In Lost Angels…

Photos of 2day trip in Los Angeles with brother. Not planned at all. No real purpose of trip.

Spotted a Frank Zappa look-alike in Los Angeles.


Bearded man looking up. (At Venice Beach, CA)


Man on left was sporting a speedo. He blocks himself with a mini stereo to protect his identity. I silhouette the picture to hide his identity. Kid to his right on cell phone and skateboarding an all too familiar scene at Venice Beach.


They’re watching us. I’m watching right back. But these cameras are a joke.


The people of Venice are quite entertaining characters. This gentleman was selling mixed CD’s that included such hits as “the itsy bitsy spider” in reggae. You can imagine the sound coming from the speaker in the kid’s wagon. “Reggae for the Children”


A tagged palm tree, or whatever kind of tree this is.


Got my way around the city of Angels through their public transportation. (With the help of my brother and google maps). We rode with the working class and the everyday regular…..and this old lady was falling asleep. Bus trips kept the day interesting.


Venice Beach


At LAX picture waiting for our delayed flight back to Houston. Me on top left, bro on right. BTW, these pics are out of order.


At Venice Beach. Relaxing under this street-arted tree, getting some shade. I still managed to get my face sunburned and looking like Zoidberg.


Yeah.


The hotel walk to room 134, LAX Suites because everything is expensive. This place was incredible, only if it was located at the beach for the same price.


Me making fun of myself. Posed like this on purpose. Added that cube for effects. If I ever had the talent to make an album, this would be the album cover. (Album name “Washateria”).

chalazion

Share your story here…

Silently gazing at impromptu cigar-ridden horseshoes from an empty window…

I’ve shrinked accustomed to these high peak, high heel, soup eel, high miranda, brain in river, baby blue pandas…

The other day I walked in to the store, and walked past the water bottle section, past the washing machines section, past the wonder bra section, past the fruit & vegetable section, past the automobile section, past the vitamin section and went through the exit direction…

There’s a needle aimed directly at my eyeball, she injected my eyeball with anesthesia, it stung a little, excision of chalazion success, when I have a daughter I’m going to name her Anesthesia…

Friends with drones…

this is not me

-medina

aorta

from a carbon-based-antipodal-liberate, a distorted prose erupts your quilt. if you put all eyes on a mirror reflecting all the cornea-ed colours, add all your hours at church with sneered smiles in your offering, a gamble so truth not visible to an antihero, tending their garden wasn’t the only way, endless puzzles through labyrinth muzzle. there’s a box you hide all your rhinestones, possible bones from whores, letters never written to your bedside manners after one a.m. at one point it was all wireless, the candles in the quietest room , another reflection visible through the chandelier, voices by a pit stop after driving all night, your face comes back to me, remembering conversations and imagining a few with better scenarios. the attempt of falling asleep with fake bug silhouettes, then turning the light on to check, and nothing. my feet walking on white sand, on the smallest island, with an abandoned truck and a missing front- right tire, passing by a cemetery a little buzzed surrounded by wooden-rectangled  lobster traps everywhere, my friend the iguana comes crawling, from above we all look like ants scrambling after having their anthill smashed, we are running to nowhere, we are running everywhere. we need to be shaken a little to be awoken facing a green flower. 

aorta.

this is not me

-medina

Oceano de Sonrisas

Ground your insecurities

Pop-praise your purity duties

All eyes on screens

But wait, I need you

And you need me 

Even with multiple tab screens open

We kiss the virtual sky

Using chop-sticks to play drums

A grained effect 

Listo para el sonido

Que nos rodea

En un espacio

Que es un oceano de sonrisas

Looking up at an airplane

Wishing I was on my way to another place 

Where the grass is purple


this is not me

-medina

zign I

2015/01/img_6333.jpg

en-glitch ii

put me in a glitch
whenever you want
the streets that you walk
sit by the window
see your reflection
inhale the perception
a sanctuary to keep all thoughts consuming free fall waterfalls by the lampshade

put me in another glitch
to pitch holy radiation
we’ll jump-rope side-by-side eternally
to a petty tradition
taken at night through an out-of-body experience

the years passed and one rolled over the other
in my car where you naturally shed skin
leaving behind the terrors in your dreams

this is not me
-medina

/home/wpcom/public_html/wp-content/blogs.dir/322/21915610/files/2015/01/img_4198.jpg

interaction with no contact

let’s seduce our innards embowered in tree veins
empowered decisions causing tidal waves
entering the capsule of ancestral caves
our brains having conversations

without voids
an upheaval request
to sequester non-sequitur amsterdam dance floors at 3 am

a detective so badass it solved unsolved murders from years ago by traveling through paint diamondzens

a simple hand-held-warm-skin
graced by gothic candlelight
with foreshadows on her eyebrow
spitting at her gun-heart placenta

your whistle at midnight mistle-toed
crescendo
multiple moons rising in the sky
the curtain closing at your lakrimal eyelid

this is not me
-medina

exit tempo

more senses

unseen

what is out there

can’t perceive

dimensions

went missing

this is not me
-medina

Image

laminaum

IMG_4954.JPG

Image

verze

IMG_4790.JPG