Friday, August 31, 2007

My Star Trek Women

Yes, I am a Star Trek nerd. Judge me if you must, but I am willing to admit it. So my deep fascination with Star Trek and my odd, yet slightly kinky-perverse attraction to the women of Star Trek got me thinking. What is it about these alien-babes that makes my warp core omit a tackion pulse, which then leads to an un-authorized launch out of my cargo bay?

For the sake on my sanity and preference, I am going to stick to futuristic foxy ladies of Star Trek: the Next Generation and Voyager. Welcome to my Nerdom!

Counselor Deanna Troi

I sense she is a hot lay. I always had a thing for the TNG Batazoid. I like that she sensed things and could feel things intensely. She always knew when they were in trouble...though usually after they had been shot at! I wonder if she could feel that it wasn't Riker between her thighs (her Imzadi!), when she was bangin' his accidentally created, DNA twin brother!? You get your play DT! Deanna Troi had some hot tits and a nice ass for a white girl. There must be some credit given to the fact that she had to wear the "no-rank/no-repect" uniform for many seasons. But man, her sket-arella outfits, made me one happy nerd (0:

Lt. Tasha Yar

Fuck the blob monster! She was taken too soon and too young! Then we had to be haunted by images of her, through her DNA twin, evil, Romulan Empire collaborating, hot sister. I had a appreciation of this hot security officer. Why you ask? I shall tell you. There is something about a woman and a phaser gun, combined with a light spanking that made me wake up inside. Her hair flirted with my early “lesbionic” fantasies of dykes. That was some serious dyke hair. Throw me in the brig! PUNISH ME, Tasha Yar! Gone to soon.

Ensign Ro

Who cares about her first name. Again, clearly another dyke and a naughty Maquee, with rebel Bijoran blood too! This is a package of wholesome-wickedness! I liked her firm attitude (dykeyness) and her "oh so tribal" earring. One sided...(too dykie). She was clearly a power-top and she would give it you with mad strap-on styles, or until you could not bare anymore. I just liked her pure stankness and her indifference to everyone. Word up.

Anyka Hansen (7 of 9)

Hot, hot, hot, hot. In many of my visions I have dreamt of being smothered by her breasts into a content, yet unconscious state. That outfit was pure porn for the future. Yeah baby! Her hot, mono-tone voice, banging body and “inability to comprehend foolish human sentiment” made her the cream of the crop. Half human, half borg. Amen. I love you 7.

Luteniant B’Lanna Torres

Wanted: Hot Klingon that likes to bite. I can always appreciate some biting. She was the kind of girl that would smack you down if you messed with her. Is this a bad thing?? That is for you to decide, you perverse sodomite! Clearly, the make-up sex would be the bomb with this half human/half Klingon woman of fire! BT had a hard Klingon exterior and a soft warm, human insides. Uh hum. She just needed hugs and most of the women I know. But her can do attitude and her smart talk as ships Engineer made her hot to handle. Congrats, Tom Paris, for making her into your baby mama!

Honourable Mentions:

The Hot Klingon Sisters: Lursa and B’Tor

Now we are talking--hot tata's all up in my face! Pass me a glass of blood wine. Pure duttyness, these Duras Sisters! Imagine getting tag teamed by this pair? They had a fighting spirit and a scent for the sexy time! I like them cause they emanated sex appeal is some foreign, and grotesque way. A session with these ladies would lead to a few black eyes, a sore ass and a locked jaw. That could be one of the best nights of my life.

Doctor Beverly Crusher

I did not really want to shag her, but she had cool hair and a fierce attitude! She forgave Jean-Luc for sending dear hubby, Jack away on the away mission that killed him. That is inner peace people! Her ability to rock her turquoise coloured doctor coat was always enduring to me. Her denial that her son, Wesley, was a flaming homo made me want to send her to sick bay to have a scan done on her brain. Like, hello!! However, our BC did possess a impeccable bedside manner. Respect, BC.

Commander Tepal, from Star Trek: Enterprise

Hot. Just hot. One hellz of a sexy, non-emotional woman. Again, I have known many, but she is the ideal.

The Borg Queen
The hottest and baddest, real bitch I know. You handle that collective and show them who is boss! Oh mama! I just can’t help it. I like the way she flirts with her strive for perfection and total annihilation of knowledge and culture. Don’t stand in her way, or she will assimilate your irrelevant and imperfect, human ass!
I need a woman like that.

Now I am going to go play video games, masturbate to porn and fuck a blow up doll.

The Light

Just like you...I get lonely too.
Just like you...I want to find my true place in the world, leave a peace of my legacy in mind and heart.
Just like you...I surrender to the glory of daylight, the caress of the sun's beams.

Just like you...I get disappointed by tolerated ignorance, selfish neglect and the blinders placed on the world conscience.
Just like you...I want to have someone to have and hold, when I need comfort and reassurance.
Just like you...I seek to learn about myself through the connections and contemplations that others provoke in me.

Crawl out from under the cloak of darkness and come into my light.

Just like you...I want to get to know you.
Just like you...I have cried many nights, wondering how I could ever open my heart again.
Just like you...I have a will of survival and protection.

Just like you...I will open my eyes to the mysteries that life has to reveal to me, and curiosity that knowledge offers to me in many mystical forms.
Just like you...I want to get to know you...all of you.
Just like you...I get lonely too.

"The Beast Within"

Blessed is he who reads aloud the words of the prophecy
And blessed are those who hear
And who keep what is written therein
For the time is near

He is coming with the clouds
And every eye will see him
Everyone who pierced him
And all the tribes of the earth will wail on account of him

Those of you who have not learned
What some call the deep things of Satan
I know your works
I know your toil
And your patient endurance
And how you cannot hear evil men
But have tested those who call themselves Apostles
But are not
And found them to be false

I know you are enduring patiently
And bearing out
For my namesake
And you have not grown weary
But I have this against you
That you have abandoned
The love you had

And I saw a beast rising out of the sea
With ten horns and seven heads
And a blasphemous name upon its head
And the beast that I saw was like a leopard
Its feet were like a bear's
And its mouth was like a lion's mouth
And to it the dragon gave his power
And his throne
And great authority
One of his heads had a mortal wound
But it seemed to have a mortal wound
That was healed
And the whole earth followed the beast with wonder
Men worshipped the dragon
For he had given his authority to the beast
And they worshipped the beast saying
"Who is like the beast and who can fight against the beast?"
And the beast was given a mouth
Uttering haughty and blasphemous words

It opened its mouth to utter blasphemous

It was allowed to make war on the saints
And to conquer them
And authority was given it over every tribe
And a people and tongue and nation
And all who dwell on earth could worship it
In vain
If anyone has an ear let him hear
If anyone is to be taken captive, into captivity he will go
If anyone who slays with the sword, with the sword shall be slain

I saw a new heaven
And a new earth
And I heard a great voice from the throne saying
"Behold the dwelling of God is with men
He will dwell with them
And they shall be his people
And God himself will be with them
He will wipe away every tear from their eyes
And death shall be no more
Neither shall there be mourning
Nor crying
Nor pain
For these things will have passed away
To the thirsty I will give water, without price
From the fountain of the water of life
He who conquers shall have this heritage
And I will be his God and he shall be my son
But as for the cowardly, the faithless, the polluted
As for the murderers, fornicators, sorcerers, idolaters
And all liars
Their lot shall be in the lake
That burns with fire and brimstone"

And he said to me
He said to me
"Do not seal up the words of the prophecy
For the time is near
Let the evildoers still do evil
And the filthy still be filthy
And the righteous still do right
And the holy still be holy
I am coming soon
I am the alpha
And the omega
The first
And the last
The beginning
And the end"

Saturday, August 25, 2007

Thursday, August 23, 2007

Ever Wonder? Carnivale in Venice

Mask. Masks are an intriguing icon of human expression. They can be thought of as trans formative, freeing, imitative, expressive, creative or simply coy. I have always been intrigued by masks. They evoke a movement in my eyes, emotions, and feelings of instinct. I now am taking you on a journey to the Italian Renaissance. "Venice, Mother. Goddess." Will you join me for a dance?

Carnevale di Venezia or simply, Carvival of Venice.

The first recorded Carnival of Venice was in 1268. The entering of this application of expressionism was fueled by the restrictive laws that often banned public celebrations. Particularly, the wearing of masks was prohibited.
That was the law, my little scribes.

The display of masks paraded through the piazza's between the festival of Santo Stefano (St. Stephans Day, December 26) and Shrove Tuesday (day before Ash Wednesday). The finest and most ravish parties would take place in more discreet locations. Hence, most people were given the freedom to modify there personalities behind a shield of marvelous colour and craftsmanship, almost all year long.

The sheer elegance of the sights of these masks is appealing because they never reveal the stillness of one focus. They are encouraging of imagination, colour, a life of wealth and wine. Perhaps a roaring ballroom, finished with gold leaf and images and adornments that reflect the creationism of man's images of beauty.

Venetian masks can be either leather of in the technique of papier-mache. The central purpose of all masks remains constant: they are an transformative, whether logically or symbolically. Though simply adornment with lavish personification, these works of art tended to convey a far more complicated reflection of human imagination and escapism. Of the Italian Renaissace culture and the city's most vivid creative spirit. Perhaps an early revealing of the school of Venetian art that gained appreciation in the High Renaissance.

Masks are an illusion of imagination. Whether we choose to hide behind a mask, or allow it to exemplify our spirit of expressionism in public, we still remain our ordinary selves in private. Public and private persona can be two strongly opposing forces. Each of these two realms, attempts to negotiate identity politics and the journey for self-understanding, through the facade of mask(ing).

Sunday, August 19, 2007

Wisdoms of the Tall Trees

The wind blows, as to silence the beating of my unsettled heart. I lay a blanket down, slowly lay my body against the roots of growth that lay hidden under the blanket. I light a cigarette and think. I think…. One….two…three…four…
As I glaze into the stars that seem to rest so peacefully in the clear sky above, I realize a bittersweet constant. Nothing, that is ours to hold, is ours to keep. It is only through the choice of free will, that we are able to discover the laws of infinite attraction (mind, body, soul [energy]) and a lasting journey or endeavor.

We are all adorned with facets of beauty and corruption, but the manner in which we lay this balance in our mind, body and soul [energy] in our choice. Karma is a universal law. Much like the gentle caress of the rain will benevolently will the trees to grow taller and wiser, what goes around will come around. It is not only a matter of timing; it is also a matter of time before you get that which you deserve. We are often led to believe that we are connected, but the truth is, not many of us really wish to understand another’s path, or another’s dreams. It’s a shame we so often, can’t connect.

I can feel the faces of the trees, all unique in twisted character, sternly gazing at me. I stare back, not feeling intimidated, but to tell them that I am listening. I am seeking the universe’s guidance now. I am ready to listen. I wonder if these marvelous trees understand my overwhelming intentions, my error in judgments at times, my submittal to all the pain/emancipation that love can bring, my undying quest for knowledge and to fulfill and understand myself.

This is my time to wander through the grey woods alone.

My displaced heart and my instinctual mind will be the only ammunition to ward off all the dangers that linger in the mask of darkness. The wind will be my guide, as I trust that if I close my eyes, she will still remain a silent power to guide me on my way. I relinquish myself to your instinct in me.

I watch the way in which they sway with such flexibility and precision. They have been bent at their limbs, faded through seasons, from the grace of their most colourful metamorphoses. But somehow, there bark remains stern and protective, their leaves delicate, nourishing, and integrated with veins that run life to their cores. A strong heartbeat.

We cannot cherish and protect another before we cherish and protect ourselves. With an open mind, we can only achieve an open heart. Freedom allows for all thoughts, intentions, and emotions to go astray, linger in suspension, or hide. All is free. The power of attraction is elevated to its highest platform when you are unselfish to the journey that is ahead. The challenge is not allowing our disappointments, failures, broken hearts and wandering spirits from destroying our strength of survival. Mourn and let go. We are all traveling through the forest of life.
We see trees that have been damaged by the sheer nature of standing tall and surviving, through the angry lashes of natures unpredictable atmospheric alterations. The most confusing understanding in life and death, is the infinite power of love (given and received).

The loss of someone you love is more damaging to you then the wound of a bullet, that has glazed your heart. We mourn, because we know that life must go on. But we do not feel equipped with the sensibility, strength and wisdom to relinquish the pain of suffering. Do not allow anyone, or anything, to lead you into a dark valley of mediocrity. Find your way through the forest… watch the signs as they go.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Window Whispers: Confessions of an Early Teen, Phillipino, Young Girl

Sometimes you can't help but smile. I was sitting and plugging away at my "serious" blog entry, prior to this one. This is what I heard:

Unknown Girl #1: "Come out, come out! Mariah has a confession to make."

{Unknown Girl #2 goes to the window. She is now ready to listen to Mariah and Unknown Girl #1}

Unknown Girl#1: "Come on Mariah, tell her!"

Mariah: " Ummmm...ummmm..."

Unknown Girl #1: "Do it!"

Unknown Girl #2: "Just tell ME! Come on!"

{Mariah voice, to the listener (as the is no visual available on-screen), is hesitant. Unknown Girl #1 is fed-up!}

Unknown Girl #1: "Mariah kissed a girl and she liked it."

Mariah: "Yah I liked it."

Unknown Girl #1: "Yeah she really liked kissing the girl and she likes her boyfriend."

Too fucking good. Appreciate the laughter of youth and learning. I have perhaps heard the confessions of a young woman who finds pleasure is crimson in clover with some yum-she. I will blaze a torch, to usher in a generation of lady lovers, gladly!

Warning: Mariah, don't tell me I didn't tell you, "bitches be craaaaa-zy!"

I hope you, as I, wish Mariah the ability to seek her inner Mimi. You may take that as you wish. Break-breakdown...(MC fans will know what I am sayin!) To the woman that becomes her! Good luck Mariah...anytime you need a friend, I will show you how to make it happen.

Oh to be young again! Maybe Mariah just likes kissing. It could be true. Or maybe our Filipino Mimi has butterflies. Another lover of the ladies!


Being consistently overhauled by the seeds of one's (another's/loose) convictions, it is hard to loose our energy to something that is enticing, but yet not cradling acceptance with the will of our convictions.

Getting caught up is easy because it flirts with the desires of our convictions. The level of fragility, honesty, spontaneity, hopefulness, kindness and humility you can experience is quite a thrill in a rush. The sensation of deliciousness, just like a sweet body grinding, "Time Life: Soul Sessions Vol I," session you may have with your stereo; If you are not able to remain connected, without feeling alienated, dis-respected or disappointed in the energy that once enticed you. You can no longer feel maintainable to feel at your best.

You can fail yourself, which is the most difficult self-assault. You can fail another, which is painful manageable. You can fail your place in the world by playing it shy to the truth of your convictions. I am not about bull shit. But I get caught up desires, just like you. Maintaining a balance of your desires and greed is a tricky line. Have you ever wanted something so bad that you could do nothing but adore it, apply intelligence to understand its behaviour. The will of conviction can be tangible. Conviction is revealed through the application of learning/teaching it.

There is a mess of noises that silence our ability to stay in tune with ourselves and what it is that we now deserve. Understand this process of acquiring/emulating convictions. There is no time to waste in growth. Don't get bolted frozen.

What do you believe in? What is it that you have to give?

Thursday, August 9, 2007

Contemplations & Revelations

In the Spirit of My Queendom…

Fruitfully bombarded with images that manipulate us from reaching our highest potential.
Just because you have money in the bank, it does not mean you have elevated your ferocious credentials. What is there to gain if you never show yourself to have anything to loose? Brake away from the illusion of defeat, you are more than just a muse.

Politicians, virile leaders, cowards in love all share the same deceit. It is through their acts of cowardness, that the universe lingers close to spiritual defeat. A broken shoe, a shattered glass, a body that once danced beautifully, which is still at last. Value in not in what we own, or how we move within the confines of a textured plane. Simple to see, the shine of polish that sparkles in the light, will all delude, just like the sun after she hears the haunting echoes of the moonlight. What will then be left is nothing but yourself and you. Can you look in the mirror and say, that you are happy with the way the reflection reveals how good grace is bestowed upon you? What you have given, is it equal to that which you take? I will no longer pay my dues, for that which is not mine to embrace.

The colour of my skin, the colour of my soul. A constant reminder of the mysteries that remain un-told. True to my heritage, my ancestors fight; I will remember that I was born to into a freedom and I am here to love with all my might. My fortitude as a woman of substance, will not yield to another’s push and shove. I will not crumble at your feet; I will gain my identity through learning, honesty and love.

Scars linger on the surface of my skin. Like someone has taken a pocket knife and decided to drag it deeply against my delicate, brown skin. Through the scars I wear on my body, I am exposed to be. A woman with wisdoms of many lifetimes, tucked within my heart so delicatly. My arms are a safe place to rest in peace. I will rise from defeat and betrayl, for this is my story of prevail . No one can silence my passionate light. For without it I would grow lonely, bitter and cold, masked in the night. It is hard to remember where this chaos all begun. What is the inevitability in god’s master plan? I do not want to fade into the echoes of time, with no beat to accompany the rhymes that dance freely in my mind.

My fate shall not be shattered, for I believe in the gospel of love. Churches are ornate with the beauty of an artist’s hand. But what is there to brag about if you yourself, have not manifested your body into your own sculpting hands? Edifices are erected to show the triumphs of our accomplishments, conquers and growth. But if all materialism's were stripped away, would you have anything left to believe in, to purify the beauty that lays within? We consciously lay wrapped in our own heads. Greed is all in site, not the visions of the children of the world, who are falling to the dead. Or even a mothers cry for mercy, after she has so devoutly prayed. How can we be human, if we collectively have no soul? Pain and destruction is the only story that is sold.

Daily on the national news, I see images that show such heinous abuse. Starvation, social constipation, cultural alteration, mis-communication, another case of falsified propriety and avoided altercation. Tears drift like hunger without any nourishing. The act of kindness has become a myth, unless it encourages the gain of narrowness on a path, that is floweful to your gluttonous fix. If you are my sister and you are my brother, why do you lay cold, desperate, un-loved and with a mediated hunger for more? Ignored. Neglect is the reason that we have become so concretely corrupt. When will we bind our hands together and say enough is enough?

How do I hold me head up, when we are all connected though is the consistent pace of fucking up? I crawl within my own womb, to find a place of innocence and salvation, away from this constant abuse of love. Is this the kind of world I would like to bring my children into? Blue skies, so often fade into grey. The idea of realness seems so far astray. But through my red mind I discipline myself to remain alert and never drift from the truth of hope. Respect is humble to the hand of the person that grasps it. Do not allow someone else to bury you in a stale casket.

You and I are strong, we will find our way. Through the shadows of tempting illusion, there is a promise of happiness and a brighter day. I pray it can stay and guide us to find our way. I know it is with my breasts that I will nourish my earthly work. In my womanhood is where I will lay my money purse.

"Didn't Cha Know" -Badu

"Bag Lady" -Erykah Badu

"Motives and Thoughts" -Lauryn Hill

Def Poetry Jam - Jill Scott

"Nothing is For Nothing" -Jill Scott

"Gotta Find Peace of Mind" -Lauryn Hill

Tuesday, August 7, 2007


Love honestly, it is the only way you can live a honourable life. Love completely, even if you are afraid of being hurt. Only the failure or disappointment of love can make you feel such a severe pain, that you can not catch your breath or pace your heart. Lonely nights, tears that never stop flowing, visions of dreams that will never come true. Visions that seduced your heart and mind into believing you now had a place to call your home. Someone to love you through the fading of time, desperation of pain and stand by your side. Someone who would always put you first.

Through watching our dreams go up in flames, we are reminded of our humanity, fragility and true desires. We must love with all we have, so that if we loose someone from our lives, we feel lost, confused, empty, scared and abused. Fighting to find faith in a true love that is as consistent with you, as you are with it. Winded, painful withdrawal that makes you feel you have already died one-thousand deaths. Maybe one more and you can rest in peace. Just maybe.

We must remember to share our dreams with someone who respects that you are opening your heart to them, because all you can do is let them into your soul. You long for them. It hurts without them by your side. It is not bad to dream of a future with your lover. Through all the pain that love can bring, what can you do if you are so in love with someone? You are lost at the site of them, overjoyed at their presence, fulfilled when you hold them close to you at night. You cherish every waking moment you have to call them your lover.

Visions of your future, wrapped in the dreams of love, family, a place to call home, laughter, sweet love making, growing together,experiencing the world hand-in-hand; all fade into black.

Don't let your kindness, generosity and nurturing side become the staple of the relationship. You only deserve that which you give so willingly and tenderly. If you are ready for love, you will always comfort, assure and tend to someone when they are sick, low, scared or sad. You will be gentle and always remember that they have placed their heart into your hands. Take good care of anothers heart. They trust in you. But will and can they do the same for you?

I will not allow my dreams to be swept away, even though right now my spirit is broken. I wonder why it is that love can be taken for granted, when every moment you spent with someone was done with the compassion of beauty and in the essence of love. Hold on to what you got and never let go.

The words that they said, go around in your head...still. Now we, the broken-hearted, try to reject ourselves from this despair.

Monday, August 6, 2007

Blood Work

“Dialysis is a method of removing toxic substances (impurities or wastes) from the blood when the kidneys are unable to do so. Dialysis is most frequently used for patients who have kidney failure, but may also be used to quickly remove drugs or poisons in acute situations. This technique can be life saving in people with acute or chronic kidney failure.”

I walk into the treatment room. Ba has 13% of her kidney functions. Her body is broken, but her heart remains as solid as a good heart should be. I see the back of my dad. He sits at the foot of his mother. When we were young, we were told to bow at the feet of our elders, as a sign of respect. “Puge-lago,” means to bow in praise of an elder, wiser. He sits at his mothers feet.

At her side, my sister stands. I take in a deep breath. Just breathe. My dad leaves the room, and us sisters are at Ba's side. Tubes hang from her nose. The incision from which they drain her blood pierces her gentle, delicate neck. She looks so tired. I look at her for a moment. The machine steadily sucks the blood from inside her battered body. I see bruises all over her, from all the poking and prying they have done to her over the past few weeks.

She lays still, on her back. Her eyes are mainly closed, but there is a slight gap of grey light. A powerful grey light. She occasionally flutters and squeezes her face. I see and hear her pain. I powerfully expel the energy of hope that if there is such a thing as mercy and salvation, the universe will now allow her to be set free of this lifetime.

Ba is so tiny and sweet. I stand beside my sister and look at her with such tenderness and admiration. I hope to be half the woman she is one day. I wish to be half as strong as she is one day. I wish to have the will of her blood applied to the healing of my broken heart.

My dad leaves quietly. We look at each other and acknowledge the mutual concern. No one wants to see her suffer anymore. I stand at my sisters side. I watch her tenderly stroke Ba’s forehead, to try and ease the severe pain she feels from the tubes inserted into her neck. The blood coldly is devoured by the greedy tubes. They need to remove 3L from her body just today. Today, there could be more treatment needed. My sister asks me if I wanna trade places with her. I do move closer to my Ba.

I place my hand on her head and slowly rub her head in comfort. She fights to open her eyes and says a few random words in Gujrati. My sister tells me to softly tell her to stop speaking, it hinders the blood from draining quickly. Then I hear something clearly. Ba speaks, “oh God, please take me now. Enough.”

I have a tear drop from my eye, down my cheek and into my broken heart. I take my sister's hand and grip it tightly. She has yet to give up. Why do I feel like sometimes I want to ?

After 3 hours of treatment, Ba emerges. The difference in her appearance is remarkable. When back in her room, she eats for the first time in 3 days. We pass Ba her dentures, my aunt warms her food. Us. Children, son-in-laws, brothers-in-laws, grandchildren, great-grandchild. We wait in the lobby and rotate to give her our love. Ba always smiles at the sight of my niece, her great-granddaugher. True to this routine, Ba lifts her sunken face and smiles at her innocence, her youth, her compassionate gaze. Beautiful. Ba still manages to find a reason to smile.

I watch Ba eat from a distance. I watch every mannerism she makes, every breath she takes. I cherish every moment I see her. I entirely admire her courage and refusal to succumb to the pain. Her sheer resistance to allow her soul to be shattered. Her sheer refusal to have her faith bow in disgrace.

I am told that she is the blood from which I come. Allow her blood to flow through me now. I gotta find some peace of mind.