices in toying with my alienation. 
In alienation I lost my mind. 
But found truth and wisdom. 

And now I see that the goal of living is to gain understanding. 

Saturday, July 12, 2014

Emmanuel's Story

             Finding social groups has always been a strong suit of mine. But there’s always that one friend we remember. The one we make an effort to keep in contact with. In this case that friend for me is Emmanuel.

        We made jokes at one another’s expense and played basketball after school. He was one of those types of friends who spent the entirety of Spanish class whispering grotesque japes in your ear hoping that he could get you to blurt out laughing hysterically in front of the whole class which he was often successful at. Nobody could make me laugh the way Emmanuel did, and truth be told, he could say the most ridiculous and abhorrent things and yet somehow it made me laugh, he had that kind of effect on me.

         But just as easily he could turn off the comedy switch and listen to my gripes and my grumbles about my latest break-up and heartbreak and in turn he would often bring his latest lady troubles to the table as well, and we played off of one another like that for two years until I changed schools. Though we still kept in contact, it was a strange transition to see your best friend everyday…to less than once a month.

         Now were both recent graduates with a lot more time on our hands and I see Emmanuel a lot more, few times a week actually. We used to bond over a game of Yu-Gi-Oh, now we go job-hunting together on the weekends, boy how times have changed. But through all of time we’ve spent together, Emmanuel has always remained very guarded with his personal life. He tells me little about what goes on at home and what his life was like growing up. He tells me he just doesn’t like opening up and though I’ve had him over to my place countless times, I’ve never been inside his house, still to this day. Like I said, he’s a very guarded person.

          But a couple weeks ago, we went out to celebrate the start of a new chapter in our lives, the end of High School and the beginning of our enlistment in the Marines, and after that, we’ve both expressed interests in pursuing our careers as writers. It was if our pages had been printed from the same tree, a patriotic passion to serve our country diced in with a bit of liberal arts to keep the pot stirring with possibilities.    

          We were out all night celebrating the official death of our adolescence. Sometime around 2am in the morning Emmanuel says he’s had enough of the jokes, it’s time for some real talk. I can do real talk, I’m good at real talk. But that the kind of guy Emmanuel is, he can’t just let the conversation transition into real talk, there needs to be an official beginning to when real talk has started.
         
           So we get into it, I start talking about my problems, you know whatever problem happens to be on my mind at the time, like am I ever gunna be a successful writer or will I pass all the Marine tests, you know? And he can relate, he’s headed down the same path, like I said. But once it gets to Emmanuel’s turn to talk, after I’ve been going on for like 40 minutes already, Emmanuel tells me he’ going to tell me the story of his life from top to bottom. I mean, for a guy who’s never let me in his house, I’m interested to know where all the stand-offish since comes from.

            In every other aspect this guy seems totally extroverted and free and welcoming and yet I know there’s this shield up because unlike now, this is the first time I was even going to hear anything about Emmanuel’s past. He told me he hadn’t told many people the story and since he’s shipping off to the Marines soon, I ought to here the story now, since I may not get another chance to hear it, at least that’s how he rationalized it.

            Emmanuel’s parents met in Israel, of all places. His mom was from Portland, his Dad was from Mexico. They were both young college graduates looking to get a little taste of the world. Emmanuel’s Dad was a tall well-bred sophisticated olive tanned man with swagger in his step and a silver tongue in his mouth. Emmanuel’s mother was a dainty catholic butterfly with long cocoa colored hair and emerald jewels in the windows of her soul. He was a lady’s man and well, she hadn’t had many men at all but polar opposites attracted and love blossomed.

             He left his life in Mexico to live in Torrance, California with his new American lover and for a while Ying and Yang were inseparable. Emmanuel was born in Torrance but after his birth his father moved his new family to El Salvador to be closer to his mother, so that Emmanuel’s mom could meet her mother-in-law. But she had fallen for him to quickly, she didn’t realize what she had gotten herself into. This man was not the man she thought she knew, he was something different entirely.

           Over time he became something different, he was no longer the smooth talking suave Latin paramour she had once known. He said terrible things to her. He told her once the child was born and could live without it’s mother, she would be out on the streets and like any honorable man, he kept his word. So there she was, out on the streets of El Salvador.

            It took her several months to get back to the states, where she moved to California, where she made a promise to herself that someday she would get her son back from that vile creature that she once thought herself infatuated with. Emmanuel’s childhood wasn’t easy. With his mother gone, his father was able to return to his playboy ways, bedding men and women at the bar, whatever he could get his hands on.

            They couch hopped, with each new love affair providing room and board for a time, until it all went South and it all went South eventually, once they realized that he was. A deviant, a monster, a mosquito only there to suck the green right out of your wallet but he had his silver tongue and the bar scene was always chalk full of new victims. But from time to time the trail would run dry and when he couldn’t get his claws into somebody, they were forced to stay with his mother.

             Emmanuel’s grandmother was a kind woman but she was oblivious to what the demons laid within her son. He had never done much to educate Emmanuel, he never went to school, he never read a book. He was an ignorant child absent a proper upbringing. One day when Emmanuel’s father was at the club to party, his grandmother was babysitting him. But as fate would have it, Emmanuel’s grandmother took a horrible fall, was she having a heart attack? Had she broken any bones? Emmanuel didn’t know, all he had heard was a loud thud. It scared him; he didn’t know what had happened.

             As she laid there on the floor she called out to her grandson, “Emmanuel! Emmanuel! Call 911!” She repeated it over and over and over again but her illiterate grandson didn’t know how to read and he sure as hell didn’t know what numbers were. He panicked; he knew his grandmother needed his help. In a wild frenzy he began tearing out the yellow pages while holding the home phone in his hand. None of the numbers made any sense to him and he didn’t know how to type 911.

            What the hell were 911? She continued to call out to him, “Emmanuel, what are you doing? Call 911?” Emmanuel looked at his grandmother, then back at the phone book. It was all too much for him. He fainted; right then and there he fainted. He wasn’t passed out for long, he awoke soon after but all the yellow pages on the ground were gone and the apartment was back in order. He realized it at all been a terrible dream. His father walked up and towered over his 6 year old son and smiled. Emmanuel smiled back and said, “Dad I had a terrible dream.” His father replied very nonchalantly, “Emmanuel your grandmother’s dead.”

              Emmanuel couldn’t believe it, he had killed his own grandmother because he couldn’t work the fucking phone. With his mother dead, Emmanuel’s father had to find them a new place to live. He took them to his brother’s house. Emmanuel liked it there. While they were living in his grandmother’s apartment they had always had to ration themselves. They ate conservatively and Emmanuel was a very malnutrioned child. Emmanuel’s aunt was skilled with a pair of oven mitts. She was a tall gorgeous Mexican woman with blonde streaks in her hair.

               Emmanuel learned to love her Panini’s and her soft warm tortilla rolls. His cousins loved to play basketball. He finally had other kids to play with. They loved to draw. They loved anime. They were in their 20s. They were good looking. His uncle was an international business man who worked in financing. His uncle was a hard working handy man who always came home with blisters on his hands and paint on his pants.

               He drank beer with the fellas after work and always made sure there was bacon the table for his children. He treated his nephew Emmanuel like his own child. For a while, things were good and Emmanuel found happiness in a life that had been filled with so much strife. He didn’t forget his grandmother but the paradise that he had here helped ease the pain of a grief stricken childhood.

               But eventually, like all good things, this too came to an end when his uncle, came to the same realization that all of Emmanuel’s father’s flings had to come to, that he was nothing more than a sponge, a freeloader just looking to manipulate everyone around him. So once again, Emmanuel was uprooted from his home, the only home he had ever truly felt happy.

               One day Emmanuel was walking through the house, trying to find everyone, they were all in his aunt’s room, cuddled up on the bed watching TV, he tried to come up on the bed with them, but they just stared him down like he was some sort of mangled stray dog they didn’t want around anymore.

                But why? Why did all of his father’s short comings have to come back to haunt him? Its wasn’t his fault? The irony of it all. He was a college man with a degree in psychology. He could be a successful man with the wife and the kids and the white picket fence. But he squandered his potential looking for an easy way out. Kicked out of his brother’s home, he took Emmanuel to the states where he spent some time in a shelter and they received medical attention.

                Emmanuel had half a dozen things wrong with him, with his malnutrioned boy being the primary dilemma. Funnily enough, Emmanuel’s grandmother on his mom’s side was working as a nurse when Emmanuel and his father came to her facility. It was unbelievable, but there he was. (his file came thru, the paperwork she was filing through the facility) Her grandson, that had been lost to her for almost a decade was right under her nose.

                During their time with the American doctors, Emmanuel’s father was diagnosed with HIV. All of years of promiscuity had finally got the better of him.  He knew the ruse was up. He couldn’t keep running forever with his kid tagging along. He had a bit of an epiphany. Using the help of Emmanuel’s grandmother, he realized, it was time to made contact with Emmanuel’s mother. “I have your son,” he said over the phone. ”And if you want him back, you can pay me for him.”
               Now, after so many years of being dragged around on his father’s crazy hair brained schemes, maybe he would have some salvation in Portland with his mother. But then, just like a star wars prequel, it all went wrong. Emmanuel’s father slipped back into Mexico with his son, and make contact with his ex-wife again, “You didn’t really think I was going to give him to you, did you?”He took a sick pleasure in listening to her sobs over the phone. With one of his last dying breaths, he had spited her once again.

               Two years later, his HIV finally got the better of him, and the only parent Emmanuel had ever known, was dead.

               There was a hole in the young Emmanuel’s heart, for so long it had just been the two of them against the world, and now it was just Emmanuel. He went back to live with his aunt again, and once again, Emmanuel found happiness in a world with little to give. He found contentment, for a time, until the walls came crashing down once more, like they always did.

               On one fateful morning the little Emmanuel was playing hide and go seek with his cousins when all of the sudden reporters with big yellow note pads began storming his aunt’s house. He continued to watch the frenzy of journalists scurry about from his hiding spot. A short rotund woman with bright red flocks of curry hair asked Emmanuel’s aunt where he was.

                She asked her children to find him but Emmanuel was a master of hide and seeks and his cousins failed to find him. Eventually, after almost a half hour of hiding from the journalists he finally revealed himself. As soon as he did, all the eyes in the house sharply darted towards him. The short rotund red headed woman, who seemed to be leading the pack, made her way towards Emmanuel.

               She put out a warm and welcoming hand, an olive branch to show the little Emmanuel that she came in peace. As she held his tiny hand in hers, she let a smile dance across her face, she crouched down beside him to introduce herself, “Hello Emmanuel, it’s nice to meet you, I’m your mother.”

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

When You Went Away

When you went away, I had no words left to say.
I thought you, a crown for a king
The birds blue, had only sad songs to sing.

When you went away, the world turned to gray.
But really you need not have worried, I was absolutely fine.
My emotions were long since buried, In fact I felt divine.

When you went away, I thought I’d rot and decay.
I wasn't hurting like I should.
I went back to flirting cause I knew I could.

When you went away, I thought it a shame. 
But in truth maybe you thought this little dance we did meant more to me. 

Yet in all honestly your a memory, a distant entity, a long forgotten legacy.  


A Very Sexy Valentine's Day

And you know what’s not a lie?
The fact that I die.

And I let out a sigh.
Every time we say goodbye.

Our kiss.
Its ultimate bliss.

You’re magnificently fine.
And you take me to cloud nine.

But that’s all the boring stuff.
I know how you like it rough.

And I think the angels cry.
Every time you suck me dry.

And the truth is, absolutely yes!
I love your double D breasts.

But I’m sorry, I know it’s quite a pinch.
That I can’t give you a 12 inch.

Does it make you somber?
That my hot dog isn’t longer.

But, you knew exactly how to maneuver my penis.
Honestly I think you’re a genital genius.

I’m sorry I couldn’t think of anything that rhymed with vagina.
So instead I’ll be making you a pizz-ah-pie-ah.

But listen, look.
I can’t cook.

But I can make you feel defiled.
I can shake you doggy style.

I have no hesitation.
To say you’re a heavenly sensation.

Please, say to me.
You’ll always be my lady.

You evaporate all of my sorrow.
Its happiness others wish to borrow.

If Go made you in his own design. Then damn, the Holy Father must be fine.    
But joking aside, just give me an everlasting promise that you always remain mine.

Because, your perfection.
Gives me a humongous erection.

You make me so grateful that I no longer have to jerk off, in a sock.
Because I finally have a place to put my cock.

And girl when you give me oral.
I lose all of my morals.

And your beauty is oh so divine.
And that’s why I’m asking you to be my valentine.