A Love Poem for Angry Romantics

¡Hola!  Everybody... 

I've made some esthetic changes to my blog in preparation for a flood of raging political articles/ (new) stories/ rants/ and the rest of the catastrophe. LOL I'm hoping to make the blog much more interactive and, seeing as I'm now basically "self-employed" (really: unemployed), perhaps add some (social purpose) ads. 

I'm also considering taking the leap and committing the next year toward completing at least one of my two works in progress (and doing a "Raskalnikov"). I might not be able to pay the rent, but maybe I can crank out a book. Stay tuned as you will be subjected to the dynamics of this adventure! LOL 

Today is Saturday and it's all about the arts... 

* * *

Nows [No. 26]

A quarter to eleven 

East Village.

We are sitting like a sandwich

at a tiny table.

A sunny afternoon spent

groping out-of-town strollers,

and the light touch of

our thighs sends back

"Oh yeahs," "Wows,"

and "Look-at-thats."

It is a flirtatious appraisal

meant only to be

the very gentlest of rapes.

So we sit,

separate but in touch,

letting the silences 

that pass between us

serve as unasked-for approvals

of our mutual window-shopping,

our fleeting joyful adulteries.

  -- All rights reserved

Nina's Poem

¡Hola! Everybody…
I awoke today and was informed that 1) I haven’t posted the following in a while, and that 2) It belongs to my dear friend, Nina. I hope this means I have conjugal (if not copy) rights! LOL

For you, Nina, because we’re refugees -- refugees since time immemorial…

* * *

Now [no. 23]

In some remote
rain forest,
under the approving eyes
of the ancient Orishas,
we took each other,
rudely,
like animals of the jungle.

Teeth, fingers, lips
painted with the fruits
of our child-like foreplay,
we had our roll
in the tangled underbrush
and emerged,
scratched and bleeding,
staggering, jaunty, and
rowdy with contempt
for all those timid animals
who still make noiseless love,
undressing in
the darkened chambers
of their shame.

-- Eddie

They blamed me...

¡Hola! Everybody...
I find my networking and reconnecting has been very effective in helping in the transition to a new phase in my career.

* * *

Yesterdays [No. 6]

They blamed me for their headaches,
the noisy toilets,
rainy weekends,
their growing insanity
and broken fingernails.

But I did them better,
in time,
and they finally blamed me
for deserting them
in favor of a happier woman.

And that
is a blame even they
can cherish forever.

All rights reserved

They Blamed Me...

¡Hola! Everybody…
Well, Obama and the democrats did their great impersonation of caring then acceded to some of the most vicious cuts in our history. Simply put, it's socialism for the rich and capitalism for the rest of us. Think about that the next time your child tells you there are, like, 50 kids in her classroom, or when they kick grandma to the curb. If you’re interested in the faulty ideology behind these cuts, check out my contribution to the online magazine, Subversify, this week (click here).

It’s Saturday so…

* * *

Yesterdays [no. 4]

They blamed me for their headaches,
the noisy toilet,
rainy weekends,
broken fingernails,
and their growing insanity.

But I did them better,
in time, and
they finally blamed me
for deserting them
a favor of a taller,
thinner, and
happier woman.

And that...
is a blame
they can cherish
forever.

Me, © 2003

Prelude to a Kiss

¡Hola! Everybody…
Sometimes Saturdays are for the arts, here at the [un]Commonsense Blog…

* * *

-=[ Prelude to a Kiss ]=-

Closing my eyes.
Seeing you.
Picturing your moonlit face,
feeling that softness.

Lifting my finger to one
impossibly high cheekbone
tracing its outline against a
grain of light
a silvery powder.

Bringing my face to yours.
Our mouths aligning,
but not yet kissing.

Somehow staving off
the gnawing hunger.

Our lips grazing, adjusting,
making the slightest calibrations
of angle and shape,
as if we were whispering
into each others breath.

Both of us straining
against an uncrontrolled desire
in order to create our first kiss.

A kiss I know I have been waiting
for even longer than my tired eyes
could tell you.

To make it
as close
to perfect
as
possible...

-- Edward-Yemíl Rosario © 2008

What I Want

¡Hola! Everybody…
It’s been cold up here in El Norte in the land of the snow. The best thing about cold weather is snuggling. I’m very needy and clingy and yes (!) it’s okay to say that! So, what I usually do is secretly crack the window so that the room gets cold and my lover has to cling to me. Tricks of the trade kiddos!. *wink*

BTW, don't forget to check out my reflections on love over at Subversify (click here)

Which brings me to today’s rant…

* * *

You Ask What I want

You ask me what I want
and my answer to you is
that I want it all --

I want the Sun and the Sky
and that elusive and playful sprite
that lives beneath your lips.

I want the sigh of the wind
as it wends its way through your hair
and the soft caress of your hand
on my hot skin.

I want the fires and the fragrance
of your memory...

turned like fine wine.

Grace is you, flowing with the night,
like a barely perceived ripple of water...

unknown to me and unseen.

2007 ©

I Did it First Behind the Stairwell

¡Hola! Everybody…
My second of a series on education can be found at Subversify (click here), the online magazine offering an alternative perspective from corporate media. Speaking of media, Keith Olermann’s voice will be sorely missed. KO abruptly announced he was leaving MSNBC last night. I know my mother, a progressive till the end, must be pissed!

Saturdays are for aesthetics here at [un]Common Sense

* * *

-=[ Yesterdays ]=-

I did it first behind the stairwell.

It was The Games
that prepared us all for
the brinkmanship of seduction.

You ran, you zigged and zagged,
you shook a little and you...
Scored.

A series of challenges
that demanded a new game
when skill and boredom
combined to exhaust the
outer limits of tenderness,
as if preparing us all,
children in this
Cold War with women,
for our ultimate purpose:
seducing free games
from those patient and wise
young girls
who might have become
our best friends
if only the rules had allowed.

All rights reserved

I did it first behind the stairwell...

¡Hola! Everybody…
I had my second piece published by my fave online mag, Subversify. If you haven’t check out Subversify, I would highly recommend it (and not just because they published two of my pieces). There are some interesting articles there offering points of views rarely encountered in the mainstream. If you read my piece (here), please feel free to leave a comment.

On another note, the extremist, intolerant, racist faction of the USA will be on view for the whole world to see today at the nation’s capital, where they will be smearing the memory of one of the greatest historical figures and social movements of the 20th Century. They shame us all...

Saturdays are for aesthetics here at [un]Common Sense

* * *

-=[ Yesterdays ]=-

I did it first behind the stairwell.

It was The Games

that prepared us all for

the brinkmanship of seduction.

You ran, you zigged and zagged,

you shook a little and you

Scored.

A series of challenges

that demanded a new game

when skill and boredom

combined to exhaust the

outer limits of tenderness,

as if preparing us all,

children in this

Cold War with women,

for our ultimate purpose:

seducing free games

from those patient and wise

young girls

who might have become

our best friends

if only the rules had allowed.

Baroque Interlude

¡Hola! Everybody…
I had a piece published in the online magazine, Subversify, yesterday. I have never had anything published before, so I would appreciate it if you took a couple of minutes to read my piece (here) and also take the time to explore the magazine. The magazine offers a wide range of writing from “outside the box.” I mean that in the most positive sense: opinions, essays, fiction, and non-fiction from a perspective rarely encountered in the mainstream. I believe most of the freethinkers who read me would enjoy it.

* * *

(Photograph: Wendy Whitelaw, Park Avenue, July 1981)

Nows [XV]

Like some baroque interlude
the notes of your passion
take me down winding streets,
visiting all those bizarre boutiques
of our shared and secret fantasies.

A thousand corners
I will turn with you,
your partner in an
endless exploration of
the side-streets of sensation,
those horny highways of adventure,
that will forever open for us,
beckoning us toward
the joyful madnesses of
our shameless bliss.

all rights reserved

Awakening

¡Hola! Everybody…
Amazingly, there are people actually entertaining the right of private businesses to discriminate. WTF?!! Also, notice that those who support the racist Arizona immigration law (SB 1070) are usually the same people who refuse to acknowledge Obama’s legitimacy? The Arizona “show me your papers” law and the people who refuse to accept Obama citizenship are all connected. It seems we’ve fallen asleep and we’re back to Jim Crow.

* * *

Nows [XVIV]

Your sleep:
I have watched you wake --
a spectacle,
a spontaneous vision of honesty.

Your long legs
yawn open
and your arms reach out
for a missing star.

You are reluctant,
deserting your dream,
surrendering to the pink wound
of a new day.

And you reach out for me,
silently, without a plan,
and it is enough.

Your touching me
will always be enough.

It says what no poem
will ever say,
what no words could ever tell me.

A Baroque Interlude

¡Hola! Everybody…
So yesterday I signed the lease to the new Chez Eddie. Move date is this coming Saturday, so if you feel like helping me transport my thousands of books, feel free to drop me a line. Today, I’ll be breaking what’s left of my back packing my things…

The following is a “found” poem -- something I wrote ages ago. It was in a sheaf of papers of works written longhand. In it were some forgotten poems, fragments of a short story, and a rather surprisingly interesting essay on the short story form. A dear friend saved it all these 30 or more years.

* * *

(Photograph: Wendy Whitelaw, Park Avenue, July 1981)

Nows [XV]

Like some baroque interlude

the notes of your passion

take me down winding streets,

visiting all those bizarre boutiques

of our shared secret fantasies.

A thousand corners

I will turn with you,

your partner in an

endless exploration of

the side-streets of sensation,

those horny highways of adventure

that will forever open for us,

beckoning us toward

the joyful madnesses of

our shameless bliss.

Take a stroll...

¡Hola! Everybody...
Well, well, well... I was waiting for it to happen. Yesterday, Arizona’s governor signed SB 1070 into law, making it legal to racially profile in the state. It's a law written by a known white supremacist and enacted by a conservative administration. Essentially, you could be pulled over for no other reason than that you are brown-skinned or speak Spanish. As an American citizen of Latino/a descent, I feel Arizona does not deserve economic support from the rest of the country. Tourism is a huge industry in that state -- bringing in $18 billion last year. With the passage of SB 1070, I pledged not spend my dollars in a place where racial profiling is legal.

If immigrants were perceived as white and blond, you would not be reading this today. Arizona is the shame of our nation.

If you feel the same way, please consider signing the petition (click here).

* * *

Nows [XVI]

Note: A dear friend of the family -- a sister, I can say -- sent me a sheaf of papers of some writings I had left with her over 20 years ago. I used to carry legal pads with me back then, and write my poems and stories in longhand. In this pile of papers were some poems, snatches of an essay on the short story form, and fragments of an uncompleted short story. The following was one of the poems I found in the group.

Take a stroll outside of yourself tonight
and gaze over your shoulder.

You will see yourself
taller than yesterday,
smiling more,
and quieter
than in those early years.

Watch your hands
as they touch me
everywhere.

It all happened behind your back.

A smug comfort settled in
that says you need me less
but want me more.

Take a giant step back
and see yourself
as others do,
for you must someday
learn the delicate art
of viewing your reflection
in all those eyes
your beauty has moistened.

-- Eddie

The Hectic Horny Days of Yesterday

¡Hola! Everybody...
As the Official Spokesperson for all Nuyoricans, I hereby state that we hope Lou Dobbs runs for president! LMAOOO!

It’s Saturday and that means it’s mostly about poetry here at [un]Common Sense.

* * *

Yesterdays [no. 3]

A case of Bacardi for the crazy ladies
in the corner of my past,
the hectic, horny days
of yesterday!

They beckon me back
to my forgotten madnesses,
the chest-pounding blackouts
that have grown into story-time delights.

Sure, they often left before dawn
to test my memory
with a perfumed and pummeled pillow.

And they sprayed me with
ashtrays,
broken bottles,
cans of habichuelas,
and all their sadnesses
to leave me forever bruised and bleeding.

But they cared,
these crazy ladies,
at least as much as they could...

So let's hear it for the fragmented ones
who gave these hilarious crimes to me
as evidence that I once lived.

They are the only poor souls I still know
who can tell me what I used to be
and why.

They spoke to me in words...

¡Hola! Everybody...
Headed out to look at apartments. I have to move (again) ::sigh::

* * *

Yesterdays [no. 2]

They spoke to me in words always clear,
offering those timeless personal messages.

Clichés back-to-back,
a thousand punch lines thrown together,
like beads of wisdom, requiring no reply
needing no answers.

Why was it I could never thank them
in their own tongue?

They came barging into my head
whenever it pleased them
but I could return their visits
only by an invitation
that never arrived.

-- Edward Yemíl Rosario

Spring

¡Hola! Everybody...
It’s much too nice to be on the innanets -- GET OUTSIDE NOW!!!

This here is my annual spring poem...

* * *

Nows [no. 15]

If I could
I would guarantee you
bright sunny days
and soft, dry breezes
for all your Summers.

If I could
I would give you
clear cold days
and clean snow
for the Winters you love.

And if I could
I would give you Autumn,
dressed to the teeth,
at that precious moment
when you most need change.

But if I want you
to remember me
as I will always remember you,
I will send you,
naked,
unadorned,
Spring.

Edward-Yemil Rosario ©

Embrace

¡Hola! Everybody...
I have an overactive imagination. Whatever the case, I was inspired to work on the following... it’s still not finished. I guess I need to do the “field research.” LOL

* * *

-=[ The Caress ]=-

She felt like everything
good and wholesome...

The first warm breeze of spring,
the cool taste of iced lemonade
at the end of a summer's day,
days of sun and sand,
inky-black night beaches.

Like autumn tinged
with the new scent of change,
the first snowball fight
when you're a kid.

Her body was soft,
full of promise and
her heart felt
like a caged bird
fluttering against my chest.

The juncture of her neck,
the faint intoxicating
trace of shampoo
mixed with her essence,
breathed in as prana,
the downy hair
tickling my nostrils.

-- Edward-Yemíl Rosario ©

You are not...

¡Hola! Everybody...
Yes, Virginia, there is a lot of snow here, but I’m headed to meet with some good friends to eat, laugh, and just act out. LOL! Have a great weekend people...

* * *

Nows [no. 13]

You are not
more perfect than anyone.

But you have a fine line of style.
A sharpened sense
of your outer edge:
the changing purposes
and possibilities for
your eyes...
and your ass.

A master of the passive assault,
you caress me
with your passing glances,
and lure me to adventure
with a smile
I can never be sure I saw.

-- Edward-Yemil Rosario ©

You Ask...

¡Hola! Everybody...
Saturdays are for all things aesthetic.

Not that you asked, but if ever you do...

* * *

-=[ You Ask... ]=-

You ask me what I want
and my answer to you is...
I want it all --

I want the Sun and the Sky
and that elusive and playful sprite
that lives beneath your lips.

I want the sigh of the wind
as it wends it way through your hair
and the soft caress of your hand
against my hot skin.

I want the fires and fragrance of your memory...
turned like fine wine.

Grace is you, flowing with the night,
like a gentle ripple of water...

unknown to me and unseen.

Edward-Yemil Rosario, 2007 ©

Your eyes move like the tide...

¡Hola! Everybody...
Hope you’re enjoying the weekend. I have some work to do (as always).
Today, a lovely new friend graces my page, the beautiful Paula... my poem (I lost the poem I wanted to post) pales in comparison...

* * *

Nows [no. 23]

Your eyes move like the tide,
looking first outward
before sweeping it all in.

We sat on a splashed rock
that took a millennia
patiently sculpting itself
to become our throne...

and waited...

silent, naked, and serene,
drinking in the wisdoms
of the sea.

And since that moment
I first brushed against you
I promised myself
I would never live
on an island that was
too small to fit you in...

somehow.

All rights reserved ©

Hunger

¡Hola! Everybody...
And one last thing about surrender... LOL!

* * *

-=[ Hambriente/ Hunger ]=-

I wait impatiently for your surrender.
I yearn to have you splayed
and vulnerable,
radiating pleasure like
light from the Sun.

Your moans,
writhes,
and orgasms
drag me out of
out of my world of fears
into the bright colors
of heart-surrender.

You are my chosen source
of feminine glory...
the Source of Life itself.

I thirst for
the warm sea
of your gyrations.

I long for the taste of
the fruits
of your succulent pussy lips
and nipples,
to feel the earthquakes
of your uninhibited pleasure.

Surrender to me your body
full of bliss.
Expose me to the bright light
in your eyes.

Let me feel your
soft body
quivering,
heaving,
and opening
to my masculine chunk
in ways...
undreamt.

I claim no less than my birthright:
your utter surrender.
That place where
there is no sentry
nor holding back.

Surrender unto me
the openness of your heart
expressed through
the language of
moans and tears.

Swallow me into your heart
through your vagina.
Come claim your love
in gasps of pleasure.

All rights reserved ©