What did this bring?

What will they make?

What can she see?

What will he take?

Who knows it all?

Who's done it before?

Who finished the path?

Who wanted more?

How much can he carry?

How big is her load?

How steep is the climb?

How much longer to go?

Where should they stop?

Where do I sleep?

Where does he stand?

Where do we meet?

When's are continual.

Why's are avoided.

Answers are looked for

and easily voided.

Sleigh Bells Don't Ring in California

Christmas is found  in my name.

In the place where a lonely manger once stood.

Christmas was born in a damp, cold day;

Neither in December or the likes of June.

Christmas had no carols at night.

Humiliation harmonized the air,

For the noble man that forgave his wife

of chosen sin and unwanted heir.

Christmas had no tinsel on evergreen

But it did have gold, incense, and myrrh.

More than that, it had our dream

Love incarnate brought down to Earth.

Christmas had no greater tidings

than to see the star bright shown.

For it told of news in desperate hiding

that Salvation and Truth was born.

Christmas was not all pleasant

King's were seeking wanted blood.

And though we forget this in the present

We must remember who overcomes.

Christmas is not found in Kmart;

Its found where my name once stood.

Its in every time and every heart

Where Jesus' love still blooms.

To An Inconstant One*

Sometime ago I lost myself

n forgot what I was here for

Confused among the bookshelves

That knew of nothing from before

The shelves they towered all along

and pinned me with their cloven pine 

Where once I lived aside the throng

I now do wish to leave aside

Their love it does not grow with age

and timeless tales have lost their worth

For love of Sloth; a scabby sage

has filled my heart and warmed the hearth

Idle days have come and gone

with vows of a more productive day

but time has come to pay at dawn

for all my idle fickle ways

*The Rimex

A Longing for the Gates of Gold

Emerging out of restless fog and cold

pillars of steel and crimson red do stand.

Formidable figure took twenty-two hands

and created the Pearly Gates of Gold.

Its strength and grace impossible to behold.

It draws those from the lively coast land

into shores where icy depth and life disbands

and welcome those who seek rebirth from old.

Oh how you tip the scales of morbid beauty

and hold my heart in a gruesome stalemate.

To feel your dreams of romance and epic history

and contemplate the sorrow that you perpetually abate.

A California complete treasure filled with astounding duty

to those who follow the piper and the heartbeat of the Golden Gate.

For all those precious hours...

Dear Chem,           

FUCK YEAH!!!!

sincerely,

Sandy Ortiz

Friday, Oct 7th

Locked out of my house, I decided to head out towards Aldrich Park and relax sitting in front of the meditation garden, I considered how some people, "not us", actually do take time to sit down, smell the roses, wait for time to pass by idly. No worries to entice and no agendas to fulfill. I try this, reluctantly I try this, forced to really, as the pile of things I wanted to do was left locked somewhere unattainable. And what comes out of the shrubbery and greenery at my feet? Not a colorful butterfly, or a squirrel waiting expectantly for a treat.

A gross-ass LIZARD!!!! 

Not even green, giant miniscule dragon of a creature as I ever saw one! With- get this- its tail clipped right off!! oh it was odious! (oh! oh!) It dragged itself on the rest of its limbs, waddling in what must be a torterous lack of entity, as this creature is manily known for its tail. Well, he's all tale now! ;)
And it squirmed intot the shrubbery again and has now but uncrawled again! HOW CAN PEOPLE MEDITATE THIS WAY???? As people pass to head to class, it does not move, it does not boast. It hangs there and for some reason the pathetic character, unnatural of its species, is what grosses me out! Move! Jump! Scare us into submission! We are on your green-marked path, patting it down with tar and clay. And he sits there, and it waits. For death, or the regrowth of its tail (who knows? I've heard cases...)

I have to go to work, and it seems to be crawling over its 5 inch ditch of soil to the tar above, and I hope, with all the sincerity I can muster, albeit slightly digusted, that a bike doesn't smush it.

SPLATT!!!!

I'll Love You in the Mourning

This is what happens when I get texts at 6 in the morning.

And she doesn't excuse herself when she passes through the crowd
She feels she owns the breeze that settles 5 feet down.
He mocks her bouncy walk and peppered shoes
She snickers to herself; something unknown to laugh to.
He is a hard, dark asteroid, yet she is in the skies.
He is quick after meeting, to bolt and hide.
She is but plain Stardust and quiet light;
Broken glass that shines too bright.
He broke her down and flew into an abyss
She picked herself up and nothing was amiss.
They died that night as the sun did set
And the next mourning there was no regret.

Somethings never end.