Friday, April 17, 2015


did you hear me crying?
did you hear me weeping?
did you hear me sobbing?
did you hear me wailing?
did you hear me choking?
did you hear me mourning?
did you hear me sorrowful?

aaawww ma!?!? please don't make me go!?!? please don't make me get up!?!? please don't make me face the world!?!? please just give me a few hours curled up here in my depressive warmth!?!? aaawww ma!?!? can you bring me some food when you come visit!?!? can you bring the boys to hold me in a sick role reversal!?!? can you tell da i'm sorry!?!? can you ever forgive me!?!? can you understand it is only shame, regret, failure that keeps me dressed down in hospital gowns shuffling through long lonesome corridors wrapped up tight in a blanket i will steal before discharge!?!?

did you know i hate myself?
did you know i only wanted to make you proud?
did you know i knew when you disapproved?
did you know this really is harder on me than you?
did you know i can only take so much?
did you know i know you broke down too?
did you know if i could change i would?

aaawww daddy!?!? please make the call for me!?!? please be the one to announce where i am, again!?!? please tell me this too shall pass!?!? please reach out from beyond to embrace me by the nurses station as i catch my breath hiccuping on my own remorse!?!? aaawww daddy!?!? can you save me one more time!?!? can you set back the clocks to change your mind!?!? can you leave me a few millions so i can be eccentric rather than crazy!?!? can you hear me!?!?

did you know?
did you comprehend?
did you care?
did you listen?
did you hear?
did you understand?
did you sympathize?

aaawww!?!? man!?!? damn!?!? shit!?!? fuck!?!? here we go again!?!? there she goes again!?!? eva and cherokee with their feelings after the war!?!? soldiers saluting the masses out on the tarmac!?!? torn uniforms faded from washings and line dryings in the back yard!?!? incoherent ramblings in line for seroquel, valium, lithium, medical marijuana, junk, cheap beers!?!? drunk on your love!?!? drunk on my own power!?!? drawn to the devil!?!? drawn to the saviors!?!? sifting through old letters delivered after the troops have gone home!?!? drunk on cases of you!?!? melted hearts torn apart at third world country airports where the guards machine gun points into your face as he fumbles to read your printed e ticket!?!? lazy fans turning slowly!?!? famines, droughts, orphans, chipped nails, muggy sewers, foreign jokes, lost in translation, all of these feelings after the war!?!? all of these eva's and cherokee's and their feelings after the war!?!?
© Eva El Beze April 17, 2015

Thursday, April 16, 2015

NaPoWriMo 2015 day 16 poem 16: RAIN

what if i run outside drenching myself in the cold drops falling from the sky.

who's sky?

god's sky?

what if i run naked sliding through the mud making myself slippery, eluding your grasp, blending into the dirt, the earth, the bushes, hiding in ruins, sleeping in caves and when the thunderstorm begins anew i can crawl out laying myself spread eagle to be washed clean, to trudge home where no one knows i am a wildebeest galloping across imaginary plains.

what if i sleep on the balcony tonight shivering in solidarity with all the people who have no home to warm up in?

who deserves warmth?

jesus's warmth?

i can wave to the people walking down the street and perplex them, give them something to tell their loved ones when they get home about a strange woman living on a balcony, in the rain, teeth chattering from discipline and all along, ( guess what? ) all she had to do was step back inside.

can you imagine?

who's imagination?

i can become a drop in the ocean riding waves from the coast of india, to the coast of california, up into oregon, out to manhattan, across to the middle east where i can blend in with some grade A uranium from good ol' soldier boys and that uranium can mix with my ocean and surf me to the niger delta where i can mix with exxon sludge and then turn back into a politician laughing when i receive letters of the deformities, cancers, birth defects, sicknesses we have left behind.

want democracy?

american democracy?

what if I wring my clothes out after that first drenching.

poor peoples clothes?

salvations clothes?

what if i take you with me and we travel to every corner of the world that has a monsoon, a rainy season, months of inside time hoping the electricity does not cut out and when it does we have nothing left to do but fuck, shiver, fuck again, hope it's a short spell.

who's rain?

our rain?

© Eva El Beze April 16, 2015

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

NaPoWriMo 2015 day 15 poem 15: relationships

i don't know when sorry became too little too late. i don't know when standing outside and staring in was supposed to be good enough.

i don't know when we became too much for you. i don't know the moment you realized you made a mistake and should have snuck out when you first heard the news we were coming.

i don't know why i thought i could provide for, nurture, lead two souls when mine is so irrevocably lost. i don't know why i strayed so far from the path and why i took them with me.

i don't know for how much longer i can continue like this. waves of silence pounding down on me crushing me into the bed until i fall fitfully asleep waking up with dried tears on my face and the taste of sorrow in the back of my throat.

i don't know how we went from moving the mattress onto the floor to quiet our creaking and moaning to barely speaking. i don't know what happened to the clever village boy who thought to warm the milk before adding it to the cornflakes but now can't be bothered to call out hello across the oceans.

i don't know what i want. how i want it. when i want it. i don't know IF i want it anymore.

i don't know when i decided men are all the same. lying. cheating. womanizing. i don't know how to raise my two without burdening them with my hang ups.

i don't know what it is about you. why it is you who has the medicine i seem to need. why it is you i can't quit.

i don't know why i'm always the junkie incognito posing as a real human being. i don't know why i can't be happy with getting fucked, i always seem to need to get fucked over.

i don't know when sorry became so hard to say. my stubbornness isolates me but i just don't know.

i don't know when i decided i can't do any better.

i don't know, i don't know, i don't know, i don't know.

© Eva El Beze April 15, 2015

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

NaPoWriMo 2015 day 14 poem 14: LOVE BRAND

love prisons.

love love.

love religion.

love music.

love cops.

love politics.

love voting.

love racism.

love murder.

love betrayal.

love secrets.

love lies.

love fashion.

love fakers.

love fame.

love truth.

love war.

love history.

love drugs.

love pedophiles.

love work.

love corporations.

love beliefs.

love fighting.

love relationships.

love abortion.

love HIV.

love cancer.

love death.

love life.

love disease.

love rape.

love consent.

love you.

love me.

love us.

love humanity.

love monsanto.

love meat.

love governments.

love money.

love banks.

love presidents.

love borders.

love memories.

love america.

love france.

love continents.

love politicians.

love christ.

love god.

love abuse.

love prostitution.

love television.

love media.

love violence.

love peace.

love forgetting.

love childhood.

love seniority.

love humans.

love discovery.

love columbus.

love jackson.

love disfunction.

love reality.

love earth.

love off.

love out.

love courage.

love bravery.

love cowards.

love denial.

love beats.

love bruises.

love rigs.

love hospitals.

love formula.

love trash.

love pollution.

love satellites.

love drones.

love gasoline.

love water.

love cleanliness.

love beaches.

love forests.

love earth.

love mars.

love science.

love bibles.

love qurans.

love torahs.

love bhagavad gitas.

love patriarchy.

love women.

love children.

love treaties.

love friendship.

love slavery.

love trafficking.

love sunset.

love sunrise.

love today.

love tonight.

love futures.

love marketing.

love nestle.

love coca cola.

love nike.

love coachella.

love how weird.

love transplants.

love techies.

love hipsters.

love republicans.

love democrats.

love ballots.

love this.

love that.

love brand......

© Eva El Beze April 14, 2015

Monday, April 13, 2015

NaPoWriMo 2015 day 13 poem 13: DIRT

i used to drag you under my finger nails just so i would know where you were. how you got there. i wanted to be slightly less confused why my hands looked like a long day of gardening when the mushrooms had already been picked, digested.

i used to wake up face down in your cold stench hoping you were not lingering in my mouth from the night before. when my body gave into intoxication and free fell out into nothing. falling to escape petty problems, sobriety, hopelessness. i fell hoping to not get up again.

i used to wait until the rain came, mingling with you, leaving behind big muddy puddles to stumble through as i tripped over the force of good dope. i would wait until you had been washed from the doorways and dried out again so i could lay my weary head on sparkling clean concrete.

i used to play with you in my yard on folsom street. i didn't have many friends. maybe you did not want to be mine either but where could you go. what could you do as i turned you into a mud pie to bake alone in the sun. lonely as i was. lonely as all.

i used to wish i could be you. simply there. simply simple. i would have gladly waited for the people. for the rains. for the lonely girls who came to play.

© Eva El Beze April 13, 2015

Sunday, April 12, 2015

NaPoWriMo day 12 poem 12: FUCK BRAND

fuck prisons.

fuck love.

fuck religion.

fuck music.

fuck cops.

fuck politics.

fuck voting.

fuck racism.

fuck murder.

fuck betrayal.

fuck secrets.

fuck lies.

fuck fashion.

fuck fakers.

fuck fame.

fuck truth.

fuck war.

fuck history.

fuck drugs.

fuck pedophiles.

fuck work.

fuck corporations.

fuck beliefs.

fuck fighting.

fuck relationships.

fuck abortion.

fuck HIV.

fuck cancer.

fuck death.

fuck life.

fuck disease.

fuck rape.

fuck consent.

fuck you.

fuck me.

fuck us.

fuck humanity.

fuck monsanto.

fuck meat.

fuck governments.

fuck money.

fuck banks.

fuck presidents.

fuck borders.

fuck memories.

fuck america.

fuck france.

fuck continents.

fuck politicians.

fuck christ.

fuck god.

fuck abuse.

fuck prostitution.

fuck television.

fuck media.

fuck violence.

fuck peace.

fuck forgetting.

fuck childhood.

fuck seniority.

fuck humans.

fuck discovery.

fuck columbus.

fuck jackson.

fuck disfunction.

fuck reality.

fuck earth.

fuck off.

fuck out.

fuck courage.

fuck bravery.

fuck cowards.

fuck denial.

fuck beats.

fuck bruises.

fuck rigs.

fuck hospitals.

fuck formula.

fuck trash.

fuck pollution.

fuck satellites.

fuck drones.

fuck gasoline.

fuck water.

fuck cleanliness.

fuck beaches.

fuck forests.

fuck earth.

fuck mars.

fuck science.

fuck bibles.

fuck qurans.

fuck torahs.

fuck bhagavad gitas.

fuck patriarchy.

fuck women.

fuck children.

fuck treaties.

fuck friendship.

fuck slavery.

fuck trafficking.

fuck sunset.

fuck sunrise.

fuck today.

fuck tonight.

fuck futures.

fuck marketing.

fuck nestle.

fuck coca cola.

fuck nike.

fuck coachella.

fuck how weird.

fuck transplants.

fuck techies.

fuck hipsters.

fuck republicans.

fuck democrats.

fuck ballots.

fuck this.

fuck that.

fuck brand......

© Eva El Beze April 12, 2015

Saturday, April 11, 2015

NaPoWriMo day 11 poem 11: JUDITH MALINA

you came to san francisco to perform in the tenderloin. we went up onto the roof for you to smoke a joint with hannon and my parents. maybe even my brother took a puff. ma says you invited all of us up onto the stage at one point and someone in the audience who my mother worked for was so impressed.

i grew up with all of your stories. the ones you told and the ones about you. what a shock to wake to the news that you have traveled to next.

there goes my dream to write a stage play with you. there goes my dream to discuss the nuances the camera could not capture in signal through the flames. there goes one dimension of life transforming into another.

they say there is no such a thing as death. only different levels of life. different experiences of life and the confusion lies with those of us who are still experiencing this level. maybe, but i know how those closest to you will feel different. i know how it is to share the most private person in your life with an entire world who did not know them. who only trailed behind hoping to be brought into the fold.

you began your journey into the bardo today. you left this aspect behind, inconsequential as it is. my mom sat at the kitchen table crying. i thought of your children and hoped they are weathering the storm as well as one can. i thought how sad another revolutionary has gone, taking her infectious courage with her.

long live the living!

© Eva El Beze April 11, 2015