Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Santa Ana's

It’s that time of the season when the devil opens her mouth and out comes her hot breathe, spewing out the hot air, the hot death, leaving us feeling parched and searching for lotion, chapped lips and red eyes, can’t tell if it’s the California weed or dust being kicked up into people’s lives.

 The mini tornados spin the leaves, the hot wind blows the trees, scorching the temps making autumn season leave.

 The high wind temps has everyone on  caution, because a few years ago these winds left my whole valley atrocious, uprooting trees and downed power lines, you came a little late, December 1st I remember...

 In my bed trying to sleep and all I heard was a howl ruffle my sheets. My windows were closed and you manage to seep in, pushing at 95mph hour you fucked with my sleep wind; your air rushing my body with positive ions made me want to sin, the anger that you bring and the chaos that you cause, no wonder that year you scared away Santa Clause.


That year you left thousands of us in the dark, unprepared you didn’t care, you just gunned through our canyon passes with despair.

 Los Angeles, we are not use to such extreme weather, we like our sunshine and 75 degree weather.

 You introduced us to your dark side something we don’t see, we’re use to the ocean breeze and palm trees by the salty air sea.

 You kept blowing and you didn’t have your usual hot air this time, you brought a cold front with you that chilled our spine. The first day without power we did ok, until the temps began to drop and we felt no heat, you had us in our living room shivering under our sheets, 39 degrees outside and it was only 8p.m the temps were going to drop low that night but you were long gone…

the air was still and the stars were bright, they twinkled, they were so pretty those stars at night, they filled the night sky and forced us to think, no television and the lack of cell phone usage was down, we couldn’t use the internet because we needed to charge but without power that was going to be hopeless….

some people had generators and you could hear the humming from some houses, but the eerie dark nights and the bright head lights was all that seemed like life…Santa Ana you bitch with your mini hurricane wind speeds, you selfish little bitch not thinking of other’s needs, don’t you ever come back with your heartless intentions, but every year you come back with some heartfelt convention, to blow away all of our smog in this basin we live in, to make air quality better and our sunsets ridiculous, to make our mountains look bold and stand strong for our visitor’s, which puts money in our pockets, I guess you’re good for our business’s.

Santa Ana without you, Russell Crow couldn’t hang glide, but the hate that you blow raise our crime rate and suicide, the violence that you spew was a mystery to me, I often wondered how could the wind be so vicious to we, we, we often see the dark on the moon side when the yin and yang shift LA’s happy when you arise, your negative aspect to the county of angles, has a slight obsession to our dia de los muertos celebrations, Halloween, all saints day, the time of the year, when the windy wind blows and Santa Ana’s is here, when Santa Ana’s arrive, our economy will survive but a few will sink from the bullets that she provides, she gets in her position, locks and loads, her humming sound and the compact of her wind unfolds, seeps into your mind and change your whole mental vernacular, the calm become distorted and the angered become the restless-less, days become warm but the nights are feeling relentless-less, the eccentric Hollywood scene becomes filled with more recklessness, a little dabble of fear, sprinkled on top with anxiety, smoking weed in the wind hoping the cops won’t incite a riot, the arsenals sitting back waiting to start a fire, setting ablaze to Malibu hills the job of the pyros, as the winds pick up speed the fire starts to spread, black smoke in the air and the fire fighters ready for war, sirens BANG throughout the city as the chaos uproars, sirens BANG through the city as the violence explodes, as the tyrants unfold, the norm starts to change, the sound of the wind makes everyone un-tamed, the wind blowing my mane, as it narrows my eyes, my dry skin and parched mouth arises my pride, it entices my competition, changes my composition, cutting people off on the freeway and switching lanes: my acquisition, for instance, the winds need to leave right now, before the whole city falls and we don’t need that now, we need a little bit of rain to calm this down, look up in the sky and the clouds roll in….the winds calm….the air still…the firemen are starting to see white smoke, the police shifts are not extended, Hollywood nights are not as stupendous, *CLAP* thunder rolls…..the rain starts….. Santa Ana dies….she disappears……it’s back to normal……we made it through……until next year my lady devil….It’s that time of season when the devil opens her mouth and out comes her hot breathe….

                        The Rise of the Phoenix

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