( DEVIL WITH A HALO )

(richie)


i say i want to meet you
i say i want to meet you
but i don’t know why
we just can’t meet
i’m here, i’m right here
a corner down
to the left
from your street
but i say stuff
i know you want to hear
i say what will turn you on
and keep me away but near

i say things
i should never say without
turning red
i say things
that compel your mind
to force me into bed
i say things
that reduce me
to inches
i say things
that separate me
from all the bitches
a devil with a halo
that when worn
too tight
fucking itches
but it’s compelling
in all its
riches

you say you wanna meet me
i say i want to meet you
you say your body needs me
i say it wants to feed you
but boy,
but man,
you gotta
understand
i ain’t gonna meet you
i just want to be a dream
ethereal
surreal
a figment to make you cream
when reduction theory
is brought in
and you make my thoughts
resort to sin
i just can’t
let you in
i just can’t
let you in
the challenge is gone
and i don’t do premeditated sex
i like to fuck minds
they’re a bit more complex
and it satisfies
yea it appeases me
enough to make me moan
but man
but boy
i know i know i know
i’m wakin up alone

( INFIDELITY )

(richie)


i tell myself to bend over
it’s time to fuck
to fuck
to fuck me over
and over
and over
again and again
i fuck myself
to no end
it’s time to play to play
not to play to win
holy mother
i sin
and
i sin

precipitation
drips
onto my finger
tips
into secretions
secretive
in their touch
i act
like i’m not worth
much
much intensity
in the moment i came
delivered
like a blow
i can not sustain
bruised up
beat up
beat off
in acid rain
i get what i want
no reason
to complain
but satisfaction
can make
you go
insane

( SCENT )

(richie)

its too early in the morning
for me to be awake
if i was a vampire
the rising sun
would drive a stake
through my heart
but i feel flutters
i am still feeling
like melted butter
like i was
when i held your hand
scooped up like a boy
i left behind the solid man

and i have you
still on my skin
i don’t want to bathe
because then
that moment ends
your scent
your cologne
your kiss
i own
like a tattoo
i have you on my skin
i don’t want to bathe
because then
a fantasy begins

holding on to the physical
remnants of a night let loose
into the morning
it flowed like vodka and vermouth
intoxicated by what it felt like
to have your attention placed on me
at ease with the way i could let go
and flow with you so easily
it signaled a change, uh huh,
that i could realize a dream
made me review all of the ‘challenges’
as things left to be seen

and i have you
still on my skin
i don’t want to bathe
because then
that moment ends
your scent
your cologne
your kiss
i own
like a tattoo
i have you on my skin
i don’t want to bathe
because then
a fantasy begins

i should have brought you,
walked you up into my room
it all moved so fast
the taxi pulled up
and then it ended so soon
but i have photos
in my camera to document the fun
i have a smile setting
as i watch the roll of the sun
and i smell you
all over me and you smell so damn good
like a crush
rushing over everything it could

i have you on my skin
and i want to rub it in
i have your scent
and i don’t want you to end
it’s fantastic tripping
like acid on a lingering french kiss
i got you this second
and it’s a second i will come to miss
water runs
and i smell fresh
but the hole left
takes my breath

( WHAT CAN BE )

(richie)

you can be affectionate with me
you can reach out and touch me
you can still be close to me
you can let go of this mediocrity

i have seen you naked
outside
and under your skin
i have shared your dreams
my world
never ceased to end
you can stop trying
to turn off the lights
the past can make the future
so much more bright
if you just learn
to love again
and stop the fight

gravity pulls us closer
as you try to force us apart
words placed on my tongue
that never match my heart
no anger
or need for control
when i lost you
i learned to let go
‘i’m like a bird’
and you just wanna fly away
but you’re going in circles
and i just look up and sway

we can be so much stronger
if we just hold each other’s hand
we can be much better people
than struggling in our isolation

( BRUSH UP )

(richie)

days pass
days pass like sand
through my fingers
nothing lasts
nothing lasts like memories
only impressions linger

brush up
come on,
brush up against me
send me shivers
up my body
like electricity
to be so close
makes me
feel alive
feel flushed
so light
you are
against my side

blush
and hush
red coming to my face
hush
hush
my heart so loud
as it starts to race
can you read
my intentions
I just want you to speak
to turn your face
and graze
against my cheek
say hello
say your name
say umbrella
to the pouring rain
say nice eyes
say something mundane
I am
entranced
by only what
your voice can contain

staccato
and a soft bass
I feel music
when I see your face
it’s warm
and it makes me dance inside
it makes dreams accelerate
towards what the future hides
I can’t escape
my imagination
I am in a state of bliss
it holds me
like your gaze
and if it falters,
I ache, I miss

press
press on me
impress me
with your sensitivity
read my thoughts
kiss my mind
take me slow
like a fine wine

crush
crush on me
my blush,
this rush,
my hush
my voice escapes me
I have only my face
and your face
to hold
to feel you brush
against me
all is felt
all is gold

( DEEP MOAN )

(richie)

all I need is a beat
to feed my soul
all I need is a word
to give my soul

I want to feel
it deep
deep inside my head
I want to moan
a deep
dark moan
turning scarlet red

I want my soul
food
for the hungry noise
I want my spirit
ripped apart
by the carnivorous boys

I want desire
to drip
from my lips
hitting notes
with precipitation
as they start to slip

deep moan
in my head
deep moan
the beat is fed
clinging
to my spirit
so primal
the wolves can hear it

can you
feel me

( TWILIGHT )

I’m a bit bipolar in my need for social interactions.
At times I crave physical presences around me like a junkie to his heroin, and shortly thereafter, like a leech has been placed to my enthusiasm, I wind down and yearn for my apartment and my pets…
It’s almost like I have this urge that can only be satisfied through action, and once the need is met, I have to isolate and reflect on it.
It’s kind of like that with my family.
I go and I see them, and I am super happy.
So G-rated. And so refreshing.
But like too much sugar in my system, I eventually need that one-on-one detox.
For me, when I am in Georgia, that means getting dropped off at Barnes & Noble.
It was when I was there in August that I stumbled across this series of books, targeting young adults…all about vampires and romance and thriller-ish by Stephenie Meyer. And I snapped up the first one, thinking that I should really expand my literary senses beyond comic books and US Weekly…even if it was for teens, it was a novel, right? And a NY Times Bestseller gave it some cred.
God, it sucked me in. And now, Tameka too.
The writing is so intense and vivid…and it just grabs your heart…
I was transplanted back to those days when having a crush or wanting someone hinged less on carnal desires…and more on that evolving sense of intimacy….those casual moments you’d run into each other…those brief touches that were innocently electrifying…
It’s just interesting how random things can open doors in your mind…
For me, it was recognizing that the relationships between the central characters was what I wanted.
I think I want to be protected.
Maybe I always wanted that?
When I was a kid and would play spies with friends, I always got kidnapped.
And someone rescued me.
And yet, when I came out, I recoiled against any expression of weakness. No one could buy me a drink. No one could touch me unless I allowed it. Things shifted to a very iron fist mentality in this sense.
And with Frankie and even my pets, I almost fed on worry and angst – wanting to always provide and protect them.
Not only did it make me one-dimensional, but it has now taken my enjoyment out of relationships.
I realized from this young adult series of novels that I want the hot young vampire boy protecting me. Fearful of losing me because my existence brings meaning to his own.
This is probably the boldest realization I have allowed myself to have.
I don’t know if it means I feel like I am really worthy of true, pure love and attention…if my life has shifted from a need to protect to be held as a result of a series of bad relationships…or if it’s recognizing that if I am going to make that jump to a family, or monogamy, that I have to evolve as well.
Feels very French to me…Close friends will get who I am talking about here. J

( DARK SIDE )

( richie )

we all have
a dark phoenix
and I want to lie
on my dark side
reborn from darkness
ashes to embers
dust to alive

( VOYEUR )

(richie)
9.20.07



palm pressed
to a cold window
free hand holding
the binoculars steady
jealous
of the warm bodies
if I could jump
I’d be ok:ready
in my head
I play and play
if I was in their bed
what would they say
could I just hold on
and never say a word
would that be too
perverse
in the state
of today’s world
the voyeur
wanting to break his stare
so eager
for the hand patting his head,
stroking his hair
its acidic
and stinging my tongue
this ache
that stifles the pretense
this is me having fun
when I envy
the contours they weave
in their bed
on their sides
I can not stop staring
into what was
an evening’s
welcoming light
that touch
that tactile
sensation
that understanding
that transcended
explanation
that comfort
like a womb
that sleep
come soon
come soon
and overpower
my desires
and lust
take away
my vision
as my hope
turns to dust.

( HELD BACK )

(richie)
8.29.07


it was a subconscious path
with memories just under the surface
and like rain falls down
with its refreshing purpose
I knew the stains
these lingering pains
were never trying to hurt ‘us.’

it was an annual meditation
marked by a tear in the calendar
of my previous existence
it was the reminder of me as ‘us’
laced with love letters
and photos
asking for deliverance.

it was never simple
to examine
my emotions
on this subject
yet it was never too complex,
the challenge
to understand
making me reflect
why do you love
with intensity
and allow the flames to subside?
why do you feel so sad
to the point
the extinguished past
makes you feel as if you died?
it was the wrong meditation
to center my spirit on
it was the wrong path
that always ended
in a tragic love song
if I was bored
with the lack of insight
in what went wrong
then I had to open myself up
to better grasping
where am I going to belong.

and it brought me here
I raised my hands
like I was in church
and I tasted
the divinity
of a salty tear
that promised me
more than
a reflection
on a painful year
for once in so long
I had a simple grasp
that made me…
stand out clear…

I took myself off the market
I held myself back
I knew my scent
was as alluring
as warm blood to a vampire attack
I hid myself
fibbed myself
into thinking I was ready to sail
but if I look back
I chose my solitary steel and glass tower
over a dating hell
because I knew deep down
that once I was understood
I would be pinned down
and I was too weak
and I would take it lying down
the affection
to close a gap
like my body knew
that signal was a trap
it was intuition
that held me back
the trepidation
the lack of anticipation
I was not looking for that love to grow
I was holding back
because wounds needed to heal
scars wanted to be less of a show
this is how I lived
protected
and I didn’t even know

to start the story off
acknowledging the insane pain
is the appropriate context
to set the truths I have gained
it has not been about my loss
it was what had to be explained
over time
hidden from my conscious state
like a tiger
strikingly still, patient to wait...
sprung on me
like an epiphany that brought hope
an understanding
of how to survive
and emotionally cope
all the while knowing
it was necessary
because I am the treasure people seek
I am more than an average man
and I will open myself up
to the company I wish to keep.

( HELD UP: CONTEXT )

(richie)
8.29.07

I remember thinking how odd it was that I felt so emo and depressed over the weekend. On the surface, everything was super. Everything was ‘braggable.’ Like: ‘whoah, good stuff happening to that Richie guy!’

And yet I spent Sunday crying in random intervals. A heightened sense of loneliness ravaged my mind and emotions. And I had the ache to play victim, to go to the pity party, and center on my uncanny ability to be ‘close’ with everyone who lived geographically far away from me.

That I can have conversations with friends on a daily basis, who live on opposite coastlines…that I can share my internal thoughts with online buddies in other countries…and that I could fall into a weekend funk with no warm body in my immediate space…it just begged for a good, victimized cry.

And then I had a thought, after chatting with Frankie, that felt like a dagger being driven into my heart. I remember the sensation. Going numb. Shutting down. This was the time last year that we ended our 6 and a half year relationship…the blue scrapbook sat on my living room desk, with photos of us detailing our intertwined lives…and then I spiraled into darkness further. And the absence of that companionship…the loss of someone understanding my most minute details and behavior was felt…and I thought. O my god. What have I become? I am an island. I am on the 25th floor of this building looking into a towering cityscape…and here I reside in my own world. Untouched.

How easy it is for me to pull in. To cocoon. To find pleasure in my solitude – and yet balk at it when I realize I lack the exciting weekend stories to share with others what in theory should mimic my upward-trajectory lifestyle.

And then I just went to bed.

When I woke up, my stomach hurt. The loss forming a pit in my stomach. I think it had solidified. And I did what has become an increasing meditation… I was still. And I just allowed tears to stain my cheeks…I held my hands up, palms open and upward, my face tilting to the sky…and I asked for strength. I begged for peace. And I begged for hope. And it came. Like a lightbulb going off in a really dark room, things felt illuminated.

I HAD CHOSEN to be an island.
I had made the decisive maneuver to retreat at times.
There were the flirtations post-Frankie that I had allowed myself to fall into, thinking these were the guys who would fulfill my dreams with me. These were the guys who would grant me a simpler life, a more fulfilling life that was built around family…children…a new path…
But each time, there was something off-kilter. And each time I found it embarrassingly hard to tell them ‘no’…that the match was not there…I allowed myself to romanticize my Sex & the City fantasies…that I would have hot date stories to share with my peers. And ultimately I would end up with my Mr. Right.

Which circles back to the main epiphany: I held myself back.
I never fully gave in to anyone on many levels. The pain and betrayal that I felt at the end of my relationship, coupled with the trials of starting one’s own company, and navigating through Manhattan…they had created some very open wounds. And I needed to not only heal, but to see what I had become through my experiences.

And it just felt cool…to be able to flip it from a viewpoint of loss and victimization to one of – ‘hey, man, you were doing this all along for protection. To get stronger. You may have not known it, but it was very Darwinian in action.’

I held back because I know I am a fucking good catch. I know that the unique perspective I bring to whatever industry I play in, is the same unique energy I bring when I enter the gay community.

I’m not a stereotype.
And I am very much real and grounded.
I am a man with boyish intent and looks – and I embrace that. In a world of gay men acting like walking porn books, I exist as that young adult novel. Still full of naivete despite my experiences, still regressive at time with my ardor for comics and video games, still more excited by touching the knee of someone I am interested in – or a fantastic crush…those are defining traits of mine.

And I look at how I hide.
Or have hidden.
I wear a cap and yet I am not bald.
I say sexy things and yet I am not a slut.
I go out only when prodded – an ideal Sunday for me is to never leave my house.
I wear headphones everywhere I go – circumventing conversations.
I rarely express my fears and trials – and therefore give off the perception things come easy for me.
I find it hard to commit to dates – even if I am madly attracted to the guy online.

I do all of these things, I realize, because I have been and will still be for a while, very inwardly focused.

It is not the time for me to be consumed.
But possibly closer to the time, for me to be stepping out of some of my shadows.

( THINK ON HIM )

(richie)

I’ve got my moments
I’ve got my dreams
I’ve got my simples
I’ve got my routines
I’ve got him sneaking
into them and in-between
I’ve got me askin me
what does this life mean

if it ain’t money
if it ain’t the apartment
in the sky
if it ain’t freedom
or grabbing
whatever caught my eye
then I wanna
know
why
why
why

when I think
I can’t answer
I think on him
when I think
I can’t feel
I think on him
I think on him

I question the pedestal
his attention places me on
what if he realizes
all the faults are my rights
gone wrong
I’m a criminal
for making him think on me
I’m a criminal
for being so bold
with my sense of inadequacy
why
why
why
can you bring this out in me
when I say I want no boy
to come close
to captivating me

when I think
I can’t answer
I think on him
when I think
I can’t feel
I think on him
I think on him

it’s like bein high
in disorientation
it’s like history
out of rotation
I can’t explain
how he shakes my mind
it’s like I have spent all day
emo and drinkin’ wine
he takes me out of my world
to a future place, a future time

( MURDER LOLITO )

( richie )

hit the kill switch
time to shut down
the boy’s attention
slice this imagined link
before I die slow
like excessive water rention

I got murder on my mind
I am serious
I don’t have time to play the games
I have no desire
to fuck you hard
or hold your hand
while you coo my peppy name
got no patience
for courtship
when you don’t get the least bit of me
when u play
in the playpen
with the lil boys
you’re bound to get wind
of their insecurities

kill the infection
while kissing the youth
is like believing in god
with no desire for truth
incomprehensible
how they cling & cling
it’s like they see my mouth move
but they don’t hear a thing
I’m not a prescription
don’t take me like a pill
if you swallow
it will probably kill

( GOOD )

(richie)

master planner
step out
and recreate my life
in this day
of abundance
and unrelenting light
I abandoned
myself
and was in darkness
poor
creative
in its pure starkness
master planner
step out
and give me my next move
in a moment
I learned
to live with nothing to lose

( HOMO SAPIENT )

Represent: Kid Leche, Mama T, MAC, and Rob-40

( THE STANDARD )

rainbow bathing suits
in the sun
warm, dark night
with pants undone
an adult playground
for having fun

we had Roberto
with his noticeable bulge
model boy from NYC
touching down in a small world
dripping oil
climbing into his bath
I laid down
so he could cross my path

and it’s all good
at the standard
if you push it
beyond
the standard
then your hedonism
can get some affection
we came for work
but we work it
with carnal direction
the mind
in service
to the physique
Mama T,
let me hear you speak:
‘I may be black,
black girl,
I know you see that
but u think u know me
but u dunno me
so singling me out
is a bit whack
you come up to me
so you better step back
I’m here
with my homo sapients
and they’re primed to attack
this is our moment
in time
now I’m fine as hell
so I sip my wine
lean back
I said I am gonna lean back good
lets finish this shit
I need my feet worshipped
like they should.’
Mama T is settin the standard
makin the pretty girls glare
and the pretty boys pop wood.

bisexuality
middle aged abnormalities
Rob-40
twistin up his sexualities
tryin to get the paper fed
the concierge chulito
eyed him up and down
like a book beachside-read

MAC
got a saucy mind
that makes you smile
cuz it’s fresh
no one knows everything
so its best
to step back
undressed
and survey the scene
sapient’s a wreck
dave coffey
forgetting what ‘reply’ means
homo sapients
like the strawberries
as much as they like the cream
unique intellect
for a bunch of dumbasses
who forget how to dream
and never took that class
on what strategy means

I came
for brain candy
high net worth introspection
was kind of like
a mental erection
set my standard
higher
I want to rise to the occasion
to my homo sapients
I am under your persuasion…
until next time
behave badly
live Rich-ly.

( INITIATION )

snowflakes can fall
eyes can register their existence
and for a brief second
they can be touched
by a tangible insistence
before it all melts
and sacrifices its hold
on their attention span
this is the course
of my love
running over my hand.

water is a ritual
they say it cleanses
and purifies life in a bath
there is a contradiction
as I am a sinner
under its gentle path
waves can roll
and swell up
over my form
and hold me
in ways too new
to feel forlorn.

the elements are at play
with my thoughtful nature
my Taoist serenity
is conflicting with my stature
I am standing tall
and strong
I have been touched to melt,
cleansed to sin,
it brings me back to you,
my initiation.

it has changed.
the elements at play.
the thoughts
and emotion’s sway.
I do not lean in for a kiss
with unguarded motion
I do not let you too close
because I have no devotion
I observe you curiously
as a creature in the zoo
wondering who you are now
and what it felt like to love you
it was in the moment
I held our love
as fragmented memories crossed
that I knew
how to feel
imminent loss.

_Sweet Venom_

Sometimes I find myself drifting out of myself…out of the moment…and almost analyzing the moment as a detached observer.
Very out of body. And almost juvenile, in the sense, that it is this almost awkward self-awareness that makes me overthink every action and feeling traveling through my body.

Diego says I am a sweet guy.
Elliot says I am too boyish.
And I relay this to Teri and refrain from vomiting in disgust at these descriptors, because they feel so one-dimensional and not in the least bit applicable to me.
And I also find it amusing that handles for me are by definition ‘compliments’ that I am taking as a bitch slap.

I am azucar.
If you’re in my circuit of close friends, I drip sugar. I am the topping on a crème brulee.
But like what about the other side of me?
I’m a bit sleazy at times. I’m the one who fucks his masseurs at posh spas.
I’m a fan of aggravated assault – wasn’t it just three weeks ago at Bowery Bar with Greg, that I threw a Grey Goose and ginger on a obscenely rude French guy?
Am I not the guy you always want on your side – and not as an enemy. Vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord – and so does Richie when the stars align, and he’s feeling less ‘zen.’

And yea, when I was twenty I was beyond twink-status.
I was like Nick Jr in physical portrayal.
A flabby old chicken hawk’s wet dream.
And it grossed the hell out of me.
I refused to ever allow people buy me drinks.
And I kept my attraction steadily gazing on peers my own age.
Now, I am thirty. And good genes, clean living (post-rave scene L.A.), and an affection for real boy things: horror flicks, anime, superhero comic books, and punk/emo/Cali attire have, I know, regressed my status as an icon of masculine maturity.
But I know I’m not a bitch. I’m not a flame thrower. I’m not caressing Ab Fab or Streisand on my free weekends.
So I recognize I am in a grey zone.
I’m supposed to be a man now.
But my manliness is mental. It’s sophisticated palettes; it’s self-confidence; it’s neo-gay operating outside of the circuit currents.
But it’s also the creative entrepreneurial backlash. Suits make me itch like I am wearing a horrific second skin that is not a genetic match for my unique temperment.
Hair product is anathema when you can throw on a cool cap and go.
And pleasure fucks on manhunt feel so mundane and trivial. There’s like no challenge. I know I have a nice dong. I show a pic. A guy wants to hop it. Where’s the fun in that? Nooo. I prefer the challenge of my getting my highly trained massage therapist to give me head at a spa known for its delicately posh clientele.

This moment of pensivity is all about my backlash to backhanded compliments and relationship stop-gates.
One, because they feel so superficial and under the skin.
And two, because they feel so out of touch in really deciphering who I am.
I’m not a child saint.
I’m sweet venom.
I’m complicatedly simple.
And blissfully narcissistic in the sense that I just devoted an hour on a plane ride home to write about my level of self-awareness.
And at the same time, so Baptist-raised to appreciate humility and a total lack of self, that I question the need for self-expression in the first place.
Like if I am so assured, why do I need to write this in the first place?
I guess because the truth in the guys’ statements prompt me to re-examine myself from the outside-in.
And it’s like mental masturbation.
It’s just fun.
And I think it should be done more so on a regular basis, like real masturbation. The good kind. The kind that keeps me at peace and from whoring out.

Peace out.

(richie).

_Pretty Narcissist_

(richie)

I had you glazed in honey
pretty boy had pretty words
I think I gave pretty boy
more attention
than he deserves
lots of idle chatter
lots of mental lube
to make dreams go splatter
I found myself a pretty boy
and it doesn’t even matter

am I in this dialogue
am I in this space
I see your lips moving
I see the expressions in your face
I’m not hungry
I don’t even want a taste
I want to go back
to another time and place
I look back at my steps
and I want to do a retrace
but I’m too damn polite
to vanish without a trace
so I zone out
and even though meal’s over
I’m still sayin’ grace

not Adonis
just in his head
not a rockstar
as he claimed
in bed
I found a pretty narcissist
to take me out to dinner
it’s like bein corn-fed the stereotypes
of l.a.
and comin’ out thinner
I think I’m lost
in his gravitational pull
his voice is like a self-inflicting drone
that brings time to a lull

he thinks he so pretty
I think he so narcissistic
he thinks he so damn smart
but I find him so simplistic
we livin in his world
and it ain’t the least bit realistic
trip on lights, dali
dating is so surrealistic
it’s not sleepless in seatlle
it’s a ragin battle
for dominance over the conversation
for top or bottom insinuations
for a flow of energy – aggressive to subdued
I’m sittin’ here, boy, and I don’t know what to do with you
no desires
for chats and your dimpled booty
pretty narcissist
just go to bed, my sleeping beauty

_Creature of Substance_

So I have become obsessed in some odd way with the Apocrypha - the more mysterious 'addendum' to the Bible that seems more mystical and pagan in origin. It's a good sign to me - shows a reclamation of spirit.

I kind of hit that stride when I did the nude yoga. lol Yea, for my friends who know me, there is a contextually rich story there - I just don't feel like writing about it now.

I'm happy. I'm fucking happy. lol
And I am not on antidepressants. I'm not evading issues. I'm not 'in love' per se.
I've just been on this high note - lots of smiling. Sense of peace. Sense of strength and empowerment.

I think I am becoming a creature of substance.
Boys are boys. They're cute. They're fun to play with. To connect with.
They are not the center of my attention.
That in itself shifts my personal universe.
And also attracts very interesting people to my life.

I hold onto different things now...a different set of values and mores...
And through entrepreneurialism, I have faced unique adversities unrivaled in my career...
and I realize that I am blessed...and that I'm fuckin good at what I do...and that money is no longer my driver.

Relationships...deeper connection to self...family...the gym lol...

Yea. Ok. That's my moment of pensive pleasure posted.

Ciao ciao.

_Open Borders_

safe haven
broken bread
free enterprise
place to lay your head
without fear
of damnation
dream-kissed
declaration
just by being
you exist in a better place
origin
should not make you less a human race.

I do not want to see you
selling me rosas
No deseo verle…
as meaningless ‘cosas’
I remember when I saw
the beautiful Mexican girl
on the median on lincoln boulevard
I remember when I saw
the beautiful Mexican boy
at the home depot promising to work hard
unexpected
is their existence
so lackluster
is the resistance
to see them as human beings
cut from our own cloth
makes me think in our great democracy
what hell hath we wrought.

I want open borders
for the open boarders
who come here to dream
who come here for the privilege
we hold in such high esteem
that we look down
on the humanity
that cooks for us and cleans
how different from slavery
is this point of view
how heartless is our path
when we obstruct with what we say and do.

I am privileged
but I come from poor white trash
I have high dreams
funded by my wads of cash
it comes to me
like liquid essence
but I know now
it is not fuel for my presence
it may be philosophical
it may be macroeconomical
it may be biblical
but it should be typical…
to open our borders
so that we can take more in.

No deseo verte.

'I do not want to see you.'

I remembered when I was first in L.A.
Seeing the Mexican immigrants selling produce in the medians of busy, congested streets.
And I remember how it took so much out of me seeing this...
young Mexican children, teens, elderly...reduced to peddling meaningless objects
for a little money to feed them, find shelter.
I would cry.
It shattered my heart.
Every time.
I lived in L.A. for six years almost.
And I saw this over and over.
I heard the jokes about the Mexicans.
The same kind of jokes I heard about niggers and faggots,
while growing up in the South.
All of it relegated individuals, because of their origins,
because of their own God-given genesis,
to a debased human status.
I sat down wanting to be self-absorbed.
Wanting to write about my latest epiphanies into my own character.
Why I am not boy-obsessed. Why I am happy today. Why I am...
And the phrase 'I do not want to see you' cracked into my consciousness.
We don't want to see the war.
We don't want to see the insanity of the politics in our nation.
We don't want to see the degredation of cultures.
We want to be absorbed in Paris Hilton's jail couture
and Perez Hilton crass anecdotes on pop culture.
These distractions distract us from the real plagues,
the real injustices...
Maybe I live in my own head too much,
my own world.
Full of idealism, hope, overly optimistic political landscapes...
But it's better than what is around us.
If we quit tuning out the realities around us,
and accept responsibility for the world we create.

_White Scream_

"I do not have to give more
to be happy.”

scream at the top of my lungs
inside
come out
scream to the highest rungs
‘hell’ to
heaven’s pout
if there was ever light
it is in this shout


if I want to feel the urge
I can go all the way
I don’t have to debate myself
or find a god to go to pray
I don’t have to subject myself
to some partner’s guilt
I don’t have to consult a friend
to make my decision tilt
decades out, you reach that moment
where you know the way you’re built
is more than enough
to know what you like
when u like to lick spilt milk.
I cried when I was pubescent
milked poetry like an adolescence
lived a relationship
like a convalescent
I think I find that past a bit depressing
when you lack the missing pieces
for a holistic self expressing

white scream
light in me
white scream
I do not have to give more
to be happy

scream at the top of my lungs
inside
come out
scream to the highest rungs
‘hell’ to
heaven’s pout
if there was ever light
it is in this shout

_Sugar-Coated_

sugar-coated
my words
cuz you a soft boy
with a thin skin
held my ground
when u acted the fool
throwin your
temper tantrum
there is no balance
and I find it unattractive
to even pursue
so I think it’s time
I just step back
from you

no ties
no cryin
no boy
makin
me feel dyin
no honor
in playin
I got free
and I am stayin
no caged bird
singin here
single for good
makin it clear

I want to burn down
white picket fences
I want to kick down
all the pathetic bitches
when my life is tallied up
it needs to be about me
I don’t want the boys
to define my life story
sidetracked by love
I gave too much in
six months later
I make sure that chapter ends

a boy is gonna fight
for my honor
if he wants to get with me
a boy is gonna light
up my world
his purpose is to please me
I’m bored with
ghetto boys
the façade of
of a boy toy
the m’ijo and the papito
the brother and the chulito
it was a fun game
and now boys bore the hell out of me
I take it all back
I’m back on writin out my own life story

it was sugar-coated
and it tasted sweet
but it was too gross
for my to eat and eat
god knows i like it salty
and with spice
but not being true to self
is an unhealthy vice
like addiction
12 steps forward to get clean
my life
my story
it's enough i know
what this all means

_Honest Seasons_

each time the season changes
I am pulled back to a past
but like mother nature directs
not everything is created to last
as I grieve
even when the sun
is cast down on my skin
as the sky opens
and cafés beg
for me to drop in
I find solace
in my pain
in feeling the end again.

honestly
I have to be honest with me
I won’t always say
what is expected of me
I won’t always process things
logically
I will never see my world
linearly
I take the outside
and pull it inside of me
I ache for love lost
and the absence of intimacy
who I am
is defined by my sensitivity
it does not break me
in its excessive ‘generosity’

I still love
and the season has met its end
I still walk
as if my actions matter to him
I still think
and remember
as old january will soon greet
a new december
seasons change
and the past becomes more pronounced
as everything new
pushes forward to be announced.

_Like Me_

unabashed
and unashamed
open book
nada es ‘unexplained’
in life’s game of show and tell
this body is nothing but a shell
it can give you wood
or it can make you cringe ‘waif’
it can give you indecision
but by then it will be too late.

I’m not going to wait
for you to get me
to miss me
to kiss me
I am too transparent
for things to be unclear
and I am smart enough
to pick up on what is here

you want to be loved
and you want this figment of paradise
I just want depth
I want to be pushed like Iraqi G.I.s

more than satisfied
with what I got inside
more than pleased
that I have nothing to hide
if life has been a bitch
I want to take it for a ride
I want this decade
to be the one I felt most alive

so if you want to take me
take me for who I am
I know what I want
and I am a self-made man:

I like being a boy
won’t catch me in a dress
I like t-shirts
I don’t dress to impress
I like I am the antithesis
to the Adonis in the circuit cluster-fuck
I like I can talk about meaty subjects
while eating vegetarian duck
I like that I want a 3some
with a guy and a girl
I like that I can’t Manhunt
at the drop of a hot word
I like to feel connected
to every single emotion
I like thinking my individuality
is like some erotic love potion
I like that I am a paradox
emo with some flash
more of a top
with a super tight ass
I like to think
when I am on the streets with my ipod
about my life’s momentum
and my relationship with god
I like to think
that I am not white but a global citizen
able to cross into different worlds
like the son of god come risen
I like to like me
I am bored with humility
in this day and age
it feels like an act of futility
I believe in self-marketing
self-exploitation
I believe a daily wank
is like self-medication
I digress
and I don’t repress
like me
then I want you to express.

_Kiss_

I know we are friends
but right now,
kiss me.
I want to experience
again
what it feels like
to have my lips
touch the lips
of someone
who has touched my heart.
and I know
that you need
that experience too.

it may not be fireworks
it may not be the earth moving
but it’s true…
it may not be the movies you watch
that make you cry
and feel alone and blue…
but in this moment
I feel more of you
than I feel of me
and I want to close my eyes
and hold your thought
intimately.

I don’t want to sacrifice
this friendship
I found in an unexpected place
I don’t want to confuse
the lines
that we so delicately trace
I just want
for one moment
to step out of place.

it’s tender
and not the heat
I pursue
it’s to go deeper
and just
to get to know you
you’re an enigma
and maybe that is why
I reach out to you
or maybe
because I know
loneliness can not exist
when there are two.

Long & Hard

I want it long and hard.
Never easy.
I want the journey
to counteract
my desire
to act sleazy.
I want the kiss
to happen weeks
after the first date.
I want the giving
to be worth receiving
a long wait.
I want to feel
like a virgin
when I am no saint.
I want my body
to be a canvas
for him to paint
pretty words
what he thinks I deserve
and what I know I do
because I took time
to lean back
into what I know is true.


I like
to go the long way
so far removed
from my stereotype
to make me
want to stray
the wrong way
I like it
the hard way
the challenge
is what
drives me
to pray
and to play.

I want a Mexican
that looks like an Indian
I want a black boy
with some ebony skin
I want a boy
who brings my FedEx in
I want a church boy
who succumbs to sin
I want the polarization
to pull me in.

abercrombie and fitch
makes me itch
reminds me
of a Chelsea-boy-bitch
a whitewashed jock
with 2xist briefs
stuffed with a tube sock
I need some color
to the painting
to hold my gaze
something to contrast
everything
my environment conveys.

I want a nerd boy
a shy boy
a hot Thai boy
I want a homebody
with his nose
in a book
that goes over my head
I want a yogi
who likes to try new positions
on me
when I go to bed
I want a creative type
that can speak my language
with ease
I want a café server
who sees me
as an opportunity to please.

I know what it feels like
to be in a relationship
where you are not loved back
to give all of yourself
and realize
that is a useless tact
at bringing a sense of worth
to yourself and the bond
I learned this
after years
of going about it all wrong
I don’t want a filler
to take up my existence
I want some added value
to compliment
my persistence
someone that is going to go
the distance:
long and hard.

pendulum+

it is a sorrow
a physical shell can not contain
it is the question hanging
forever left unexplained
it is the future
completely rearranged
haphazard and chaotic
it is my life on a different plane

swept away
like particles of dust
eaten away
by the grip of rust
it is not yesterday anymore
or any less
it is upheaval
and it is me at my best

I confessed
to daydreaming about boys
way too much
I confessed
to them
like I could find peace
in their touch
I regressed
because I gave the man
the opportunity
to be my crutch
and when I could not walk alone
I realized
I gave them way too much

the happiness
will not come
from the brother
the happiness
will not come
from the lover
the happiness
is not going to be tied
to the whims of another

it is a journey
to my center
one door closed,
I had to find a better one to enter

léyoMI CUERPO [readMY BODY]

like a halfmade man
my upper half
is disconnected
from my lower self
I think I understand
I treat my body
like a trophy
on a dusty shelf

the mind roams free
the heart is like
a dream
free from captivity
but these
are not all of the things
that define me
control
like a push and pull
on the fabrics
of my existence
I am like a good catholic
chastity
meets such little resistance
tight and focused
on what is to be felt
it is a prescription
I choose the cards dealt

but I don’t want to hold back
any more
I don’t want to be inactive
in my passivity
I want to be active
in my receptivity
when you read my body
I want to feel the story flow
not held back
I want to let myself go
to give back
and grow

Spiritual Sexuality

I guess it's a topic I have been fascinated with,
ever since I came out in my late teens...
I was the president of my church youth group, grew up with Amy Grant as my spiritual hero,
and very much had a profound walk with faith in God.
And yet, I was always wrestling with how to bring my sexual identity and inherent sensuality
to grips with my beliefs system.

When I was talking with my mom recently about what I look for in a church,
it brought out my viewpoint of spirituality and religious instruction.
Some people need church for socializing, being one with a community...
or to be told what to do...no grey solutions - living in a black and white context.
I get it, I don't knock it.
To me, it shows a need for security and comfort,
and that peace of mind is what the church experience delivers to them.

I'm a different breed.
I want to be challenged.
I want my belief system constantly called into question.
I want a church leader to give me hypotheses or stimulate thinking for me in new ways.
Because I feel like the concept of God and the spirit is much vaster than a boxed-in definition.
So much more beautiful in its challenges than a simple path.

I was walking with my friend Diego yesterday.
And I made the comment: 'I am so much more physical these days.'
Not like I am whoring it out, but more in the sense that I am being driven in a more physical sense.
More attention to my body.
Thankful I have the body I do have.
Wanting to respect it more...

And I guess i takes me back to seeing the Vagina Monologues with Frankie at LMU.
And the epiphany that hit me then, during the performance,
was when a woman made this point that people didn't know you COULD connect your sexuality to your spirituality.

It seemed so profound to me -
the way we like to compartmentalize or operate in silos.
My soul rests over here, untouched.
My carnal self is over here, never touching the spirit, or it taints it...

I want to progress myself and evolve.
And it seems when I allow myself to focus in silos -
this week I am going to be 'good' and go to church...
or this week I am going to indulge in my senses...
things tip and I regress.

I am much more interested in seeing these two facets of my being,
core intrinsics of my self and identity,
come together.
To have two such powerful elements of what defines me,
not operating in unison,
seems counterproductive to me.

gypsyDREAMS

What held me here
What held my heart at bay
What held me close
Pushed me so far, so far away
I look out into this world
And I feel the urge to stray
To wander like a gypsy
To wonder like a child
To uproot and fly
Like a beast in the wild

He gives me gypsy dreams
Makes me want to slip away
He gives me gypsy dreams
Makes staying tight
Feel like I am giving something up
Along the way

He infuses me with wanderlust
Like I can taste his world on my tongue
He makes me dream another language
Where what is said
Feels much warmer when it is sung
It’s adventure in his eyes
And it sets me free
Something about the way he speaks
Speaks to the depths of me
Longing for direction
For passion outside of apathy
For goals larger than
The greatest parts of me
I can not be conservative
When I have the world calling for me
I can not be closed off
To the murmurs of a bolder destiny

He gives me gypsy dreams
Makes me want to slip away
He gives me gypsy dreams
Makes staying tight
Feel like I am giving something up
Along the way

He’s my muse
Because he reconnects me
To my dreams
His tongue is loose
Saying what he feels
Versus what he should mean
Refreshing
Like a simple confession
I get it and grow
Undressing
The layers
That conceal our desires
To explore the worlds we don’t know

resilientPEACE

some people can only take
a scratch
before they allow
themselves to break
into pieces like a puzzle
some people can only take
a pain
in the heart,
in the back,
before they succumb
to the stifling nature
of a muzzle.


if it’s a conundrum
I solve it simply
I am resilient
and I am at peace
with me.

if it’s a gene
if it’s a birth defect
I take it as a gift from heaven
resilience
is my inner strength
and it serves as my lucky seven.

I am at peace
with who god made me.
I am at peace
with my blessing of resiliency.
I am at peace
with the broken paths of humanity.
I am at peace
with the solitude and its divinity.

hold me
and scold me
because I am blessed
praise me
and kiss me
because I passed the tests
that I can not give up
when I have nothing left to go on for
is the sign of god’s hand
more than it is completing life’s chores
I am at peace
with how god made me
I am at peace
with this sweet resiliency
makes me strong
gives experience
to my song
makes the human race
a struggle to which I belong
but more than that
makes light of all of the wrongs.

getANGRY

Fuckit
He just wants to suck it
My luck it
Isn’t love when it happens
With invites to the backseat of his car
Misplaced energy
To the remixes
That drown the mind
In the overcrowded bar

See my face
I’m getting angry
Here
I spent
Six years
To walk away
Steer clear
But your ass
Dropped me
Back here.

Sex and the city
Never felt this shitty
When you got guys
More obsessed
With biting your titty
Than petting your kitty
So quick to go home run
Feels like
Romance cracked out
And got hardcore spun

But see
I smile
I confess
I play along
With all of the tests
Of my patience
And sense of self
I take this anger
And put it on a shelf
Out of place
So I can sit back and watch
And learn
How to get disengaged
From your self
I watch and squirm
Makes me uneasy
To be this man
Makes me angry
That I have to come to understand
What life feels like
Without a holding hand
Taking this shit like its medicine
But it’s like meth
In the grasp of a circuit man
You live
To learn
To understand
Then in a quick flash
Break their hand.

Perversively Pensive

I have a desire to censor myself.
Not expose my dark side or frustrations,
as I fear it will turn people off.
But I have to recognize this media form
as my channel for self-expression...
it's about reclaiming and owning my voice
and using this openness to grow, heal, progress
as an indvidual.

otherMAN

I open myself up
to being the other man
I think
I know how to understand
a desire to get
what you want,
when you can
I sense your guilt
I slap it down with an open hand
let’s not be emo here
its connecting dots
to the ampersand
you & me
I get it
I’m the other man


a different filter
a different way
to map this level of attraction
may feel off kilter
difficult to say
that is why I say shhh
it kills the heat of the passion


it’s not a role
it’s not my soul
it’s a feeling
and I am still
reeling
from the way
your hands felt
last night
it’s outta control
with an end goal
you can’t conceal
and it’s futile
to think this is over,
right?

I’ll be
the other man
I don’t give a damn
I’ve been unfulfilled
so I understand
I’ve traveled
away from my token plan
if I can say
what you need to hear
if I can entice
what you have come to fear
then I will drop
the pretense
and do it here
I’ll be your other man
point taken – I’m just clear.

prettyBAIT

to use your words
to hold me
in confusion
when I like words
to be directed
to a conclusion
does
not make me
salivate
it
makes me
think
I have to wait
like
this is
a pretty game
you create
and
you’re
a pretty boy
who likes to lay bait


playing
with your language
to create a separate space
is so wrong
pretty boy,
I can see the truth in your face
it’s like
forsaking
a sacrament to your tongue
It’s like
holding back
the final note
to our song as it’s sung


I don’t misread
the body language
I don’t misread
your eyes
it’s like I have special glasses
for a boy who likes to run and hide
I can take your bait
and run it over my lips
and just because I taste it
doesn’t mean I won’t let it slip
when the game is
finished
and you’re ready to come clean
I will take you
for what you are
and what you really mean

damagedGOODS

the morning after
always hurts more
than the headache
the memory
of the things said
more appropriate at a wake
than the ending
to a perfect date
like a bull
in a china shop
I seem intent to break
instead of seeing me
they get to see
the extremities of mistakes


I do not want
to hide the cracks
miscommunicate
my vicious attacks
I want my shame
laid out like a scarlet letter
I need it to be present
to make myself better
I’m damaged goods
and I create pain
a gentle spirit
bringing down hell in rain

attractiveENERGY

I think the air
is alive
when you are near
I feel like a god
making the intangible
exhale in fear
fear of what I am putting out
what I am sending out with no hesitation
this is a declaration
unbridled by the elements
this is attraction with intimidation

to give in
to what?
to sin?
I don’t know where to begin
I see no ring on the finger
no child in a crib
I see an opportunity
I would like to let live
I feel the space
between us
like it is skin to skin
it is natural
chemistry
let the experiments begin

my halo
is held up by horns
my spirit
protected by bloody thorns
contradictions
in form and shape
I want to hold
while I am built to escape
the push and the pull
but the ultimate release
I am too attracted
to answer g-rated pleas

let’s cross boundaries
just to see what we cross
let’s feel it because it’s there
and not a moment lost
let’s embrace hedonism
like it is a point of divinity
I have grown intuitive
yet impulsive by your energy

An Outlet For My Soul

Started with the preacher's daughter in high school.
I was the shy guy,
who lacked an ability to step outside of the 'friend' placement,
because I was unable to find a voice.
My voice came from within.
And when I put a pen to paper,
it was like my soul was able to extract itself
from the confined box it physically occupied.
So, yea. Tammy Wetherbee, Preacher's Daughter...
I wrote her a love poem.
And I wrote her so many poems.
In an attempt to woo her. lol
Instead, I found a way to express things
I was unable to process or verbalize.

When I met my first real boyfriend,
it was my poetry that brought us together.
It was the poetry that helped keep us together for so long.
Because it once again became a mechanism
for me to express my deep emotions.

I'd like to think I am more articulate now.
That I am a bit more extroverted
and that I don't have to hide behind words
to convey my heart's desires or actions.

But nonetheless, here I am.
Using a virtual forum like a blog
to be an outlet for my soul.

There was a song from church I used to always sing...
it was about wanting a legacy.
About wanting to be a man you would write about one day.
To be that man,
I have to be heard.
I have to have a voice.
This is pure Richie here.
This is what I am playfully and seriously ('cause that's how I operate)
calling pure RICHness.