Monday, August 29, 2005
I think my statement of intent for this semester will have to do with that. Developing the seer gift. It probably sounds more spectacular than what my work will look like. I'm just going to wait on God for an image pertaining to someone, or group of people, or city or general population and then sketch what I see, peicing together direct images and images produced by phrases that come to mind. If it sounds confusing, this is kind of new to me too. I'll be learning more, and my practice begins tomorrow.
Posted by Enrique at 12:18 AM
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Sunday, August 21, 2005
Posted by Enrique at 3:55 PM
Saturday, August 20, 2005
In the night I stopped to film this video of a waterfall. Watch it by clicking here. This is suppose to be artsy and poetic so if you don't feel goosebumps yet. Well, go watch something on TV like on that women's channel...lifetime.
Posted by Enrique at 12:56 AM
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
There is a voice divided, or is it a war collided? Civility with blood. Will it come to this? A river serpents kiss. The torch of wrathful God. The evil or confused men. Dying, fighting for the truth, fighting for justice. Divided by the ax between my eyes. I must learn to walk again and get rid of this limp. Will it come to this? War and guns and threats and judges, will brother once again kill brother. A war divided, no evil's chided, until the bell rings and round two procedes. Pawns and kings gripped my noble and wicked things. Our hearts are not our own, but owned my what we worship, and we will die for what we worship. And we will die for what we kill for. Our freedom to kill. Our freedom to die.
Posted by Enrique at 12:17 AM
I will sit and seek. Meekness to breathe and still. I will draw the poison from my mind, blood and lungs. There is a big enough sky for me to breate in. Drink water and live, purge out the clogging fats. I want to feel rested and know tomorrows hopes without anxious fear. So I will still and seek, until I find your face and find my breath. Clean my mind, cool the heat and purge my blood.
Posted by Enrique at 12:13 AM
Temptation lurks like sugar on my tongue, tasty morsels. Snares lure me in and catch me to skin me and roast me. Temptations. Men and women do not give in, fight away the noise and pleasure that are killing us. You are stronger and more noble than your goofy grin. I believe there is a doorway, a way out. I believe there is another side to go to. Let’s shout, whether in colors or songs or plaid pants. Please turn the tides. Gay marriage stands abortions the man. Movies they teach me more that we know so there I go. Turtles with shells, slimy with moss. Sunbathe and dry out to harden your shell. Fire within hold me steady in this tide of nakedness and desires. Listen to the voice within. Do not ignore it anymore and slap your face to wake up, or slap your face because you did it again. You choose. Choose to fight. There has to be a way out. It’s not as big as he makes it out to be. There is freedom. Tidal turn-around. Fear of God, love of God. Eject the current tapes and put in the new CDs.
Posted by Enrique at 12:11 AM
Saturday, August 13, 2005
My eyes into a TV see nothing. My brain into the static plain die, and I giggle at a joke and didn’t notice my life choked. What? What is going on? Where was I? Hmmm…Did I miss anything?
My friends they sing, my friends they write, my friends they play music and change the world as they bury themselves in holes. Perhaps in graves we will again be lights and glow like satellites.
Flow like a torrent and wash this land. Take out the trash of broken logs and limbs. Did I miss trash day? Hi you. Yes you. Boo Who you too. It’s time to see. So doors open heart let’s be.
God is a big word that no one can spell. It eludes our fingers and tongues. It’s but a band-aid to a terrible cave where no one returns from once they enter. Where are those who have gone before?
We blend coffee filters on the net. We find grime under our finger nails and chew on them. I remember a pure star that the man and you spit on and speared me. You took my faith. He took my faith through you. And now we are slave brothers betraying each other so as to not feel alone, or stupid.
Yes, you are a saint, saint who will blow up nations with atomic bombs and earthquakes. What a thrilling rollercoaster ride as nations die in suffering fire and blood. We will all have a message for us.
Macaroni chains and Elmer’s glue, awkward classroom introductions and untied Reebok Wal-mart wannabe shoes that look plastic not leather. I am Mexican. I eat beans. My mom makes tortillas. I look at you down the mopped shiny hall floor. They all went to the dance. Bon Jovi played our favorite song, never say good bye. It meant more to me than cheese. But of course we know better now don’t we. We can see past it all now. Lung cancer has made us wiser now. We don’t dance anymore. We don’t dance any more. You don’t dance anymore. I want to dance more. I must and do dance, dance more and breath deep and pump again.
Shame doesn’t work on pastors and teachers of the word. Songs that clap don’t make me die. Songs that clap like ice cream trucks. Like baby blankets without blood only snuggly soft. Dirt Blood Smoke and Semen this is my altar and eye. And mind. And hands and toes and hands and legs.
Rivers of streets hot like black roads. Keyholes ignored. Key holes swallowed and lost inside your mind. I have a key but the key hole is lost inside my mind. Mexicans in Washington DC are beautiful dancers. Idolatrous buildings shoot demons into my home.
My heart is like a church but inside out. Inside out is my church that looks like my heart on the Christian Channel on the floor in Hawaii. Follow me. I used to think I was a messenger until I had a message that I owned and lost in a life to live. I used to think I could save you until my finger found a home in my heart and life in my families eyes that bleed into the pipes across the city. I use to know that I knew, now I know that I am truly troubled and you need to be too.
Headlines are now inside this verse. It’s worse that the better you heard and now I hope you dance like Quail . Why is the gun so mad at the animal I eat? Why do we need guns? I want to be dangerous enough to hurt you. I want to be strong enough to stop you. Stay away from me and Stay away from me and stay away from me and stay away from me and stay away from me and stay away from me.
Posted by Enrique at 1:01 AM
Friday, August 12, 2005
Thursday, August 11, 2005
We then stopped at Cabela's and looked at the stuffed animals and bow's and gun's. It was kinda thrilling and scary to see so many people looking at gun's. I kept thinking "these people could kill me, I hope they like me". There were some huge pistols. I played a shooting game with tokens. I tried to share the game with Mattie but I think I hogged it.
It's night and I'm walking around San Marcos. I stopped into Pete's Coffee House to use their free wireless. I updoaded 100 photos on www.flickr.com you can follow the picture link to get to them. There are plenty of pictures of Zechariah on there.
There is a guy playing those tiny hawaian guitars and singing. He sounds like the violent femmes. So I guess they play live music here. It's open mic night. He's pretty good.
I'm going to pray and stretch in the park now and will soon go home afterwards.
Posted by Enrique at 10:11 PM