Inspiring Actress from Afar

A lady visited a land afar
She had amazing brick red hair
And out of her mouth she said
Something to me that had to be insisted.

Never look back
It will drive you insane
The things in life we lack
Minus the things we gain

Mistakes will be made
Without them
Inventors wouldn’t have a trade

We have it good here
Like none you would ever know
And worry about stupid stuff
Like not paying a toll

While others cannot eat
Or have clean clothes to wear
Or not even a place to sleep

They would cherish the book
The text, urban kids scorn
They walk two hours to look
Some work almost since born

Yet they live with love too
They work and live different
Always busy with something to do
Always trying, trying to be affluent

People are busy here too
Always trying, trying to be affluent,
But, Working for number one, in lieu
Of trying to be considerate

It must be very different
Where elephants and zebras
Run free to mingle with thee
In the Dark Continent


So peel off the layers
Until you feel the core
Underneath the baggage
Do you remember who you were before?

Back to your roots
That is the answer
Before the pain ever came
Once again take control,
But, now as the Master.

Time to live, time to remember

There will be a time in my life when I will look back on my life and remember. I’ll remember the times I sat and wished for more time to do nothing, to think to ‘be’. To be whatever it is I thought I should be able to be.

There will be a time when I realise that it was all those decisions and actions that bought me to that point, to the time in my life when I can sit back and remember.

I live now to make the memories so when I’m in the time to remember there are good ones to fill the time that I can sit, there are sad ones and bad ones to remind us how good the good times really were.

There will be a time when I must make up my account, find out the tax due, the consequences of my behaviour. There will be a time when I can see what I have created and what I have destroyed.

There are no plans, no maps, no directions to follow, just intuition and good fortune, or perhaps just blind faith that the end will be that place, that time, when I will look back on my life and remember.

Keep Trying

I took journalism
When I was young
I needed work
I had only just begun

Things went askew
life takes many turns
giving problems anew
trying to mend the burns

Running my own business
And businesses of others
raising my kids with kisses
After burying my father and mother

Alone I feel in every way
with my children in tow
People judging me everyday
Looking at me, they don't even know.

Because I do not look down at you
Does not give you the right
To look through me,
Like I am not here, out of sight.

My dreams are relevant
My voice will be heard
If yours died in your office
I'm sorry, I think you are ubsurd.

When I work hard to perservere
At times my body grows weary
"Soon it'll be over my Dear"
Ha like I just want a life of dreary

To live to be just another wife
kept in a hole of a house
hidden away and not to live a life?
Just to keep quiet, quiet as a mouse?

Not for me, a partner is what I seek,
not a person to keep me in my place
A person who understands the leak
of emotions and equality of the race.

Fourth of July

It was near the time of the fourth of July
I was left standing high and dry

I had nothing left and nowhere to go
So I sat on a beach in Mexico
The tequila burned
The water churned
and the waves hit high
And I hoped that, maybe, I could touch the sky.

He strolled up to me
and held my hands in his grasp

He said, "baby lets move-
this place is getting old fast."

We drove outta there without a moment to spend
on times gone by and broken dreams to mend.
More tequila poured under the hot setting sun
life on the verge; reality undone.

I remember that day, it was the fourth of July
Somewhere in Cali the colors lit the sky
But there in the south it was only us and the moon
and I knew in time it would be over too soon.

Sometimes I wonder if I knew what I had
When the time turned good after being so bad
that wonderful time under the Mexican sky
Somewhere near the fourth of July.

Poetry off the cuff on Tuesday (lol)

The Trek (8-14-07)

Striving forward
Toward the sea
Of tranquility
Awesome twists
Of life
Razor thin Lines
Called decisions
Litter our way
Feasting on love
Gorging on laughter
Stopping only
When there's shared time
Isolation of the brain
Wounds us more
Than we are led to believe
The trek is our focus
Look back
and Forgive,
Never
Forget.

The Past

Work I have been seeking
Money is of the necessity
the pipes are no longer leaking
The job search is getting the best of me.

I went to a place I worked long ago
this emailing of resumes is crap
Back to the ways of the days of old
Pounding the pavement and giving a rap

The big glass cube
standing with its presence
the sundial still in view
giving the time in the essence

I entered the base of the glass
the security was there to greet
May I help you? said the old lass
Answering her in a way that was sweet

I regained my past
the past I made for myself
some progress at last
By taking some dust off the shelf.

Letting Go

I pulled blue guy out of retirement today. There he was nestled amongst the pink, blue, lace, leopard and zebra striped fabrics of my panty drawer.

Removing my shorts and t-shirt, I placed my mp3 headset on and picked him up; tip-toeing hesitantly into the bathroom. The house was quiet, so very quiet; the boys halfway through their camp day.

I turned the bath water on and sat upon the edge of the tub. I looked at blue guy in my hands and I thought of you. Climbing in, I turned the shower on and laid down in the bottom of the tub; positioning myself so that I wouldn’t get my headphones wet. I pulled the plug to turn on the shower and the water was warm and soothing.

It had been so long; turning blue guy on at the lowest setting, I laid him upon my clit allowing him to softly rest within my golden curls. I closed my eyes, willing each drop of water that fell from above to be the gentle touch of your lips; soft and teasing. I ached inside, hating myself for missing you, for wanting you.

I could feel the slow vibration and the water warming me, tingling, melting through my bravado; daring me to be receptive. I could smell you; feel your skin close to mine. As my resolve began to crumble I turned blue guy at its base increasing his speed and began to move him back and forth rubbing my clit, feeling it begin to tense and to throb.
My stomach clenched, I felt my muscles tighten. I could hear you telling me I am beautiful in that way that you seem to melt through my disbelief. I could hear you say “I love you” and it made my heart ache.

I tried to concentrate on the rhythm, feeling my heart beat faster, my back arching, spreading my legs to the very edges of the tub walls. I rested my other hand on the top of my pubic hair line. In that place where I would brush your face as if you were there, right there; with your warm lips and tongue nibbling on my flesh. My hand was poised to push you away as I often did, when the intensity of your kiss and the passion with which you devoured me would push me right to the edge.

As I turned blue guy up to its highest speed, I clenched tight with my thighs and my whole body tensed as if I needed to desperately hold on to a moment that must never pass. I felt that physical overwhelming need to fall off of the precipice. I waited to hear the words that you would always whisper in my ear “let go, just breathe, it’s okay to let go”.

But they never came, the words weren’t there and in the cooling spray from the water above, I turned to my side and cried. The bass and drums of the Cranberries reverberating in my head, “I have to decided to leave you forever; I have decided to start things from here….”

I miss you.

I let go.

Lets Talk

Lets talk a little, shall we?

The chair is empty.
There is room.
No need to feel encapsulated
It's from Ikea. It works.

Pour me another glass of wine
and yourself one too.
Light a smoke,
Hell, even a toke

it's ok, if you'd like.

Sit here with me,
behind grinning lights
and spinning engines
and we'll come to something-

anything.

Because time is not on our side-

anymore.

It's flown the coop and I can guarantee
this bottle won't last another hour.

Don't bother apologizing.
It's really quite ok.
Just smoke and drink and fade to black
as long as you talk.

There's no reason to drag it on
we can finally find a reason for all of this
and move on
or move forward
but I won't move back.

Longing for the rain - an excerpt

Longing for the Rain – Copyright by Maharat Zahara

It was so cold, that morning. The sun shone brightly outside, but the great stone house took its time in getting warm. I curled myself in the reading chair, under the one beam of light that flooded the window at this hour, and I tried to keep as much of myself under the scant warmth as possible. It was not easy, to keep covered, without falling from the chair, and all the while keeping my book well under the light.

If I went outside, I'd surely feel warmer. The green hills looked inviting enough, out there beyond the tall, heavy wooden window, but I did not like the great outdoors. I felt safe in the library, among my father's belongings, the only part of his world that I shared. Ever since my brother had passed, I went out less and less often. ‘Melancholic’, they called me, and I cared not that they did, as long I was left alone

I think that by then I was already troubled by my future. Surely I was not truly reading the book which I held, I knew it by heart. I knew all my books by heart, for I was not allowed that many titles to choose from. My father had selected what was proper, and I, ever the good girl, read what he allowed me. Even for that I was thankful. Most girls my age could not decipher anything beyond their prayer books, and were lucky if they could sign their own names.

Yes, I think my mind was troubled. The subject of marriage kept coming up more and more, and as I was of age, my father received many offers. I guess I was luckier than most: my father was a Venetian exile, and he was no more interested in my local suitors than I was myself. He was waiting for a good, man, my father told me, and he had the perfect excuse in my alleged heartaches.

'Flora is melancholic', he answered. 'I would never press her to decide. She needs time.'

From time to time I would meet with one of those men, in the presence of my father, knowing full well he was a potential suitor – not that I was told – in meetings which never meant anything. The weeks would pass, the man would be forgotten, and my father, never questioned

That was, until the Venetian had appeared. I gathered little tidbits from this and that conversation, trying to understand what was different this time around. The man was stationed in the region, and he ranked high in the navy. His father was a powerful man, just as my father had once been. He needed to be married soon, that man, for his past was even sadder ours. The plague that had taken my brother away from me, had ravaged the man’s Venetian family. Once he had been only one of a dozen children, but now, he had gone from “spare” to heir within less than a year.

My father had been so careful with news, and he made sure that I knew that the pairing was desired by all. He spoke of my suitor with such enthusiasm that I almost said yes, then and there!

’I know you have your objections, but child, a match like this does not happen every day, and such an opportunity might not happen again. Forget about his family, and other things you might have been told, for they are not relevant. He is a good man, Flora, and I know him well. I’d want this match for you, even if his brothers were still alive, and Marco was not his father’s heir.’

Ever since, I thought of the mysterious suitor, the man that would change my life forever.

A good man.

An older man.

I did not let my hopes grow too high. These matches could always fall through, and it sometimes happened at the very last minute. It made no sense to make plans while knowing so little.

I think it was then I looked up from my book, to find my father standing by the door, regarding me with deep blue eyes, smiling, though he meant to chastise me.

“Hiding here again, little one?”

I smiled, lowering my head, “I am not needed anywhere else.”

“Oh, I know. Must you always be inside, Flora? You could take a walk in the fields, ride a little.”

“Mother does not approve of me riding alone.”

My father put up his hands, as we both knew that was not the reason. “You could walk, or take a servant with you.”

“I don’t want to, father.”

My dear father came closer, and I knew which subject he meant to approach, even before he spoke. “Flora, do you remember the match we spoke of, a few weeks ago?”

I nodded, hoping to hear more about ’the mystery man.’

“Marco is visiting us today.”

I almost fell from my chair. “All the more reason not to leave the house.”

How my father had laughed. “No. I want you to take one of your servants and leave. He does not need to see you today, at all.”

I dared not tell my father that I wished to see him. “Perhaps mother will wish for my help.”

He laughed again, obviously seeing through my sorry attempt at a ruse. “Let your wise father do the negotiating. You should meet this man him only when he has made a commitment. Now, I want you out of here!”

I never considered disobeying; I acquiesced with a smile, “I will tell mother I am leaving.”

I made to leave, and the expression I saw then on my father’s eyes, I could not understand ... It was as if he was sad and happy at the same time. Why was that? At that time, I did not fear for myself. I trusted my father implicitly, and I knew he would choose well, for me.

***


It was such a beautiful day, and I think I will remember it forever, for it was the last time I was alone in the hills. The green mantle extended as far as the eye could see, and it being early spring, the grass was covered in tiny wild flowers, red as blood.

The sun shone brightly, bringing out the colors in such a vivid manner which no painter could hope to capture. Only the faint clouds forming from afar marred the perfect setting, and I eyed the horizon with growing worry, and I think I wondered aloud.

“What is Marcella up to this time?”

My servant had deserted me again. She did it every single time, and that was one of the reasons I never accompanied her out. Ah, if my father knew…

My family took pride in its blood, a long line of seamen, who had made its fortune from trade even before the Venetian State had been founded. I could tell a storm was coming, and it mattered not one bit that I had never seen the blue waters myself. I considered leaving right then, instead of having my parents worry about me, but I checked that thought for it was not pious. Father would punish Marcella very harshly, if he knew that she wandered. It was only convenient for me to forget what he would think of me, that I helped her.

Marcella only came back when she could see the storm, and by then, it was too late. Rain was upon us before we could reach the ancient road.

Marcella’s face was flustered, her clothes crumpled, and she was already afraid. “I told you we should have stayed in the path.”

I shook my head, wiping the rain from my face, and I ranted. “Don’t be silly, we’d be stuck in the mud. The road is passable even when it rains hard. The old Romans built it that way.”

“What if someone sees us?”

I was at the end of my patience, for it was not my fault that we were in this mess, was it? “I am hoping someone does!”

Marcella started crying, “Your father is going to whip me for this.”

I was also afraid. It had been so long since I had last been punished for anything, and I feared my father’s displeasure above all. That fear was taking over now, when the muddying road and the worsening storm were no true worries in my mind. I allowed myself to stop, closing my eyes, smelling the wondrous, copious rain. The smell of rain hitting the earth was my favorite scent in the whole world.

Marcella seemed only now to understand the consequences of her actions, and she had become frantic. “He will never believe us!”

“Why did you have to be away for so long?”

Marcella eyed me with such disdain, “You would not understand.”

If Marcella’s wanderings should reach another’s ears, her own reputation should surely suffer. There was no telling that it would to mine, but surely, there would be no mystery man for me.

The rain intensified, and my mind fell again to practical things. Where would we find shelter were it to become necessary? The road was on open ground and we were subject to lightning strikes. I wondered where would my father first look for us were he to decide to venture out, and just to think of it … I was musing over all these things, when a carriage stopped beside us, coming rather out of nowhere.

A woman put her head to the window. “Look, two drowned kittens. Might the young ladies be lost?”

Marcella jumped at the opportunity without thinking. “Yes, my Lady, we are!”

I considered the dark clouds in the sky, and with a heavy heart, I asked for help, when it might just make matters worse. “Would the kind Lady be heading to the Great House’s direction?”

“Oh, we are going there. Please come up, we must continue. We don’t want to be stuck in the mud now, do we?”

I was so embarrassed! My wet clothes were staining the light colored cushions, ruining the woman’s carriage. It was only when we settled inside, that I saw him. A dark haired man regarded us from his seat, faintly amused by our presence. That was all I saw for I lowered my eyes immediately.

Shame or no shame, I was not the one to forget my manners. “Thank you for taking us. We are sorry for ruining your seats. ”

The woman was kind. Wet from the rain, we might have looked even younger than we were. “No problem, little kitten. We wanted to get those cushions replaced anyway.”

Was this a man and his wife? What business did they have with my father? I had forgotten everything about our conversation in the morning, and thinking backwards? It was best that way. Marcella chatted the entire way, as if she was the mistress, and the woman seemed entertained by her carefree manner. The man simply regarded us carefully, politely, as if he could not be bothered to speak.

I dared raise my eyes only once, and when I did, the dark haired man smiled, and he spoke so gently, “Don’t worry, you will be home soon.”


***

The carriage pulled before my house not too long after, and my father was there, ready it seemed for riding out. I could see the relief in his eyes, as I was helped down the steps. It lasted a few seconds, that relief, and then he got very angry.

“How could you be lost? This storm threatened for hours.”

It was true. “We were distracted, father.”

“Lucky you were found. Where have you been?”

“In the fields, father.”

My mother gave out a cry when she saw my state, and I knew that public embarrassment was surely to follow. “Baby girl! You are all wet! We must make you warm.”

I think I gave the visitors a backwards glance before my mother took me away, already drying my hair with her own mantle, but I am not sure.

My mother was upon me with every medicine and cure afterwards, and no amount of complaining would free me from the smelly, itchy concoctions, and asking all manner of uncomfortable questions. “So, what do you think of your suitor.”

“That was him?”

“Of course, little airhead. Who would venture out in such a storm without an appointment?”

“I did not look at him too much. He seemed … bothered.”

One of our servants jested, “Of course he did, you turned his carriage into a fish tank …”

I laughed so hard; I think I was nervous. “Is it certain?”

“You know not to hope. Your father wants this betrothal sealed, and you must make up your mind, for he might ask you about it.”

***

Make up my mind about what? What did I know of this mysterious man? As I laid in the dark, watching the shadows that formed in the room, I counted the patterns in the baldaquin, wishing I knew more. At the same time, I wanted for nothing to change, for my life to be this as always, peaceful, predictable.

I had almost fallen asleep when someone knocked on my door, and soon after, my father entered my room, something he almost never did these days. He sat carefully on the side of my bed, a little uneasy it seemed, and he took my hand in his, speaking the words I’d been warned to expect.

“Sweet child, you have an honorable suitor.”

I only smiled, and again my father seemed uneasy, and I did not know why it should be so!

“Marco wishes to hear from your lips that you are willing. If you say that you are, then it is a binding vow. It would look bad afterwards, were you to change your mind.”

I remained dutiful, and I truly did not know which answer was wanted. It did not occur to me that my actual opinion was being asked, for the idea seemed preposterous at the time. “Are you happy father?”

“I am very pleased with this suit, Flora. “

I don’t think I hesitated, once my father expressed his desire for the match. “I need to be dressed then …”

Again my father seemed uneasy, and I was getting worried about that. He smiled right then, and I was happier in an instant.

“Very well. Your mother will help you.”

***

I was hastily dressed, and once it was done, I did not think I looked my best, not at all. Downstairs, I could not raise her eyes to look at the man, though I could feel his gaze on me, regarding me intently.

“You are very beautiful, now that you are not wet.”

I blushed crimson and now I could certainly not speak. Tears welled in my eyes, such shame, that he had seen me in this sorry state! I wonder if he doubted my honor, and thought I took rides with men in their carriages every day. Yet, he was standing right there, asking for my hand.

If Marco could tell I was troubled, he paid no heed to it. “Flora, our families wish that I should take you in marriage. That has come to be my wish as well. I am here to inquire of yours.”

“I do that which my father thinks best, signore.” I saw his hand move, as if to touch me, but he seemed to think better of it.

“If that is your wish, Flora, then from this moment on, I will be your suitor, and if all things fall into place, one day you will be my wife.”

I was so confused! My body was reacting so strangely. I felt dizzy; his words went straight through my heart, like arrows. Somehow I found the strength to answer the man properly, “That would be my wish as well, signore.”

I could tell that he had smiled, not that I was looking, because I could not stare him in the eye. I was lucky my father entered the room, and for the second time today, I was being rescued.

My father’s voice was gentle but commanding. “Flora, you may retire now.”

“Goodbye signori,” I answered as I retreated, so hastily.

So I went back to my rooms, to remove all the clothing and ornaments I had worn for such a brief while, and I did not even ask for help. Back into my bed, I could not sleep; I was about to have a husband … and I did not know how to be a wife.

Frozen in My Mind (6-26-07)

They're there for some unknown reason,
I'm sure everyone has them.
Hell, maybe not.
Mere portions of a second,
That last a lifetime.
I feel small,
In their wake,
In intervals.
The Past,
The Present,
The Future,
All connected,
By the moving pictures,
That are my experiences.
They're pieces of my time,
Frozen in my mind,
Melting only when I see past them,
For what they have taught me.

In out

I press my face against the glass
I feel the coolness fade as my breath touches it.
In out in out in out in
I hold it this time wanting the last of the coolness to exist......out
I watch you walk down the street and my breath comes faster.
In out in out in out in out in
You catch me watching you. You stare at me.
I press first my hand, then body, then my mouth against the glass.....out
My skin has taken on a life of it's own.
The thought of you touching me has it breathing
In out in out in out in
You break our stare and begin to walk away again.
All I can do is watch you walk.......out

Where Are You, Superman? (6-19-07)

I look into the sky,
All I see,
Are Birds and Planes,
No Hero.
When are you going to use,
Your Super strength,
To Show us the way?
Use your heat vision,
To warm,
Our Chilled Uncaring Hearts.
Use your Cool Breath,
To put out all the fires,
Caused by all the Madmen.
Use your X-Ray Vision,
To see,
Into our Black souls,
Where you can fight the evil.
Use all of your Power,
To Save us,
From Ourselves.
Where Are You, Superman?
There is no Kryptonite here,
Except us.
I guess,
We have to Continue,
Without You,
Don’t we?
Perhaps,
We should become,
The Heroes,
We so Desperately Need.

Marooned

Marooned on the island of life.
I live day by day.
Passing the time with only my thoughts.
Ignoring the wonders around me.
Consumed by self.
The tragedies of the previous chapters,
Envelope my synapses.
Judgment isn’t clouded,
It’s just not there.
Feelings don’t get in the way,
They’re pushed to the side.
Sometimes, there’s a moment of clarity.
When a smile comes to my face.
I’m mimicking the little boy.
He’s my lifeline to another place.
Reality.
All I need is to feel his love,
To be jolted back.
I live day by day.
Marooned on the island of life.

Leaving on a Jet Plane..

Hey all my fellow and lovely writers, I'm taking the computer down today to be shipped to the states. I won't be back online for at least ten days.

Remember to add your screen name to the 'Labels' section for all posts. KEEP WRITING! I can't wait to read everything I've already missed (due to packing etc..) and everything I will miss in the coming weeks.

Also, while I'm away, you can plug wwht... as much as you'd like through your MySpace account. I'd appreciate it!!!


LOVE YOU ALL!! Thanks for being a part of wwht...!!!!

Forever your admin.,

Jill

untitled.

Love is not as uncommon as people want to believe. It doesn't always involve some elusive "one and only," or a soulmate. Love... well, love is something that can affect us on a daily basis. It's something intangible, an outmoded stigma. It's a primeval ideal, an ephemeral excuse to find meaning in this tragic world. You see, love can exist on so many different planes and levels. I can met someone and love them the instant I meet them, and then I could fall out of love with them just as quickly; or, it could take days, weeks, months, or years to love someone. What I mean is, there's no love more significant than any other. Love is love, it comes and goes. But what makes it appealing is the possibility that it remains, and that you can keep keep a consistent love with a consistent person forever, into the abyss of eternity. That's what is so appealing about love. Eternity. The possibility of forever.

Now some may say that there is always an end. True, there is an end to every relztionship. But love is not a relationship. It is a feeling, an emotion, a state of mind. See, relationships all end; we all die, our bodies rot. But the idea of love, the feeling of love - that can permeate throughout the universe for an eternity. That mad passion is like the light of the soul. Light never stops traveling, it bends around time and space, it's a constant, and it continues onward.

You know... you look up and see a star; in many instances, the star you see is simply light that was emitted thousands or millions of years prior. That star has a good chance of being dead. But, we still see that star, as radiant as ever, as beautiful as it was in its prime, because the light - its core - still permeates he empty crevasses of space. We still can see and feel its undeniable rapture.

And so is love....

fragments of hope.

[i]

On the brink of redemption,

Ready to fall over the edge in

Anticipation

Of the future.

[ii]

Torrential rain

Defiles the saints

And cleanses the sinners.

[iii]

Like a bird

Caught in mid-flight—:

Drifting into a limbo of

Light and darkness.

[iv]

The phoenix soars, born again,

Only to smolder once more,

Forever more.

[v]

The albatross flies

Alongside the eagle.

Hopeful and forlorn:

They embrace the sky

In a dark, vivid storm

Of passions.

A swan among ducks.

To whom do you look when even the heroes are gone,
Hidden beneath the idleness of a corrupt society?
As the world of tomorrow slowly engulfs us,
The truth is distorted through the prism of hatred.
What once was cooperation has now become hostility.
This “free society” imposes upon us a greater censor
Than ever before, a disease that infects us all.

Conformity.

As we all become one and one becomes all,
The destroying of cultures will surely be our downfall.
Forced to fit the mold of mediocrity, as our “flaws”
Are hammered out of us: we are purified as a steel tool.
Those of us who escape this process, this great,
Universal, Bessemer process, become defunct in the
World of Big Brother.

Cygnus inter anates, as they say;
The Ugly Duckling.
And you will be shunned,
Excluded from the truth you
So desperately seek.

Back to Childhood (5-30-07)

Frost on my fingertips,
Paste on my tongue,
Holes in my knees,
Jumping for fun,
Riding a broomstick,
Just like it’s a horse,
Swimming all summer,
Until I was dark,
Using sticks as guns,
GI Joes were something special,
Sports were play not work,
Jumping into lakes,
Camping on its sites,
Sand in my bathing suit,
From playing on the seashore,
Crabbing with Daddy Grand,
He caught my first fish,
Sis cutting my hair,
In the room we used to share,
Cooking with GrandMa,
Playing Aggravation with Uncle Joe,
Smelling Grandpa’s Pipe,
The flood went so high,
Puppies and Kittens,
Rabbits and Hamsters,
Thin skateboards,
Pillowcases for Halloween,
Hotdogs were great,
The Six Million Dollar man,
Jerry Lewis and Dean Martin,
Frank Sinatra still Sang,
We grew a huge garden,
Ate well when it sprang,
Built that redwood deck,
Repaired the pool several times,
Went to parades galore,
Where I could be someone else,
Wow,
The great times are many,
I’m sure I missed a few,
Back to childhood I go,
Maybe you should to.

The New Heroes

Though I don't know you,
I'm Proud of what you're doing,
for this country and its people,
And That country and its people.
In our prayers you are,
In our thoughts every day,
Doing what's right,
In the most difficult of times.
Keep your pride up,
Your chin down,
Your Rifle at the ready,
And your wits about you.
You are the heroes,
of a new legend,
The warriors,
Of America.
God Bless you,
And your comrades,
And your commanders,
And those who have fallen.

The King of Porn

Copyright Christopher Pimental, 2006, The Train Wreck Chronicles

The King of Porn

You're a pretty girl
a dirty girl
a third world
flirty girl
snaggin' the light
til I walk in

then
it's
just
BOOM!
baby,
digital zoom,
baby,
on me
every eye
in the room
comes alive,
and my roll
sucks you in
like a fly
to the meat

so you walk
my way
that Latina sway,
your hips in play
thinking you can
hang
with a hitter
like me.

But you ain't shit,
you see?

Just another
wanna be
star to be
gonna-be-porn-star
whore to me,
and
I've had
so many
flavors
I can´t even
see
the menu
through the trees
anymore.

Man, it ain´t even
fun for me
anymore.

But
it stacks the
cash,
and I like
that ass
so come with
me
and let me be
the one
to
promise you diamonds
and
deliver you pearls,
coke up your
mind,
ruin your world
when I
lower the Roof
to cave in
your
in-
hib-
ish-
ins.

Yeah baby,
feelin' slow,
a little tipsy, huh?

That´s good.

Now
sign this
while I strip
you down
to your bald
Brazil
in front
of the lens
and
the lights.

It don´t
seem right?

Trust in me.
No one will see,
accept overseas.

That´s right,
listen to me.

Hear what I say,
not what I mean,
'cuz
whatever I say
there ain't no way
it ain't gonna play
all over the world.

Girl,

now, shut up and
kneel down
beside
what´s left
of your dignity,
then
look up
and smile
when you finish
me,
'cuz in the morning,
see,
you won't remember
me,
or
remember a thing
til
someone you know
downloads the clip
or
buys the CD.

Pay check,
you ain't shit to me.





(The Train Wreck, baby. Rollin'.)