Waffles

I love the dog... he's driving me crazy.

The Decision of A Lifetime

My future was a conundrum of vapor thoughts elevated by paper planes plainly speaking I was seeking paper but my sight was plane, searching for the mundane led me to the fast lane towards nowhere where I was told to hurry up and wait. All I had were stacks of plain white pages where forgotten thoughts might once had survived, instead they resided hovering amidst the smog of the contaminated L.A. sky. These pieces of blank papyrus yearned for the secrets held within my iris. I risked my life and almost met Osiris as I Overdosed in my living room to the overture wail of the sirens, as if proclaiming my return home. That was before I had received stationary stating I could be stationed at an educational institution, in the same state where they signed the constitution; the only form of preparation required was to make my high school graduation, my next immediate conclusion. Old news was the gifts god had given me, but this new news was a shift that could save me, cause me to remove the noose I had placed over my neck, in an effort to snap myself awake from the waking dream I slept walked since my father’s wake. This would come to me free of charge, but nothing is ever free of charge, there are always hidden fees in charge, that have the tendency to break through and barge, in right before you proclaim a win. Ironically not an hour later would flee before I received a piece of news that nearly made me spew my fathers’ sister’s stew for the goddess of my underworld knew that life grew within her womb. Hades confirmed that it wasn’t a maybe, a baby would soon drive us stir crazy and now I had to choose. I was a numb nuts, who thought he had nuts ‘cause he was getting consistent nuts and now my only rebuttal were a bunch of stuttering “but but buts…” I was stuck… I could leave as an apprentice, keep in touch through handwritten sentences full of sentiment, watch Aileen grow up through photographs, and brag to would be friends about being a dad, to a phantom child that I would treat as a fad. I would return 4 years later as an incompetent father who mastered his own ignorance but miss out on a daughter that would have since forgotten what she never knew about me. I could become everything I hated about my father, justify doing the right thing and become a scholar, or give up the opportunity to learn from books, live the college life and become astute. I was torn between two worlds. So I enrolled in the school of hard knocks and began pulling all nighters, traded books for changing diapers, worked 3 jobs and left the ciphers, lived with heyhey but didn’t wife her. It was 6 years before I went to UC Irvine, but trust me friends, I made peace with that, I’m fine. Now you’re probably wondering if I regret my choice. Well… I gained more than bearings by preserving my voice. I traded a potential life of current success through material excess; in order to raise my princess. And that is why I am rich beyond measure; this is my testimonial to how I gained my greatest treasure.

Ode to Miguel

Miguel: king of the damned and forgotten

Illustrator of a slum paradise

Gift wrapped for bums and junkie parasites

Underprivileged tongues is who he spoke for

Endangered brilliance became his folklore

Love for the needle knew one equal

Penmanship about his Newyorico

Indentured servant to the serpent

Navigating through track marks that worsened

Everyday as his will cried for aid

Relief found in dust, cut by razor blades

Overshadowed art: to this world he gave.

You, I, Her.

Just because i choose not to attack You,
doesn't make me weak. just because from you, I
moved on, doesn't mean i'll repeat: habits You
once knew to be norm: expected of I.
respect that i see, past a vision You
created; not once did you ask if I
shared in this skewed twisted vision You
self-righteously paraded, until I
decided not to play the game You
designed. assigning me all blame while I
accepted my share. not enough for You
to be at peace, instead you would swear: I
deserve to suffer for not loving You.
when it was I, I, alone and only I,
who rescued a drowning, sorrowful You.
your resentment; strengthens my love for Her.

ME: AILEEN ALFARO; US

My Poetry is potent polarized

Expression, formed from intimate designs.

Allowing me to define who I choose

Inside to be. These candid words I use:

Lured from infinite imagination,

Elaborate images who’s final

Embodied path is the destination

Navigated through to this recital.

Animated as grand envisioned dreams:

Lit bright memories of moments not lost,

Found sowed into the fabric of life’s seams.

Audacious statements about myself cause

Revivals within my heart constantly.

Optimum optimism radiates

Ultimate light from these prisms: my eyes.

Satisfying desires to share my visions.

Budget Cuts

It doesn’t matter that I average a’s im getting calls from sally mae, harassing me for partial that’s been past due for ninety days. My bachelor’s been on lay away, since 02’, the 24^th of may, my child was born that day, I thought it put me behind, but I forsee much more delay. Shit’s got me feeling paranoid, avoiding the phone if it rings, it might be creditors offering new ways to pull my strings, i had to pawn my momma’s rings so I could start school this fall, and as she preps my wings to fly, so too, she helped me crawl, she went from changing diapers to tying my first tie. She told me not to worry with her worn and weary eyes, this is just another deed I add to all she’s sacrificed. See im my mom’s last action, she’s succeeding through her hijo, after I exposed arnold’s true lies, we got down to total recall. Its boiling down to food for thought, or meals for my stomach, I shouldn’t have to choose which one to pay but this problem’s turning chronic, education is a priority, to the fiscally impaired, or so the politrickers say when running for their share, of power and control, for our souls through our minds, first they derail all our goals just to meet their bottom line, then they want us to ignore all the promises they made. All the hands that they shook, all the speeches that they gave, all the photographs they took, they promised academic gains, at the local elementary but that shit never. Now we are lost fundamentally, cuz funds leave men mentally, impaired until eventually, they sell off our integrity. The voters once gave two billions bucks, through proposition “B”, for education but most of that was stolen shamelessly, these acts and more are brought to you by the letters: L.A.U.S.D. now conformity is the seed that breeds tolerance, agreed? Then our ideas to survive become our ideals to succeed. Which become our goals for success, causing progress to regress, but that shit started way before I couldn’t afford my school debts. I wasn’t ditching class, I got dropped like fallen ash from the fire that ensued from my pocket’s budget crash. As my dreams burn in effigy, at the steps of the capital building, I sit on the steps wondering how I missed my calling. Where’s the promise I was raised on, which the forefathers intended? It was traded through white envelopes with C-Notes bearing Benjamin. They call that special interest, I call for more civil unrest, until there’s a solution, our middle fingers shouldn’t fucking rest. They say public education should become privatized, truth be told, they just wanna prep us for a lifetime of flipping burgers and salting fries. Fuck that, I’d rather flip birds and enterprise, make moves with wise guys, not cause im a cynic, but im tired of these gimmicks, of these fantasies and stories, of false and fabled glory, for now I’ll leave ya’ll in peace, but I once heard a wise man speak: sometimes aggressive action is not only suited, but mandatory.

minithought.

life is improv. create.

Capulet Video

Capulet

If the world is a stage, then my life is

but a scene, part of a grander scheme,

found within endless chapters in pages,

wrinkled and torn, abused by dark ages

like the faces my grandmother wore

after burying all of her sons; husband.

she’s forgotten what she wrote in those worn

 scraps of parchment; used to piece together

her broken memoirs. A tale sans a tongue,

forever lost to the sands of time which

compliment a mind that never learned to read

between lines or spell out what spilt from others

mouths. Miseducated through ignorance

and poverty, yet she sang more joyously

than the highest seraph sung. The curfew

bell is almost rung, time to go inside,

reunite with loved ones I don’t remember.

Dimly lit memories never summonsed;

Buried in the deepest recesses of

Your heart; forever locked in a perfect

Circumference made of precious metal:

That adorned a single left finger of

Mi querido Viejo.  Her dear old man,

Who took the key to her heart on to

The next land. A wide eyed adventurer

Who only heard the whispers as his feet blistered

while he trail blazed a platform through space

and time. For the prophecy said the world

was mine. Through my newborn iris he read

said lines in the book of life, long before

he died. This is the soliloquy he

left behind, never doubting what I am

destined to be. For my name was written in

his eyes, which were damaged by cataracts,

 heart attacks, dissolved pacts, and violent acts

that took every male who misguided I

and gave me a fresh start at age 1-5.

Those eyes also perceived the promise

Of a dream that he read to her while

she slept. The promise that love would correct

what this tainted world would misinterpret.

So long as they stayed true, that was over

50 autumns ago. I’m too young

To feel so old, not wise enough to contain

What I know, nor strong enough to yet let go.

I must never forget the aforementioned,

Lest I become this chapter’s villain,

So I upload my plight into the

ether’s cold chilly night. And it may take

A million hits on YouTube just to

Get it right, to understand one moment,

Before I can move on: remind myself

 of why I can’t lose. It was never written,

and I am the Author.

Timeless (For Frisco Red)

Knowing love can be ill; kills innocence.
Honor hope with inner fires lit in heart.
Fear of loss keeps you, I, disconnected,
Till false faith is placed in security
While we feel viewed, judged; under scrutiny.
Break the bondage of what promised freedom.

Will in motion is the meaning: Freedom.
My child within; captive, is innocent
but is angered by the world's scrutiny.
His space gets smaller in my broken heart.
He seeks comfort in your security,
Never again let's be disconnected.

Impossible: us being disconnected,
We beat adversaries and gain freedom.
let's enjoy mutual security.
Mistake not, ignorance for innocence;
It's the only way to safeguard one's heart:
Ignore your own destructive scrutiny.

Living in microscopic scrutiny
Kept us lost; completely disconnected,
From each other, from ourselves, and our hearts.
An illusion we dream of called freedom,
We blindly seek, like blissful innocence
In the arms of mother's security.

Love's embrace; the only security,
That should never fall under scrutiny.
Forever may we be in innocence
Like children to God: ne'er disconnected,
In pure love they find ultimate freedom
That guide forever their young, tender hearts.

Your vulnerability touches my heart.
Bring down my walls; breach my security.
I'll Guide you to realize your freedom
Just care you not of others scrutiny.
Lest, you lose sight and get disconnected
While believing lies of lost innocence.

It is easy to ignore what we feel,
The heart seeks security and freedom;
Innocence disconnected scrutiny.

Wide Pupils, Open Heart

Our souls’ engine dies in search of rebirth.

New moments now; again celebrated.

Appreciated like an old friend found

Amidst recycled seasons, after long

Fortnights missing without proper reason.

Your feet ache, for heartbreak can only take

Its rightful fill until, its pain must be

Shared.

With a smile I take your burden,

Make it my own, give it a new home.

I’m your jester; my gesture’s unnoticed.

Blazing trail paths for phantom victories.

Showered in fragrance; peels of orange zest.

Covered with white rose pedals that cuddle

With the dying darkness. So that it may

Begin eternal rest within your breasts.

From artificial happiness abstain.

Serenity allows me endless gains.

Weighted Silver coins paralyzed my love,

Their sound in your palms terrorized my Soul

As your fingers contemplate you, I, us!

What courses through these tired, exhausted veins

Is too rich to be blood, too destitute

To be absolute water.

Grant yourself the solution of freedoms

I desperately sought, yet couldn’t purchased.

New moments found in our old memories;

Grayed, blurred, like so much cerebral matter

Placed on aluminum coated platters.

Comfort finds me in the foreign feeling,

Of experiences yet to be held.

To know you in my mind is not enough.

I cannot be seen, for the world is blind.

Join them; this adventure too, passes you

By.

Irreverent footing bred certainty.

Your piercing eyes expel the worst in me.

Ambrosia of life, I keep to myself

As they age in barrels of ancient oak.

I gave too freely, unselfishly ‘til

It was spat out of mouths like gutter filth,

By misshapen beautifully tragic

Lovers.

The wind stings my face to remind me that

 I live. If only to return to sleep,

if only to leave my nightmares behind.

So when I awaken to my true state,

I may be greeted by my truest love.

Your presence is a madman’s delusion:

Men, driven mad by insecurity

Seek in you; a life of grand fantasies.

Bastards! They don’t consider your desires.

Your world makes you blind: you cannot see me.

Forever my final attempt at love.

Only to break vows: search again afar.

Every now and then, I come back here, to

Where I stand, and always you I seem to

Find.

Understand; that all along, this was

just the master’s perfect architecture,

to ensure we never ‘gain fall apart