♥ V.D. 1999 ♥

Oct15

Horror of horrors! Dark lady, it’s you again

Abbess of shadow and sinister sprite.

Pray show me, sweet Nelida, how to express myself:

Passion? Pure malice? Or murder by fright…

You opened the dungeons where dreams slept desireless

Vanquished my sleep of misogynist night.

A sepulchral shudder enlivens my being:

Liquescent infernoes of Gothic delight.

Elevation celestial or depths of despair –

No middle to stand on beholding your visage

The firmament drops as I swing in the air.

In this fall, or this orbit, show mercy, bright maiden

Nor quench solar fires with lunar disdain.

Eclipsing at zenith, you blacken my brain.

lava-flow

♦ Chacaltaya ♦

Oct14

My dear damsel of glaciers and scuttling roaches

In Andean splendor you startle my heart.

Still seeking a summit, your coldness reproaches;

So little I know you – in whole or in part.

Now that winter recedes as the springtime encroaches

Envision a greening of sorcery’s art.

Lighten up, dark enchantress of icy approaches;

I hope and I pray global warming may start…

Does another bad sonnet addressed to her highness

Allow for a thaw to begin in her soul?

Get over your winter of taciturn shyness!

Or is frozen entombment your element, witch?

This old necrophile waits for a smile (or a twitch).

Hell, I’d marry your corpse – but mere friendship’s my goal.

inca-burial

† ideal N †

Oct13

Name: Nelida   Gender: female   Nationality: unknown
Meaning derived from Eleanor (shining light)
Continent/Origin: Andean sources of the Amazon

Thy name, somber lady, illuminates heaven

As dazzling light penetrates into shadow.

Enlaid in rare colors (oh Lord, what a lead-in),

Your blackness out-veils the proverbial widow.

Iron maidens get nailed. Don’t rest in denial

and lie to your soul that your actually dealin’.

I only ask this to your face: that you’ll smile

Unlocking your Gothic cathedrals to kneel in.

No death-dirges here. I’m no spike-studded user

Eventually yours to pursue until captured.

Let’s hope there is time – but we risk being raptured.

I’m not into pain; not a sado-abuser.

Don’t masochists also need fun in the sun?

All I want is a friend. So I hope you’re the one…

Idol-of-Perversity

Taina Fertility Chant

Oct11

Betty Boop Boricua
No me diga – la nena ‘ta pregnant again?
(I thought she decided no more after Tito…)
she’s almost 16 – and she dropped out of school.
(It might be the spice in abuela’s sofrito…)

There’s one in the oven and two in the stroller
Oh nubile Boricua, what gives – ¿Qué sería?
if life is the masa and birth is the bakery
yours is a virtual panadería…

Some pulse in your short-shorts, those flexible hips
under tropical rhythm of lewd reggaeton
seems to summon the sperm from your lover’s abundance
whenever you find yourselves home and alone.

Where’s your man? Who’s the daddy? Why didn’t he stay?
Your gaze is unsettling, harshly pathetic.
You sad Betty-Boop: are you waiting in vain
for your man – or your period? How unpoetic…

This life lived on welfare, entitled, enslaved
with your babies at grandma’s and you with your phone
is a taxpayer’s nightmare and teenage recurrence
(but you’re busy texting some drama unknown…)

Mamita herself looks more like your hermana
She started this game even earlier, too
When you stand, side by side, in your thongs and pijama
it’s hard to be sure who is who.