tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55502505520237600242024-03-18T19:43:17.743-07:00Streaming through consciousnessDesirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02236882333552149123noreply@blogger.comBlogger21125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550250552023760024.post-75635811800341570522010-02-07T13:00:00.000-08:002010-02-07T13:07:14.922-08:00I'm re-posting this poem just for you Irina TODAY I'M A FILTERAll of the emotions of the universe have gathered into one invisible powerful ball of energy.<br /><br />And today found a strange place to rest -- My small feeble shoulders!<br /><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>The energy weighs me down and quickly spreads throughout my body.</strong><br /><br /></span>Ed is standing at the corner today, as usual, with the community newspaper in hand. No one stops to donate any money to him. He starts work everyday before I do but he's fortunate if he earns $5.00 a day. Today I stop to talk to him as I seldom do. He has two broken arms. In my inquisitive manner I ask him why. He gives me a sheepish smile but his eyes quickly fall to the ground and he falls into a sombre silence. They broke his arm because he did not meet his quota.<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">The energy spreads to my arms filling them with the desire to hug strangers.</span></strong><br /><br />I look down at my blackberry as it beeps with a message. It's my boss. She is a professor, a judge, a prominent lawyer, and a successful business woman, but most importantly she's an advocate for justice. The hospital won't release her unless she finds someone to pick her up following her surgery so she's turned to me for help. Today, she is just a lonely embarrassed woman who does not have one person by her side that loves her enough to rush to her aid.<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">The energy flows to my eyes, making them gleam with tears of sadness.</span></strong><br /><br />At the office I see the young lawyers busily working. Their eyes are black around the corners, and they simply look defeated. They march onwards, exhaustively trying to prove that they are strong women. They lack love in their life - the kind a woman gives to a child, or receives from a man. Instead they menacingly scheme against one another and bitterly complete for the boss' attention. They have forgotten that in the end they may end up like her.<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">The energy flows to my mouth making it tremble with pain.</span></strong><br /><br />On our way back to the office from the hospital, my boss tells me about the nurse who assisted her after surgery. Jackie works 7 days a week because her husband is an alcoholic and a substance abuser. He recently had a car accident and a traumatic childhood memory returned to him. My boss tells me they call that post-traumatic memory gain. He was raped by his teacher when he was younger. They sued but collected $20,000.00. The good news is that their lawyer made $70,000.00. Now Jackie struggles to keep a roof over her children's head and hope in her husband's heart. She can't stop to think about her own emotions.<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">The energy flows down to my legs, making them want to give in and turn into imaginary wings so I can fly to an alternate universe.</span></strong><br /><br />The energy flows through my blood streams and gathers again in one spot- my heart. My poor heart sets to work pumping, aching, longing, churning and working overtime. My brain picks up the signals from my heart and orders my whole being to emanate love and peace, to surrender myself to God and to be thankful for all of my blessings.<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">The ball of energy is now transformed and it radiates from inside me, back into the universe.</span></strong><br /><br />It now consists only of <span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>Pure Love</strong>.</span>Desirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02236882333552149123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550250552023760024.post-51759316045042767762010-01-26T13:56:00.000-08:002010-01-26T14:34:44.937-08:00Meeting the Meastro- GailonPaolo guides me down the pavement from the mountain-top until we take a turn into a hidden trail amongst trees and bushes. It is pitch black save for the low light emanating from the flashlight in Paolo’s hands and I struggle to see ahead. Steep slippery rocks laid in the formation of steps beneath our feet lead a narrow path to the cabin where the Maestro, Paolo and Yolanda reside.<br /><br />I’m afraid of all that is around me - the darkness, my shaky legs that may give in and send me tumbling down to my death, facing the unknown, even the sound of the wild animals. Once we reach the wood cabin, Paolo quietly opens the door and ushers me inside. To my left is a little area dimly lit by a lamp. A small wooden chair covered with cushions awaits me across from where the Maestro sits. Paolo disappears into the darkness of the house and leaves me alone with him. I take my seat. A small hello is all I manage to whimper out.<br /><br />The Maestro does not respond. He simply nods his head and stares into my eyes. I stare back at him. He lifts his palms in prayer position and with a gentle swaying of his head he ushers for me to do the same. I lift my palms, while maintaining eye contact with him. Then we turn the palms of our hands toward one another. We open and close the space between our hands and continue to stare at each other in this bizarre fashion for some time.<br /><br />He is extremely skinny with long limbs. His shoulder-length hair and loose attire make him look like an old hippie. He speaks “that’s that and this is this. Do you want that or do you want this?”<br /><br /><em>Huh?!? What the hell is he talking about?</em> I think to myself, but I do not respond.<br /><br />Time passes. He breaks the silence again: “Who are you? Are you Mona, or are you this?”<br /><br /><em>I miss my mom.</em> I try to conjure up her face.<br /><br />He removes his glasses. His icy blue eyes are captivating and capture my full attention. I continue to stare into them. Now I feel naked and vulnerable. Some more time passes.<br /><br />I drift back into my memories. It was a good night with Alicia, Teo and Shayla when we ate Thai food at our usual spot and exchanged our aspirations. They seemed genuinely proud of me when I told them that I was about to embark on this journey. How silly I would feel if they knew what was going on now.<br /><br />Growing rather frustrated, and feeling extremely exhausted I wonder <em>how long must we stare at each other like this? Can he see the pain in my eyes? Does he understand the ache in my heart? </em><br /><br />We continue to move our hands around in slow motion and stare into each other’s eyes.<br /><br /><em>Is something supposed to happen?</em> Nothing happens. Feeling defeated, I give up, and burst into tears about how absolutely ridiculous I feel for being in the room with him, especially given the trials and tribulations I’ve faced to get here. Images of my lost romace flash before me and can't wait to go back to the the dark cold temple and smother my wails and cries of horror into a pillow.<br /><br />He continues staring into my eyes and moves his hands around in flowy movements. He even sways his head side to side and makes dreamy faces. <em>Is he mocking me?</em> I follow along, feeling stupid, tears dripping down my face.<br /><br />I deflate and release myself from of all my thoughts and emotions for they are too painful. All of a sudden I feel a hot powerful surge of energy between my hands. I expand and condense the energy and I whisper in a smile“I feel it!”<br /><br />He tries not to smile, but I can see that he is delighted. I continue to play with the energy and stare at him. His face begins to rapidly change. I see the face of an old woman, an Indian Chief and a Neanderthal. My mouth opens half way as I am dumbfounded and in total awe.<br /><br />“Do you understand…hmmm?!” He asks, proudly.<br /><br />I nod my head to keep it going.<br /><br />“That’s that and this is this. Now where do you want to be?”<br /><br />I can’t speak, and I’m not sure if he expects an answer. I look down at his hands trying to figure out what is going on. “Look at me”, he commands.<br /><br />I look back at him. I can’t let go of the gaze. I feel his power as he holds me there in a lock.<br /><br />“You like?!” His mouth is curving into a smile again but he is trying to contain it.<br /><br />I bubble my head up and down like a satisfied donkey.<br /><br />We sit there in that state for almost two hours until it is time for me to leave. Paolo accompanies me back to my temple. “Tomorrow, you will come and go to the cabin on your own, ok? See you in the morning”. She walks off into the darkness and I know that I will too the next day, despite my phobias.<br /><br />Feeling calm and high I walk in, head straight to the bedroom in which I had decided I would never sleep, I crawl into the bed, close my eyes, smile, and sleep like a baby.Desirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02236882333552149123noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550250552023760024.post-86137295594461268732010-01-26T13:36:00.000-08:002010-01-26T13:56:07.505-08:00Kids don't try this at homeMy version of sabzi polo va mahi.<br />I totally winged this my selecteing some random fresh herbs from the garden. After speaking with my mom, I got two of the herbs right, parsley and leek, but for anyone wondering, reyhoon does not go in this dish. Instead I needed dill.<br />The correct way to make this is to cut up plenty of these 3 herbs (parsley, leek and dill - the rice is supposed to look green when you're done) and throw it in the rice cooker with your rice. Add two cloves of garlic and a drizzle of oil and salt. Once your rice is ready serve it with tuna or some fresh fish and be sure to add lots of lemon. It's a very simple dish (although I managed to mess it up the first time) and a good reminder of home.<br />I'll do a better job next time for sure and share it with Gailon, Yolanda and Paolo.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEM8TWjkrEn7ImUAcaPNtNapbEfzGCsf-8RkII515B1mAUL_fSc9998qt35fY1CLhMNvV-2pxhkmJo3fFYu_BXdz6oCfHdXAt18oHn9De3bGzBGv450CjBU69aRWjh5B4DmG5tUJMjiQA/s1600-h/Casita+077.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431166123267551442" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEM8TWjkrEn7ImUAcaPNtNapbEfzGCsf-8RkII515B1mAUL_fSc9998qt35fY1CLhMNvV-2pxhkmJo3fFYu_BXdz6oCfHdXAt18oHn9De3bGzBGv450CjBU69aRWjh5B4DmG5tUJMjiQA/s400/Casita+077.jpg" border="0" /></a>Desirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02236882333552149123noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550250552023760024.post-80246078471490880492010-01-25T11:51:00.000-08:002010-02-03T09:59:03.968-08:00the first dayPaola is waiting for me with a big smile and a sign that reads “MONA, White Cloud”.<br />The first scent of Costa Rica sends me into a whirlwind - hard to describe the tropical smell- a combination of the dewy aroma of trees, flowers, organic fruits, mixed with a breeze of the ocean and mountains along with the breathtaking air of firewood and earth.<br /><br />The sound is happy and bustling – various birds chirping and singing, roosters crackling and Spanish music playing in the background with the ever so often friendly greeting of a passerby “bonestais”.<br /><br />Paola’s eyes are sparkling blue, her face is tanned from long hours in the outdoors, and her muscles are carved from her Tai Chi practice and her work on the farm. Her smile is radiant and contagious. “Are you alright?” She asks me in a light airy voice with a hint of Italian accent as we carry my luggages to her beat-up car. I can’t help but stare at her muscles, her flat chest, her strange Tai Chi attire and wonder to myself about how she would look in the real world - if she were to resume living in a regular society and strive for conventional beauty.<br /><br />I sit in the car and let out a deep sigh. My journey to Costa Rica has been emotionally exhausting and physically strenuous, to say the least. I have not slept for two days – I’ve been in transit for 15 hours. My first flight from Toronto to Miami had an abnormal amount of turbulence. So much so that the flight attendants could not serve our complementary beverages and the pilot made an announcement for everyone to be careful!<br /><br />At some point between clenched teeth and muscles I asked one of the flight attendants whether everything was alright. She replied “no, we cannot find good air, but please do not be concerned”. We exchanged fake frightened smiles. It did not help that the lady beside me kept muttering Jesus words. I was convinced that if our plane did not crash, I would surely die of a heart attack.<br />I tasted death in my mouth and felt fear settle in my bones. My mind wrestled with questions about why I chose to leave home and embark on a journey to a strange foreign land. My heart was wounded from the pain of leaving behind all of my comforts, my loving family, my supportive friends and the possibility of a few more weeks of togetherness with the man I love.<br /><br />Only then, when my body was about to give in, when my heart was broken, when my spirit was fleeting, and when I thought I was face to face with death did I know for sure that I want to live.<br />As I was in a panic, a card fell out of my book. It was from Dorsa. Ninja doing Tai Chi. I laughed for a good ten minutes. The lady beside me thought I was crazy. First crying, then holding on for dear life and now laughing so hard for so long.<br /><br />I faced a major flight delay (while in transit from Miami to Costa Rica), encountered customs problems (not a good idea to bring Persian rice wherever you travel, despite what mom tells you), had to carry four pieces of luggage through numerous security checks ( it didn’t help that I was traveling with American Airlines and that there were heightened security measures in place by the Americans due to a recent bomb threat, nor that my passport read that I was born in Iran) all the while struggling with an emotional and mental war waged inside me.<br /><br />I was weak, vulnerable and weary as Paola and I made small chit chat. In an attempt to warn her about my state of mind, I began to tell her a little about the man I love – about our last conversation - when he looked me straight in the eyes and just as I thought that he would say his most romantic words to me he said firmly and sternly “Mona, I will never marry you. Not now, not in a year, not in two years.”<br /><br />All I could do was gulp. Sit there in his car, moments before we parted and sip my tea and gulp down the lump in my throat.<br /><br />“Why are you saying these things? Are you trying to protect me from myself? To ensure I move on?"<br /><br />“No, I’m saying them because they’re true. I will not communicate with you. You should not wait for me. I will never marry you”.<br /><br />“Don’t you think it would have been easier for me to have some hope”? My voice was now quivering and pleading.<br /><br />“No it’s easier this way”.<br /><br />I reached over to him, I hugged him goodbye to dismiss his cruel words. I told him that it would not be necessary for him to accompany me to the airport. Finally, in desperation I asked him if he wanted me to hate him.<br /><br />He broke down into a sob. Between tears he told me “I’m already gonna miss the shit out of you, I don’t wanna worry about you too”. An exchange of compassion between us - I reached over and kissed him on the cheeks, and thanked him for his strength. He told me not to thank him and insisted on coming to the airport to see me off.<br /><br />Back in the car with Paola, I try to explain my sense of loss, my despair, and my utter heartbreak. She says she understands as she has also experienced the joys of love and endured the sadness of its loss.<br /><br />We stop to buy groceries in San Jose on our way to the little town of Santa Ana where my destination – the White Cloud Sanctuary- awaits. The supermarket looks like any other I’ve seen in Toronto, or in Germany or Iran. In a scattered fashion I walk around the aisles and try to purchase basic necessities- some vegetables, meat, rice, chicken, grapes, and olive oil. Paola is beside me, encouraging me and kindly assisting me. “You should purchase coffee. You have an espresso machine at the temple”. I think it odd, but I’m pleased to hear that.<br /><br />We ride up the curves of the mountain on the thin road while cars and trucks whiz by and continue with our chit chat.<br /><br />I drift back to our moment of goodbye.<br /><br />“I love you” He whispers in my ear.<br /><br />“I love you more” I whisper back, in a tremble. Our last embrace- awkward with my mom standing nearby and with people moving hurriedly around us. I’m soaked with a feeling of dread and sadness but like a robot I turn toward my cart of luggage and tread toward the security gate.<br /><br />Paola interrupts my illusive thoughts “Ah, and here we are at the White Cloud” She says it with as much cheerfulness and enthusiasm as she can mustter, but I know that she is consumed in my aura of sadness which hangs in the air above us like a dark cloud. By the time we have arrived at the temple, which will be my headquarters for the duration of my stay, darkness has fallen around us.<br /><br />Paola helps me unload my luggage and then she opens the doors to the temple. “This is where you’ll be staying”. Again, she does her best to sound optimistic. I step forward hesitantly and the wood under my feet cracks. I look up at the bamboo–made ceiling and then forward at the Chinese separator which divides the main space of the temple (common area) from the rustic bedroom, kitchen and washroom (my area) in the sanctuary. A surge of self-pity chokes me as the magnitute of my decision hits me like a ton of bricks - this is where I’ll be staying? In the middle of nowhere, on a mountain, in absolute darkness, with no one around, without a telephone, a television, a familiar face, without any shops, streets, people to see? I just cannot control my emotions anymore and I burst into tears in front of Paola. She leaves me to myself and tells me to get ready for a meditation session in an hour’s time.<br /><br />I put on my Deepak Chopra CD and listen to the recital of Rumi poems. I try to think positive thoughts but I cannot do anything except to kneel down and sob uncontrollably. I change the CD to Bob Marley, reasoning with myself that the reggae melody will lift my mood. No such luck. It reminds me of the Orbit room in Toronto, where a live band plays reggae music for a small intimate crowd. The last time I was there was a week ago when he surprised me and arranged for all of our friends to meet there for my farewell.<br /><br />I hear knocking on the door. Paola is back. She sees my chriveled body curled up on the floor, looks into my red eyes, touches my weeping face and suggests that perhaps I shouldn’t listen to music. "The Maestro is ready for you", she tells me.Desirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02236882333552149123noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550250552023760024.post-12445022449475991112010-01-25T11:44:00.000-08:002010-01-25T11:48:39.481-08:00Some of my strange creations<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlVWsPA1C84lvlPXfrggb5gIJLe2r4sWvamBFhbIBJz5e5TMoIO28fJLOyxw_k0Ms8lpl0nBWLj3YJPsOuWcS7i86n_tDdo5TpbqQak3NTt5P9KIC1kBisOz03fmn3Zj1nUCclUPXBYEg/s1600-h/Casita+045.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430766593699256706" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlVWsPA1C84lvlPXfrggb5gIJLe2r4sWvamBFhbIBJz5e5TMoIO28fJLOyxw_k0Ms8lpl0nBWLj3YJPsOuWcS7i86n_tDdo5TpbqQak3NTt5P9KIC1kBisOz03fmn3Zj1nUCclUPXBYEg/s400/Casita+045.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixJ9sRIxqYum1VCvnPngaft2cvcmO67A9uY41aE7OJCDw-fscHenjwd020Lkgj6egTNz_xwJzpduXfnkgdz2dqObKw43ArWCcm2jvrZ1Iu1tV8uYJnFSHmdGoHzfv4nkKY8WQegq5NL2k/s1600-h/Casita+042.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430766588754119474" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixJ9sRIxqYum1VCvnPngaft2cvcmO67A9uY41aE7OJCDw-fscHenjwd020Lkgj6egTNz_xwJzpduXfnkgdz2dqObKw43ArWCcm2jvrZ1Iu1tV8uYJnFSHmdGoHzfv4nkKY8WQegq5NL2k/s400/Casita+042.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div></div>Desirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02236882333552149123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550250552023760024.post-71117643392983970432010-01-25T11:12:00.000-08:002010-01-25T11:20:14.937-08:00Outside view of temple<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizg4DEScLA2aslFBqEwLtFR4u3_Y9Qp9P52X9zB33Igh-fhxELngLiBcbz7_C5yWa20jKbGK-HXanszm3jpfjhX9ow2UFrLRjEVdzelpcD0PecBExPw3oSO2I3njdj-GeAJSxVmaVqY7M/s1600-h/Casita+032.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430759163804632466" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizg4DEScLA2aslFBqEwLtFR4u3_Y9Qp9P52X9zB33Igh-fhxELngLiBcbz7_C5yWa20jKbGK-HXanszm3jpfjhX9ow2UFrLRjEVdzelpcD0PecBExPw3oSO2I3njdj-GeAJSxVmaVqY7M/s400/Casita+032.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQkGaIVl9bfs9E5o2POVS1fxSsXoP6d8QbuWsZYMrS5XCC8ftZPAEiSpn3yFMQVPlKQNjFRqnRig9jAqz_GN7ShjIiK6CQXWgSn7Z4yGIRX0Eo9PtsMb4lJvkbuRZmfBioTaEeheAPNS0/s1600-h/Casita+022.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430759158628030370" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQkGaIVl9bfs9E5o2POVS1fxSsXoP6d8QbuWsZYMrS5XCC8ftZPAEiSpn3yFMQVPlKQNjFRqnRig9jAqz_GN7ShjIiK6CQXWgSn7Z4yGIRX0Eo9PtsMb4lJvkbuRZmfBioTaEeheAPNS0/s400/Casita+022.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizt9KT2twwYE8pheblU4UeNmImLmsRZSKdrlsiJW9dm6eunDDHj7sCDzmwoFHhDWKsw24AZupWKTDhl6Q4o-lo3g-5VEMveyH8DztxGwBg_fsZOCsdqfwNatxfbcAS0s3jygBtBQxG_1Y/s1600-h/Casita+017.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430759155517155938" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizt9KT2twwYE8pheblU4UeNmImLmsRZSKdrlsiJW9dm6eunDDHj7sCDzmwoFHhDWKsw24AZupWKTDhl6Q4o-lo3g-5VEMveyH8DztxGwBg_fsZOCsdqfwNatxfbcAS0s3jygBtBQxG_1Y/s400/Casita+017.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxBOrNV18Iq4aN9FpamLCG1AeZnGdI_nlH3QFVz2-SHQ442wb4oCKzv0KzdFZaWYiNEs4kYvu5neZgE45JJ8YOolE2c5DWEnLGbku1TiO5j1QlN7jedTyd29a4bAy8RoJwXIrHSHVTLEc/s1600-h/Casita+039.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430759145333306322" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxBOrNV18Iq4aN9FpamLCG1AeZnGdI_nlH3QFVz2-SHQ442wb4oCKzv0KzdFZaWYiNEs4kYvu5neZgE45JJ8YOolE2c5DWEnLGbku1TiO5j1QlN7jedTyd29a4bAy8RoJwXIrHSHVTLEc/s400/Casita+039.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div>Desirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02236882333552149123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550250552023760024.post-1863651108599126372010-01-25T11:01:00.000-08:002010-01-25T11:11:39.410-08:00The Kitchen and Bathroom<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHVw0fawtJkJob0Qt-Iv60e1ZknPZmbTH0GSMRXHmZ83ihi-RfMwN5DiRuSA8jq3AP2oxkTCOKVtD8Da7PgHkRtY-op18yv0xbUPotVLbYsA_-jW2-joMVNsYcy_D6rgS8oGxT0AtBo3Y/s1600-h/Casita+020.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430756883563120626" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHVw0fawtJkJob0Qt-Iv60e1ZknPZmbTH0GSMRXHmZ83ihi-RfMwN5DiRuSA8jq3AP2oxkTCOKVtD8Da7PgHkRtY-op18yv0xbUPotVLbYsA_-jW2-joMVNsYcy_D6rgS8oGxT0AtBo3Y/s400/Casita+020.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-0VAKdS2_-Je3ILPPFlzBgppOxQxbPO5SsaZcdUMR0AK52kGEflEHSCLzyYvLIMphjHspEV9XY8gJ_aeoVngmNWIfsX_uF8W2xWxRe6gZPd2AujiZzLAnhfnEFeLByYfknM_54deMqtY/s1600-h/Casita+019.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430756876090865282" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-0VAKdS2_-Je3ILPPFlzBgppOxQxbPO5SsaZcdUMR0AK52kGEflEHSCLzyYvLIMphjHspEV9XY8gJ_aeoVngmNWIfsX_uF8W2xWxRe6gZPd2AujiZzLAnhfnEFeLByYfknM_54deMqtY/s400/Casita+019.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmZoauaHN5iQtWlv-5JueUNkZBAAdDM7SZVTKk2Yx9hbfMo3Z0-oNY7A0Km-2AI7plGoPS963NYiOcDVkpnGvftpnboLZfMV5AspPQa3F_j2Bhyq953Zl-wmoSISWDXdQ8dBdU7uMFK8s/s1600-h/Casita+018.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430756869324204770" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmZoauaHN5iQtWlv-5JueUNkZBAAdDM7SZVTKk2Yx9hbfMo3Z0-oNY7A0Km-2AI7plGoPS963NYiOcDVkpnGvftpnboLZfMV5AspPQa3F_j2Bhyq953Zl-wmoSISWDXdQ8dBdU7uMFK8s/s400/Casita+018.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzu64Jo-BRv-m2vfLtovTk-9FX2db21r4r4NARRrao52Vm0s-dRlaYp2Ae1_RPQVKqattjFosEbgU7IU-jOnfkwAnegD5dU0IK1xzTx-Fs8ABoJaLk0HLQ94-Zuznuyo_Hie8TlANjUNk/s1600-h/Casita+013.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430756867280512594" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzu64Jo-BRv-m2vfLtovTk-9FX2db21r4r4NARRrao52Vm0s-dRlaYp2Ae1_RPQVKqattjFosEbgU7IU-jOnfkwAnegD5dU0IK1xzTx-Fs8ABoJaLk0HLQ94-Zuznuyo_Hie8TlANjUNk/s400/Casita+013.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb9wvjNRxcGWKqh2SD5A-dXc3nyjnqld_3u7cJCK8lzCcTNgDitH-6rtkteEJ_mFjP-i8wjFo8LZC2WHWblzNA6wLqn2SaJRLwfaSNNmgJFDSfOnWETNl88pW3grd4KDZ31-3BLeLwYE8/s1600-h/Casita+009.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430756857729592722" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb9wvjNRxcGWKqh2SD5A-dXc3nyjnqld_3u7cJCK8lzCcTNgDitH-6rtkteEJ_mFjP-i8wjFo8LZC2WHWblzNA6wLqn2SaJRLwfaSNNmgJFDSfOnWETNl88pW3grd4KDZ31-3BLeLwYE8/s400/Casita+009.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div>Desirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02236882333552149123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550250552023760024.post-4994597978769361182010-01-25T10:56:00.000-08:002010-01-25T11:01:30.108-08:00My bedroom<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1XaYSVZwKpdcXNxtNy44M8lsels1uiYJt5dfxr3S7z-Fp6K-Qqo3gh2z0QkJrvWwNyEUj3F9pf0kTMMBw30_CXucL2wqfCT3f8Q_N_ogII-4MxViheI1D0IV0B50wSsVjnSxNkCiIhmY/s1600-h/Casita+011.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430754389293040898" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1XaYSVZwKpdcXNxtNy44M8lsels1uiYJt5dfxr3S7z-Fp6K-Qqo3gh2z0QkJrvWwNyEUj3F9pf0kTMMBw30_CXucL2wqfCT3f8Q_N_ogII-4MxViheI1D0IV0B50wSsVjnSxNkCiIhmY/s400/Casita+011.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbykxmmg9acaxlom2N3SLdMv8AN6Ti0KcXq_2VU_dLNeD5XaBgBFfovmJqOFzytNKd3vjy4istCzIP-zFzOQ7yo0Vdr5fex16UVQ06sTb-HBEY_5oH2pThZI79Hn8sYkN4vQkdUVK1D2o/s1600-h/Casita+008.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430754376665091746" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbykxmmg9acaxlom2N3SLdMv8AN6Ti0KcXq_2VU_dLNeD5XaBgBFfovmJqOFzytNKd3vjy4istCzIP-zFzOQ7yo0Vdr5fex16UVQ06sTb-HBEY_5oH2pThZI79Hn8sYkN4vQkdUVK1D2o/s400/Casita+008.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div></div>Desirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02236882333552149123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550250552023760024.post-65283402868938649532010-01-25T10:52:00.000-08:002010-01-25T10:56:44.293-08:00Inside the temple<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1-C_IxVSF8YILyX-ZUmklvDD7_Xzs7eWzWcUYYkto1IVGY78SZgcEQ8EGU75nEuJmLqIRhFj5fbvwQrKMTim3N6eZnfWFYiYqKlsxnBXpm7IlGbzE1z8zIyUrvMq1Av8sUmtMv9ZxMBY/s1600-h/Casita+004.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430752708285796722" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1-C_IxVSF8YILyX-ZUmklvDD7_Xzs7eWzWcUYYkto1IVGY78SZgcEQ8EGU75nEuJmLqIRhFj5fbvwQrKMTim3N6eZnfWFYiYqKlsxnBXpm7IlGbzE1z8zIyUrvMq1Av8sUmtMv9ZxMBY/s400/Casita+004.jpg" border="0" /></a>Desirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02236882333552149123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550250552023760024.post-62270039867338070152010-01-25T06:27:00.000-08:002010-01-25T10:51:38.641-08:00my books<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho14ofQg-ZC3mf3B_sdlapJyf4X70NMNHGhlRezBMZh_MLnRClA5BTzF91ejqGdIfjRl0oFl5jo9AbpvM44OaZgIvdPOWMMwYGbsUI4N1jcvYARcEaSiTsYJPEe_-6kwO5ZRHPkJ9TEKE/s1600-h/Casita+006.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430686884595418834" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho14ofQg-ZC3mf3B_sdlapJyf4X70NMNHGhlRezBMZh_MLnRClA5BTzF91ejqGdIfjRl0oFl5jo9AbpvM44OaZgIvdPOWMMwYGbsUI4N1jcvYARcEaSiTsYJPEe_-6kwO5ZRHPkJ9TEKE/s400/Casita+006.jpg" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRvVfRnQa_JXP1wlJZ60WdZPa-6aK62C3e580NE_y26yVqRQse8B5f0Vf7vfGdDjYc8iDHhh2Mdifk9jbcJP8iiVScsO50lBzhAWsWBZ7tIqj3lPdYL7IB6tlI_-bG55mT_ItLCEpGqiY/s1600-h/Casita+005.jpg"></a>Desirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02236882333552149123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550250552023760024.post-84249019939354973292009-10-29T10:54:00.000-07:002009-10-30T07:47:35.170-07:00Just another dayDon’t go out there today<br />Stay in the comfort of your room<br />The waves threaten to be high and ferocious<br />Too bad you can’t afford that luxury<br />Put on a brave smile, shrug it off, scent yourself<br />But beware it could be fatally dangerous<br />In the middle of your day<br />When you least expect it<br />It will hit you<br />Here it comes<br />Brace yourself<br />Your eyes are droopy<br />Your mouth is curved downwards<br />Your hands are submissive<br />Don’t struggle<br />You will sink quicker<br />Don’t plug your nose<br />It will only cut off the oxygen sooner<br />Wait for it<br />Here it comes<br />A big wave of dread and anxiety<br />Leaving you paralyzed<br />Just let it take you<br />If you’re lucky<br />It may release you<br />And carry you back to the top<br />Where you’ll float for a little while<br />Before the next wave comes.Desirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02236882333552149123noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550250552023760024.post-60270368769315056612009-10-21T12:29:00.000-07:002009-11-03T20:23:35.208-08:00<div align="center">In order to exprience this poem at its best, I highly recommend that you please pause, click on the link below, put on the following music in the background and then read on: </div><div align="center"><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D7xRIqBEVso">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D7xRIqBEVso</a> </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /><strong><span style="font-size:180%;">straight to number one</span></strong><br /></div><p align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"><em>Tuesday<br />Pull my hair<br />Yank my shirt<br />Order me to kiss you<br />Swing me around<br />Slap me<br />Bite me<br />Poke me<br />Own me<br />Demolish me<br />into little pieces<br />Burn me<br />Crystallize me<br />into one of your possessions</em><br /></span></span></strong><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"><em><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);">Thursday<br />Look into my eyes<br />Pull me close against your chest<br />Until our hearts beat as one<br />Trust that I will<br />Kiss your tears away<br />Whisper sweet words in my ear<br />Light the flame of love inside me<br />Its warmth shelters us both from the unknown<br />I’m lost in you and you in me<br />Until we find ourselves in the other</span></em><br /></span><br /><em><strong><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">One Night,<br />Walk through a narrow street in Paris<br />Where the scattered street lamps and rain drops make the pavements glow<br />And stop upon a rustic apartment with a window pan of purple flowers<br />Come inside and find me<br />My hair in wild curls strewn around me due to the humidity<br />My skin soft and moist-<br />My lips red from the wine<br />See me, pause and really see me, see through me, inside me<br />Touch me<br />Slowly<br />Remind me<br />Of your scent so intoxicating<br />Your tongue so curious<br />Your body so strong<br />Your love so warm and tender<br />Make me tremble in your embrace<br />Run your hands down my long legs<br />And remind me<br />Of that Tuesday long ago<br />When I experienced lust at its most fervent peak<br />Or the Thursday<br />When I felt love in all its glory<br />Let love and lust combine in an explosive passion<br />Put me under your spell<br />And make me so high that I once again feel connected<br />With the earth, God, the streets of Paris, with you,<br />With myself.</span></strong></em></p>Desirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02236882333552149123noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550250552023760024.post-86521657003406242672009-10-16T12:51:00.000-07:002009-10-21T08:24:28.981-07:00Shayla, this one's for youOn this dreary day:<br /><br />Even the yellow leaves on my office plant give up,<br />And plunge to their untimely death on my carpet,<br />Making me look like a careless murderer.<br /><br />The Toronto hydro generator hums its last breath,<br />And shuts off power to the entire business city block,<br />Whispering it’s last fuck you to the elite for making it work so hard.<br /><br />My co-workers huddle into my office lacking any feelings of nostalgia over the unusual event. The only excitement they voice is for having pressed save on their computers. I suggest we hold hands and sing kumbaya but they lazily yawn and role their eyes at me. A silly girl dismissed.<br /><br />My last phone call is wasted when Teo calls to complain about her ungrateful boss who is making her conduct banking during her lunch hour-- any sense of commonality is lost between us as the sound of her voice is drowned against a loud announcement: “The police have been called. Please leave the bank immediately”. An employee accidently tripped over the alarm!<br /><br />I stand tall on the furnace in my office in my high heeled boots,<br />And look out at the city underneath me from the floor to ceiling glass windows,<br />I spread my arms and contemplate what it would feel like to fly before I hit the concrete.<br /><br />I pause,<br />I smile and<br />I thank God.<br /><br />Today is a dreary day,<br />but hey-<br />at least I’m <strong><u>not</u></strong>:<br /><br />Sad enough to let go of my claws dug firmly into life,<br />Mad enough to quit just to screw <em>them</em>,<br />Tainted enough to waste unique opportunities,<br />Dumb enough to set off an alarm, or<br />Dull enough not to contemplate ways to fly.Desirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02236882333552149123noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550250552023760024.post-36070961387014837052009-08-08T20:24:00.000-07:002009-08-09T19:32:57.948-07:00HOPEShe lays by the dock with an old friend<br />and whispers about the boy she loves<br />the wind picks up and blows harder and harder around them<br />ripples grow in the smooth lake water<br />the trees rustle and the sky darkens.<br /><br />She jumps up barefoot and runs to the other side of the camp grounds<br />She excitedly climbs the deck where she can see the lake below and<br />the dark clouds that are approaching from a distance<br />"Look it's coming!" she points to the depressing dark bubble in the middle of the sky.<br /><br />Her friend gives her a peculiar look and disappears inside the camp hostel<br />She stands at the edge of the dock and expectantly waits<br />Glad that the universe has read her mood<br />And mirrored her fury and anguish in a show of unity<br /><br />She looks to her right and in the horizon she sees a ray of light amidst the clouds<br />she reads it as a promise from the cosmos that a window of hope will remain always<br />In the meantime, she prepares for the worst<br />tilts her head back and spreads her arms<br />she hears the rhythmic rhythm of the rain march forward like a fury army<br /><br />When she feels the first drop of rain on her skin<br />she closes her eyes and smiles wide feeling liberated<br />her hair flies around her and goosebumps form on her body<br />The slow rain quickly speeds up<br />The pouring rain turns into hard stinging pallets.<br /><br />She twirls and twirls in the rain<br />letting it beat the pain out of her.<br />She shrieks in amusement<br />and from the shock of the coldness<br /><br />Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes<br />She stomps her withered feet and<br />Her black summer dress feels heavy in the soaking wet<br />All of a sudden he picks her up<br />puts his warm mouth on hers and twirls with her<br /><br />She feels brave now, heads toward the lake<br />all the while shivering and shaking<br />She walks slowly into the water<br />until it almost covers her entire height<br /><br />He follows her into the lake<br />and they embrace in frosty waters<br />"This it it" she thinks<br />this is our last goodbye<br /><br />Tears and rain intermingle and stream down her face<br />and get lost in the lake<br />She feels like drowning herself<br />as the end of a chapter has drawn near<br /><br />Then she remembers the light in the midst of the clouds on the horizon<br />and she feels ever so connected to the universe<br />for she knows that it has conspired to teach her<br />that her stormy world will once again be filled with light.<br /><br />She understands that for now, all she has to do is feel the stinging cold rain<br />and suffer from an aching heart, rather to cower and hide<br />she must take risks and plunge<br />because that is what makes her feel ALIVE.Desirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02236882333552149123noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550250552023760024.post-65167970846481125022009-08-08T20:10:00.000-07:002009-08-09T19:34:36.464-07:00Nobody but meI sit here and weep<br />tears falling on my fingertips,<br />face scrunched-up like a helpless baby<br />I sob and sob<br />I pause and I stare at my reflection on the monitor<br />what the hell is wrong with you Mona?<br />Take two deep breaths<br />shake my head<br />pound my fist against my chest<br />I moan and groan<br />I long for a hard chest<br />upon which to bury my face<br />and cry harder<br /><br />No one appears.<br />Still darkness<br /><br />My sad mouth turns on the sides<br />until it forms into a small smile<br />I rock back and forth<br />Laugh and laugh<br />pound my fist on the table<br />my grief turned into glee momentarily<br />I pause and turn my head side to side<br />look around and long for someone<br />to have witnessed my hysteria<br />and to smile back at me<br /><br />No one appears.<br />Still darkness.<br /><br /><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>Desirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02236882333552149123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550250552023760024.post-47329085798785406442009-05-19T07:30:00.001-07:002009-05-19T07:30:56.330-07:00Pay it BackwardsThe cold enters my body through my ripped fashionable jeans<br />I bounce back and forth on my thin heels to warm up<br />Quivering I stand supportively beside you<br /><br />And your black curls blow wildly in the wind<br />Your awkwardly big jacket looks lovely on you.<br />You excitedly pitch your slogan to strangers but they simply pass you by.<br /><br />You chase after them still campaigning, but your pleas fall onto deaf ears.<br />You don’t give up as you continue to spread the word on random acts of kindness<br />Why does watching you like this give me a secret sense of satisfaction?<br /><br />Is it because I see your vulnerable side as you’ve exposed mine?<br />Witness that you are capable of passion even if it’s not towards me?<br />See you stung by the cruelty of rejection?<br /><br />No.<br />It’s simple --<br />I honestly just love you.<br /><br />And I want to stand beside you<br />Even in difficult moments<br />To secretly watch you and be filled with pride and admiration.Desirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02236882333552149123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550250552023760024.post-80285121353512222822009-05-19T07:22:00.002-07:002009-05-19T07:23:25.477-07:00Eternal LightThis empty gloomy abyss<br />Perhaps tolerable if it consisted of nothing but dark silence<br /><br />Instead it tugs at my heart and my soul with a thunderous roar<br />Making my whole being shake in waves of anxiety and dread<br /><br />What is missing?<br /><br />I yearn for that natural contentment<br />Which only belongs to the young and pure hearted<br /><br /> A connection with the One.<br /><br /> I pray, my arms extended, weeping:<br />“Oh God, please disregard my fruitless wishes. For if all thousand of them were hereby granted it would not bring me the happiness that I so long for. I repent and I ask for one thing: Take me into thee and fill me up with your light.”<br /><br />One love, one pure love is all I need, and it’s His. <br />From him I came and to him I return.Desirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02236882333552149123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550250552023760024.post-37585559735396817512009-05-19T07:22:00.001-07:002009-05-19T07:22:41.658-07:00AgbekorEverything fades as their eyes meet and lock<br />Colorful flowers rapidly grow and bloom on the surrounding murky walls<br />The dark ceiling opens up into an infinite blue sky with tropical birds spread across it<br />The gloomy musky space is suddenly transformed into a bountiful garden oasis<br /><br />They turn their bodies to face each other and in unison they take a step toward one another closing the gap between them<br />She stops breathing in an attempt to calm her heartbeat that pounds against her chest violently<br /><br />His deep brown eyes pierce into her leaving her vulnerable and open<br />An inner war ensues between her sense of urgency and her hesitance<br />When her soft pink lips part automatically, she knows which feeling has triumphed<br />Without any warning he lifts his arms and takes her into him<br /><br />The room is twirling now, in small circles, as she breaths in his scent<br />She embraces the experience --faster and faster she goes, almost dancing as the room twirls in circles around her<br />Music plays somewhere in the deep corners of her mind<br /><br />She spins and spins in waves of ecstasy, falling, deeper and deeper, feeling dizzy with joy<br />She wants to laugh hysterically, to yell at the top of her lungs, to jump up and down and shake her head in a frenzy<br /> Instead she uses all her might to mask her feelings and to stand still, in that moment, which will forever be entrenched in her mindDesirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02236882333552149123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550250552023760024.post-47097267644020045272009-05-19T07:21:00.002-07:002009-05-19T07:22:19.146-07:00Love is my ammunitionSomehow, the last time we made love,<br />I intuitively knew it would be our final time;<br />I pulled you close, cheek to cheek,<br />wrapped my legs around you,<br />trembled as I felt you inside me;<br /><br />I put a loving hand behind your head,<br />smelled you, kissed you, and<br />floated to the top of the room and<br />saw us encircled together;<br /><br />I was present, aware, and in the moment.<br />I stored that memory in the deep layers of my mind,<br />but you, you were, as always,<br />simply oblivious.<br /><br />And now when you taunt me,<br />when my heart aches with pain, and<br />I feel all-alone, and I miss you dearly,<br />I draw upon that moment.<br /><br />I let love wash away my anger, jealousy and bitterness.<br />I see the humor in your games,<br />smile at your childishness, and<br />I refuse; refuse to hate you.<br /><br />I hold on; hold on to love,<br />because it nourishes my soul and<br />it gives me the greatest high.<br /><br />If you should one day again<br />have the fortune to look into my eyes,<br />you will not see the soul of an ice queen<br />you expectedly seek.<br /><br />Instead my ancient soul will grab you, and<br />throw you against the tides of love and the currents of wisdom.<br />And you will come face to face,<br />with a Warrior of Love.Desirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02236882333552149123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550250552023760024.post-90936583787522496962009-05-19T07:21:00.001-07:002009-07-17T08:04:52.821-07:00A LONELY CITYI roam around like a grey ghost<br />Trying to conceal my yellow eyes<br /><br />When the tears come strolling down<br />I smile to confuse the passerbies<br /><br />I am planting soft kisses on his neck<br />As I look up and stare into his big brown eyes<br /><br />I blink and blink and try to shake my illusive thoughts<br />The lump in my throat beats me down<br /><br />I slip in and out of my memories as each day goes by<br />Intertwined in who I was and what is left of me now.Desirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02236882333552149123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550250552023760024.post-53450910678086210272009-05-19T07:04:00.000-07:002009-05-19T07:20:56.096-07:00GoddessI’ve not had the privilege of laying eyes on her,<br />Of connecting the wrinkles on her face, like an atlas, with corresponding life journeys,<br />Each line representing a birth, a death, laughter, sadness, joy, sorrow and solitude.<br /><br />I have not had the fortune of embracing her petite figure<br />Of taking-in her enchanting scent; a mixture of spices and lilies<br />And transfusing my aura with hers<br /><br />I have not had the opportunity to hold her worn fragile hands in mine<br />To thank her for her years of servitude, cooking, cleaning, sewing, and petting.<br />Hands I yearn to bring to my lips and kiss gently.<br /><br />Her beauty radiates like rays of sunshine on shimmery waters<br />Her mystery engulfs me like an omnipotent spell<br />And her story penetrates through my layers of ego<br /><br />Sleepless nights fretting about how to provide<br />Endless days swallowing the lump in her throat and putting on a brave face<br />A lifetime of raising curious, mischievous boys single-handedly.<br /><br />All the while she caught a glimmer or two of her beloved in them<br />Powerful blows that threw her back in time<br />And yet energized her and reminded her of her mission.<br /><br />Her hard work is coming to fruition<br />Her boy is at the gate of manhood<br />And I am on the other end beckoning him<br /><br />There may be struggles but there will be no battle<br />When I see you, I see the infinite potential for reaching<br />My own depths and heights of womanhood<br /><br />I am at your feet quivering with love and tenderness<br />and soaring with elation and pride.<br />For in you I see the female face of GodDesirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02236882333552149123noreply@blogger.com0