Thoughts from Moab

Brigham Young was dead wrong.
When the desert was made to blossom as a rose a small part of Zion was lost, never to be recovered.

I thought it good

It didn't seem right. This song did not convey the right mood for contemplating the death of my parents.
I imagined a darker song, something somber and pensive yet upbeat and not in a minor key.
Because, after all, I would not be the one to do the deed. No, I was simply the one who would see it before it happened, for how could I stop it? Here I was, thousands of miles away, and with no way to warn them, I have always been a simple observer, nothing but a helpless spectator.
And the next song, it did not fit my mood. I was alone and unloved, yet the song was about losing someone, not what I needed, because I knew I had him, but I have always been alone and unloved, regardless of how many other I have.

Dudo tu omnipotencia

Veo a todos los demás.
Veo a los que admiro y a los que intento emular.
Y me pregunto, ¿por qué tengo esta misión?
Admito que peco y que a veces mis chistes los digo en serio, a veces creo que eres senil.
Sé que se me recompensará, sé que algún día lo tendré todo, pero me es difícil.
A veces creo que eres caprichoso e inclusive cruel; sólo son los berrinches de un triste vagabundo que se cree inútil y perezoso, pero aun así quiero ayudar.

Ayudar como ayudaron los grandes, y no porque yo quiera ser grande, sino que yo quiero tener esa misma influencia.
Quiero que digan que fui uno de los héroes del antaño contemporáneo, quiero que dirijan elogios y alabanzas a mi nombre. No es porque aspire a los elogios ni los honores de los hombres, sino porque porque quiero ser un gran hombre.

También sería feliz con una vida simple, una vida de servicio sin cualquier reconocimiento, pero quiero cambiar esta situación.
Quiero mejorarla, ayudar.
Quiero alentar y reconciliar.
Quiero que mi filantropía sea algo real.

Por eso es que deseo que en el futuro se hable de mí, porque quiero ser alguien de quien se pueda decir mucho bueno y poco malo.

¿Mas qué puedo hacer aquí? Espero que en tu infinita sabiduría me lo puedas mostrar.

A ti

Hermosos tus labios, pétalos de rosa cubiertos de rocío que cada día me besan.
Hermoso tu reír, son angelical que cada día me lleva al cielo.
Hermoso tu andar, danza de tus caderas que cada día me condena al más tormentoso infierno.

Hermosa tu luz, que ilumina mi camino.
Más hermosa aún es tu maldita oscuridad, que me atrae y me seduce,
Tu sensualidad que me enreda y pronto me deja sujeto a tus caprichos.

Bendita tu gentileza y cariño;
Maldita tu inerte riqueza que hace tan evidente mi paupérrimo.

Te amo porque eres mi sol resplandeciente;
Te odio porque junto a ti, soy un astro beocio.

Te alabo, mujer bendita por el mismo Dios
Y te maldigo, autora de mi perdición.

Por tu amor renunciaría a los míos,
Pero sólo si tú renuncias a los tuyos.

Ves que mi amor es condicional
Porque sigo siendo más importante que tú.

For you

I wanted to sit under that great sycamore tree
To stay there and see and feel and breathe.
I wished to trap you there and keep you forever
For me and only me.
And there under our indulgent illusion,
Our tangible sycamore tree,
I would make love to you.

My words caress your lips,
My ideas softly touch your breasts.
All day we would explore our bodies,
And at night we would talk of things unseen and hear things far away.
For if a simple embrace can hold so many feelings,
How could words not hold so much more?
And yet so little...

To you is this poem.
For poetry is our ugly attempt at beauty,
So my words nor my eyes can capture your radiance.

Come to me
Give yourself to me
Make love to me.

A Child of God

Today I was sitting in a restaurant with some friends. The Hindu owner was joking with us and said that they had a table for the Untouchables at the far end, he asked if we were Untouchables; I replied that I was a Child of God

All the Mormons laughed but only the Hindu really understood.

Personality Types

Myers-Briggs Test
I'm an INTP
http://www.kisa.ca/personality/

Enneagram Test
I'm a 5
http://www.9types.com/


Take these tests, they're truly interesting.

Jitanjáfora

Such is friendship, loyalty, love.

Him

That old man does not harm, he does not hurt, he is not armed.
Old and hurt, broken and confused. That face is one of a weak and down-trodden once-despot; his regal attire in taters.
One eye blind and one eye crazy, he is weak and he knows it.

My Story

I never imagined that my life would be this way. I wanted something simple: a secluded house with a small library

My life has been but a series of mediocre decisions taken by an average man; I never saw anything grandiose about it, indeed I never tried to make it so. Despite what others may say I have always been nothing more than a simple observer.

I suppose that it is because of The Music that things are the way they are - it really was The Muse that told me to do it. I first thought it had been Clio, helping me to avoid the mistakes of others' past; I found an aulos in the park two days ago - it must have been Euterpe; alas, how wrong I was - it was Thalia, laughing at me all along, bitch. Mounting a spectacle of my outré life, probably under the guidance of Melpomene, that bitch Melpomene.

I suppose I am simply lashing out against the Moirai, who the hell are they to tell dictate my actions? Damn the Greeks and Serendip and Karma and Krishna and the Wheel. Damn Calvin and Catholics and Predestination and God. And my parents.

And damn me and my prayers, my prayers which cursed me as I am now, my damn prayers which I uttered still believing in the benignity of Brahman-Atman; damn all that water and we're just little drops and we just have to jump back in.

Damn it all, damn it all to Hell.