All posts by jvarina

I'm trying to take pictures of God; He's everywhere and we've done such a fantastic job of not seeing him. If you're here then look closely, and you'll find something about yourself in these images.

Footsteps, footsteps. Footsteps!

Blue shoes tapping on brown boards

Screws withstanding the stories of

Hundred who wish to seek the next.

The ocean below is barely audible,

Shouting seas replaced with

Tires rotating on rubbery cycles.

Shutters close and teeth exposed

As one thousand eyes are magnified

Through lenses capable of

Stealing a smile from Father Time.

Vibrations calling out the names

Of every sound that has passed

Some full of childlike joy, while

Others whisper of quiet contempt

But they all flow, in harmony,

As footsteps continue to pass

By my chilly ears.

Improper Timing

I feel the changes coming

Some fast, some crawling, 

And some that have

Yet to move.

They keep coming

In drones,

At the most inappropriate of times:

When one is writing,

Or dreaming,

Or loving.

We attempt to remain

Like statues;

However, even marble is eroded.

Fear not when the heart

Suffers the same fate as Jericho,


Change seems to come with the number seven.


A strange phenomenon seems to be occurring within the being that I call my self. Ideas, questions, and answers that seemed too foreign to comprehend at the beginning of my journey are slowly becoming known, and I believe that this prolonged suffering is one of the keys to unlocking the next stage.

Why are we afraid of suffering?

Was it not one of the byproducts of being brought into this world? To love, to learn, and to suffer are what we live and die for; or rather, it is these three fundamental principles that govern our existence. The majority of my speculation and extensive readings have concentrated primarily on ancient knowledge and stark rationality; however, I am somehow also in tune with the power of swelling emotions.

There is a rhythm to feelings, a spastic occurrence or a gradual rising and falling of immature thoughts. And yet, this does not explain what is happening now.

As I suffer this agony related to the loss of my dear cousin, Danielle, I am simultaneously being exposed to a new realm of influence, action, and most importantly, belief. Emotions do not control the individual; however, it cannot be stated, with 100% assurance, that man controls his emotions. Rather, it seems that emotions are somewhat tied to the id that lives below the surface of the ego, and by experiencing a crippling blow (in this case anguish and grief), one is able to examine the complete spectrum of emotions and, subsequently, recognize the consequences of utilizing them.

It is as if I have become more in tune with the thoughts in my head by allowing the pains in my metaphysical gut to project rather than repress. In essence, I have temporarily found a way to access the vast wellspring of inspiration, desire, and change. God granted us the capacity for suffering (AKA passion) so we would discover the truth of life, and to live is to love, no?


The rain sounds like the chatter of forgotten souls.

I wonder what they discuss as they drop from heaven.

Sentences exchanged throughout the stratosphere as lost lovers meet for the first time in forever.

There is an innocent whisper, moving from grandmother to newborn bosoms.

Each droplet containing eternal wishes, one from each name that will never be spoken again.

Memories fall from heaven as the morning fog rolls over the final horizon left untouched by man; the end.

No wonder the raindrops fall so softly here.

New Form of Freedom

One of the most pressing obstacles in our fight for freedom is the amount of observers versus actors. So many are willing to pinpoint problems, yet who is brave enough to solve them? It is because we think the scale of this task is too great, or do we have too little care to embark on a journey towards solutions? The ghetto, it is a cesspool that America has forced our brothers and sister into, deprived them of necessary resources needed to survive, and armed them with the tools of their own destruction. There is no doubt about these places, and the horror within it, yet we must realize that the root of it is intertwined around the root of American society. The ghetto is doing exactly what America wanted it to do, and those observing are seeing the results of a properly working system built on enslavement (both ancient and modern).

In order to combat this we must seek “entirely new and substantially different forms of expression.” How many more years can we sit idle while conditions continue to worsen? The fight for freedom starts with us, and within our own communities.

  • “Black people must organize themselves without regard for what is traditionally acceptable.”

Traditionally, we have fought with methods that have, in the grand scheme of things, been less than effective; what exactly does marching through the streets at night do for us? Besides foster filial bonds with your allies (which is ideal). We are weak because we are divided. The proletariat soon discovered their strength when their numbers grew and they were forced to work with each other. We must do away with this hateful and competitive nature that keeps us, oppressed humans, apart. It is the goal of the oppressor to divide us, for division makes us weaker and we can be easily controlled when isolated. This is the reason we need organizations, ones that are strictly crafted and drafted by our hands. Only we know what our people desire, value, and seek; and it should also be us who bring them together over these shared ideals. It can be done because our struggle is universal, just disguised by the characteristics it takes, ex. threat of deportation=threat of mass incarceration.

  • “We should concentration of forming…and not wasting time on trying to reform”

American politics are too deeply rooted in racism and hatred to be truly reformed. Although risky, we must form our own; it is the only way we can hope to achieve political victory. By creating our own, within our community, we can aid our brothers and sisters. Oppressive America wants to keep us static and it is up to us to remain dynamic and achieve our freedom.

Our movement starts within the mind. If we want change then we must be willing to dedicate our lives to it; the day of change will never come if we do not make strides towards that future now. That begins with sound organization in a way that best represents us. With organizing comes control, and it through these two methods that w can seek change. We should control what affects our community; housing, education, banking, politics. All of these are ways that modern society defines our existence as a citizen so we must do our part and prepare ourselves. The system will not do this for us, for once again, it was built to produce the results we see today.

  • “It is crucial that race be taken into account in determining the policy of this sort.”

Race can either be a divisive factor or it can double as a bond. When I enter a new location for the first time, I unconsciously seek out other people of color.  Imagine if you fond them all at the top of the building? This isolation that we feel would diminish and instill within us a sense of hope; it is with this malleable hope that we can change from observer to activist.


Carmichael, Stokeley; Hamilton, Charles V. Black Power: The Politics of Liberation in America. 1967.

“Prism Stars”

Her tears always fall at sunset,

Evening dew drops forming against

Her face,

Rolling down sullen cheek bones

As the horizon fades to black like

Hearts who’ve been in the furnaces of passion

For far too long.

Replacing diamond desires with

Coal complacency;

Love has no home here,

Only a temporary space for eternal gifts

Waiting to be buried under times soil.

I’m reminding myself of her,

Moonlight and bare legs,

Collarbone and lips,

The cool mist from a summer shower; but,

Now, winter storms whip away

While the icicles of loneliness

Begin to form where you once flowed.


Our streams reduced to abandoned creeks,

Forgotten behind the homes of strangers,

Unfamiliar feelings festering

As we separate the flesh from spirit,

Saying farewell as one fades and the other

Falls, both returning to the veil of darkness,

The resting place for our souls

Before they first found sunlight; illuminating

From fragmented pieces of my heart

These shattered stories still proving useful.

Now, the rays seek to brighten

While the night approaches,

And, we only lay


When the moon meets cloud;

And sister stars can see their reflection,

Our love shall be forgotten in the horizon

As tears fall into the sleeping sun.