Opposites Attract

I'm the red balloon need an anchor.

I am the dance and he is the stage.

He uplifts me. He is foundation

Woman not Womyn

i am a woman. not a womyn. 

there is no shame in bearing his title within mine. 
be i his rib, or he the fruit of my womb. 
we are connected and beautiful.

where i am now

It's a cool, breezy night on my gray deck in the Bronx. The enormous moon glows bright. She brings me great comfort as I lay on a soft thick comforter, pillows beneath me, as I prepare for the unknown. Rubbing chilled feet under my blanket reminds me that this season is coming to an end, foretells of the cool vigorous Fall which will usher profound change into my life. Surrounded by Roberto Santiago's Boricuas, a now silent iphone & house phone, my treasured Buddhist spiral-print bag full of journal, markers and pens and rubbing on alcohol to sooth the few mosquito bites I have incurred while editing my bio to send to future hosts. What I think will happen doesn't matter. Tonight I am putting in the time to feel the way I want to feel, which is that I'm getting things done. By reading what I need to know, I am becoming more of who I am. By writing about yesterday I cleanse, bringing clarity to this moment. Fully present. Fully committed. 

There are quite a few people who've stood close, graciously held my hand when I've faltered; helped me center myself with reassurance and reminders of who I am, of what I could become. Some stood by, watched me die like an insect under a magnifying glass. To both I give my profound gratitude. I'm stronger because you were there. 

There is so much work to do. That I enjoy it doesn't make it any easier. For me, it begins with the constant absorption of the experiences, art, music and truths that I take in to become part of this person I am creating. Above all else, renewal of my faith that God is more than a mysterious man in the sky who judges my every move, but an active encouraging participant in my journey. "Let your will be done", I pray. Hoping for my actions and God's will, my destiny, my purpose, Our plan to unfold with every word I read, which then inspires me to write and live with wisdom, compassion, honesty, integrity and honor. My every kindness inspiring another's. Each discipline I exhibit successfully strengthening my will to become closer to my ideal self.  

Tonight is one of those nights, like the many before and the many to come in which the tapestry becomes more beautiful. You'll read my story in those colors, in every stitch that heals the wounds that experience dealt, in every detail that makes me a better person. It's a blessing to be able to process what we feel and progress. I do this for you. For our children. I do this for those who want to know who we are and why. For those who want to join in the creation of who we will be. The peace of my surroundings, this refreshing breeze washing over me makes me feel like it won't be that hard after all. 

All my love, 

Jani 

p.s. Here comes the rain. xoxo ~ Summer 2011 ~

my sylvia, she knew me well...

artwork by acey thompson ~ click to link

Female Author

All day she plays at chess with the bones of the world:
Favored (while suddenly the rains begin
Beyond the window) she lies on cushions curled
And nibbles an occasional bonbon of sin.

Prim, pink-breasted, feminine, she nurses
Chocolate fancies in rose-papered rooms
Where polished highboys whisper creaking curses
And hothouse roses shed immortal blooms.

The garnets on her fingers twinkle quick
And blood reflects across the manuscript;
She muses on the odor, sweet and sick,
Of festering gardenias in a crypt,

And lost in subtle metaphor, retreats
From gray child faces crying in the streets.

Musings on Love

‎"Unfinished business always comes back to haunt you, and a man who swears he'll love you forever isn't finished with you until he's done." ~ Alice Hoffman (Here on Earth)

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Love the heart that hurts you, but never hurt the heart that loves you. ~ Vipin Sharm

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Love is fire. But whether it's gonna warm your heart or burn your house down you can never tell. ~ Jason Jordan

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The thought manifests as the word. 
The word manifests as the deed. 
The deed develops into habit. 
And the habit hardens into character. 
So watch the thought and its ways with care. 
And let it spring from love, born out of concern for all beings. ~ Buddha

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Simply Running for Harlem United

My dear friend Rob Vassilarakis, also known as "Simply Rob" of the unique and wonderful Grito de Poetas, is running to raise money for Harlem United (and to keep his sexy body tight and healthy.) He is a truly inspirational person who touches thousands with his genuine soul and downright gritty words that reveal the beauty of overcoming adversity and the joy of redemption. Below is the copy from his Harlem United pledge page. You can click on the photo of him running to donate!

I have decided to run 13.1 miles in the NYC Half Marathon on March 20th in benefit of Harlem United AIDS Services Center, although I must admit that I was a bit reluctant.

If you're anything like me, you too are experiencing the brutal winter blues. I HATE the cold and I'm affected by light deprivation during a normal winter. Add to that all the bad weather we've had this year and a horrible 2-3 week flu (my first flu in years). All of this has really taken a toll on my spirits. The harsh winter and streets full of snow, slush and ice have also made for less than ideal running conditions, making it difficult to train BUT despite all that, I have decided to represent anyway.

First and foremost, I have to keep it gully with myself. When I was in my active addiction to crystal meth, not winter, bad weather, icy pavements, flu, hell or high water EVER kept me from going out and getting high. At my lowest point, I was a strung out iv crystal meth abuser, homeless on the streets of NYC with little more than my life and the clothes on my back. My dependency was a fierce problem and Harlem United (HU) was part of my solution.

I came to HU's El Faro site day program on East 116th Street in the Spring of 2007. At the time I was staying in an in-patient drug treatment program called The Addicts Rehabilitation Center (ARC), a 6-9 month in-patient program in West Harlem. ARC was a step up from a homeless shelter or a minimum security correctional facility. I stayed there (in a 6 man room) for 11 months with hundreds of other residents who had either been released to ARC as a condition of their parole, as an alternative to being locked up or who had walked in homeless off the street like myself. I never disclosed my sexual orientation or HIV status for concern of my safety and well being.

Luckily, Harlem United El Faro was just blocks away. I attained permission to attend support and recovery groups there by bending the truth a bit and saying they were health, nutrition, and art therapy "classes" which in fact were all group services that HU offers. Attending these groups allowed me to process my issues as a gay, HIV positive, addict in a safe space with other individuals like myself. I don't know if I would have made it through without HU. To date I am more than 2 years free of Crystal Meth.

I am currently an alumni of the El Faro day program but I still receive my medical services and weekly therapy sessions there. I am forever grateful for HU and as I continue to receive support, I think it only right to give back. Please help my by donating to this agency that continues to serve as a port in the storm for so many in the Harlem area and beyond.

Simply,
Rob please click to visit his pledge page and donate!

Bomba y Plena - Final Words

written simultaneously:

when what was, is no longer - bomba

i am afraid to write these words because i fear that yours may not be about me

but to write about anything else would be dishonest

dizzy with pain & anger i blurt “i cant do this anymore” 

ask you to leave me alone so that i can gather the parts of me that are strewn about 

and now

the most interesting thing has happened, 

i’ve learned to think about two things simultaneously

i now have to ability to talk about one thing while thinking another

there isnt a single solitary moment that goes by when i am not consumed by you

i now live on two planes

the one in which we laugh, make love and talk about our future

the one in which we marvel at how two people could be so in love

and the one that i’m actually living

the one in my head feels more real, so i take breaks throughout the day

i close my eyes and live there - try to make it last longer

because my shirts still smell like you

because i still feel your breath in my hair

because i thought you were the miracle i had been waiting for

bitter 

broken

pained

exhausted

ashamed of how desperately i love you

soaked like the handkerchief i used in an effort to wipe away

the fact that we are a memory

i’ve folded each tear & keep them under my pillow

Copyright © 2010 by Jani (Bomba Rose) Rosado 

When Kisses Become Yesterday - Plena

I shout tight closed fists at tender skin,

I smack pink cheeks with insult until I achieve desired bruising,

taste this curse on the edge of my lips,

It is yours to swallow.

I damn the day I realized  I am my fathers son,

a product of the void that is no mothers warmth.

How do I thank you for loving me while talons carve your name on my back?

By craving this fuel which burns my lungs and boils my blood, this will soon be a slaughter,

this forgiveness in the 1st degree arrives in the form of stanzas,

I wish this poem, a swift swing of dagger, meets your hearts flesh, you are no more,

fatality.

I can rest.

Copyright © 2010 by Roberto Plena Irizarry  

Choosing Wise Words Can Save Lives

Our words are the bricks to the building that we are

The path that we will travel is based on what we express

16 years ago my very masculine, lil thug Bronx street-baby cousin

introduced me to a friend of his with the preface,

“My boy is kinda feminine but he’s not gay...”

I already knew then who I was about to meet

The gay boy who was completely unprepared to face the world

Who hadn’t been told that it was just okay to be himself

Or worse, that it was NOT okay to be who he is

He was tall, dark and handsome

So young, soft, round and sweet 13

I was petite, 18 and a beauty queen, 

It was j’adore at first site

We talked about life, fashion, hopes and dreams

He wanted to be a womenswear designer, drew sketches of lithe

tall figures draped in diaphanous fabrics, things that I would wear,

with braided maid marion tresses flowing down their backs

By the end of the night on the table was a near perfect sketch of me

I told him, "When you are 18, you are going to go 

to the Fashion Institute of Technology

And I know this won’t be easy but you have to come out of that closet

You’re suffocating in there"

Before I left I had solemn words with my cousin, leader of their little gang 

Busting heads, smoking trees, repping Bx thug life in Nyack : /

“You friend is gay. When he comes out of the closet I want you to love him

I want you to stand my him and protect him.”

And that’s exactly what he did

We made it safe for him to be himself

We changed the path and the life of one boy

and maybe countless others because of him

In high school I was one who, when people whispered about someone

would casually while chewing my food would say, 

“Are you gay? People are talking about whether or not you are. 

And if you are that’s totally ok,” with a warm smile

Shaking inside as I watched eyes get huge, confused,

then melt into understanding and finally pride

“Uh-huh! I am gay” the new babygay would anounce,

then we’d prance off to dance class

and dance the kind of dance you can only dance when 

everybody’s free to feel good

I spent my teenage years protecting others from hatred, 

doing theater work on stages in high schools, college campuses, halfway houses & prisons

with friends and allies from Hetrick-Martin, the Harvey Milk School and GMHC

At 16 I shook my fist and screamed “ACT UP! Fight AIDS”

And, “We’re here, we’re queer, get used to it!”

I crafted squares to take to Washington to add to the quilt

And celebrated life with a Keith Haring S.T.A.R. on my back that said who I was  

& a pink triangle on my chest with a mouth always ready to break walls 

because thankfully I learned when I was very young that Silence=Death

That sweet little boy in Nyack crossed paths with this

When that boy was finally 18, I worked only a few blocks away from F.I.T.

And one day he knocked on my office door

He was living at the dorm only 2 blocks away

We joke that that’s when he became the Jack to my Karen

Within a few months he had returned what I had given him 10 fold

Because I invested a few hours in this gentle feminine little boy

Who had been institutionalized and betrayed by Catholic parents

who were ashamed of their first born

Who had been labeled insane by those who didnt allow him to admit

Or process the abuse that some claim made him “how he is”

He abused himself, hated himself, allowed others to harm him

And on more than one occasion, tried to bring all the pain to an end

But now he had been accepted, loved and there was a backbone installed

A sense of “pride”, we use that word so much “pride”

“A feeling of self-respect and personal worth” 

What a gift to be able to give and to receive

Because who we, and others, will become is based on what we say 

as much as what we do we need to choose wisely

With only a few words we can change lives

With only a few words we can save lives 

In that confused child I found the most loyal, honest, unflinching love that I have ever known

(besides my grandmother’s & if i dont say that I could get in a lot of trouble)

He is the brother I never had and sometimes he’s the sister I never had!

He is my witness in life, my walking journal. 

When the world feels desolate like there’s nothing but darkness

We know what hand to reach out for and know that it will be there

We feel safe in the knowledge that neither of us is ever alone

And as a person is there anything more valuable than that?

Victor & Roses

the paineater

she beckons for a gleaming kiss with nails 

like skewers glinting clutching close for a 

languid floray between lips

past protective gates, pearly doors

she traces smooth pink down into where the

memories slid, fell and settled, hunting with

tongue dipped deep into undersoul to taste nectar 

gathered like dew all days before

layers of unthought of decades

the morsel, tear glazed offering

sweet despair encrusted crystallized want

and longing for the unattainable your outstretched yearn

begging in dripping ribbons like so many unfulfilled

caramelized prayers ladled into her greedy palms

my heart looked in the mirror and cried today

we sat holding hands,

i asked how i could help and winced

as she tried to smile around her bruised cheek in gratitude

i the culprit, watched her fall, remorsefully

put my foot out and told her that it would be okay

that she'd be strong enough to take it

a bruised heart can be fatal google says

concerned i propped her up against my prayers

she gripped a rib and moved along slowly

the hard part will be over soon

you will live in euphoria all your days

i promised, i hoped, i pleaded with God

willing, strong, yearning

she hunkered down taking blow after blow

"i can take a little more", she reassured

but exhaustion set in and she fell so hard,

left me shaking my head, astounded, humbled, shamed

by how much she's willing to endure for 3 words