a little strip tease...

Hello brokes,

I'd figure it's time I dropped my pants and showed off my...poetry.lol
Here's some pieces that may find their way into an e-book/script for my one-man show about New York currently titled NYC, luv ya! Look out for it in 2012. And if you have any stories about a love/hate relationship with NY or any other city, love to hear them.

NYC: 
expletives to fill the loss

My concrete bitch
You turn me on then dump me
My concrete bitch
You couldn’t even wait for me to get back
You quicker than a minute
Less than a second
On to the next one...
You take and take
But don’t give me shit to work with
A mystery
I never got a chance to know you
You hide behind these lights and sounds
Glamourous
Flashy!
But I’ve seen your dirty old face
I’ve seen your trashy sidewalks
Broken crack pipes
Cockroach apartment
Every corner an invitation to a dirty little secret
You think Disney will change that
Time Square Tourism
Sellin’ your wares for cheap thrills and a I LUV NY t-shirt
 I know you, sucia
You keep bums in your closet
I know
you push people away
sell to the highest bidder by the square footage
What does a mothafuckah gots to do to stick around?
What part of you is still you?
Do you even know who you are?
Do you remember?
Do you remember me?
My parents left their motherland to meet you
They thought you’d be good for future me
An arrange marriage, yes it would be
But we found each other, didn’t we?

Remember...when you first made love to me?
Boyhood innocence
I was a sandbox of new experience
You made me the man I am
You, ghetto fabulous
Infamous
Known to only the denizens of a 20 block radius
I knew you as a loud ass Latino symphony
Home made Salsa from the Boogie down
Bachata combata- Swooning long lost lovers till three in the morning.
I slept under your wet taxi tires hydroplaning on black pavement-
mirrors peering up into the night sky
In my boyhood apartment
I played with the gated window shadows, moving across my mama’s clotheline
I tried hanging you up to dry, crispy and ready-to-wear
my invisible cloak
But you were perishable with the first light of day
Memory is a dry good with a moveable expiration date

I wanted to know more about you
You had so many sides to you
and each side, a new side,
a new side from the other
exponentially possible was everything
was
I saw your face shine in the city lights
Pretty glow
Flashy and classy all at once
you was a sexy bitch and I’m not ashamed to say it

I wanted you, body and soul
I attempted to seduce you with smooth talking tongue
Oye, mami
Dejame entrar
Whispered in your ear:
Yo soy to sol
tu esperanza en el corazon romantico
I was wet from your possibility
You, ripe and ready
Me...green
I was scared and excited to enter into your metropolis
you made me a willing slave
I ate your every word
remixed in the now of the New York minute
the moment
now
so filled to the brim with ecstasy
I rode you
bus, taxi, subway
You schooled me
You burned me in the baptismal fire of first-times
I wanted more
more

Memory,
Vete, ya! 

[coño]
how you hang in the crevices of my warped mind

nyc
She will never be what she once was
She can’t
not the way a city works
Summer was over, and I had to return to strange lands.

I still smell you on my  fingers.
mm...

Latin boy in London 

-A broke Believer
YO- I went to London to speak the Queen’s speech.
Be Hamlet, Henry, Mac B
Do circles around soliloquies
Wow crowds with thee’s and thou’s
Lift up language and sound
Make my way to the Grand Stage sounding like a brown Laurence Olivier.
But I went New York on ‘em:
Yo, yo, kid. To be, or not to fuckin’ be.
Yo, b- that’s the mothafuckin’ question!
Whether tis nobla in da min’ to suffa
Fuckin’ gunshots an beatdowns,
or take arms against a too-live crew of wanna-be gangstas
and by opposing, get my dumb ass killed.
To die- duh! To sleep, shit. And by a dirt nap to say we end
The bullshit of a dead-end life. Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished, damn.
To fuckin’ die. Fuckin’ sleep, maybe dream…
SIKE! Yeah right.
That’s the rub a dub, dub
So, I came back
A native his natural habitat
Parting was such sweet sorrow. But the broke ass always got tomorrow


City of Seduction
 
You seduce me, New York

with your fast walkin' and talkin'

knee- high booted beauties, ankles deep in sophistication,
brandishing promised ecstasies of nightly affairs

you seduce me, NYC

all the way down to my hunger: can’t get better pizza anywhere than in the empire city.
it’s in the water

you call me with your sighs and moans and groans,

‘Baby, come back to me, I need you inside me.’

I come willing
I come back to you cause you provide me solace: the madness is comforting

...Ven aqui mi pobre amor

you seduce me with your hidden truths

oh! the places you’ll go!
only to go around in the same vicious circles

the enticement of what comes next still pulls at my primitive muscles
a nite out is always available,

...no need to worry

I come to you whenever you call

I am here, trapped

my concrete Venus
call me again

forever FREE,
B.A.S.A.

Crossroads

This is a photo of my tattoo on my left forearm. When people ask what it means, I've always kept the meaning open, inviting the viewer's curiosity and self-interpretation. But at this moment, I will choose one for myself. This is a sign of my current situation. I am at a crossroads in my life. I am leaving one path and entering another. I was not satisfied with the last: school. I wasn't happy, nor satisfied, nor fulfilled. As a matter of fact, I was pissed and hurt that I found myself in a situation that made me feel cornered and not in control.

Now, I am not a control freak. Well, in my personal creative work, kinda. I have a strong sense of what I want and what I'm looking for, and I know when I get it. I want control of my life and will demand it. Ok, a little control freakish. But I am also open to learning, to grow and expand, and collaborate with those who are passionate about what they do. I am willing to give up control if I can trust the one I'm handing it to...there has to be trust.

Enough of the past. Back to the crossroads. I am standing at a place where change is about to happen, again. I like change. I embrace it. What I want though is change for the better. I always have. But now, I want to think of it as a way to get to the place I want to be and not just the place that I think is right. Because what is right if not just another feeling after the fact: hindsight is always 20-20. I am looking for the best choice to put me in a better place. I am again in search of the road that will get me closer to where I belong. And if it requires me to make my own, then so be it. Like Ralph Waldo Emerson says:


-Do not go where the path may lead; Go instead where there is no path, and leave a trail.

I look back down at my wrist. Now, I see possibilities. I have choices. There's not one way to live my life and my dream. I will find one that works. If not, I'll make one.

Maybe the crossroads is another adventure waiting at the intersection. Where you choose to go, is just the beginning.

forever FREE,
B.A.S.A.

NYC: Back Again, short film

A work in progress. Love your comments!

forever FREE,

B.A.S.A.

If New York were your lover...?

my fellow brokeians,

I am conducting research into "love" and its many forms of expression. One form is love for a particular place- NYC. Please comment on the question. I would love to know what you would say to New York.

For example:
If New York were my lover...I'd say "I miss you badly and can't wait to be inside you again."

...I know, graphic, but that what she is to me.

forever FREE,
B.A.S.A.

A Broke Ass (not so) Starving Artist Returns to NYC

I'm back. Well, on my way. En route. Tonight at 7pm, I will read some of my poetry and works-in-progress at WordUp Bookstore (www.wordupbooks.com). I look forward to sharing my work and creating a history of doing so. Wordup feels like the right place to for a potential professional artist to present his workings.

This weekend getaway marks the first of what I hope will be a monthly routine: The lure of the big grey beast calling me to eat from its bellyful of Life. I hope to come out filled to the brim.

Besides Wordup, I'll be lazze-faireing in Lower Manna-hatty, checking out Duarte Square and the Museum of the American Indian. Duarte Sq is home to a monument dedicated to Juan Pablo Duarte, the famous liberator of the Dominican Republic. But I must admit, I've got ulterior motives:

I am in search of Juan "Jan" Rodrigues. The First New Yorker. There may be a plaque in his name at the square. I'll tell you more about him at a later date...

All this to be said: IT'S FREE. Wordup. Museum. Jan. They're all at no cost to the participant. Just time. time and effort. Can we remain in such a way to be free to have choose our time? Or, is it only through a "break" from the work schedule, the 9-5, or 6, 40+ a week, 365, years of service for what? a weekend? 2 weeks paid vacation? How can you break when you know you have to come back...

Hi. Got a bit lost in reality. My bad:o}

My fellow brokes,

Enjoy your time off. Don't stress about shit you can't control at the office. It only matters in the annual report. Laugh. Love. Live. I'm planning on taking a bit of my own advice. See ya later.

forever Free,
B.A.S.A.

Labor Day For Some, Not for All

Labor Day!! Woohoo. Just had a long weekend and Monday off. But the person that got me some Starbucks didn't. Or the bus driver that drove me back to Washington, DC. Or the CVS employee that rang up my Gatorade. I can probably go on with a longer lists of those who labored on Labor day. Doesn't that sound a bit...ironic?

Look, I'm happy to have had the day off. And yes, I participated in the Labor-less activities of movie going and traveling. If it wasn't for this day, I would've missed out on my god-fatherly duties of seeing my godson Jace. Again, very happy to have been off.

But my brokeians, I couldn't help but be aware of the contradictory concept of a national day where EVERYBODY gets the day off. Doesn't that include the folks at Starbucks? I mean, I easily could've roasted a cup at my frat brother's parents place. But then again: Breakfast that morning at the diner was quite massively delicious.

This is the curious conundrum in which I find myself when thinking of our culture and its idea of time off. Seems like you can get it...but at the expense of who?

forever Free...till my labor day,

B.A.S.A.

From the Broke Ass Reaches of Outer Space...

mi broke amigos,

i feel like an alien. i mean, i am the child of immigrants, but i feel like this strange creature now. there is a foreign object in my pocket and i am not sure where it came from. i ask someone near me if they knew what it was. they looked at me weird (hint). "you serious??" as he walked away pissed mumbling something about damn ass don't know what money...

Yes. I have some now. It's green, but I can't eat it or burn it. It has no smell. No taste...had to try it...

I went to the store to trade it in for food and drink, which tasted really good. But now, i have less of it. every day, i have less.

what do i do to get more? is more good? how much is enough?

forever Free...i hope,
B.A.S.A.

My Broke Ass Plant...Life 2.0

My fellow brokes,

I came back to school looking at my life now, after a year into this uncertain adventure. Most of my "stuff" has been held up at my frat brothers' place, piled up in a corner like junk ready for a garage sale. Also in the basement, same thing. Trash bags of clothes, and, my dead orchid. I knew I had to leave it to die. I mean, before I left for the summer, it was already "dying," dropping its beautiful flowers onto the ground. But I knew I couldn't rely on anyone at the house to take care of it. No offense- but they're dudes. And it's summertime. So, I did what any broke ass starving artist would do...

Now, I'm back. And I am trying to see if there's still life in the poor looking thing. If anyone knows anything about plants or orchids, please pass down the knowledge. I've watered it, put next to the window upstairs. It still looks the same. But the water is gone...a sign of life?

Life lessons from a dying plant.

Maybe sometimes, you just gotta kick back, slow down, die a little. Maybe when you're at your most quiet and dark and seemingly done for, maybe that's when it happens...

Transformation. Evolution. Change.

forever Free,
B.A.S.A.

"walk a mile in my broke ass shoes"

Or 170. Today, my fellow brokes, I was reminded of why earlier this summer I walked for two weeks along the Hudson River, in Upstate NY. As I left my current location and walked to campus, I felt back into a rhythm where my mind could keep pace with my feet. There was an ease and stillness that fell over me, and the worries of food, purpose, survival, artistic perfection seemed to drift away like a loose leaf on the catching wind. I just walked. My feet knew what to do; they carried me. I me passer-bys on the way. A smile or a head-nod was exchanged. All was well. Not much mattered. It was free and simple, just as nature should be.

Nature is the quintessential teacher: It invites your curiosity to explore its vast playground. And when you think you've discovered its meaning or mastered its terrain, nature drops a hail storm on you just as a friendly reminder of your divine ignorance. Yeah- happen to me on Day 9 of my hike. But it is also fair, providing shade for the sun-weary, and water for the parched soul. And always, a breath-taking, awe inspiring view. Here's some examples:o)

I'll leave you with one of my favorite quotes:

"Do not go where the path may lead; go instead where there is no path and leave a trail."
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

forever Free,
B.A.S.A

To be an Artist, or not to be an Artist

That is the question that rattles my brains as I decide everyday what do with my life. I am sitting in an empty office writing this while waiting for my paycheck to magically appear in my checking account.

Everyday is a beautiful fucked-up struggle between the fun of creating and imagining and the humdrum grunting of "making a living." Though I am thankful to be in school, finding myself with a steady paycheck (starting friday), and a place to "create," the Hamlet existential query dances in my noggin.

Because guess what, my fellow brokes, grad school don't guarantee nada but another fancy paper with squiggly lines and your name mounted on your parents' wall. You still gotta enlist in the work force. You still gotta pay the loans. You still gotta hustle for your art.

Just keeping it real. But who knows: maybe with the future collapse of our economic system, and the devaluing of the dollar,  the artist will be the one with something to offer that's cheap (free) and price-less...

Maybe then Hamlet will say: To sing, or not to sing, or dance, or write, or act, or (fill in your art).

That's the quest-ion.

forever Free,
B.A.S.A.

On the Broke Ass Road

hello my fellow brokes,

this is the Broke Ass Starving Artist reporting from the road, USA. Current location: Baltimore, MD. On my way back to school- hungry, of course. Just had a summer in NYC. I feel the city calling me back. But, School's payin' me. lol. go figure. This is a first for me: putting out my thoughts to you, my broke brothers and sisters.

DO you know when you find yourself on the edge of "What's next?" I just left New York City- the living breathing metrorganism, and headed back to the Capital, to school, to some kind of purgatory where it's kinda real life, but within the walls of Academia: the place of possible/maybes/almosts.

So, I'm signing off. Gonna fill my belly with H2O till I can get some cheap ass food to replace the ghostly gas.

forever Free,
B.A.S.A.