Cowboy Magic

…continuing the theme of Costa Rican cowboys…. an old one from the past

                                “Riders Of The Coyote Moon” by Mark Maggliori

Cowboy Magic

When they were young and handsome cowboys,

riding their spirited horses to the sea;
sometimes on full moon nights,
they sat proud and tall in their saddles,
their shirts two fluorescent moon beams.

At noon they shared a canteen
or a coke bottle of black coffee.
Their cuffs were buttoned,
wearing jeans and long sleeves;
spurs reflected in the sun,
the outrageous sheen, of their
glorious horse- backed dream.
Anyone who saw them pass,
stopped in their tracks,
turning their heads to see.

They had cowboy magic

Still electric from their hours of wrangling
the adrenaline tingling in
minds-eye and knees,
Oh! They took off hard,
squeezing their horse’s flanks
Stopping now,
in the first cool forest, shaking off the dust,
ferns and mushrooms, organic musk
damp clay earth, over- ripe fruit,
drinking fresh water from a stream
they inhaled the smells of nature’s lust.

They had cowboy magic.

Later on, swapping stories and smoke,
they clipped hibiscus flowers,
to toss at the giggling girls when they rode by,
matching their gate in long smooth strides…
“Walk out now”
passing them winks
while they trotted too close,
which made the girls laugh,
because everyone around them
turned to smile.

One wore his flower stem- down in his
top button hole,
the other pressed his, under his hat
a red-open leafy third eye.
They had to urge their horses on,
breaking into a full out lope,
the sun now almost gone,
that last ocean bordered mile.

They had cowboy magic

Karima Hoisan
July, 10, 2007
Costa Rica

*In Dominical where I lived, we had no electricity, TV, or Movies
The most interesting thing we had to watch…were the cowboys!
They were our super stars….and they knew it;)

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for A.


I tried to reach out to you…
after so many years of silence,
of knowing we were both still alive
and yet we no longer talked.

It wasn’t even indifference, because,
well, I believed that that could never be,
and it wasn’t that we ended badly..
not at all; we both knew, it was time to leave.

We just slipped through each other’s lives
unconnected and invisibly.
Time marched on and we stayed tucked away
in a few scattered pictures and fading memories.

But I still relived those years,
sometimes on full moon nights
I heard you whistle from the pasture
riding your horse under a fluorescent sky.

So what a surprise when I called you
to tell you that I had dreamed of you
and to thank you, for all those years we lived
when we were young and made our own magic.

In this time of death and uncertainty,
I am doing that with everyone, who in one way
or the other was important to me;
I am thanking them for those precious memories.

You told me, “Well I don’t dream”
and then you added, “And I never remember the past”
“I live now in the moment, and don’t think of those days”
and you hung up with a quick “goodbye”

 How sad to see my mistake…and how wrong was I…
You had forgotten totally, those silky full moon nights…
and that’s when I realized…  you had already died,
that you were no longer alive.

Karima Hoisan
January 15, 2021
Costa Rica

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A Tree Falls Hard


A tree falls hard inside the woods,
its thud reverberates across the forest floor.
When a tree’s cut down, at any age, on any stage;
It’s instant death, a broken neck, a heart attack,
when sliced by blade without a thought,

I have not hugged a lot of trees, and yet I wince
and turn away when they are being chopped down.
I never seem to get an answer, that really satisfies
on why they must be put to death, and why now?

All these thoughts bring me, to ponder my own mortality…
Will this next wheel’s turn, erase me from the book,
the one, not made from trees, but made of Life?
The book of the living soul, of loving, learning and creating?

I think it’s not an outrageous question, at this point in time,
Looking all around me, I consider, this forest of humanity
and everyone and everything that seems to be so vulnerable
and no one knows who will  be next and marked for felling.

Karima Hoisan
January 9, 2021
Costa Rica

Night before last, I was sound asleep, and woke up, repeating,
these first two lines in my mind:
“A tree falls hard inside the woods,
its thud reverberates across the forest floor.”
I wrote them down, as one never knows what the muse might want to say:)

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The Bad Guy

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The Bad Guy

He’s a robin’s nightmare, the tanagers leave the scene when he descends,
because he’s eating everything in sight, raiding the bird feeder, digging up bulbs.
Without scruples, he’ll raid a nest and steal bird’s eggs when momma bird leaves.

He is hungry all the time; he eats a pound of food a week.
Skipping and bopping along the high branch highway,
He’s the acrobatic terror of the garden, the psychopath for nesting birds

He’s the bad guy, the Destructor, with such cute wide-open eyes,
I’m a push-over for his machine gun -munching, his amazing leaping skills.
He’s a pest; his kind’s not wanted, yet I’m a sucker for that bushy tail

He steals whole bananas while the birds wait for him so patiently
and carries them off like small canoes under his arm, his take out!
But I’m OK with it, live and let live; He who made the birds, made him, made me!

They say he robs those bird nests, as a last resort, as he loves his fruit and seeds
So I plant and buy a double share to fill him up, so he’ll let those babies be.
Not just a rat who lives in trees, but my friend and he knows me, when he sees me.

Karima Hoisan
January 3, 2021
Costa Rica

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The Flowers

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The Flowers
for Julian

Gifted to me when they were just tightly – wound buds..
I placed them in water, so lovingly, in my finest vase.
Sleeping in their pods, they had no idea, still so unaware,
that they had traveled over mountains, had come such a long way.

I loved them from the very start, as they made me ponder
what colors and shapes, and what flowers did they hold inside?
As they stood tall and proud in their freshly- poured water
All was possible, endless potential because they were alive.


I had hope they would open wide on the night of Christmas Eve,
but they had their own time, their clock just ticked for them.
Then two days later, I awoke to see a chosen few, blushing pink
Only two, opening with the dawn, standing proud upon their stems.


Their birth made me smile wide, so pink,” Ah there you are!”
Now I bet the others will all come and join you in this dance…
But they waited; some were shy and took a few more days,
until Saturday, when almost all of them awoke by chance.

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Those were their glory days, brightening up my room and making us smile.
Proud and pink and beautiful, even their green leaves had an extra shine.
Everyone who saw them, kissed them with their eyes, saying “MashAllah”
They stayed this way for five whole days, a splash of color from the Divine.

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I am a poet, so the end days of these flowers were felt so deeply.
They started losing their lives on the last night, in the last year of such strife.
I couldn’t help myself, how they made me cry: I sobbed as their petals fell…
Not for the loss of the flowers, but for the reminder, that this is Life.

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Karima Hoisan
January 1, 2021
Costa Rica

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A Better Year…


A Better Year

Standing on a stool peeking over the wall
that separates this year from the next…
I can barely see anything at all.
This new year is born on the dead leaves of the last.

It is tainted and contaminated and sick from the start.

If our world were a restaurant, trying to make it today,
If kindness is not waiting on tables,
and love, compassion, gratitude and humility,
are not on the menu…well, good luck staying open!

If we can’t see, we have so much in common
with absolutely anyone walking down the street,
the fact we’re all human, alive, and living on earth…
rooting in the same block, shopping at the same store..
with fears of tomorrow, but hopes for the future,
bad dreams and days we just smile all the time…
Please look closer… and longer,

She has that, so does he, and they’re worrying now,
and he is counting his change, and wondering if he can pay the rent.
He’s buying a gift for his lover, she buying a suit to bury her husband
and abundance is not the word for this last year unless you put
insanity after it!
An abundance of  insanity, of absurdity, an abundance of sickness

an abundance of surrealism and uncertainty……
What was lacking was an abundance of humanity
One for the other and one for all…

I personally hope for the time to come soon,
when wishing a total stranger a Happy New Year,
won’t be taken as an assault, or an act of insanity.

Where people won’t run away or call the police,  or block me on facebook,
but just reply to me easily and sincerely,

“I hope 2021 is a better year for you too.”

Karima Hoisan
December 31,2020
Costa Rica

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A Delicious Moment For A Haunting

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Please click the link to hear me recite it, to the music that inspired this poem.
Waltz in A Minor- Chopin   click here…  LINK

A Delicious Moment For a Haunting
              for Umahmad

It was a delicious moment for a haunting.
and yes…your timing was always the best.

You breezed in on this moonless night
As if you still owned my heart and me.

The perfume came in first,
filling the room… tickling our photographs.

Someone left the window open wide,
and you took it as your “Pase adelante”

Your personal invitation to materialize,
so that I would know without a doubt, who was here.

I was playing Chopin, another perfect irony,
and had my eyes closed lost in trills.

You blew a kiss over my hair.. grabbing a few strands,
softly slipping them through your fingers.

It was the sweetest bit of unreal air, that passed over me,
and I shivered and stumbled for a second on the keys.

The perfume, turned into that night blooming jasmine
you had planted near the window;

Ah was that the reason why? I never knew why there?
But of course, so you could come in and haunt my notes.

So you could come and haunt my nights,
when I was playing your favorite piece,

That even from the other side, not only did I remember you…
but you still remembered me….

Karima Hoisan
December 29th 2020
Costa Rica

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An Ode To Code

                                    Avatar Follower Script by Dale Innis

I adore scripters! That is no news for people who know me well.

Builders and scripters are what bring life to Second Life.
A builder, a good one, can build anything at all, but it is not going to move without a script in it.
A builder one time, an excellent one, built a Brahma Bull for me, just like we have here in Costa Rica,
The problem just stood there, looking great but could not move.
It took finding an expert scripter to take the bull, literally all apart, just to make it possible to raise his head in a few angles, but that alone, with a sound of bellowing brought a little life to an inanimate animal.

People in the coding world, our software engineers who speak coding languages like C++, Python, PHP, Ruby, JavaScript, laugh at the language that runs Second Life.
Linden Labs, the creator of this virtual world back in 2003, reportedly, as rumor has it, invented the Linden Scripting Language over a  weekend.

For you coding geeks reading this.. here are some of the things “real coders “find crazy about this language:

1. That you can put anything in a list… except another list.

2. Quaternions as a basic type!

3. That lists are immutable, and can be changed only by making a modified copy..

4. All the built-in functions starting with “ll”

But, I am here to say, that it works!!

It makes our world move, like in the real world and sometimes even better:)
This is why 8 years ago, I posted my poem and original music made into a video with partner Natascha Randt, that honors, that crazy-overnight-invented language that makes SL function.
It is a tribute to Linden Scripting Language and the avatars who speak, write and create in it. It is a tribute to my scripting partner, Dale Innis, who magically helps my pushing- the -envelope- come true and be realized.

I have an expression, “To build is sublime…but to animate is Divine”
Make it Move!…because you can!

Please watch on YouTube in HD and Full screen and Enjoy!

Posted in Machinima, Poems, Slices of Second Life, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , | 12 Comments

I Am an Avatar


Karima Hoisan is my avatar. I am Karima Hoisan in the virtual world.
Sentimental and nostalgic, I look back on the eve of my virtual birthday
on what it means to be an avatar in 2020.

For me this was never a game..I took it seriously from the first moment I fell from the virtual sky and landed on an island that would become my own..because “Destiny Is.”
December 26, 2007.

I will be 13 years old this Saturday! We celebrate this moment called a “Rez Day”, as it marks the first time, an avatar named Karima Hoisan was born , entered and became part of Second life. I took my first virtual breath as a digital newborn in the body of a newly chosen avatar.
                                       My first days were friendless, clueless but amazed 😱

I have lived and learned to navigate the virtual world
and now I am considered an oldie…a veteran.
In this last year I have felt its comfort, where I can take everything
that is inside of me, that makes me, me and put it in a virtual body that is still healthy.,
in a world that is still healthy and functioning normally.
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My avatar 2008…beginning to adjust, navigate,
decorate and make friends…
I am soul infused.
In a world where people circulate without masks and there is no pandemic going on, but there is comfort for those who have lost someone, or are sick, there are people to reach out to and they can touch you.

The more you navigate the world, the more feelings you can can even trick your body to perceive what you should not be able to perceive: the smells of crisp fresh air of a pine forest breeze, or the ocean roaring in at your feet.

I am a soul-infused avatar
everything you know and feel about me, through my poetry, you can feel when
my avatar speaks to you…

I can dance and run through the fields, and in sheer exuberance,
take off and fly over the tree tops..This now seems natural to me..
and my heart fills with joy.. and this joy fills me with peace and inspiration.
I can dance boleros, create, amazing projects with others and laugh in crowds
yet feel safe, even when someone sneezes.

I am paranoia free in my virtual world, when if stressed, I can float and bob in the waves and hear the sounds and feel the water holding me.
Welcome Home Nat!!
                                                     A floating Welcome-back for Nat

I am not watching a cartoon figure navigate a video game, I am that creature..the avatar and I see everything in this world through my eyes… The borders of my 15 inch screen have disappeared and like the looking glass I pass inside;
I see, just like in real life. I can appear real or makes no difference, I am still inside.
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                                               Floating With Dale, brainstorming a project

I have loved and lost and cried real tears and felt real pain,
but I have learned to bounce back and learn to live it again.
I have made films, read my poetry to thousands of people over the years, created music, and become a 3D artist and sculptor.
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   Giving Poetry Readings to 25-40 people from all over the world in all different venues:
The swamps of New Toulouse Louisiana or Historic Clubs like The Chelsea in NYC        

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I inherited 2 Pisces sisters along the way, one from The Midwest USA and one from South Africa and another sister from.London for almost 13 years.

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bright sissiesTurtle Art Gallery and Polka Hall, LINC ISLAND

I watch videos every night for 11 years at the same time with a friend and Buddy in Florida:) I create worlds with my best scripter friend Dale Innis in New York. and none of those things would be possible living in my small Latin American town, that is mostly locked down again for the great spike in Covid cases

“Mad Men” in Virtual with Menubar! Can you see us sitting in our little highchairs?
                                                  Brainstorming with Dale Innis

I have friends who smile and interact with me from all the continents.
I can take in a live show of music where the musicians might be playing in different countries and yet we hear them in harmony and sync real time and we can ask for a favorite song and they will play it with our dedication!!:)
I have been a horse, a vampire, a tiny snow leopard and anything I can imagine, I can be for awhile…The possibilities are limitless..If you can imagine can create it You can be it!
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Tinies at the Opera! _ Raglan Shire - Friendship & creativ
                      At the Opera with my hedgehog friend:)

Now… in 2020 I realize how very important the virtual world can be.
because in this last year, life droned on  out of pitch and out of time…
and instead of doing lunch, meeting up for coffee and holding and shaking hands..
we stayed at home and ran away from each other;

we kept our distances, we covered our faces ,we washed-our hands and
lost our sense of human touch.
                 A hug is a hug in any world

As an avatar, a hand on my shoulder is not an idle gesture
It is a connection and I feel it and feel very lucky to be so alive virtually.
In a time of not very many, I am still making memories, and the brain processes a virtual experience in the same way as a real one. How many chats can you remember? How many zoom calls will you recall? Ah but to dance on the sand and hear the pounding of the laugh with your sisters until you cry..those memories will stay forever and….
                                                         You can take pictures!!
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                                     Gamma & Shesa at Kari’s Bar & Dance Circa 1920’s

              Natascha Randt & Karima Hoisan- Randt & Hoisan Productions

So free to be me, when in my virtual day, while outside, I am shuttered in my home, watching like a skeptical spectator all the kings horses and all of his men,
trying to reassemble Humpty Dumpty again and bring that human longing for connection, that human need for touch and laughter and purpose, back to us in our real lives.
I am so grateful for these last 13 years of a virtual life,  that I have lived fully
and parallel to my real life!!!

Happy Rez Day to me December 26, 2020!!  I’m all grown up:)


Posted in General Discussion, My Virtual Worlds, Slices of Second Life, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 50 Comments

The Molded One

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What I’m learning
as a soul in a body
that is expiring…

Creation is everywhere
and in our hands;
it’s part of you and part of me…
being made in a Creator’s image;
it comes bundled inside.
I know I am the molded one..
I did not do the original molding.
I did not make a tree;
I am just happy to look up,
into its branches and praise a creator
so much greater than me..

I have learned so much..
and yet…
I feel I barely scraped the surface.
How can that be?
There is a day for me..
when I am done
and yet…
I think I will never be.

Inside of me and holding me,
is the creative touch…
It’s in absolutely all of us..
and yet,
the gift is being able to see,
to find it, sense it lives within us..
It is the most well- kept secret;
if we can unlock it,
if we are gifted with that key…
the world becomes:
a new day
a new canvas
a blank page,
a planted seedling.

We just wave our hands
and let our minds dream…
tap into that stream,
that has always been there,
since the beginning of Time..
before our birth and after we die
and it is all part of the gift of Life.

I have my tears…
and I can see through blurry crystal leaves,
and it makes it even more beautiful for me..
when the pain subsides..I am back!
I’m, alive and I am still here…

and that canvas waits,
and those hearts need kindness
and that person needs to be held,
and the poems will come
and the tears can be dried
and the lessons will be learned

and the paintings will be signed
and I have so much more to do,
before I run out of…
my expiring time.

Karima Hoisan
December 20, 2020
Costa Rica

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