poems

Sea Turtle

Inside of a hiding night sky

sea turtles fly

while the moon plays peek a boo

behind black clouds.

A mouth alongside the ground whispers

I love you

and with those words

it lets loose endless rains that fall to the green ground.

A sea turtle, tied to a white rope

A gift tied to a gift

Lies beneath that rain, soaked

and his face looks up

drenched in his own tears, saying

I’ll love you forever.

Hand in hand with yesterday

swimming in the floods

hiding his tears in the water

a lost sea turtle, swimming on flooded land

far from the sea

swims above houses and streets and signs

above the ghosts of yesterday

looking for the truth of the day-before-yesterday.

Sea turtle swims quickly

trying to escape the hurt

because his world has cried for days in pain.

Look for the moon

blacked out of memory

behind those clouds

killed with I love you.

But worry not

she’ll love you long after she’s gone. 

Tree in the Forest

Tree in the forest 

Do you have bad days?
You're surrounded by the beautiful woods
you get to watch the sunrise and sunset
you get to feel the tears of the sky
and the snow of winter.
You're full of beautiful green leaves that turn orange
and then repeat the cycle 
You're surrounded by friends who are just like you
and experience the same things as you.
You see all the animals and hear the birds
you see beauty every day 
and have no feelings.
You don’t hurt or cry or
have your friends leave you 
No one ever stops loving you 
or hates you.
Everyone loves you
and thinks you're lovely 
because you do everything perfectly.
Animals love you so much 
that they make you their home. 
Tree in the forest
Is all of this true? 
Do you have bad days?
I wish I were you. 


Here in Siberia  

Beaten into half of a man
I finally made my escape to the top of the world.
Packing my bags, dressed for travel 
I wept and bid farewell to my homeland
counting on my endless fingers
the number of defeats this season.
Here in Siberia, on top of the world
the cold chewed my face into leather
and the snow assaulted my bloody skin.
I regrouped, regrew, renewed
here in the solitude
and reflected
leaning my face into the howling wind
that blew from the moon.
Thirty below zero is a friend compared to
the fleeting echoes of love sung from a reptilian mouth.
Thirty below zero and lunar winds that try to kill
are a benevolent friend compared to malicious kisses
given in a Shepard's park.
I wept for all the disaster 
while on this escape.
Songs of loss and poems of defeat 
are my only company
while here in this wild land
boiling my bones in the frigid air
and gazing at the three dimensional stars
that drip out of the sky to meet me in my eyes.
The stars here understand the defeat
for they are eternal and wise.


Luna

Late at night I sit alone
atop the pinnacle of planet earth
that turns, rolls over and groans beneath me
turning slowly
angry at me, and yelling at me because
the weight of my heart tips her scales
seesawing right and left, up and down.
The unbearable weight
of two oceans roaring inside me
that each carry their own tide, coming and receding
tip the delicate balance of night and day.
The weight of my heart is enough to move the cosmos
make the blue of day turn to the black of night
and I as well, dear planet earth, carry this weight
unable to control her fits.

Low tide is night, and I can walk far out on the shore,
Climb the pinnacle of planet earth, and gaze at the moon.
From underneath earth's skin
the moon comes alive
underneath the skin that covers the sphere of the sky.
It beams on the horizon, casting a glow
wriggling like a worm, inching along
and once its risen, it beams as Queen Luna
having escaped from the black tint of darkness.
My two green eyes stare at your oval essence,
while my mouth blows smoke in your white eyes.
Defiantly I lie here, ruler of the earth
you ruler of the sky.
But have your rule, have your time
Because assuredly I promise
High tide is fast on his way. 


The Scent Of My Skin Is Familiar 

Look at these treasures
where once they had been so beautiful
as where a pirate would take to the sea in pursuit
here they have crumbled into ashes, smoke and dust.
Long ago I took to a faraway coast, where I dove into the gold.
But after 2 swings in full circle
I am rendered sleepyhead
with a sleepy head and sleepy mouth.
So tired of racing to only see half of me has left the start
I now see where indeed I have come apart.
These treasures turned poison
cling to my bones like cancer, choking my eyes again
burning against my walls against my rules and against my skin.
The damage powerful and irreversible, impossible to shed
The poison whispered in my ear
'The scent of my skin is familiar'
with a dead voice that covered my blue bones.
On trial as a criminal
where I only feel oppressed
I wish to go back in time
because these treasures that promised wealth
have deceived as the snake in the Garden of Eden. 


Bible In One Hand Bullets In The Other

Bible in one hand bullets in the other
'lets take to the hills.'
Sneaking, hiding, following the tracks
looking for snapped twigs, rustled leaves
dedicated to this grand, holy crusade.
From across the ravine suddenly I saw an enemy
staring down his rifle's sights.
Too little, too late
too wicked, too fake
I turned to run for cover but instead absorbed a bullet.
One eye looks left the other looks right
and my body lies motionless, propped against a tree
with me hovering above, watching in slow motion.
From the tops of the trees come hatred and revenge
raining down from the hands of the onlookers
tiny acorn insults thrown into the wounds.
Where once the forest was a friend, and alive
it has changed its colors and now is aflame, too soon
burning everything to ash.
Twisted tree roots break through the soil
and pull my body into the bosom of planet earth.
Ghost whispers that once whispered I love you
in a deafening roar, echoing off the trees from every corner
now shriek silently.
Too many bombardments, too many deeds done in the dark
the slightest breeze has blown this weakened shack to the ground.
Thank God I could count on you.


The Red Veil 

A one man rider who rides a blue horse

knowing not of these ways

I want to hold her head up while she cries

but I’m leaving instead.

I hide my own tears behind my red veil

thinking of the proper things to say

desperately trying to fix this while coming unglued

repeating something to distract me

anything to keep me occupied, so I don’t cry

because all of this is going down the drain.

I want to weep, but smile instead

while everything grows dull and cold.

I tried so hard to be your friend

while at the same time burning to be your lover.

What ends with trouble always starts with a grin

and now I love then hate then love you again.

Later, hiding in my cave

I see him in the entrance, so I jump up

so I can shake his hand, hug him, tell him of my pain

my troubles, my fears, ask why

he died and left us behind-

but I know its just a shadow

and my mouth is just an empty, mute hole.

This red veil I wear everyday is my shell

my shelter, my happy. I put it on and smile

and try to remember that I’m a warrior

but then forget

and fight to remember what I really am.

I put my hand to my work and stoically slave away, because

this deep sadness and pain of life

shall surely pass me by.

Let me just keep on my blue horse, riding solo with

my red veil on,

and hide my tears behind happy green eyes.

 
A Swing In Full Circle

A swing in full circle
brought me back to the fabled land
once again face to face with the mist
the Sea of Gold
retracing steps laid down eons ago
that felt like yesterday.
I searched for Strawberry Swing
a mission provoked by the feelings of familiarity
of being in this old place.
I put my ear to the wind, listening
and tried to speak back with the frost of my words
but all I heard in response was silence.
I wandered through the Sea of Gold
against the rushing tide
that threatened to swallow me
as if searching for one lost gold coin.
And glancing back at the ice chasing me
from high on the hill
I ignored it and pushed on.
I treaded lightly between the trees
while the entire forest burned in flames
stubbornly insisting this was the same old place
I used to wander
the same sidewalks I walked before
the same cold wind that bit my face.
I searched tirelessly for Strawberry Swing.


Two Plus Two

The sky matched my mood today

ugly and stale.
God wept over me and I wept over me and you.
The blue sky disappeared and was replaced by gray sky
just like when your blue eyes disappeared and all I saw was gray
no longer seeing colors
and no longer having bones.
Two plus two
green plus blue
equals me plus you.

I stood in the gray and the rain, watching my reflection
the words “happy birthday” forming on my lips
but only water heard
and not you
only the water that pours from the sky
the water that pours from my eyes
and the blood that still gushes from the wounds in my heart
were witness to this tragic display of pain.
I thought about how time has passed
and life moved on
while I’ve stood still and speechless for 3 months
braindead and lifeless
unchanged and preserved
unflinchingly bearing the intense pain
wanting to see you, talk to you, smell you
somewhere else besides my dreams.

Hillside Burning

We ran in the rain
we ran in the wind.
We saw a hillside burning and we ran through that.
Throwing off our coats
we ran through the cold wind and jumped off a cliff.
Falling to the rocks below, we clung to one another in an intimate embrace
and I breathed my soul into you.
Locked in passion
we refused to look at the rocks moving up at us.
While a voice in your ear shouted danger
I insisted otherwise.
We ignored the icy wind
the coming doom
when you suddenly looked down.
While you tried to grab onto the wall to save yourself
I reached for your hair
wanting your scent on my hands to breathe while I died.


Sadness Is a Blessing

Round two, two years later
its been a long time coming.
I climb up in the driver's seat, pull the choke
push the clutch, turn the key, pump the gas
and fire up the old engine that's been lying dormant.
Clean off the dust, the rust, the cobwebs.
On a straightaway
stretch out all the gears, top gear, top end.
It's the familiar overwhelming burning
the purple juice inside my bones
brought back to life.
Pressure building up until it starts to seep through
the pores on my skin.

I take the brush, dip in deep into blue,
into green,
into brown, brown skin made more brown
in New Mexico.
I trace it slowly across the canvas
painting my soul
all these colors separated, yet together
but only for a second
because suddenly I'm swinging wildly,
hurling paint at the canvas, splattering colors, and
long ribbons of paint splash up against virgin canvas.
Dalí has possessed me, and all my subconscious
dreams and fears and longings
manifest themselves in the painting as savage animals
viciously tearing at one another, flesh and blood
flying through the air.
Audibly, visibly, the canvas bears witness to
genocide and homicide and infanticide
screaming pain and a sudden pause
when all at once everything stops, and images fade,
lines lose contour, colors mix, then slowly unspiral
like a kaleidoscope, then take shape into
pretty green exotic trees, pretty yellow lights,
nicely tanned, on crutches, shaking hands
meeting for the first time, speaking in Spanish.
Light puffy clouds, shaped like lips,
drape across a blue backdropp of a curved, brown neck.
All of these opposing images
gracefully fall from my paintbrush onto the pale, naked canvas
simultaneously.

Life lived in fluid, seamless motion is a tricky scene
to put onto canvas.
We are títeres, not controlled by
but colored like Geppetto.
This painting, like the painter
is a scene of insurrection:
Over dead bodies
in Spanish, the títeres sing a song:

Sadness isn't my blessing, sadness is my curse
I thought I could do much better
Instead I did much worse.
Too stupid, too late
too wicked, too fake
it's the end of a line-
A line drawn fine.
Go back to your Texas,
I'll go back to my
rotten log I sit on alone in the woods.

The purple juice is barely out
The pendulum affect of a 2 year drought.

 
The Second Iceage

The second ice age started long after
My forest was washed away
first by my tears and then by the floods.
After the floods came the fire
And while the remnants burned in flames
Frost the Bitter sat on top of the globe and blew
And the second ice age descended like a mad tsunami
on the charred skeletons of the forest.

Long ago during the floods my left eye
watched the disaster of the forest washed away in the flood
while my right saw another-
Strawberry Swing going down as well.
First was the flower vase you threw against the wall,
then the torn painting, but
The funeral song was almost too much.
Glass crunched under your rainbow shoes and
'I love you' echoed off the mountains and trees of the forest
While Strawberry Swing sunk like the titanic.
While these two disasters changed the shape of my world
I at first rushed to save the final pieces
but then I left and
I sat on a faraway bridge and sung a different song.

I closed my mouth and sighed in tired resignation
as Frost reached down from the top of the earth
and savagely seized me by my skull.
A finger pierced each eye socket
And the goblin lifted me up 50 feet off the ground
he cackled while deadly cold advanced like crusaders.
And so began the second ice age.

While we were frozen statues in deadly cold
(myself hanging by fingers in each eye socket)
you apathetically witnessed our second demise as you did the first-
from far away on your green shore.
I wriggled free from the goblin, and hardening my face
I bent down my head and defiantly charged against the cold
Just as I did when I sped past you in the burning forest
As you offered me your hand full of wildflowers.

I thought of revisiting the old fabled forest and seaside
on which we built our forts and sandcastles
but as the wandering mists of Strawberry Swing followed me tirelessly
peeking around bushes and another pretty face
giggling and disappearing as I turned to look
I decided even the top of the world, which offered a distant view
was too close for me.

Through the glass of frozen lakes I saw my shoes
and my face looking back up at me.
Smiling slightly,
I charged ahead
and instead of stopping to pick them up
I made sure to step on the pieces of
Strawberry Swing that I saw scattered along the way
and promised myself the next time your ghost
whispered I love you and
offered a hand full of wildflowers
I would show them the same fate of Strawberry Swing.

Leo

The air was still as two armies faced each other
across a dusty, parched battlefield.
Each second hung like an eternity
no one daring to tip the first domino
that would set off the chaos.
The warrior's heart full of courage, like a lion, Leo
was ready for battle, blood, and honor
I have long trained for this.
Suddenly a long cry pierced the icy stillness, inciting mayhem
and was immediately followed by thousands more.
The two armies rushed at each other, and in a split second
the forces of thousands of brave hearts clashed.
Blocking and ducking
swinging intentionally, deliberately, confidently
and fearlessly
I took several brave hearts' lives in short order
and fought alongside my brothers.
To my left, unexpectedly
One blade sliced my fresh body
And to my right and another followed suit.
I turned to block, stab, kill but
A club made contact with my chest, crushing my ribs
and knocking me to the ground.
Feet kicked and stepped on my body
as I clawed the earth and fought to stand
all the while surprised at the overpowering strength of this foe.
This wasn't supposed to happen, to me, Leo
He who dreamed
and was full of life and courage.
While other men fight in this battle, kill and live
and a Patriarch lies to the north, breathing his last
I as well lie dying, bleeding on the ground
helplessly absorbing blows that punish and crush my body
watching the world spin wildly on its axis
and the sun set behind the clouds.
This wasn't how this battle was supposed to happen.


Xochimilco

The day independence was won
the sky was lit not only by a full moon
but with rockets, spiraling into the air
whistling, exploding
and raining down sparks.
The air in the village of Xochimilco
on the outskirts of the city
was full of mist, magic, thick smoke from rockets
and the pride of thousands of slumdog millionaires.
One of the poorest barrios of the Capital
put on the most fanciful and colorful celebration
almost in defiance of the poverty and cold.
Trumpets and gritos, along with shrieking whistles
could be heard in all the unpaved streets and alleys,
the street vendors busy
frying tortillas and filling them with beans
not even asking a price,
while children ran between people's legs
and donkeys brayed, pulling wooden carts, with their driver
Pasele y pida su rico atole! Pida sus ricos tamales!
Any other night of the year, as soon as the sun went down
everyone closed his door, locked his windows
and the streets were empty.
But nobody stayed inside his house on this night
for no one thought to rob, fight, or kill.
All were festive and laughing, patting strangers' backs-
everyone was your compadre tonight.
The hour unknown, uncared for, rather
as everyone took this night to celebrate
the victory of los de abajo.

Tonight I stand with Luna
among chilacayote crops and
enormous trees growing among the ancient canals
mesmerized
looking up at an enormous, white full moon
that lies watching this poor village
behind long yellow ribbons of sparks,
glittering tails of comets that chase away the
spirits of maldad and foreign oppression
all of this enchanting,
alien to my foreign eyes.
Tonight I sleep in a one room shack with a dirt floor
in a neighborhood of one room shacks with dirt floors
The palaces of true princes.
Tonight I will spend hours on the roof of this shack
watching this grand display of
victory, in the foreground of a peasant moon
shivering in the 35 degree air
drinking atole and eating fried tortillas filled with beans,
and maybe we will eat a little Chilacayote from the garden.
We are protected here, the glass pieces
cemented to the tops of the walls
will keep the monsters at bay
if they try to climb up and over.
Luna will run among the trees and bushes
chasing comet tails and howling in tune with the trumpets
howling a sad song of a bygone time
masking the many trumpet's songs of victory
scaring off the evil eyes that lie in the darkness of the tall grass
and making the Castilian blood spilled and soaked in the ground
long to rise up to meet the song in the air
to cry together with all the Aztec ghosts of this ancient village.
I will lie here in safety and silence
and think of 2000 years of Xochimilco nights.
This desolate, forgotten shantytown
one of many in this city
with more heart, history, and charm than any of the upscale neighborhoods
on the other end of town
where the pretty people play around a large table
sipping wine and planning the poor people's future
had my heart at hello.


Alexander

Golden was the savannah, the sun burning on my face.
As a boy on a mountain I gazed upon the desert and the sun planted destiny in my veins.
Shooting through time like a star in the icy sky
the frost burned my finger tips as my world became engulfed by giant spiders in giant webs.
Pushing through the sandstorm
I hardened my lips and took up arms
I weilded sabers and spears at the advancing monsters
and slayed beasts like Lawrence of Arabia.
Unable to be stopped I gained fortunes and forged kingdoms but
hearts long for more.
I marched across the land and over the mountains
and set my sights on a jungle far away.
Tearing down trees and burning down mountains and swamps
I laid to waste the creatures and inhabitants of this faraway land.
I set up an empire and ruled from a castle.
Time passed and the jungle became a tundra
when a new foe invaded my land.
An aging warlord, I took up my sword and marched to combat
but after every battle a weakened emperor retreated to his castle.
Abandoning reason I the emperor fought with all the strength my kingdom allowed
from ruling in a palace to hiding in a cave
pulling on my younger days as a king in the jungle, a boy in the desert.
But soon I was defeated and made a servant of this new foe.
Giving me a sword and restoring to me my former strength
a new emperor sends me to advance his reign.
The sun shines on my head as I march out
a former warlord made servant of a new ruler
slaying monsters and killing beasts all across the land.


Civil War

Life on the farm was monotonous
I stayed inside and never lied
life was simple and there was plenty to eat
in a lonely, out of the way village
far from the outside world.
Conservatives and liberals-
I had never heard the words in my youth
but when armed men stormed my village
burned my life to the ground and shot my family
conscripted service was the price for my life.
Immediately life was like a raging river
as civil war destroyed life at the turn of the century.
I was reduced to
diving into ditches as mortars blasted and blackened the earth
bodies and body parts rained from the sky
and I was soaked by dirt turned to mud by lakes of blood
as each side relentlessly hacked away the other, fighting for an inch of ground
neither side giving way.
Days and months turned into years
cannon balls and mortars shelled the countryside beyond recognition
every green thing, every beautiful thing was destroyed by fire
lush pastures and gardens were turned into battlefields and graveyards.
Armies controlled cities and rebel militias ravaged the countryside
martial law meant everyone was a foe and shot on sight.
A life was spent for a cause I knew nothing of
and bitterness began to consume me, as I only fought for my survival
not for a flag or any political ideology
but following orders from generals with an agenda
all this disaster being meaningless to me.
My bare face grew a black beard which turned gray
and I remembered my youth and my family
in the secluded village deep in the jungle.
An old man with a hunched back holding a heavy rifle, I looked up
I saw a raindrop fall from the sky to my feet
soak into the ground
and I watched as a small green shoot
poked up from beneath the soot and ashes
took root and grew to be a towering tree
the only shred of life in the entire country
the only green thing against a background of burnt earth.
All men looked to the tree confused
bullets stopped firing, shells stopped falling
and soldiers began to remember the way of life of long before.
Throwing down their rifles, city men melted the metal of their rifles and made plows
rebel militias came down from the hills
animals became men again,
fathers and farmers
they joined hands and a city was built around the tree, the sign of a new age
a city was made, civilization flourished, and
I returned to my village deep in the jungle
peace reigned, and no man traded plow for rifle ever again.  


Reign of Love

I’m a poor wanderer

I don’t have anything to offer you except my love

but that’s ok

because I’ll give you all of it

and its enough to knock down a mountain.

I’m a dreamer, a fighter, a warrior

I’d fight the world if it attacked you

and sing songs all day about how lovely you are while fighting.

I’m a vampire and I’m immortal

I’m a Viking and I’ve traveled and conquered the world.

I have a lifetime of stories

a treasure chest in my mind of memories

beautiful sights and places I’ve seen.

I’ll paint you pictures of words

of anything you want to see

mountains, oceans, towers, volcanoes

I’ll write you songs about ancient empires and wars

I’ll write you poems about your eyes

because they’re the most beautiful thing in existence.

Come and run away with me.

Your friends say I’m no good

they say we don’t belong together

but your heart insists otherwise.

We have an eternal love but

its no good unless it grows

lets run away together and our love will grow.

We can walk up to Strawberry Swing

where every moment will be so precious

no one ever knew love the way we know it now.

I don’t have much-only the world

but I will give it all up for you

because without you it’s a waste of time.

Tomorrow the world can come crashing down on us

but if it crushes us hand in hand

I will be ok with death.

You said you were lonely and thinking about me

I’ve been thinking about you since before I met you.

Just stay there

because I’ll be coming over

and I want to take you far away across the ocean.

You’re a prisoner of your inhibitions

and I’m a prisoner in a reign of love.

If you would just jump with me I wouldn’t let you go!

I would grab your hand and we can land somewhere warm

and our feet wont touch the ground.

This icy tundra keeps us frozen

and I’m longing for green grass and blue skies

I want to see your skin turn brown in the sun.