Statue in the Entryway

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I don’t remember the exact moment I stopped living
I mean
I was still breathing…just not really alive.

My spinal chord took over for my brain
so I could still walk, eat, swallow blink.

My color was good, my blood pressure just fine,
but somehow, I was not who I used to be inside.

Has that ever happened to you?

I can still ponder but not act out my conclusions.
I still can respond to general mundanity, but I forget my answers.

I know who everyone is, sharp as a tack pounded into the carpet,
but I am not as interested as I was before… and my head hurts.

Nature holds my attention for long periods of time;
the changing sky, the darting birds, seem to mesmerize me.

Has that ever happened to you?

It occurs to me I might be approaching some finality,
although it does seem one could go on forever this way.

I slip through my friends contact lists so they forget to call me.
I slide down out of sight, so although visible, no one seems to see me.

I am thinking this could be progressive and what that actually could mean…
Will I wind up a statue in the entryway, who gets dusted twice a month?
Will I turn into a painting of dull pastels that no one likes to contemplate?
Or will I be a once beloved photograph fallen to the floor of the attic?
In any case, it all seems beyond my control, so I just watch and wait…

Has that ever happened to you?

Karima Hoisan
June 1, 2020
Costa Rica

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Fluid Reality

Hi everyone,

I invite you to watch and listen to this little video poem I made about all that we have been through recently…but in a more metaphysical way. I hope you will watch it and enjoy. I made subtitles in Español for my friends and family in Costa Rica and all who use them.
Enjoy!!

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Gino’s Butterfly- An Homage Virtual

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So excited to finally announce the opening of this very personal and special virtual world on Kitely – Virtual Worlds on Demand, Gino’s Butterfly.
It is, as the title suggests, an homage for a man we all came to know and love, Gino, who formed part of our family for the last 35 years. Besides having a really interesting life history, he was also an excellent high fashion designer in the 1960’s before he dropped out in 1970, and moved to a remote area of the Costa Rican Pacific shores.

When you arrive, just read the small notecard and have a seat in the Director’s Chair and…you will flutter and fly through Gino’s timeline, through individual artistic installations , pictures, and words and even a video at the end.
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Take your time and enjoy it all; savor each part. I will include how to get there and if you haven’t visited Opensim yet, I would be happy to help you get in.  Send me an IM in world or an email.
Of course this magical tour would be impossible without my talented scripting partner, Dale Innis:)
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This is a true labor of love for someone who was loved by a whole town, for his special qualities, his eternal good nature and sense of humor, his generosity of spirit, noble heart, and talent. It is my first very personal world that I have created, and we hope that even though it is a personal gesture, the public will find something in it to love too:)
Here is a poem I posted soon after his passing in January. It gives a poetic taste to who Gino was for us all. Poem
So if you are in quarantine, this is a little virtual journey you can take for some 15 minutes ( if you take your time) and escape on a very special tour of art and life!
You can find Gino’s Butterfly here :
https://www.kitely.com/virtual-world/Karima-Hoisan/Ginos-Butterfly .
For those coming from Opensim, hypergrid address: grid.kitely.com:8002:Gino’s Butterfly
Come visit soon, and let us know if you had a good trip:)
Love and Stay Safe,
Karima:)

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I Miss You

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“Innocence” by Svetoslav Stoyanov

Letting my mind run backwards until it’s hard not to cry…
I know it’s the way; it is. All moves forward and we leave or get left behind.
We love and we lose sight, lose touch with all those who had one moment in our lives,
where they were playing the most principle roles:
Our parents, our first kiss, a husband…another husband…another husband?
Our babies who grow too quickly, a best friend, with that cancer that cut short her life.
Holding hands, walking the cobble stones, dancing on the rooftop, warm desert night
I miss you

Some are still around, even after goodbye; they become wonderful intimate friends,
who knew us so well..and yet, that spark, that smoke and fire, has been put out under a  mundane blanket of the daily doldrums, the lost mystic, the over comfortable…Time.
I miss you

If I could remember them all, I would hang them in my window to see every morning,
to be reminded with each sunrise, how they all are still a part of me.

The sad parts, the scary parts, the tragic destinies, the unforgettable ecstasies,
Each has left a memory and…
I miss you

Those who inspired me to write and create and enjoyed every word that came from me
who saw so deeply into my process and who accompanied me with kindness, and loyalty and then..to be called to the other side on an early March night, so unexpectedly…
I miss you

All the ways I learned to love in my lifetime, altruistic, compassionate, urgently passionate…tender scenes and tear streaked cheeks, needed by the less powerful, than me, and my own vulnerability,
Those who were wise and kind, those who were troubled, defective and cruel
They were here and left some scenes I can replay…and now they are gone.
Even the hardest of hard times that we shared; I play them again and forgive them because
I miss you

What I’m trying to say is…
Thank you.. to all of you who were here right next to me.
Who laughed for hours, ran down the beach took my innocence from me.
Who brought me coffee before I knew I wanted it, sparked every emotion I ever felt, taught me something new and loved me unconditionally
Who obsessed and absorbed me, teased and danced with me,
hurt and was hurt by me, for all those no longer in my reach,
through distance or death or one-sided apathy…truly, I loved you and….
I miss you


Karima Hoisan
May 2, 2020
Pérez Zeledón, Costa Rica

 

 

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Painless Purple

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Stopped in place because… the pain
now takes a solo through the days.
Everything is in movement, but me;
I stay inert, quiet, nothing hurts inert,
no grinding my bones on my bones.

If I just breathe quietly and watch the sunlight
bouncing off my crystal shiny things,
that hang in my window to entertain me…
rainbowing along my walls like prism rockets,
invading my ceiling with reds and oranges yellows and blues
Painless Purple!.
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Then so am I, as I go mesmerized ,
by streamers blowing in gusts of wind,
 rocking boughs of the trees, shimmying their leaves in the background.
I might almost be approaching meditation.. while the world is so busy around me.
Footsteps taking someone somewhere to do something,
I do nothing, but glaze my eyes on beauty, breathe softly, avoid movement.
 I, the static statue that dreams of running in the woods, skipping down the jungle paths, a graceful leaping gazelle, with not a care in the world…
And no pain.

Karima Hoisan
April 19,2020
Costa Rica

 

 

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The Pandemic of 2020

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The Pandemic of 2020

I’ve been working on trying to say something (after all I am a poet)
for the last 3 weeks..to find the words for these extraordinary times..
My muse seems, besides practicing distancing, has now locked herself in quarantine,
in some place unknown to me.

I was remembering when we used to hug…
We hugged our kids and each other and neighbors and our friends..
I find myself now practicing an Arab greeting of putting my hand over my heart
as I stand 6 feet away telling them, with this gesture, how much they mean to me..
but don’t come any closer.

And what is happening in New York, for me so far away,
reminds me of something else that happened in New York,
that fateful 2001 day.…
but instead of an instant day of horror, 2020 is doing it another way…
in a loop. a slow motion crescendo of death and lives destroyed, spread all over the state
and doctors crying in the corridors and where are the masks, the ventilators ?
Oh my god….is this really happening?
This year we see New York imploding on itself
with bodies piling up in refrigerator trucks and..
Oh my god….. is this really happening?

In 2020 a new word must be invented..something that impacts more than surreal,
because that word, SURREAL, is now flying out of people’s mouths in tatters ,
being used and overused by everyone .
I open my eyes and still whisper it to myself…”surreal “…
but it doesn’t say, what I want it to say.

I sleep at night worrying about who has the ventilators , what do we do when all those courageous healthcare workers just sit down and cry in their hands all together
because the enormity of their task is….. TOO Enormous!

For the next 4 days we can’t drive a car, and although all I now hear are birds and wind,
where before trucks using their j-brakes were negotiating my hill,
so loudly they would wake me up in the middle of the night,
I find this end of the world feeling, both beautiful, peaceful and frightening.
There must be another word…..besides surreal.. to describe the Easter of 2020…

with The Ramadan of Our Pandemia approaching…

Spring gave birth to scenes of sickness, death and tears,
As I wasn’t alive in 1918, I don’t remember anything like this or those years
but in 2020 with my eyes wide open, a hole in my heart, my face iced in tears
I pray we learn to value life and those who give- up themselves to save it,
while we make our small sacrifice of staying at home, to do our part for the human race.

En Español

La Pandemia de 2020

He estado tratando de decir algo (después de todo, soy poeta)
durante las últimas 3 semanas … para encontrar las palabras para estos tiempos extraordinarios …
Parece que mi musa, además de practicar el distanciamiento, se ha encerrado en cuarentena,
En algún lugar desconocido para mí.

Estaba recordando cuando solíamos abrazarnos …
Nos abrazamos a nuestros hijos, a los demás, a los vecinos y a nuestros amigos.
Ahora me encuentro practicando un saludo árabe de poner mi mano sobre mi corazón.
mientras estoy a 6 pies de distancia diciéndoles, con este gesto, cuánto significan para mí,
pero no te acerques más.

Y lo que está pasando en Nueva York, para mí tan lejos,
me recuerda algo más que sucedió en Nueva York,
ese fatídico día de 2001 …
pero en lugar de un día instantáneo de horror, 2020 lo está haciendo de otra manera …
en un bucle una cámara lenta de crescendo de muerte y vidas destruidas, esparcidas por todo el estado
y doctores llorando en los pasillos y dónde están las máscaras, los ventiladores?
Dios mío … ¿está sucediendo esto realmente?
Este año vemos a Nueva York implosionándose
con cuerpos amontonados en camiones frigoríficos y ..
Dios mío … ¿está sucediendo esto realmente?

En 2020 se debe inventar una nueva palabra … algo que impacta más que surrealista,
porque esa palabra, SURREAL, ahora está volando de la boca de la gente hecha jirones,
siendo usado y usado en exceso por todos.
Abro los ojos y todavía me lo susurro … “surrealista” …
pero no dice lo que quiero que diga.

Duermo por la noche preocupándome por quién tiene los ventiladores, qué hacemos cuando todos esos valientes trabajadores de la salud simplemente se sientan y lloran en sus manos.
porque la enormidad de su tarea es … ¡DEMASIADO enorme!

Durante los próximos 4 días no podremos conducir un automóvil, y aunque ahora todo lo que escucho son pájaros y viento,
donde antes los camiones que usaban sus frenos j negociaban mi colina,
tan fuerte que me despertarían en medio de la noche
Encuentro este sentimiento del fin del mundo, hermoso, pacífico y aterrador.
Debe haber otra palabra … además de surrealista … para describir la Pascua de 2020 …
con el Ramadán de Nuestra Pandemia acercándose …

La primavera dio a luz escenas de enfermedad, muerte y lágrimas,
Como no estaba vivo en 1918, no recuerdo nada de esto o de esos años.
pero en 2020 con los ojos bien abiertos, un agujero en mi corazón, mi cara helada en lágrimas
Ruego que aprendamos a valorar la vida y a aquellos que se rinden para salvarla,
mientras hacemos nuestro pequeño sacrificio de quedarnos en casa, para hacer nuestra parte por la raza humana.

April 8, 2020
Costa Rica

 

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InFront Housing

Hello all,

I hope you are well and safe and helping to contain this Corona Virus by staying in your homes and being creative.
When Nat and I were asked to do this project, by our good friend, DB Bailey (in Second Life) Architect David Denton, in the real world, we loved it at first sight.
We were aware of the homeless problem, especially in California, and were taken by this innovative design that truly is a Win/Win for the community and people in desperate need of low cost housing.

The project model was built by DB Bailey, above on our sim, at LINC Island, and we filmed it there. Thank you all who gave up a Saturday morning to be part of our film, and bring some life to the neighborhood.
I have made this video public on my Channel, so many people can see this unique idea. I just ask, on YouTube, that your comments be respectful and serious, as people from the Los Angeles, building and planning commissions, will be reviewing it.
At this very moment, in mid pandemic, it is not on the top of everyone’s minds, but, after the quarantine is over, people will still be needing housing desperately. Maybe even more than before.
Let Nat and I know what you think….and enjoy! Likes and Comments always welcome:)

Nat has a great post in German too. You can read it here

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Bird Life in The Dry Season

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Clay-Colored Thrush_photo by Roger Scott

Bird Life in The Dry Season

A lazy, warm and slightly sensual day unfolding with barely a breeze,
Blinking light in tropical greens, shadows on the branches twist and tease.
Floating high above the canopy, puffs of cotton pretending to be clouds,
The robin’s song, echoing in robin throats ,“ Choose me! No, choose me!”
As the age-old battle of finding a mate unfolds, in every strata of every tree.

Nest building, egg sitting, stuffing beaks with ripe bananas, flitting, flying and feeding,
Cicadas starting up their motors, blaring sirens of insect-looped insanity.
It’s hot outside; it’s dry but now and then a grey cloud stealthily drifts by,
Pretending it might bring rain, but not before those hungry little beaks have learned to fly,
Not until the summer months, have nurtured fledglings in their first flight, up to the sky.

This is what it’s all about, for the outdoor dwellers who fly high over my land.
They pair up, they create new lives and care for them, each throwing in a hand.
Do they not feel pride or regret when their little offspring leave them, for new trees then?
I imagine they sit, on branches, observing the empty nests, nodding in agreement;
“Ah yes, we have been lucky…It’s been a very good dry season!”

*Please click HERE to hear its song. Many times they will begin to sing before daylight

Karima Hoisan
February 22, 2020
Costa Rica

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Gino

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Gino: 1-12-2020

Gino

We were blessed; we had an angel years ago, fall from the sky, nearby.
We took him in, and found a special place for him,
Marveled how we were chosen to house him in his time on earth.
How quickly he invented his role, making himself irreplaceable..so we never tried,
And we laughed and had the most gorgeous plants, and the coffee was always perfect
And he was always with us…doing his supernatural things…
He was our historian, our confidant our witness to all the changes and bright craziness
That distinguished our household from all the rest,
And he never got angry and never judged; his demeanor always smiling,
Ready to fill your wish….
Like a genie, like an angel who decided to descend and serve humanity….. just because.
That sounds too good to be true, but those who met him, will testify…..
When they saw him; they knew.

In a painless dream he left us at dawn that last Sunday.
He said he needed to change into a butterfly and if not today, the next..
Even with all of us holding his hand, he escaped through our fingers
His glorious new wings iridescent in the sunlight, his face in peace, a job well done.
He ascended from our earthly home, floating up back from where he came…
His glorious mission complete, his train stopped at the station
He left so many mortals feeling empty, but so grateful,
Marveling at his beautiful exit…..with heads in our hands, tears on our faces,
Because he was an angel, and now he was gone…and the magic disappeared from our lives.

This day, we lived last Sunday, was a day I feared for years…
When you see that train approaching…
You know that some day it will arrive.
Every train that brings death, runs away with itself
Certain as destiny it moves forward swiftly carrying its load
But we are clumsy at the station, because what it brings us
Is almost too much to bear.
That’s why we gather close and hold hands, whisper words, comfort and console.
We see it coming and we hope it may stop along its way, give us more time
Because it carries the soul of someone we love and  we are not ready….
It’s unstoppable, like loss, like nights into days, like sickness and old age
But death, even for the divine, will always arrive…
On time.

Karima Hoisan
January 18, 2020
Costa Rica

*En Español….

Gino
Fuimos bendecidos; Tuvimos un ángel hace años, cayerse del cielo, cerca.

Lo acogimos y encontramos un lugar especial para él.
Maravilladas, de cómo fuimos elegidos para alojarlo en su tiempo en la tierra.
Qué rápido inventó su papel, haciéndose irremplazable … así que nunca lo intentamos,
Y nos reímos y teníamos las plantas más hermosas, y el café siempre era perfecto.
Y él siempre estuvo con nosotros … haciendo sus cosas sobrenaturales …
Fue nuestro historiador, nuestro confidente, nuestro testigo de todos los cambios y la locura brillante.
Eso distinguió a nuestra casa de todos los demás,
Y nunca se enojó y nunca juzgó; su comportamiento siempre sonriendo
Listo para cumplir un deseo …
Como un genio, como un ángel que decidió descender y servir a la humanidad … solo porque sí.
Eso suena demasiado bueno para ser verdad, pero quienes lo conocieron testificarán …
Cuando lo vieron; Ellos sabían.

En un sueño indoloro, nos dejó al amanecer del último domingo.
Dijo que necesitaba convertirse en una mariposa y si no hoy, la próxima …
Incluso con todos nosotros sosteniendo su mano, escapó entre nuestros dedos.
Sus nuevas y gloriosas alas iridiscentes a la luz del sol, su rostro en paz, un trabajo bien hecho.
Él ascendió desde nuestro hogar terrenal, flotando de regreso de donde vino …
Su gloriosa misión completada, su tren se detuvo en la estación
Dejó a tantos mortales sintiéndose vacíos, pero tan agradecidos,
Maravillándose de su hermosa salida … con cabezas en nuestras manos, lágrimas en nuestros rostros,
Porque él era un ángel, y ahora se había ido … y la magia desapareció de nuestras vidas.

Este día, vivimos el domingo pasado, fue un día que temí durante años …
Cuando veas que el tren se acerca …
Sabes que algún día llegará.
Cada tren que trae la muerte, huye consigo mismo
Cierto como destino, avanza rápidamente llevando su carga
Pero somos torpes en la estación, porque lo que nos trae
Es casi demasiado para soportar.
Por eso nos juntamos y tomamos de la mano, susurramos palabras, consuelo y consola.
Lo vemos venir y esperamos que se detenga en su camino, denos más tiempo
Porque lleva el alma de alguien que amamos y no estamos listos …
Es imparable, como pérdida, como noches en días, como enfermedad y vejez.
Pero la muerte, incluso para lo divino, siempre llegará …
Justo a tiempo.

 

 

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Dealing With Demons

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Painting by Omar Rayyan

Dealing With Demons

To hear the poem recited by me to the music that inspired it click here: Recorded Poem Dealing With Demons

If only love can kill a demon;
only love can cure a demon,
all those lashing tails and tongues
snapping at your heels.
If you run, they’ll chase you…..
If you stand your ground, they’ll eat you,
but if you love them, you can stop them in their tracks.
Extract their fangs!
Clip their claws!
Close their eyes!
Pin their jaws!
And hug them tight,
without hurting them at all!
They’re wounded….
Hug them like a tango
Hug them with a whisper in their ear!
Hug them like you’ve loved them all your life!
Hug them with commitment and No Fear!

They’ll be…
Falling at your feet,
Bowing down upon the ground
Humbled, tamed and changed.
Hear their voices, they’ll tell you,
“I need help,”
such a plaintive evil voice,
“I need your help”
“I can’t do it alone.”
If you are who you say you are,
it should be easy….
Easy to forgive their scales and barbed tails
Easy to forget; they almost killed you, betrayed you, maligned your name.
But, when you loved them anyway,
They could no longer slay you..eat you alive, steam roll over you
They could not scare the pale halo off of you,
that’s floating round your head.

Only love can cure a demon
Only the touch of an innocent can change dark alchemy into spun gold manes.
Can you imagine being like them?
Trapped in their malignancy depraved?
Stroke them, give them hope,
Whisper, “It will be all right..the sun will rise on the other side for you”
Then….make them spin…spin in all benevolence!
Spin them until they’re dizzy with being cherished and held dear!
How they start to smooth..and soften those hard edges
horns falling off as you spin them faster ‘n faster.
Turn them into puffs and cream, turn them into rainbow dreams.
Make them your puppy dog that follows you day and night.
Make them mirror all the goodness they received.
Make them believe..if only they believe
that love is stronger than anything they can achieve!
Only love can cure a demon.
It’s the only way.
Only love from an innocent heart
can disarm the beast..and make him meek
so they too can inherit the earth
the afterlife
all the worlds to come.
Only love can kill a demon… true
Only love can cure a demon… too!
Don’t kill the demon; give it a second chance!
Only love can cure a demon!
Only love can cure a demon!

Karima Hoisan
December 30, 2019
Costa Rica

 

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