A poem using no ascenders or descenders (b, d, f, g, h, j, k, l, p, t and y)
no anxiousness
in our seen semiconscious,
even as an over numerous
reconnaissance.
as we raise our consciousness
in a near cosmic canvas
we converse,
use um... excessive exercise
as a
worn worm won
a circumcision.
moreover i see raccoons as mimes
as viruses ooze over an enormous unicorn
in a universe unseen.
we murmur as women
never rise or crow in unison.
we
occur
in
music
Monday, February 18, 2013
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Monday, February 4, 2013
The Whole Thing Is A Mess
She left her house for five minutes to buy a box of saltines and now she's back and there it is. Pure mess. Ugly and twisted, kind of like the little piece of Voldemort that was living inside of Harry (when Harry died but not really and chilled out with Dumbledore in the end because you don't just kill off Dumbledore). But it's definitely something with no soul.
Perfectly frigid.
She doesn't really want to touch it and she certainly doesn't want to see it, so she throws a blanket on top of it. The one her ex man-boyfriend-plaything had given her. Cause it's smelly anyways. And she doesn't want it.
Now she has to walk past it every day to and from her work at the Jewish Community Center. She isn't really Jewish, and it isn't really a community center, so it works out ok. She calls it the Jewish Community Center JAIL. A nine to five JAIL. Covered in blankets. Cause she's bad at cleaning up messes. And she has had a lot of ex man-boyfriend-playthings. So it works out ok.
Her job isn't fun. She sits at a desk and talks to people about what activities the JAIL offers. Then she checks if they're Jewish. Most of them aren't. But she lets them in anyways because maybe something interesting will come of it.
She's bored. She turns in her swively chair, brown hair getting caught in her mouth. And in front of her is a blanket.
So she peeks, cause she can't remember what she had covered up before. And there was no mess. Only a sheet of paper.
And it said, "The Whole Thing Was A Mess"
Perfectly frigid.
She doesn't really want to touch it and she certainly doesn't want to see it, so she throws a blanket on top of it. The one her ex man-boyfriend-plaything had given her. Cause it's smelly anyways. And she doesn't want it.
Now she has to walk past it every day to and from her work at the Jewish Community Center. She isn't really Jewish, and it isn't really a community center, so it works out ok. She calls it the Jewish Community Center JAIL. A nine to five JAIL. Covered in blankets. Cause she's bad at cleaning up messes. And she has had a lot of ex man-boyfriend-playthings. So it works out ok.
Her job isn't fun. She sits at a desk and talks to people about what activities the JAIL offers. Then she checks if they're Jewish. Most of them aren't. But she lets them in anyways because maybe something interesting will come of it.
She's bored. She turns in her swively chair, brown hair getting caught in her mouth. And in front of her is a blanket.
So she peeks, cause she can't remember what she had covered up before. And there was no mess. Only a sheet of paper.
And it said, "The Whole Thing Was A Mess"
Monday, January 28, 2013
Amazon Review
Pleasurable for all, January 28, 2013
By
= Durability: = Fun: = Educational:
This review is from: Interactive Toy Concepts Radio - controlled Cooler (Toy)
I could tell that one day she'd had it. We were taking a walk outside and she just started an interaction with a man in the middle of the street. Well, 'interaction' is putting it lightly. She was basically drooling over the man, pushing herself up against him, all in front of ME! I don't know if was trying to make me jealous, but it worked.
The next day I came home with the Radio Controlled Cooler, desperate to try anything to save our relationship and hoping we could just have a little fun. She promptly just sat on top of it, daring me to use it. As I moved it back and forth around the living room and as it vibrated a little more each go-round she began to pant, at first faintly, but then more noticeably and I knew almost instantly what she wanted.
I crossed the room and, looking into her eyes, picked her up with my strong arms as she yelped a little. I brought her down to the kitchen floor and, as she lay there waiting, I filled a bowl of water and brought it to her, anticipating a long day of playing catch at the park.
Thank you mechanical cooler... thank you for reigniting my passion for my dog Rosie.
Monday, January 21, 2013
it's not all it's cracked up to be
She gave me back. That's all my dad ever told me about it.
I was born on the crest of a wave 20-odd years ago and given to the most tempestuous of women with little to no regard as to how it would affect my childhood. It'll be alright, everyone said... she'll grow up among the stars and have dolphins as playmates. She'll learn how to play the conch and braid seashells into her hair. She'll have the loveliest time and make the best of friends.
Bullshit.
Sounds like a dream don't it? But no one EVER thinks about how those Starfish form their own little cliques and won't let you play with them. Yeah, that's right, ever seen Mean Girls? I bet they were all raised by selfish Starfish that think that you're not good enough because you can't compare hydraulic systems with them. And the dolphins? Don't even get me started. Yeah, I'll admit that when I was a kid I had a few of them as friends but that didn't last long. Once Jimbo and Elroy hit puberty BAM! They started humping everything that moved (and a few things that didn't) and I am not about to start popping out baby dolphins. No way.
The conch is a foul instrument that sounds like dying elephants. A couple of seconds into my first lesson I realized that the snail that had promised to vacate his house for a few hours had forgotten. The progression of events that ensued were not pleasurable to me, or him, and we've agreed never to speak of it again. And, have you EVER tried to braid stinkin' seashells into your hair? No, you haven't, because anybody with common sense knows that they smell bad and can tangle very easily. I have had very many unfortunate haircuts in my life because of this.
Anyway, Sea decided to give me back, but not before naming me after herself (selfish bitch). I would have been happy with a Jane or Rose, but no, she named me Mar. In Spanish. Neptune only knows why.
I was born on the crest of a wave 20-odd years ago and given to the most tempestuous of women with little to no regard as to how it would affect my childhood. It'll be alright, everyone said... she'll grow up among the stars and have dolphins as playmates. She'll learn how to play the conch and braid seashells into her hair. She'll have the loveliest time and make the best of friends.
Bullshit.
Sounds like a dream don't it? But no one EVER thinks about how those Starfish form their own little cliques and won't let you play with them. Yeah, that's right, ever seen Mean Girls? I bet they were all raised by selfish Starfish that think that you're not good enough because you can't compare hydraulic systems with them. And the dolphins? Don't even get me started. Yeah, I'll admit that when I was a kid I had a few of them as friends but that didn't last long. Once Jimbo and Elroy hit puberty BAM! They started humping everything that moved (and a few things that didn't) and I am not about to start popping out baby dolphins. No way.
The conch is a foul instrument that sounds like dying elephants. A couple of seconds into my first lesson I realized that the snail that had promised to vacate his house for a few hours had forgotten. The progression of events that ensued were not pleasurable to me, or him, and we've agreed never to speak of it again. And, have you EVER tried to braid stinkin' seashells into your hair? No, you haven't, because anybody with common sense knows that they smell bad and can tangle very easily. I have had very many unfortunate haircuts in my life because of this.
Anyway, Sea decided to give me back, but not before naming me after herself (selfish bitch). I would have been happy with a Jane or Rose, but no, she named me Mar. In Spanish. Neptune only knows why.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
About Me
My name is Mar Trujillo. Mar, like 'sea' in Spanish and Trujillo, like the evil dictator (no relation). I am currently in my last semester of my undergraduate life and will end with a degree in Music Performance and in English Writing. What will I be doing with said degrees you ask?
Well, who the hell knows.
All I know is that I hope to be working in Special Education... or maybe as a behavioral therapist, or an interventionist. I would also like to publish a book. That being said, I enjoy writing poetry and short stories, I speak Spanish as fluently, if not more so, than English and really have enjoyed the hell out of all my traveling experiences.
Well, who the hell knows.
All I know is that I hope to be working in Special Education... or maybe as a behavioral therapist, or an interventionist. I would also like to publish a book. That being said, I enjoy writing poetry and short stories, I speak Spanish as fluently, if not more so, than English and really have enjoyed the hell out of all my traveling experiences.
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