Thursday, November 10, 2011

Death on a First Date

Can it be that it was all so simple than?

Things inside of us would stubbornly thrive and the heart would hallucinate being a liver instead. Tonight we break bread over carefully placed candleholders

shaped like your mountanous figure.

We have danced with many figures before but none more vivid than your breath on my neck.

Is it the wine or the time?

No one figures they will shed blood the first night anyways. Murder on the first date is not recommended, but it just so happened, that we killed anything in site.

In spite of the anti spree romance we have been gerrymandered to partake...
we were merciless.

Any and all livings things existing to keep us from extending our love past the parameters of death, shall perish on this first date.

Friday, September 30, 2011

My Hands

My hands are too soft. Not enough strenuous gripping to sickles and shovels to scratch the surface of God's bounty. Too brown to be nostalgic of the soil.
Not enough generic features to be seen as just another.
More than just a brother. Pores to breathe a lover. Scorn to the life of one another.
My hands are too strong to feel the texture of a tender flame. To reckless
to organize themselves in a clapping harmony. My hands are too idle to
resist demolition. Too oily to hang on to reality. To ready to put your instincts to the test.
My hands are too angry to forgive each other. So the left one writes poems about how it hates the right and the right hand works itself out dreaming on punching the left one in the face.
My hands are too selfish to be ambidextrous. Too unique to want to look like each other
so they look for scars to gain a sense of individuality. One hand is bigger than the other.
One hand is smaller than the other.
My hands are too soulful to use a pick to pluck a string. They let their thumbnail grow ‘cause my hands compulsively like to sing.
My hands are too rhythmic to ever stop dancing. Too generous to ever stop taking care of your children. Too responsible to ever stop sweeping your offices...
But some say they are too brown to ever do anything else.

Saturday, August 6, 2011

HE-ART of a P.O.E.T.

I am a compulsive person at times. Is there such thing as a part time compulsive.
I just returned from a night smelling of God's best wood carvings,
A night of true courage, insight, love and light. At Words of a Poet 3: Tribute to Lybia,
I was reminded of HER. The way she eases into the headline of my eyes. The way I can just love her from a distance. The manner in which people give effortlessly for the Here and Now. Demolition of Ego. Establishment of a New Order. The Reclamation. Our Beloved Blood Memory. My distant love designs the lighting schemes and ushers me on the stage, where I was born, and where I shall perish and travel on to the next.

Check out this unrelated yet inseparable Video by my dear friend Craig Conoley, who captured the magic of Urban Legends in this beautiful trailer. It is truly between the lines where creativity and love thrives. She loves me when I don't exist as anything but who I AM.

All Praise Due to the Creator. All Day Every Day. I'm on that Prescription Regiment.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Debate.

ISLAM IS A RELIGION OF PEACE from Intelligence Squared U.S. on Vimeo.



I Don't agree with the verdict. However, this brings to light many points of conflict between Muslims and Non-Muslims (which is a term I do not like as well) and by listening to it carefully, can make us understand what is needed to create a higher understanding. GodWilling.

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Smoke Trails : Free Mp3 Download

Free MP3 at: http://www.mediafire.com/?av7a32a18r4z62b

Blood Memory Presents:
Hyf the GypsySun
Smoke Trails Mixtape
www.hyfthegypsysun.bandcamp.com

Friday, July 22, 2011

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Green Roof


Where are we going. Please let us endorse this type of movement. Wouldn't your apartment feel lighter with foliage on your roof dripping dew down your window in the morning. Reach out and take a flower. It is inevitable. Natural. Why not let your lawns grow wild. There are wild flowers that heal sweating eyes and taste like carrots.

Check this site out to see more Green Landscaping...

http://www.treehugger.com/galleries/2009/06/green-roofs-are-changing-architecture.php?page=1

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Hyf live on - Free mp3 Download:)

Hyfidelik the Gypsy Sun - Live on Monday Night Scribes - Download Link Below
http://www.mediafire.com/?9cefycc7fqs24ar

An Offering of what is to come.
BloodMemory Lane is in full effect!
GoonSquad.
Pomegranate Seed.
TM
PW
108
AllPraiseDue.

Music Runs In My Family

Bless. Up. Bless. In.
I can't believe she is my aunt. I can't believe that's my land.
on the Salvadorian Folk tip - pa mis guanacos y Latinoamericanos!

Monday, July 4, 2011

"Black Gold" Free MP3 Download!

DOWNLOAD LINK:

Hyfidelik the GypsySun & Prufrock Shadowrunner - Black Gold
Produced by: B-Dub (Uplands)
http://www.mediafire.com/?de53th0ee61a1zj

For the heads that haven't heard this one, it is off a small sampler we released getting ready to begin recording the full length collaboration album! Sit back, listen, enjoy and please share widely with your friends and families:)

Much love to mother earth, Much love to our families who are often confused for resources.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Mother is Always Right

"Something you want badly enough can always be gained. No matter how fierce the enemy, how remote the beautiful lady, or how carefully guarded the treasure, there is always a means to the goal for the earnest seeker. The unseen help of the guardian gods of heaven and earth assure fulfillment."--Dogen

Monday, June 20, 2011

Amante


"As she mused at her husband's sleepiness, she no longer kept her desires in check.
With a new found comfort with her needs
She casually said she needed to find a lover.
She got his attention.
Even if what he thought she meant couldn't have been
father from the truth."

If you find yourself unable to sleep, tired, melancholicly-inclined...

Find yourself a lover.
Find your lover in yourself.
Find self in your lover.
Lover yourself and you will find.
The Lovers Trail.


Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Not Separate

My Art Is Not Separate From My Science.
You Time is not Separate from your Mind.
So do not Separate Me from You.
Or You from Me.

Now is not without the past.
But it is not the past.
The past is as real as the future.
But the past is gone into the infinite.
And the future is gone into the infinite.
So Now is between the infinite and the infinite.
Now is forever.
Now is all you have.

Your Art is not separate from your Science.
Your science is your art.
Art is a weapon for peace.
Science is a weapon for war.
War is an art form.
Art has no form.

Do no separate Art from Science.
The science of art is man.
Man performs Science.
Science is not revealed without man.
You can't separate man from science.
You cannot separate Man from Art.

Man is Art. Man is Mind.
Art is Time. Art is time.
Don't waste your time on science
without art.
Be Art.
Now.


Friday, June 10, 2011

A Refreshing Take

Can you imagine how funny Che was? How much time in his life was spent acting silly in comparison to his life spent in war? How many impressions and expressions he could have left in La Sierra Maestra? Can you imagine what kind of a father he was?

I have a feeling being a revolutionary involves laughing. The romance that drives an insurgence is akin to a child's love of being wondrous and spontaneous. The limerance that shapes the clandestine is one of uninhibited love. Allowing the revolutions in your heart to produce love is what this refreshing take of Che reminds me of.

Bless.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

Futbol

in my home, Futbol is a major tradition my family has held on to from the old home. I shouldn't say soccer out lout. We stopped going to church years ago but Jesus still sits with his 12 disciples watching us huddle around the television, drinking the wine of fanaticism and cheering for the same loosing team. I don't care who wins. I just love watching 11 players who all look strangely familiar play with a country's sanity on their backs.
El Salvador was playing Costa Rica. El Salvador's team always seems to take the lead only to lose it in the most embarrassing or last minute ways. They always seemed in a panic, like they were happy to get rid of the ball and stay in the state of resistance. Were we genetically prone? Was struggle in our blood memory?
We always applied cultural, colloquial and self-indulgent reasoning as to why our national team always lost. lack of funding. Lack of discipline and corruption. Too many pupusas. Salvadorians are always looking for shortcuts. What it seemed to lead to was a euphoric rush followed by an immediate downer. The perennial disappointment. I heard him say, "they can never give us a moment of happiness, they should just not send a team to play". I thought to myself, "God forbid someone decide to take this moment of happiness away from us!".
The game ends. Everyone goes home. We shuffle around within it.

Sound Power

That guy is Lee Scratch Perry. Beyond Legend.

He called it Deep roots music.
Galactic Conductor. Persona Breaker.
The Upsetter. The Crown of the Heart.

To freestyle and channel inspiration from the moment
is to practice compassion for the moment.
There is nothing like clarity of purpose to bring forth
clarity of thought. The seed is compassion found in the crown of the heart.
From this, all clairvoyance and insight can transmit clearly.

When I watch this video, I see a man deep in his journey,
steadfast with clarity of purpose and light.

Ancient Buffoonery + Divine Math

Damn this man was too ill.
Praise Be to God.

I am.
I am.
I am.


Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Static Static

The Perennial Reminder.
The Story of Love and Hate. as told by one Radio Raheem.




Baby, today do the right thing.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Reclamation

:is the process of reclaiming something from loss or from a less useful condition.
To return to a suitable state for use, such as cultivation or habitation.

In the village, everyone was famous.
In the city, we became strangers.
Art became both.
People became stars.
We became unsettled.
We wanted the attention.
Beyond representation.
Beyond mere appearance.

We kept creating.
Evolving.
Until we once again
had ownership of the means.
The Medium.

We look around today.
In a very short period.
Of time.
Less than a lifetime.
The spectators have become
The celebrities.

Thus,
Reclamation has
Commenced.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Surge of War


There is panting and whispering in his head.
like fingernails of a flamenco guitar player

being scrubbed slowly on a chalkboard.
Obese demons waddle around his dome
glutenous with time.

What of blowing in his bullet wounds like a
panflute. Sounds of his culture.
Shrieks from his roots.
What of blood and mud migrating indoor
from his tired boots.

What of words from a mother drowing
in tsunamis of gunpowder and grains
of blissfull poison.

They say gangsters make the world go around.

We are not alone in this Gang of stars that move around the world.

There is angst in the squared shoulders of every gangster.

We thrive in parking lots, bus stops and alleyways
We live in cartons, clouds and trapps.

We don't have time for the infant of art.
We do not recognize of scarred face of time.
We have transformed the universal principle.
We have attained success in mutating naturality.
In looking for art...

Art that is Time...

we stumbled upon...

a rainbow...
a moonbow...
colourful bills.
Money.
Money that is Time.

We are the tragic alchemists of our time.

Responding to the aspirations and sacrifice of our Fathers.

Saturday, March 19, 2011

Rage

Rage is like driving with no brakes
take your foot off the gas pedal
and cruise to a stop.

Friday, March 18, 2011

Thieft in the Night

I found the key and broke into her subconscious.
twisting passwords into her blackberry eyes
she sat fearful of what she could not bear to expect
I'm a bandit
such a crook
advised that I should stay away
but i encroached
A deviant

The aroma of love scoops me in its caravan
i cannot resist. Ryde or die.
The feeling of stepping inside
But so many defenses and security systems
brought upon my bumbling thieves
there to take only what they dont want and
destroy what they dont need

I have changed. Been Transformed.
You are the exception.
A robber cultivated in breathing bodies
i wish to sneak in the back door of your fears

and leave a gift.

Truth is I didnt mean to break in
but I appeared as your worst fear
that which you once wanted so purely
that which you were made to forget
that which you did not recognize
until I broke into your subconscious

and reminded you
of your destiny
to conquer

your fears.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

What I Mean is AMEEN

Hebrew.
Allah accept our invocation.
Maktub. It was written. Brimstone strong.
Love is on a fixed term.
Revolution? So be it so swiftly.
Belief, beyond perceivable evidence.
Faith, beyond awareness of outcome.

In art, time does not allow for everyone to understand the same.
The intention for what I mean to say is not a straight line.
But in case you are interested...

What I mean to say is...
AMEEN.

Check out this track, "Ameen", from the almost released "Never Say Never Mixtape.
Over Madlib's Distant Lands off the Shades in Blue album.
Enjoy, pass it on - The mixtape is gonna be HYPE!

http://www.mediafire.com/?7kt5doare6di5og



Thursday, February 10, 2011

The Egyptian Maya

For the Mayans of my land, the concepts of time and the evolution of man was circular in nature. Evolution however, suggests resemblance to a more linear process. In fact, according to the teachings of the Tzolk'in, the linear and circular aspects are intertwined, revolving but never touching, always expanding, what the Hopi tribe have called the "spiral of emergence". From this point of consciousness, the Mayans were able to master a certain Cosmovision, which gave them great insight into the transformations that occur over great periods of time as well as the ability to, in some form, predict. To propose prophecy.

The Mayan Long Count, is a non-repeating calendar outlining great shifts on the earth scheduled to bring upon transformation at calculated points. It was created to keep track of events occurring too far apart for even one civilization to perceive. To master their understanding of natural time. Time being the realm of synchronicity. The circadian clock of the biosphere. Jaguar Priests. A great Sage: Pakal Votan

Enter, today, February 11, 2011.

Quite a beautiful day. Art is being created. A new awareness drenches us all. Revolution. Egypt.
The will of people bleach the streets with dignity, with respect, against all that is vile, corrupt and outdated. Rustic tyrannical leaders are bowing their heads against the greatness of purity. It was done peacefully. Carrying full understanding of their connectedness, without concern for lines of division. Their hearts open beyond the flesh, beyond this material world. They've become telepathic. Understanding what they must do together to ensure our collective survival and that of their children's children.

The solar tone for today is One, "Hun", the beginning of a new cycle, all things initiate and germinate from this source. This day is the 20th day of the "uinal" which is "Ahau". It represents the Sun, the light. A sign of completion. Embodying the final cycles of evolution. This day is ruled by "Xiuhtecuhtli", the God of Fire and Time. The ruler of the First day of the Trecena, the first Day and first Heaven of the Galactic underworld.

According to the Long Count, February 11th is the beginning of the Universal Underworld. It is defined as the level of evolution that currently influences the mind of human beings the most strongly. It is characterized by the elevation of consciousness and co-creation. Everyday from the start, the waves movement of energy brings about more right-brain energy, slowly propelling the ego-material driven paradigm that is western dominance on the world. Marking these leaps of human consciousness, and shift points in evolution, humans will gather all over the world, and express their freedom in celebration and joy. Sing songs in gratitude of this new power endowed in the hands of men and women by God.


Humanity is regaining its awareness that we all deserve to be free, live well and embody dignity as creatures of God's earth. Egypt's revolution is important on many levels, in particular the contrast of images shown compared to other freedom revolutions.
There is no point of description for the crowd, they are all unique. There is no violence. No hard party lines or ego-driven leaders.
Just thousands of people praying to God for the liberation of poor and oppressed people everywhere. The water canons blasted, their foreheads touched the ground. Others sought to kill, while they showed mercy. The underworld has risen from shallow waters to engulf our outerworld. It was inscripted thousands of years ago that today would hail a new dawn.

The empire humbled by love. Who said it could not occur? When did they say we had turned cold and stiff? Some of us have sensed the increasing heat from the hearts of men and women. Most of us did not believe it ourselves. But our souls have another will as strong as Egyptian resolve. They could not allow us to ignore them.

The term "underworld" might seem frightening for some, but I'd like to see it comforting. A warm embracing place where all that was hidden under the surface is now engulfing us in its own relief. A world of humble underdogs, forgiving warriors, happy fruit vendors, courageous youth, compassionate business men/women, tables for breaking bread, Art for saving others.


I'm not sure what this all means, but I thought I would share with you this moment where things seem to simultaneously end and begin. When world events and consciousness seem to point to ancient history, a pivotal present and an illuminating future in one day.

Who else to praise but the ONE who has been before the beginning and long after the end.

Allahuakbar.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

The Urban Doula

Peace Upon You & Yourz

May What You Do Flow From You Like A River

I have recently chosen to embark on a journey guided by one of my elders and best friends, Barclay Mcmillain. He runs a program called LifeSong, a guided exploration of the voice that helps people discover, uncover or recover their singing voice through the unraveling of their story. The Voice Emergent transforms and heals through the power of sound.

Barclay is a former naval officer, teacher and radio broadcaster. He has been running programs like this since 1991, the same year my family and I came to Canada. He has won many awards including holding the distinguished Canadian Toastmasters award. His dissertation was called, "Dancing Voice, Moving Spirit". He blends life stories, voice and song into a healing mixture. He leads us through dangerous grounds, making us feel as safe as home.


I joined the program because in this society where Elders have been lacking around us as immigrants, his knowledge and guidance is irreplaceble. His great love of poetry and transformation, as well as our personal bond has made my heart jump out of my ribcage and palpitate on the ground. I would be a silly man if I did not take his helping hand in any situation. The elders hold vital instructions needed for the re-establishing of Calm Sense.


Last night, the group was asked to write out their 10-minute auto-biography. Needless to say, after the first brave volunteer sat in the center chair with all of us in a semi-circle, we all found out what 10 minutes wasnt.

Story after story, unbelievable circumstances were described, gut-wrenching pain and heartbreak was brought to the surface, inspiring moments of achievement and success were re-lived. Despite the massive age gap between some of the participants, all of us took a little over 20 to 25 minutes to point out the moments that have made us who we are.

One of the participants was a midwife, another participant mentioned an experience with her Doula that has influenced her massively. I couldn't help to notice that in the act of telling and listening, we were playing the role of safety keepers and comfort dwellers during a painful but courageous act of opening up.

Doula comes from the ancient word doule, meaning "woman slave". Knowing that ancient Greek was a patriarchal masculine society, I see the troubling implications of this origin, but through the lens of transformative recollections, I see the word slave as a triumpth for feminine submission to God and feminine power as a form of healing and birthing all of earth's creatures. If anyone is going to gently guide us through barbed wire state of minds - it is the heart of a woman.

The term Doula has traditionally been association with woman who provide non medical support during labor and birth. The extension and more complete definition would include the same type of support for any tramautic and life changing experience, be that a paralyzing injury, different forms of regenerative therapy or the terminally ill. Their job is to help lead the individual through excrutiating moments in their lives where it is difficult to keep hope with the circumstances.

I can't help to see that this uprising in my life of meeting Doulas reveals that during this time of revolution and evolution, the urban doula plays an important role in the awakening. Imagine one day you wake up and realize that every element in your life that was meant to give you meaning, is actually a lure or a trap made to squeeze dollars and production value from you. That all the things you work for, all the things and skills you've acquired, are now obselete. That all the sources of food that you've ever known are closed down permanently. That all your playful pleasures are now without joy, devoid of value. That what you have laboured tirelessly to construct and form has become another commodity discarded. That all of your possesions mean nothing in regards to feeling wealthy within yourself. The reading meter for your soul.

Global Transformation in this small world is a collective experience filled with as many smiles and deep breaths as there are screams of misery and gasps for life. The Urban Doula can help us move through the realization that in order for us to experience meaningful change that delivers more of a harmonic relationship with our earth, ensuring our survival, we must give up many priviledgess that most of us believe we cannot live without. This will be a traumatic experience.

Imagine taking the microphone away from Jagger. One foot from Lebron.
A hands from Balam. The internet from the blogger.
The fuel from the escalade. The borders from the Patriot.
The angst from a predator. Jersey shore from your sister.

Woman lost it for a while when Oprah went off air. Lucky for them,
Winfrey once had a special on the importance of Doulas.

----------------------
Through telling our stories, the distance between us can dissapear.
Without shame or blame.
We fight and recite.
The narratives help us rewrite our present moment.
The listener comforts the speaker with their silence.
With their open hearts, we don't need to say a word to
coach the practitioner through an agonizing revelation.

We are all, in some form, Urban Doulas.

Saturday, February 5, 2011

Corn Kings

...
To the extent of open my eyes can get.
Sunrays coconut-crack the nebulous shadow of
The AM transition.
What of goonish nights ending up in
Squirmishes of nocturnal glory.
Sobreity is suspect. Hard to boil.
We play.

The infamous play twilight, bedsheets and wrappers.
Rappers on bedsheets.
Bellies grow full without streching guitar strings.
No sylvio, just tego.

Corn queens, January sunkisses
walnut necks with chestnut lips.
Attentive minds like nurses disguised
Spreading ecstasy
One kernel at a time.

Domes that teeter and borderline
Between angels and demons.
Dreams hot kettle steaming images
On-line streaming.
Hammer fists, tuff shoves and Nuff luv

What of those who left their thirst
For history years before they acquired
An insatiable one?

Soul-jahs looking for traces of Hunab Ku
At the bottom of the captains boot,
Hearts become empty bottles.
everyone raps.
While another Man gets his chest disinflated.
And yet more Goons vindicate their killer's spirit.
young men
Revert to being corn kings.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

History is Now for All of Us...

"Even though you do not measure the hours of the day
as long or short, far or near, you can still call it
twelve hours. Because the sign of time's coming and
going are obvious, people do not doubt it. Although
they do not doubt it, they do not understand it.
Or when sentient beings doubt what they do not understand,
their doubt is not firmly fixed. Because of that, their past
doubts do not necessarily coincide with their present doubt.
Yet doubt itself is nothing but time."

Dogen - "Time Being"

Taking deep breaths, gazing at the nature of consciousness
as it unfolds up and down my body.
The clock no longer holds weight over my time.
Visions of molotov cocktails hidden in memories,
chanting, shields, rocks broken into smaller ones.
The cogs are looseing, the hands are falling apart.
Urgency as Air increases in density and prayers.
Water Canons, Hijabs, bloody lips. Freedom Mind.

Free me from these false hands of time.
Give me stillness. Deliver Forever so heavy to my eyelids
as if to begin a new History.