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g0d bl3 the dead skip to main skip to sidebar g0d bl3 the dead saturday march 20 2010 how i came to be down there is an altar standing in a hallway it s him surrounded by virgencitas and velas at dinner big sleepy was kind and spoke of a book we both had read a book i knew from school farmworkers and pesticides and peaches laying together on floorboards two bodies clasped together like hands in prayer and the papeles guarded by the glovebox perplexed his camarada a vato whom he s known for almost as long as i ve been alive allows his brows to reveal his consternation that night was the first time i d eaten parrillada it was the first time i d worn a suit the first time i d been to olvera street never mind 3 a m never mind the boulders and the train in the hallway i will later learn it was patricio peering up at me was i down enough did i know what i was getting into did i know how badly all of this could end but it s what transpires on the bed that spares me each piece of his drapes has been lain out the pants flat and neatly tucked the tie and estirantes doubled over as if from exhaustion the vest and chain and saco ready to go home at the edge of the bed he sits in boxers and tall socks and a white shirt and the discourse of so many tattoos trying to make themselves heard a plastic cleaner s bag crinkles because he has removed his shoes and after wiping the black down with a cloth has placed them in their box here let me help you he goes already he has gathered my coat when he reaches to unsnap these estirantes i clutch like trucha about my pecho c s posted by mr sl33pwalk3r at 6 29 am 14 comments friday march 19 2010 monte carlo for a torcido outside a southside cantina and i though furious am huffing as i ve run six bold blocks gold spackled in a patina across jaw and tooth and septum am five again and curious again and it s the torcido alone at the far end of the bar with the marvelous bigote and the jesucristo tattoos and the black monte carlo of my boyhood breathing heavily from a chrome pipe all the while glints of 2x4s and giants and the slickness of my scalp seen in those side panel doors and i ve peeked in that door before cousin ernesto putting his dick shaft into the rim of a gatorade bottle father on top of a woman who wasn t my mother a silver chain belonging to a lover s trick left at my sink to see things i shouldn t look at after having bolted out my fair avenue canton hurdling six city blocks thinking only of that torcido the veins of his forearms and his thorns and huffing old tinta like a maniaco out of the bote posted by mr sl33pwalk3r at 6 06 am no comments wednesday march 17 2010 guayaberas in my closet they hung like spirits six of them i remember the black one and the blue one because those he wore most i remember the brown one because it matched his favorite tapa and the beige one because i have a photo of us after church leaning in on the hood of a green ranfla and he s wearing it in that foto i m holding a superman monito and the jonque behind us is gnarled metal a jungle of dead shit and the white one i recall only because it s the one my tia reynita gave to me when he died and my moms and me virtue of my blood wasn t invited to his burial posted by mr sl33pwalk3r at 12 11 pm no comments saturday february 20 2010 men blur there were ice chests to lift and muscles to grapple with cliffs as well men stream muscles and haloes and blur horseshoes and triceps muscles that knot in august the white ball above a furious blot plot high will shimmer enough as to cause the emerald to soon lose half its volume on boats tethered together like dogs out for a stroll men blur boats stall gyrations hollering inebriations locking mouths together as underfed fish to hooks lips find nooks in muscle that has turned colors like leaves disintegrating into stubble men blur on this choppy sheet of green men float and blur that emerald misshapen murky thing an irregular watery gem whose cut none other may mimic illuminates my trek then from the cover of thistle where after giving time with j we are cuffed and dragged off by police indecencies and an aching overtakes my foot it all blurs house job colleagues only the jag of limestone knows this aching part of the foot posted by mr sl33pwalk3r at 6 47 pm no comments the pit bull and the fingerprint clambering among the freeways i am barefoot and without my ride asphalt on either side of me the awful parting that has occurred on the inside of my mouth has morphed unglazed summoning an explication summoning a fat tongue or a prick i have something here pillars and pilgrimages to the grey colossus bridging the body and wind and back to the ferris wheel pier where that box of bones blew away so many mays ago suddenly sullenly these fixtures have become more fitting more tactile more unguent than leaving behind these lofty things things like horizons that spill sunlight into the gossamer foams of the gulf whilst monstrous pit bulls lead pelons and part the orangest depths of port street rhomboid muscles and thick wings bulge into daft clouds like those of buffaloes and hellhounds and their dickies clad owners nod chins wipe sweat with creased white toallas supple fingers invitingly caress scalps and scapulars and a pelon smirks with the whole half of his mouth demon clown creeper sleepy big smokey mosco casper i have something here and i ve tucked it like a coin just beneath the sternum just between the lungs and my loins and i am bound to run the gamut of disease unthinking my faults my foes my feet and i ve found that smallest chamber of laying back on the bare colchon of my homeboy s canton to an open throat and good brains and this is the coin that can run me and ruin me and return me to good times and with this new knowledge i am bound to hone the huge bone of a clown s fingerprint smudged on the dashboard of my silverado fixed like teeth marks onto the silvery torso of my art laboe collection and my guadalupe clamped about my throat i have something it is the foil crushed inconspicuously into a sofa cushion a real crystalline skyline a night without ice i have something this belongs to us i once was told of a house a barrio a room that did not proffer much else but a deep throat thoughts of the past and the promise of a payasito s penance posted by mr sl33pwalk3r at 6 29 pm 1 comment pit bulls the tall fence does not exist when i vault over it dollar store laundry basket in tow and land undetected in nike chanclas basketball shorts and a mushroom head of dust at 6 38 a m on a saturday in may 2008 the sun giant orb already blaring on top of this raggedy backyard on the near westside of town jeopardizing our intent and huffing fuckin hurry joe while accounting for seven of what once had been nine pups my lover hoisted the rickety black bed liner of a truck which had served as a purported shelter for the dogs safely in our possession we already had the mama pit after a week of feeding her on the sly cruelly she d been tied to this fence the chokehold of a rope tether cutting deeply into her neck flesh hence the seventeen unanswered calls to city animal control the emails shot to the news stations regarding animal cruelty and neglect the famous councilwoman s special request after viewing the skin and bones of cruelty revealed by the disturbing pics i forwarded the owner had moved her tie so that the dog couldn t even with the most formidable efforts of her neck muscle reach the food and water bowls we d stashed for her in the overgrown alley god bless you a handwritten sign left behind on a discarded food wrapper placed beside a mound of her vomit had read the day prior warily the dog feasted on kibble and regurgitated a mush of what her twenty two pound frame couldn t manage and frequently she peered upward contemplating perhaps the fates of her seven remaining babies not to mention the intents of these two bald tattooed men who were either saving or pilfering her offspring while fending off with daily advocacy and early morning fence jumping her own imminent death by starvation firmly over my 5 7 shoulders so that i could pluck each flea infested pup bellies rotund and eyes squeezed shut placing each tiny body in the tightened confines of this white plastic receptacle functioning now with a bath towel as a makeshift crib the whole time thinking to myself maybe they re gonna wake up suddenly and think i m jacking their fifty bucks a pop in the walmart parking lot commodities the rest of us know as pups and shoot my ass dead how would ksat 12 report that shit fuck almost missed one there in the corner by that old ass upturned sofa and throughout the day i keep creeping back peering apprehensively through slats in the wood of our fence to see if i could locate the two pups we d counted previously which now were vanished later we decided to call this brave one monster due to his gargantuan size and this white headed one ling ling because of her mestiza eyes this one lil sid with his pronounced dome head and then sweet p and rat big cooter and finally krunk lil evaine the mama bully we named kimora and one night while my lover slept she crept her slight frame up onto the hueco of our bed nuzzled up child like between his chest and mine and sighed a hard ass hard life sigh i knew then we d keep her as our own posted by mr sl33pwalk3r at 5 45 pm no comments monday february 15 2010 clorox in the long lineage of ribs boneless ribs containing cotton but no cartilage to which connects no sternum no clavicle no ligament of heart or lung then this pair of chucks folded over and accompanied by tallboy calsitenes chones a wifebeater loaned or left behind don t matter when observing one s tio shine and his homeboy shine and that fine ass vato in the blue cutty at the car wash shine and your jefa s old school dude shine and your homegirl s brother guicho shine so firme so fine one s homeboy crease down so fine then this pair of tongues that whisper this way asinita bro posted by mr sl33pwalk3r at 3 43 pm no comments hanging bed sheets that man you re fighting with he called tonight while you re tugging shoestrings off the skinny clotheslines of a trailer park childhood and peculiarity bloats the ombligo of sky beneath the cackle of splintery electric poles and tweaked out clowns swapping bumps beneath stars that droop like bolts of sweat you re pinching salt near eyelids and sponging boot prints off your cheek and haphazardly the man inside me is wiping scuff marks from floorboards where the dancing occurred in thunderstorms and nightmares my abuelo used to strip our beds and hang the bed sheets stained and fending off impotency over all the mirrors of the house other nights he d clamber up the roof and piss a golden pain as we d all switch off turns attempting to coax him back to bed and that s how i learned to hang bed sheets in front of mirrors that man you re fighting with he called tonight posted by mr sl33pwalk3r at 3 27 pm no comments friday february 12 2010 sleepy and the rock 1993 a memory i lost but now have found see this rock perched between stout fingers a homeboy shows off the rock and i check the shit out like it s fucking magic what he holds in the sandpaper that is a hand this rock ain t shit he goes til i put my arm behind it guey and then shit watcha watch what this little bitch can do intrigue flutters wild gilded eyes i m doubled over a day before valentine s torpedoing and a soft whistle across overgrown yard and a gate that won t shut shattering a toothless window to an old house that s empty now except for the imprints of tecatos who shoot endless brown there and fuck and nod off and stave off life now i m watching that rock seeing it spin watchando huffing still sleepy grabbing on me and dissolving seeing it bring shit down he goes life fucks up fast manito i ain t huffing no more the sting that overwhelmed my lungs dissipates i m following a homeboy who has sped ahead of me on a rigged up ten speed a homeboy who swallows from a tallboy schaefer as he pedals and will put a mouth on me in the dreams that keep me company when everyone else has failed the sun is hot like fuck the eyes of la vecina fisgona swarm around me and the trains howl like dogs my breathing gaffs desire stifles amongst so many locusts and then rises up again like perhaps maybe when sleep invites me to kick back at his pad this shit might really happen all the cards fall into place finally but they don t and instead i m here chasing smashing open another beer i don t want always chasing the shit that i can never get posted by mr sl33pwalk3r at 5 59 pm no comments older posts home subscribe to posts atom low low colchon 2005 blog archive 2010 12 march 3 how i came to be downthere is an altar standing in monte carlofor a torcido outside a southside canti guayaberas in my closet they hung like spirits february 6 january 3 2009 27 december 3 november 6 october 4 september 4 july 2 may 1 april 1 march 3 february 1 january 2 2008 25 december 1 november 2 october 9 september 3 august 1 july 1 june 1 may 2 april 1 march 2 february 1 january 1 2007 20 december 1 november 2 october 2 august 2 july 1 june 2 may 1 april 1 march 2 february 5 january 1 2006 22 december 3 november 1 october 2 september 5 august 2 july 7 june 2 about mr sl33pwalk3r view my complete profile gente my blog list dino foxx fast cash loans bad credit ditch water ghosts
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