Category Archives: Poema

星期五

All day I spent feeling Friday the 13th
it was an ominous day
something bad is to happen
yet every day something bad happens
this time it felt specifically aimed at me
mass hysteria
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→ though the winds rocked the yellowed leaves of the branch trees ←
→ doomed to decry the fall ←
→ whilst the gray clouds floated aloof ←
→ and the puddles from last nights rain ←
→ reflected the air passing by to whowhereswhere ←
→ the office continued with its normal routine ←
→ hate hovering about ←
→ pretending everything is ok ←
→ sniffing a wift of wellness ←
→ outta the fluorescent-lit office corner ←
→ writing this so-called poem ←
→ yeah, Friday the 13th is out to get me. ←
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saiqueado

In my blood runs
Tijuas Caló
Whether in (E)spañol
Or
English
Them beats
Pound the flesh
Like a Smith
Hierro
Fierro
A fuego
Con ritmos
turiquean y dicen
netas
Desde el punto cero
We knew before thee
güiri güiri
Los filerazos
de la punta de la lengua
Wacha
Wachatelas
Agüigüi
Semos
Lo que que traimos
Caile
acá
Te calmamos
El party
No
Empieza sin ti

derrames de ramajes

hace viento

el follaje
mece a su merced

corre por ái
un dicho
sobre quién mece
a los arboles

yo quizá

pero no cuando llueve
las hojas frondosas de la primavera
acumulan agua
solo para hacer llover de nuevo

la gente se cree a salvo
de la pausa
y es cuando el árbol
nos la juega

y al destello del sol
aguarda a Ehecatl
derrama
lo que guardó
en caida
brilla un arcoiris
y a chingar a su madre
a correr de la sombra del árbol frondoso

adamantium

the nihilist virus
wants
to renew itself
forever
it wants
a life and an imagination to last a lifetime
to reinvent itself
to
gut
till it tires
alloveragain
ceaselessly
a joy bug
who pukes
in delight
.

de esas de aquellas

Mis huesos
Vivieron
En el Valle
Hasta el cansancio
Y La Voz del Pueblo
Esquiniaba
Contra Kawuila
De a buche
Habría que pedirlos
Para poder saborear
Bien las 2am y wachar
El farol de luces
Recaer sobre las costras
De mugre
que soltaban olores
justos para wacarear
aquel
walk of shame
soltar cacharpas
a la Fuente de la suerte
y retornar a ese valle
on’Comala’ta

秋霜 Qiūshuāng

In my bathroom mirror there are a couple of white hairs clinging to its surface. They bring my existence to a head as I am reminded of my autumn frost as the Chinese are wont to say. I find them peculiarly interesting in a way they make me pause my life to realize the fact that am getting old. Some things are halting. I stare at the hairs from the throne as I do my business. Two white hairs, not apart from each other, reflecting each other on the surface of the mirror. They are reminders of my hair plucking. As my family taught me to do. The very purpose is about vanity, not appearing old, yet here this too, whose very presence alter the habit or act, are there to show me the inevitable, I am getting older. The flakes of the autumn frost are coming.

dire

Streets of N. This autumn 2016.
The weather is fine, here in N.
As I was about to walk & cross the cobblestone street to step unto the sidewalk
in the narrow stretch of public terrain & a public road
in the heart of the Swedish highlands
I scanned my surroundings
ready to saunter as if
I was in Beijing
when
a young couple caught my eye
they had right of way
I laid eyes on them
swiftly
pretending I hadn’t seen them
until the opportunity
to
fix my sight at them in leisure as they strolled by me
presented itself
so as not to interrupt the flow of the everyday so to say
it was a matter of seconds in which life bestows a lifetime far away the reach of fabric of time
the young lass looking straight ahead and the lad pushing a baby carriage, with a baby in it
I assume
that missed my observation since I can’t recall it
I did get to look at what seemed to be a couple though
dead intent to where they where headed on wards
as the weather doesn’t permit cheery attitudes
their faces were stern
who knows what was going on to be honest but it did ring a dire bell in me
as I delved into their passing by
I remembered my onus as a young person
still reeling from youth
stepping unto adulthood of responsibility
how bitter it was to suddenly not be part of what I was
I reflected upon my current status
hoped to heavens the young couple faired better
and went about as usual

Orar por el mal

I asked God
if he could take a a second to pardon
Satan
Evil
that Love
conquer
over Hate
So that Evil’s restlessness
come to a rest
so that we may live in peace
then I feared
Evil
Satan itself
fear for daring to pray for its soul
i imagined its wrath
I imagined a million specters
haunting me to stop
asking for its sins
feeling God’s reassurance
I desisted a microsecond
(you know how it is when one gets into those qualms)
God is absolute
I doubted inwards
shaking my head
at the binary
that accosts us
Oh Captain my Captain
shall rise
one day
I saw Star Trek
that Roddenberry utopia
soothe my ens
as I stepped onto some autumn leaves on my way
as the hours ticked
after hauling demons criss crossed my existence as I walked on the pavement fearing sudden death
I
went back
to the daily cocoon
the unforgiving routine

Tipuloidea


espanta
ver
su tamaño

tan tranquila
aguardando
tiempo

quisiere
usar
la aspiradora

el instinto
desechar
fealdad

ganas
dan
ese momento

al mismo
tiempo que
le asalta

preocupación
a uno

¿qué comerá?

y
albricias
como un cruel Haiku

desacralizo


A las 19:36 del 25 de Agosto latitud 57
La bocina de uno de las bocinas negras asentadas en mi escritorio
resplandecieron
el atardecer del sol
haciéndome entrecerrar los ojos
en seña de force
majeure
quizá
æ
El viento soplaba
porque
le vi
hacer presencia
en la pared
pues
se dibujaba
en mi pared un reflejo de luces entre la oscuridad del atardecer y el último destello del ocaso de hoy
y ahí, el sol, la sombra y el viento
vivían, respiraban y jugaban con mi imaginación.
œ
mientras
mi cuerpo
sentía
el paso del tiempo correr
sin detenerse a oler las rosas

Über den Wellen
camino
sin trazo
ya que más da