Watch THIS IS FOR (short film)

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Things My Grandmother Has Been Saying


poem 47 – 6-18-16 – Things My Grandmother Has Been Saying

“there, I’m on the road with God”
“there, I’m on my way with him”
“I’m more there than here”
“I want to die, already”
“when I die, I’m gonna come back and visit you”
“when I die, I’m taking the television”
“that television is mine, Jesus gave it to me”
“where am I?”
“take me home”
“call Christina, tell her pick me up”
“I want to go back to El Salvador”
“I want to die in El Salvador”
“I used to hold you when you were this small”
“remember, i used to pick you from school”
“remember, when i used to be able to walk”
“aahh, my body hurts”
“my body hurts”
“my body is burning up”
“there’s fire in me”
“my insides are burning up”
“I got a pain inside that won’t ever stop”
“getting old is a sad thing”
“you don’t understand my pain”
“this food has no flavor”
“food is good for those who can still taste”
“look at you eat, must be nice”
“I eat, but i don’t enjoy any of it”
“no more water, i’m gonna piss myself”
where’s your mother?”
“where’s More?”
“where’s that lady?”
“they abandonded me”
“they left me here”
“aahh, it’s a sad thing, getting old”
“I remember my life back on the ranch”



poem 46 – 3-10-16 – (HEY) BUT I COULDN’T
let’s take a black and white filter
and apply it to this situation.
then let’s take a couple steps back
to suss out said situation turned acute.

i am not a nihilist
i not a existentialist
altho i think it would be easier if i were
to continue to believe i was
i am no longer high
and can’t entertain the idea
others that claim to be either or
are either bullshit liars and don’t understand
as i did, what they are saying
or to put this simply, self-centered assholes.

if i did not lie
you should not be upset
if you have feelings about it
that is understandable
but to put those feelings on me
is upsetting, to me.

i can apologize for my part in all of this
i just wish you could see yours in it.

this poem is almost done
walk back to it
after you took some distance from it
the thought, the poem , the situation
won’t seem so abstract anymore
i don’t think.




my right hand on the small of her back
and i know that it’s already wrong
but i let it go on
her feet, walking forward, before me
she walks faster in her heels
than i do, in my beat to shit authentics

the short distances between us
was given enough slack
just enough
so that, she could extend her arm back
her soft and small brown hand grabbed mine
and i knew it was wrong

we walk through the crowd we both ignored
they were just in our way
but it seemed, nothing really was
because it was ignored all together

we ignored others
that weren’t even at the bar
we ignored together

we told her ride that she was staying
to spend more time together
but this time, alone, together
this said time was the first time
and last time
no eyes were on us
and we both knew it was wrong
but of course, we both ignored it
and just let it go on.



poem 44 – 2-23-16 – SPACE (PART 3)

on a cushioned stool
behind a glass display case
with decorative hair combs, necklaces, photo albums specifically for weddings
tiaras, ring bearer pillows, unity candles and unity coin holders

i sit here and i believe as i always do when i am truly myself (alone)
i will live alone or worse, lie to someone for the rest of my life just to not be

alone away from the world
seems to be the only way to stay.

lips repeat cliches between their cigarettes
the cigarettes themselves become cliche
i do not believe them or you
i do not believe that two
(soul-cases) fall in love and stay in love
i could not believe you loved me as long as you said you did
as much as i wanted to, i couldn’t
and neither should you
no amount of words or the inflection given
changes the cadence of reality
we, like all, lied to each other to have someone there
comfort is what we both fought to keep
when letting go, once all honesty is lost
is easiest and the most honest act we can do

think what you will
say what you will
i will not forget how dark it got

others will believe for a while
but that while will pass
and once it does, past will pass
the lie will crease
we will both be free

i will be here on this stool
selling wedding dresses
reminding myself
Eros is not Agape
and Agape is what i seek

we had what we had
it’s left in time and space.


poem 43 – 2-8-16 – MOTHER (PART 4)

perpetually sheepish
forever behind others

the dismal dry drunk
with white knuckles
painted by his wrong turns

reality’s responsibility were evaded
by the ways of constant escape

he isolates but never finds solitude