“You Knew The Monster I Was”

“You knew the monster I was,” she said long and cold.
“You knew the monster I was,” she reminded me, again, where we met.

“OXYTOCIN”

Love is late nights just you and I,
listening to sweet nothings of a far away brick wall and of family’s torn apart,

but I still find the safe warm embrace of our twisted, withered souls.
Love is AA
Love is sparkys and Kennedy’s assassination
And tea never opened but there just in case.
I love you for everything.
You’re my sweet serenade, my perfect ending to a drastically chaotic day.
My Oxy to my Tocin,
My face to my book.
The only one who even wants to get a glimpse of my Mary Poppins reality…..

Written by….SYREN

 

“Oxytocin, Pt. 2 (Chaos, Phosphorous, & Heretic Hysteria)” 

She’s my yin and her yang; darkness with sable brilliance so deep it hurts to see the mornings light.
She is my stiletto heeled, moonchild lover who cannot wake me from a slumber of madness, but keeps me cradled in the infinite arms of Chaos and Order.
And there, somewhere in the phosphorous heartbeat of an orchid tangerine daydream, she swaggered into my imagination and thrashed my mind into a digital storm of desire and heretic hysteria.
Love is the madness that follows the calm before the plunge; surface waters blanket my drowning heart like a concrete sarcophagus.
Love is unapologetic.
Love is a double barreled shotgun blast to the heart;
Salt in the wounds which time itself will not heal nor mend.
But in those moments of toil & tarnish, when all seems lost to the passage of Time and Moment, she walked away and did the unthinkable.
She turned her head ever so slight, and brandished a smile that hit me in chest and stabbed my poor, sinful heart like a dagger of seduction….and I knew then, it had to be HER. It HAD to be her…..

Written by A. Xavier Minjarez

 

 

“OXYTOCIN v. 3.0 (Me and You is Wii)”

We are “wii”, a simplest form of madness in it’s newest form, still able to expand.
He is my realistic fairy tale and I am his curveball;
throwing one can change the whole entire game.
Dark nights spent fighting over fatal attractions and underlining conversations with dimwitted friends,
they try to destroy people, try to break a welded love.
He’s in my blood, my DNA.
We are ONE, not able to be stripped.
Our passion and loyalty is as strong as a burning potassium filled IV drip.
There’s certain aspects to a yin and yang situation,
but wii created our own madding clusterfuck of emotions.
There’s no words for us.
No way to ever explain.
No reason to give an explanation to a world of no comprehension.
OUR tragedy,
OUR chill.

Writer: SYREN

PROVENANCE

Sunday, 02.17.13

I don’t expect to be read. I don’t expect to start discussions. I do expect to be honest. If not for the sake of you, then for the sake of me. Once a writer determines that he will not be the next Hemingway or F. Scott Fitzgerald, a sense of liberation washes over; freedom arrives in the form of your own voice. I don’t want to be Hunter Thompson. And I certainly don’t want to be Sylvia Plath. They’ve all been done before, and done well. What hasn’t been done, with any amount of success so far, is me. And I consider that a much tougher road to tread.

I suppose I consider this my version of a psychiatric blotter test. Since I don’t expect to be read, the freedom to say what I want is considerable. But the COURAGE; the COURAGE to say whatever the hell we want is something that is becoming a rarity in these days. Who’s feelings am I going to hurt? Who’s out there just dying to be offended? In the immortal words of Lemmy Kilmister, “there are people out there who are DYING to be offended. They’re offended if you don’t offend them.” True enough, Lemmy. I’m not for everyone. I’m like a glass of 18-year-old scotch. Some people have to chase a sip down with a Coke-back and decide “never again”. But then there are those who know what they’re drinking; how welcoming it can be if you just let it roll down your throat and FEEL the taste. Perhaps for those people I’m much more palatable and less abrasive. Either way, in the lifetime of this blog, trust me, there will be plenty of scotch….

I never wanted to do a blog. I never wanted to be one of those people. But there are some cathartic aspects to it. The ability to write about whatever you wish is an alluring temptress to say the least. Writing about whatever I like to, wherever I may be, is the benefit that cannot be ignored. As I travel, work, play and live, this will serve as a sort of report from one extreme world to the next.

Whatever I choose to write about, whatever it is I choose to put into the public arena will be honest and forthright. Whether the subject covers politics, travel, dining, conspiracy, or random thoughts just spilt on to a page, I promise you this: if you take the time out of your day to read whatever madness I may conjure, know that I believe it to be honest. There is no other way I could ever be. I’ve somehow crept into my 36^th year and I would love to tell you that I’ve learned many life altering secrets, but the truth is, I haven’t. I’m fortunate enough to have survived many things. Even luckier to have walked between the raindrops when the thunderhead rolled in and washed away all that I knew. But amongst all that was washed away during my first 35 years, I was spared. Every time I was kept afloat when I crashed into the flood and strife….over and over again.

These moments, these precious frames of life are too special and too real to be ignored. Whether you choose to read me or not, I’ll continue to write of honest moments and slices of life that move me…one way or another. And if you’re crazy enough to believe in me, then I sure as hell will believe in you….

“Landlocked Madness & Oceans of Paranoia”

Is it all madness?
This perfect pitch black lullaby sung in a silent key?
My love is but a horizon in her rear view mirror.
She can’t help but push away those who genuinely see the blessing within the curse.
To her, the cross she bears is hers alone, with no stations to pass, nor love or light to find salvation in.
How can I navigate this sea of confusion?
The oceans of irritation chafe against the hearts fragile foundation;
The dual rivers of addiction and isolation crash into the shores of sanity and instantly erode the beachfronts keeping all the madness landlocked.
Will the levee give way to a barbwire paranoia, and leave her lost in darkness of the wickedest kind?

“The Long Knives of Misdirection”

By A. Xavier Minjarez

Uninvited intentions are the long knives of Misdirection’s armory.
Unwelcome, even the purest of hearts can be counterfeited by the speakable lies uttered by our desires;
they scream to us every moment…..of every single hour, of every waking moment in this boiling ocean of frustration.
As the tide of red washes and scours over the time we’ve had and it’s own delusional thoughts, its apparent this experiment with righteousness is a dubious and a flawed ethos, at best.
Long knives, they pierce through illusions of material and backwards subliminal smiles from the corner of her soul, where The Light is still tended by the last remaining Hope of our Love.
And Her eyes cannot lie; dilation of ones essence, when even The Heart is confused.
Yet, still, I have a furious faith in The Goodness of Her Heart.
The solo flights with Her and ONLY Her- they stick in my mind, hand in hand, savage love entwined indelibly with divine chaos.
Yeah… divine chaos.

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“wII, #1” by A. Xavier Minjarez

Words of Profound Meaning

“Sometimes at night. when I hear the wind, I wish I was crazy again.”

— Johnny Cash

“Let us toast to animal pleasures, to escapism, to rain on the roof and instant coffee, to unemployment insurance and library cards, to absinthe and good-hearted landlords, to music and warm bodies and contraceptives… and to the “good life”, whatever it is and wherever it happens to be.”

— Dr. Hunter S. Thompson

“

“You Knew The Monster I Was…”

By A. Xavier Minjarez

“You knew the monster I was,” she said long and cold.
“You knew the monster I was,” she reminded me, again, where we met.
“Yeah, baby, I remember where we met; that dark wretched cavern with hide and seek, blood-soaked floorboards; deep, rancid feelings of a hushed menace.”
Now, do you remember where we met?
Cause suddenly baby, I’m reminded all too real of the monsters that live inside you and I.
We thought the monsters could be tamed and housebroken but now I know it’s just a farce; a comedy of absurdity with an empty stage waiting just for you and me.
Baby, how did we not know?
Or maybe you knew all along.
But I had to play the fool, for every shadow king cannot have a sunrise crown.
And every midnight queen cannot possess every single wandering heart.
Monsters, my dear, they were monsters of the darkest kind and we thought we could control them.
But baby, monsters of our kind, they have hungers that will not cease; that no amount of frayed nerves or needlepoint hysteria can sway the tide of.
And at such witching hours, our monsters become our Shadows, and they will always come out for playtime too…..

01/13/15
816am

“Ceremony For The Foolish”

BY A. XAVIER MINJAREZ

What to do, what to say, what to feel
Am I being too honest, too real perhaps?
Too genuine and pure?
Where is the old me?
The me who didn’t care; who didn’t feel what this atrocious heart has to feel?
I’m in love more than I ever desired to be, and the crime of it is apparent…and blatant.
I’ve approached it with 1000 cc’s of reckless abandon, and THAT may be my undoing.
What irony there is in this madness.
Perfect symetry in the imperfect balance of two hearts bleeding for one another.
Maybe it’s not enough to live and die for her love;
my soul must be extinguished and resurrected by some esoteric Ceremony for the Foolish.
Am I foolish to believe in her?
Am I a fool to believe her heart pristine and yin to yang; to KNOW and FEEL that 2 hearts are indeed better than 1?
I’ve come this far.
I’ve gone beyond the event horizon, and I see no point of return.
I’m all in with a card to go and I desperately need a heart to turnover and complete the heart draw I hold in my hand.
For now they are empty and meaningless without that one last heart – the heart that could only be HERS…..

“Breaking & Entering”

By A. Xavier Minjarez

Somewhere in the night, my love is reaching highs of crystalline peaks.
How could I ever compare when moonlight beams of maniacal sorcery slithers between her thighs of go-go boot perfection, and kisses the bruised and scarred soul from within her latex and rubber soul.
She’s the one I’ve known and admired from afar, with no ego or skeleton keys to her heart, this crossroad is sublime.
As I gaze at last nights shadows breaking and intruding upon my minds imagination, the truth of the matter ascends upward and shows it’s cunning.
Am I here; In this bedroom of perfect solitude?
Where no light escapes my heart….
and no day ends without nights’ glowing crime, simply because it gets ambitious and assigns God a fair share of the blame?
The Anger of a Lost and Fallen Angel, banished from heaven, screams from a lonesome mount.
She spirals into oblivion; wings of fire streak across the marmalade horizons….
They leave only the skyhigh freeway paved on foundations of blue to guide her way out of this Hell, so true….

“With You Lost…” By A. Xavier Minjarez

I miss her in ways I could never comprehend before.
She’s left this imprint on my heart; an open wound that will not heal.
I try and gut it out, throw some dirt on the wound but it will not close; an open gash that cannot be stitched.
She’s in my bloodstream and she cannot be drawn out.
This darkness that has overcome me is unlike any I’ve ever wandered through, and I am lost in it; without guide or light, I am lost….
I need her back or all this decay and loss will linger forever, and of that fact, there is no doubt.
She is my heart and my wounded soul;
She is my life that I never thought I wanted, but now I cannot live without.
Please return to me, My Love, I cannot breathe with you lost…

“A Eulogy Too Soon”

*******A quick preface before the actual posting: I consider it a rare and riveting honor to be the one whom my dear friend Kim asked to write the eulogy for her 3 year old daughter’s memorial service after her passing a small time back. I post this here with her blessing, telling of loss and love and hope yet to come.  KIm’s daughter Josephine was a miracle of will, as I referrence many times below, and if a small child can fight so hard for life, perhaps she can teach us that we too should fight for every minute of every day we have while we have it, because after all, it can all be taken away so fast, and we may never recover all those moments we wasted, telling ourselves “there’s nothing to do.” There IS something to do; we can LIVE…..and Live, Laugh, and above all LOVE each and everyone you can. R.I.P. Josephine….******

A Eulogy Too Soon

When Kim asked me to write a eulogy for her beloved daughter, Josephine, of course I said yes. Searching for a point of reference, I thought back on all the eulogies I’ve heard in my life, and a question stuck in my head that I hadn’t really considered.

“How do you write a eulogy for a child?”

I’ve written books, essays, poems, even letters to the editor, but a eulogy is something I’ve never done. I searched my head for a way to approach this, and after some deliberation, I’ve determined it should be treated no differently. Accomplishments; what she meant to people; all of these are universal.

When I first saw JoJo, she was no bigger than my size 11 shoe; she could have easily fit inside. Thankfully, the doctors wouldn’t allow me to test this theory.  I’d never seen such a tiny child, almost like a doll a little girl would get at Christmas; a gift, a blessing. I know for a fact that Josephine was a salvation for Kim; a sense of focus and joy. She gave Kim a path, and road to navigate while holding Jasmine’s little hand too. And there were times, trying times at the beginning, where I’m sure it all seemed too much. But any worthy journey always starts out a little rough anyway. Kim shook it off like a prize fighter coming out of her corner; because that’s how Kim is; strong, able to take on challenges, like a Puerto Rican Ali. JoJo pointed her towards a goal, and Kim got there, becoming a CNA. She learned a skill and applied it every single day at home, for no other reason than the fact she loved her Josephine. And really, what other reason did she need? Love between a mother and a daughter is beyond rival; it shines sterling in the heart of God, and it makes us innocent again in the eyes of our toughest critic – ourselves. Josephine, Jasmine and Kim have a bond that neither life nor death holds sway over. Bindings of time are the only things that separate. Even those fall by the wayside, cause Love keeps hope alive, and if all else fails, there’s always hope. I hope that Kim can feel Josephine in her heart and in her soul, because she’s there, and that cannot be stricken from the record of the human experience.

JoJo taught me that.

I remember talking with Kim in the hospital after Josephine was born; I remember the sense of uncertainty, fog, delirium. But I remember the sense of HOPE the most. I remember walking with Kim down to the little incubator they had Josephine in. And I remember holding JoJo’s tiny hand. It was no bigger than my thumb. Breathing was hard. And in all honesty, so was mine. I wanted her to breathe on her own SO bad. I wanted elation on Kim’s face again. And despite a rough start, Josephine was indeed a miracle. Kim told me what the doctors had told her, the good, the bad, the in between.  JoJo wasn’t supposed to make it out of the hospital. But she did. She started to show her mettle. I remember thinking, “this is a tough kid, she’s definitely Kim’s child”. Josephine went well beyond the expectations of what ‘doctors’ thought was possible. To me, she embodied the very meaning of human resolve; of fortitude, and valor. Her journey was going to be tough as Hell, but if anyone could do it, I thought this little kid can. And she did. She gave Kim and the rest of us 3 dazzling years that showed us what can be done with a handful of love, and never giving up.

I think back on hard times I’ve been through, and then I think of this little girl; this miracle of will and love and defiance towards the odds, and I know that I can carry on. WE can carry on.

JoJo taught me that.

Josephine was just a little girl aged 3 years, and she is still teaching me things about life which I take for granted. She’s taught me to respect life again. To embrace all of my friends, all of YOU; you who are here, who are away, who are lost and may never be found again; YOU who make life worthwhile; who make times like these bearable despite their heinous nature and sense of robbery. The loss of this miracle girl is a crime, but Jojo would tell a different tale, I think. She wouldn’t blame, because she’s PURE. There is nothing in her heart and soul that would harm or cause ill feeling in anyone.  She talks despite her absence, like an extra voice in the back of our heads, telling us the virtuous way to do things. She tells me to accept the life I am given, and live it for her and for all those children for whom courage wasn’t enough.

Josephine reminds me to keep love in the forefront of my mind and to go home and hug and wrestle with my nieces.

YOUR sons and daughters, YOUR nieces and nephews, they’re all reminders of Josephine. They’re reminders that we cannot take for granted what is given to us. What appears a raw deal; what appears to be a deuce and a seven in the hole, can very quickly be the only Aces you seen in years. So enjoy the hand you’re dealt; enjoy the life that is given and never take for granted the time we have together. Let this not be a day of sadness, Josephine wouldn’t have any fun on days of sadness. She’s now forever a child who defied the odds, lived her life with dignity and strength, and brought LOVE into the world. And she asked nothing in return. It’s amazing we can learn lesson after lesson from children and still it takes years to realize they’re always right. Like Dylan once wrote, “wherever the children go, I’ll follow them.”

My lasting thoughts about Josephine can be simple; she was a good kid. A really good kid. And if I’ve only learned one thing in this world, it’s that no GOOD thing has EVER died. Josephine was a good kid. She’s not here, we can’t see her, but she’ll NEVER leave us. She’s just way out ahead of us, running towards pillars of Love and Hope, blazing a path for the rest of to walk down, and follow her strong and sure steps towards the bliss that will make us all feel like children again. She is home, and being spoiled by grandparents who couldn’t wait to meet her. Love has bound her to all of us, and Love which ties us all together into one soul can never be wrong…..

JoJo taught US ALL that.

R.I.P. JoJo —- your buddy, Aaron X. Minjarez….