I Miss That Darned Cat

The Morning After

When boredom gets you...

She

A friend wrote this for me when I was in Bahrain. It was dated September 28, 2004. I am posting it so I will remember who I was.

Gypsy Queen by Julie Aragon

You are to me, a qypsy queen
wandering from one place to another
to build an empire where you can rule
with your enchanting grace
and hold together your people under
the spell of your tongue
or to curse
like a self-possessed shaman's
repeating mantra to appease the bearer of souls,
you are lovingly cruel, gypsy queen,
see you held them with your prancing tongue
and your words breathe into them
to constitute their very existence
but you do not intend to stay
nor leave a trace
for your people to follow
even your footprints melted in the sun
or tossed by the wind
as if to cover up your trail
you do not own any possession
only a gnawing desire to possess
and be possessed by the world
which is your life
and bane at the same time.
Where, O gypsy queen, will you stop
to redeem your shoes?
You have traveled far enough
and for the sand and the air
you are just one gypsy queen
longing for nature to fetch you
from your wayfaring.

Yipeee

One last hurrah for being sun-kissed. I am not sure as to when I will be reunited with the beach but I am pretty sure it is not going to be this year or the year after that. For now, I'll settle for this photo to remind me of how happy I was every time I visited the beach.

Beach, Boat and Ballerina

Wake Up, Salome

Time to ask for John's head.

Once Upon A Hateful Time

A friend of mine posted this poem on his old blog after our biggest fight. When I first read this entry, I wanted to strangle him but now I can barely keep my seams from bursting. Funny, how time can change our reactions toward something (we're back to being friends by the way). Amongst all the poems created for/about me, this one has a special place in my cruel but fat heart as it was the most honest (it struck an unlikely chord)and it was the only one which was the most loathsome. Hahaha. However, I would not want to have another poem written by another friend with the same theme addressed to me (as this would then only simply mean that I have not matured at all which I strongly oppose to).

A word of advice to the readers: Try not to take every word literally, okay?



Thursday, September 16, 2004
R.I.P.: Rot in Piss by Bjorn Eding

Tell me, deity, who you are
coz today I can't with all that scar,
that nose flaring at stinking guts
and eyes that have murdered flat-footed mutts.
I'm sorry if I can't invite you in
I have my own life now, I must begin.

You speak for hours on end of your ideologies
I hope you open your ears to my apologies.
But you grip my scruff instead and beg I sympathize
FUCK YOU! I'll just spit it at your beady eyes;
You arrogant, self-reassuring WHORE!
I'll be damned if I can't get you on your four.

Weak, you slowly crawl to reach for my dick
oh, and I thought it was me whose head's gone thick?
This may not sound as good as your wicked rhymes
I better write down fuck you three(3) more times.
By the way, thank you for those nights spent in your arms bitch
I'll send the flowers you ask of me down this ceramic ditch.
Rot in piss...Witch!

Thanks 'bai! A toast to fancy words written to cause temporary minor discomforts (which we do not mean to last forever). See you when I see you.

...

(Still) After performing at the La Fontaine Centre of Contemporary Art in Bahrain; In celebration of the 'Spanish Nights: La Cultura Espanola'. June, 2005.

...

After performing at the La Fontaine Centre of Contemporary Art in Bahrain; In celebration of the 'Spanish Nights: La Cultura Espanola'. June, 2005.