These Are My People: Jamie Lopez and JuJu

https://www.facebook.com/artistjamielopez/timeline Jamie Lopez is a prolific painter with a distinctive style and color palette. Her innovative exuberance melts happiness into every brush/pen stroke.

https://www.facebook.com/artistjamielopez/timeline
Jamie Lopez is a prolific painter with a distinctive style and color palette. Her innovative exuberance melts happiness into every brush/pen stroke. THIS ONE IS SOLD!

She lives in self-inflicted padded walls

Created with cotton balls,

Elmer’s glue, squished on fun

By her autistic son

She schools him on the finer points of life while

She’s splashing in the shallow end

Of the dating pool

Yelling,

“MARCO!” in the language of JuJu.

The responses are comical if not misplaced

By distorted males riding by on penny pony floaties

They shout “CABBAGE!” or “BOK CHOY!” or “PETUNIA!”

From the deep end where she already dipped her mug

Into the drunken pissy beer and found the taste repugnant.

She rejects the self-proclaimed wise men and gurus

Whom are no more effective than arm-chair quarterbacks.

Instead she paints herself a wisdom

Of spiraling owls and feminine curly tailed girls

That return prosperity in accordance to her schoolgirl happy.

When she looks at her beloved son, she realizes,

She is his Sherlock, he, her Watson.

Where she is prismatic and lively

He is repetitive and monochromatic

But they take out the crayons together one by one

Exploring every color of the world as a dynamic duo

Some days, when she’s a grounded bird and doesn’t want to fly

Juju nurtures her with yesterday’s worms and reminds her to seek the sky.

A Perfect Storm


I love a good storm. The kind where the wind blows so strongly it feels as if I jumped, I could fly as far as the winds would take me. Strong enough to tickle my clothes against my skin in strapping slaps. The kind that threatens imminent danger but harms nobody. The kind that cracks branches, throws flower pots, and stomps through the curtains flying in my windows.

I love a good storm. The kind where stepping out of shelter immediately soggys my clothing. The rain that forces me to seek an umbrella in a feeble hope that it will be enough. The kind of rain that outcries every sad moment; Cleansing deep down into my spirit.

I love a good storm. The kind that holds the early summer heat intimately as a lover. The kind that compels me to lay naked on my bed with the windows wide open, towels on the windowsills. The moment when the heat speaks the language of eternity and I bow in submission.

I love a good storm. The kind where rage-full graces flash across the sky. The kind that turns the sky with powerful strokes into a momentary masterpiece. The chocolate sky drizzles cotton candy oranges onto a grey palette. The kind that temporarily freezes the world; burning into my retinas. It’s a perfect snapshot of my world, gifted to my memories.

I love a good storm. The kind that sounds like it explodes my windows with the force of it’s response. The kind that shakes the earthworms up from their homes. The kind that startles me with its ferocity. Or the kind that washes the air with bass so rich the earth applauds. Man, I do love a good storm.