sort of backwards

sort of backwards,
the reverse of most people.
funneling my life into a filter,
untangling one knot at a time.
tuning it down.
trying harder for less.
i'm always too much,
it's always too much,
more,
alot,
excess,
strong,
passion,
loud,
extremes,
many
variety,
maximum,
overwhelming.
throwing away.
down-sizing
down
sizing.
down
sizing.
editing,
refining,
confining,
defining.
editing.
refining.
confining.
defining.
This period.
.
.
Here's a period
.
Here's an end.
No more commas,
just a period.
Be deliberate.
Edit.
Edit.
Some things of chaotic essence cannot be bound or restricted,
some things need to fly free.
We can keep trying.
i'll edit.
i'll edit.
i'll edit.
some things just need to be free.
free.
free.
free.

Ideograms

Ideograms speak of genetic codes or basic seeds of organization that respond to a demand for combined effectiveness and operativeness: to attain with the minimum element the largest quantity of bits of information in order to obtain the greatest possible cohesion between the whole and the particular such that one is reflected in the other.

-The Metapolis dictionary of advanced architecture

what brings us here

What brings us here
isn't so much where we are headed
insofar as our paths can collide,
it's more of where we are coming from.
We shared a path once before we ever knew what lay ahead.
We shared moments once, in the form of flickering lights,
that seemed to synchronize almost completely.
But off just the slightest, most melodic bit.
We might have even shared a joke once before,
before we ever met.
The kind where we both stood up to wave around our arms and speak through our bodies.
This might just be the part where we can laugh our heads off,
that might just be what brought us together.
We could have believed in each other,
we might just have to believe in each other,
this might just be it,
let's believe in each other.

nileppez del

And yesterday I saw you kissing tiny flowers,
But all that lives is born to die.
And so I say to you that nothing really matters,
And all you do is stand and cry.

i love this poem

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)
i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)
i want no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

-e e cummings

tears are silent

tears are silent,
no one can hear them,
strip away fears
as they roll down your face.
years are silent,
they close their eyes to the world,
and collect in puddles
only ever known,
unto yourself,
you've only ever known.

waiting is like searching

waiting is like searching for breath under water
waiting for you, counting every hour
for the moment when you'll nod and smile
whispers like the wind will carry us for miles
while in the dark we roam
hold my hand, let's go home

Crosses all over, heavy on your shoulders
The sirens inside you waiting to step forward
Disturbing silence darkens your sight
We'll cast some light and you'll be alright for now

Costa Rica, 2007
Cómo decir que me parte en mil
las esquinitas de mis huesos,
que han caído los esquemas de mi vida
ahora que todo era perfecto.
Y algo más que eso,
me sorbiste el seso y me decían del peso
de este cuerpecito mío
que se ha convertío en río.
de este cuerpecito mío
que se ha convertío en río.

Me cuesta abrir los ojos
y lo hago poco a poco,
no sea que aún te encuentre cerca.
Me guardo tu recuerdo
como el mejor secreto,
que dulce fue tenerte dentro.

Hay un trozo de luz
en esta oscuridad
para prestarme calma.
El tiempo todo calma,
la tempestad y la calma,
el tiempo todo calma,
la tempestad y la calma.

Siempre me quedará
la voz suave del mar,
volver a respirar la lluvia que caerá
sobre este cuerpo y mojará
la flor que crece en mi,
y volver a reír
y cada día un instante volver a pensar en ti.
En la voz suave del mar,
en volver a respirar la lluvia que caerá
sobre este cuerpo y mojará
la flor que crece en mi,
y volver a reír
y cada día un instante volver a pensar en ti.

Cómo decir que me parte en mil
las esquinitas de mis huesos,
que han caído los esquemas de mi vida
ahora que todo era perfecto.
Y algo más que eso,
me sorbiste el seso y me decían del peso
de este cuerpecito mío
que se ha convertío en río.
de este cuerpecito mío
que se ha convertío en río.

Siempre me quedará
la voz suave del mar,
volver a respirar la lluvia que caerá
sobre este cuerpo y mojará
la flor que crece en mi,
y volver a reír
y cada día un instante volver a pensar en ti.
En la voz suave del mar,
en volver a respirar la lluvia que caerá
sobre este cuerpo y mojará
la flor que crece en mi,
y volver a reír
y cada día un instante volver a pensar en ti.

Bebe.

Insanity

those moments when you've hit insanity, when you realize how lost you really are,

are your most human moments ever.

exposed.

Just as how perspective rules our existence,
perspective is our existence.
No matter where you stand or how you choose to see,
the way something appears cannot be duplicated through another's eyes
and solely has meaning based on who we are.
Battling the constant pressure of falling into sameness.
That fear of failing and the fear of doing wrong inhibits ones pure desires and actions.
By inhibiting and filtering the human mind, what one produces is a less individualistic piece of art.

Many times the inspiration we take from things is not pure. It rules how we excite and entertain our opinions due to it's already pervasive nature.
The end results, lackluster pieces, reflect not what the artist contrives or means to convey but may illustrate what their portrayal can articulate into, within a pop-culture driven, advertising corrupted society.

WORDS
We all associate words differently.
Language barriers pervade every conversation regardless the intellectual abilities of these persons. We can hear differently or obscurely, a word that is being meant to imply something else, because of our individual experiences. So really, is life a mixture of trying to decode and order and understand what already has been understood? We are a people who reproduce thoughts and ideas with our own twist because of how we perceive them to exist in our personal realities.

my God.

the fleeting discourse of nature

Everything tries to do something. It attempts something, it experiments along some parameters, and it eventually reaches some version of the final product it was in reach of.
Yet I don't think anything ever fully accomplishes doing what it intended or was innately driven on doing.
I guess that depends on what you mean by fully and what you mean by doing.
In any case, Flaws are ever present, since truth is ever changing.
What is it about truth that is ever changing and in flux?
The answer to that is another question:

What is it when things are true?

Where does truth come from and what does truth mean to us?
We base things on temporary ideas, built on premises of hypothesis and theory, and those premises of fact or experiment constantly change and evolve. The base of truth is always doubtable, questionable, corruptible. Yet truth is what we pivot our everyday lives around and what molds our conceptions of the environment.
What that tells me about the way things are presented to us in our world, cities and environments is that in a moment of realization one cannot lose sight of the possibility that what we conceive as truth is really not true at all. TRUTH is a figment of our imaginations.

What else?
Oh yess....
Since flaws are always present (because of truth being in constant flux) then presenting pseudo-matter, false information is more successful in nature than presenting truth.

Ok, now I'm just rambling...

sono vivere

The way things act and react reflects their nature, the inherent properties of their being. If the realm of cause and effect is universally governed by natural balance, then the source of that equilibrium must reside within the very architecture of existence.

selective sanity

Architecture has a resemblance to us.
It resembles something of the human scale, something that keeps us associated with our environment.

There is a problem.

As architecture begins to describe and define people, and become more inclusive of human conduct, the body, the form, we are less isolated. We are affected by every move, a slight drop in the height of a wall, a mere slot of light that washes you awake, a window placed carefully enough that it frames a special view from a particular position.

You wonder that when architecture begins to do something "new", something radical, something unforseen, unpredicted, and indefinite, what happens to us?

Can radical things begin to define us as radical people? Can we see, in ourselves, a reflection of something foreign that has begun to define our existence? How could humans potentially react to these effects psychologically and physically?

Could it be that the abnormal, radical things might give us our insanity back?
I suppose this would do us the biggest favor by tampering with our most natural faculties, with reason and conscience. If we our lucky, we may find sanity has been switched off and madness on. After all, the only real sane feeling one ever feels is the moment they are born, that rush of wind to their face as they make their very first sound ever in the arms of the one person most accountable for their creation, successes, failures and destruction. From then on one's goal must be to hit a point of insanity, rock-bottom nothingness, to ever feel real again. Hopefully not being cradled in the arms of their mother.

i'd rather give in to the wind, and dance and dance

i'm not as strong as you think i am

I left you heartbroken, but not until those very words were spoken
Has anybody ever made such a fool out of you
It's hard to believe it
Even as my eyes do see it
The very things that make you live are killing you
Listen when all of this around us'll fall over
I tell you what we're gonna do
You will shelter me my love
I will shelter you
-RL
______there are no outlines in life______________
Pasadena, Ca

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beauty through the dirty looking-glass
squinting didn't help,
but it worked out for the better..
Los Feliz, Ca
does my excitement in life shock you??





Playa Del Zuma, Ca

trans it

patterns that turn into your life.
corners that meet turn in, to your life.
walls that recede turn in, to your life.
floors that ascend, turn into your life.
if you read these lines right,
if you read what i don't mean to write,
they may turn in,
to your life.