Spirituality exists wherever we struggle with the issue of how our lives fit into the greater cosmic scheme of things. This is true even when our questions never give way to specific answers or give rise to specific practices such as prayer or meditation. We encounter spiritual issues every time we wonder where the universe comes from, why we are here, or what happens when we die. We also become spiritual when we become moved by values such as beauty, love, or creativity that seem to reveal a meaning or power beyond our visible world. An idea or practice is “spiritual” when it reveals our personal desire to establish a felt-relationship with the deepest meanings or powers governing life…”  unknown author




My body is the prison

Keeping me held within the power of Captivity

Through the ages

Through the senses

Throughout history

My body is a prison

Held captive to my body

Held captive in my body

Now she brings forth my body for all to behold

My woman-ness, my beauty,

Raw and primitive like I am

A part of my body

That which I own

Which brings forth life

Which brings forth pleasure

My body is a prison

My body is my refuge

My body is a vessel

My body is temporary

Like the crumbling of the sugar baby Mammie

My body too will crumble into dust



Endless Talking


In street cafes and coffeehouses

I sit talking endlessly about the mysteries of the universe

I, who know almost nothing

Risk exposure by the ones who think they know all

They who know nothing ask me

I give my impressions

They tell me theirs

I beg to differ sir,

I say

It is in each one of us to be





Converational Poetry Art As Writing 



“The Street Singer”

“The Matador”





I so darkly hidden in the painting, “Olympia”

Have come to introduce you

To the many faces, of Victorine

She was only 17 years old

When she came into acquaintance with the painter

He favored her because of her unusual appearance

She was a fantastic character

She played guitar

And she could also paint

She exhibited at the salon

When Manet was rejected


Manet painted the new modern man

He painted the new modern woman,

He painted me


As I really am

You say he owes his style to Courbet

What you say may be true

I say the style was all his own


He gave us the modern woman

Exposed as she really is

No longer hidden

From the parlors

And drawing rooms

Of the respectable citizens of Paris

He painted paintings of his town time



“Art is a circle, he said,

you’re either in or out

By accident of birth”

He never wanted to make a protest of his painting

He never wanted to overthrow the past

He never wanted to create a new order

He wanted to be of his own time

“To paint what one really sees”,

He painted me as I really am



The Street Singer


It is late one night

He was walking alone

He saw her from afar

Who is that beautiful girl he thought

Where on earth did she come from?

He could hear her voice fading away in the distance

Her beauty was haunting to him

She represented the beauty

Of the street, and it’s music

I must find her he thought

Oh! Beautiful girl,

Singer, lady on the street,

That is what I will call her, he thought out loud

The Street Singer!

He tried to get the girl to pose for him

But she laughed at him and disappeared

Manet rushed to find me, Victorine

He told me of the beautiful girl

The singer on the street

The girl with the guitar

He told me a woman with such beauty

Must be painted

It was the inner beauty that Manet captured in me

He was not so interested in my physical body

As he was interested in capturing

The spirit of me, of the people

The people of his time

He captured that spirit

By painting

My body,

My face

He saw

My inner beauty




The Matador


Her I am

Gazing at you

When I should be concentrating

On the bull

Here I am

Disguised as a bull fighter

This context of me

Only heightens my femininity

Is this not

An unusual Costume

An unusual occupation

For a woman?


This painting was one of the first paintings

I posed for

In the painting I am wearing a Spanish Costume

Zola had told Manet

About some fantastic costumes

He brought them to Paris

Zola’s influence brought the Matador to life

But if I had my choice I would rather pursue more tender conquests

If I had to choose between

A companion excelled at making jam

Or another at killing bulls

It is the first

I would pick


I was his constant model for 13 years

I could change my appearance

Like a great actor

Manet capturing the bohemian through my eyes

He could explore the hidden faces of reality

He could explore the other side

Of the grand gesture, the lie, the bluff, the travesty


I introduced him to other mores, views, and values

In a culture designed by men for men

I represented a break from false morals

I was the incarnation of truth

He never tried to make me beautiful

He made me real

He challenged the traditions of the great salon paintings

Particularly the female nude

He tried to paint the truth, the real truth
















Rainbow Girls


I saw her walking the street one day

Not too long ago

One of my Rainbow Girls

My! My! Did she grow!

Black Tortoise shell glasses

Camouflage Converse Shoe

Mini Skirt

And a T-Shirt that says;

“Fuck You”


She’s my Silver Girl

Hard Life




But the sunshine yellow girl

That sunshine yellow girl


Now we got the purple girl

She was all smiles and curls

Big Ambitions

Wanted to see the world



Hiding her identity

From the authority

My purple girl…

She came from south of the border town…

She was hidin’ in my classroom

She brightened up my day

My Purple Girl


But that yellow sunshine girl

That Sunshine Girl


She changed my….


Pure As a Goddess

Dressed in White

Heavy laden with Pearls and Jewels

On her wedding night

So brave and so beautiful

And poor as can be

For the rest of her life,

My Pakistani White girl,

She gonna live in luxury

She was determined never to live poor

Since she was a little girl…



And sister RED

That Pakistani Twin

With the smile that goes ear to ear

And a heart that beats deep within

Living in the shadow of the Goddess

Hard to be a twin

These two little rays of sunshine


That brought us….JOY


But that Sunshine Yellow Girl

My Sunshine Yellow Girl

Mmmm …She changed my world




And that Blue Girl

That Bosnian beauty

She got a story to tell

Vicitimized as a child…

It took her a little linger to grow

But she went off on her own

That Blue Girl

So many children in her family

And her Daddy

Man he kept her down

(I would counsel her about that)

She finally released herself

A teacher


My Blue Girl is a teacher

That silver girl is a dancer

My white girl

she lives in the medical land of the pharmacy

she educated herself

And now she’s living in luxury

With her mmmmmmmMan……

Who loves her so




But that Sunshine Girl

That sunshine Girl

From Mexico…


Since she was a child

She changed me everyday day

She listens

To every word

And yes she did learn

Sunshine girl

She’s in the Art world…..



These are my Rainbow Girls

But they changed my world

And the days go by

The student becomes the teacher

The teacher becomes the student

The child becomes the mother

The mother becomes the child

My Rainbow Girls

They’ll be here for .



They live in my heart………..




In the previously recorded sound piece, “Empty & Willin'”, produced and mixed in a recording studio, the thickness of the recording techniques is quite apparent.

Here the raw poetry is revisited,  I am using the  program called GarageBand, as a way to create a quick sketch, experimenting with new tools to in making sound.

The series continues with the second poem; “In The Sky”, and begins to merge with the focus of my paintings right now.

I am thinking about a question that Gauguin asked long ago;

Who are WE? Where did we come from? Where are we going?



The SYMPTOMS were evident

In the Arts, In the Political Structure, the church, and the Family

It was the calm before the storm

The CRISIS before the TRANSFORMATION of an entire civilization

Doomsday speakers had their say

There is always a place in this world for the negative

It was the ones who thought positively

They were the TARGET!

To THEM we represented the PAST

The CONFRONTATION between the YOUNG and the OLD



But even as we grew, and became more a part of the system

They didn’t see us for who we really were

If they had listened to the voices in the sky who had inspired our minds

PERHAPS we would have spared the world such pain

But our world was set up

From the START our PLANET was involved in a CONSPIRACY in HEAVEN

That SHE took no part in


Those were Cosmic consequences that the planet had grown up with



In The Sky

This round sphere spinning

Traveling around the great sun

Older than we realize

Hiding truths yet be revealed

In this time of man

The long history of earth

So Many stories and legends

Each one a part of the truth

Revealed over centuries


We think we know the story

We only know parts of the story

We have forgotten

Or lost

Most of the truth…

Buried and forgotten

Under the sands

Hidden from view

Lay the history of our planet

Under the sea

A world still so deep

Unknown to us

The hidden caves

Over time we discover

Bits and pieces of Ancient Texts

Cracked and dried out skulls

Traces of lives lived and lost to time

Mummies that reveal strangely shaped heads

And the Art


In every culture

Revealing something

Out there in the Sky