I once read a poem
that was too long

I once left a poem
unfinished.

Once upon a now and then
there is and was a mighty king
whom we love to serve whether we know it or not
and we ignore at our peril for he’s all that we’ve got

His presence glows brighter by fireside and hearth
Music, voices, laughter - he basks in their warmth

He sails upon the winds borne by gleeful children’s screams
and darts between the specks of dust connecting lovers’ dreams

And he’d sing and he’d fly, and carry us up through the sky
a hidden king with a gleam in his eye

He’ll sometimes come and sometimes go
always a flutter to and fro
kept alive through grace and welcoming hearts
Sustained by music and hugs and love and art

Some people glance askew and see him
but a direct stare and he’d disappear
People feel their insides shiver when they lose him
such a efflorescent presence we all want near

Gasp in wonder at the sunrise and he’s in your eyes
Sigh to the cool night air, and he rustles in your hair

And he’d sing and he’d fly, and carry us up through the sky
a hidden king with a gleam in his eye

Oh don’t you wish you were free
Don’t you just wish you were free?
You’d be a fool to give it all up
Just for peace, happiness, and security.

Poor soul, your state oppressing so many
Maybe some day they’ll see
That mass corporate conglomerates are people too
Just like you and me

All that nonsense, propaganda
About social justice, bonds, and solidarity
Beware, that’s just the sugar coated ghost of Stalin
Mao, ******, Beezlebub, and Mussolini

Oh boy don’t you just wish
Don’t you wish you were more like me?
At liberty to willfully discriminate
On your own private property.

To just exercise your personhood
By buying clothes and watching TV
What’s the matter man, why don’t you see,
Why you so anti-individuality?

This is the Agnostics Anthem
The Church stole God and asked a ransom
Atheists are too ******* sure for me
So I guess when we’re dead then we’ll finally see

La violencia
esta medio escondida
en toda parte

La violencia
A veces es conocida
y reconocida
y llamada por lo que es

pero nunca se entienden las causas
o se explican los involucrados
mejor dicho los beneficiarios.

La violencia se supplementa
por la avaricia
la indiferencia
y la ignorancia

y sobrevive por la falta...
de que?

La justicia
La igualdad
El conocimiento
que somos uno.

La violencia
es la chiquita sin comida
los 30.000 muertos
de hambre cada dia.

La violencia
es la destrucción
de diversas especies y culturas,
la matanza de hábitats,
lenguajes y estilos de vida.

La violencia es violencia
mental, social, emocional,
o fisica

La negación de la voz
de tantos

La manipulacion
de miedo
del mal entendimiento
para seguir y justificar

el poder
que sólo puede existir
por la violencia

My hair collects all
The earth's artifacts and I
Refuse to shower

Without rest
Words whither
Sizzle on a cellular level
Choking on daydream sands
Of a temporary mere mirage

Life shuffles on unlocked knees
Cramped back cracks
And spells of checked out self

A little voice cries in grief
Longing for your dive into
The dark lush dreaming tide
And to drown to life
In the sleep-struck rush
A floodgate of relief
So sleep.

(I live in Cali, Colombia)

1.  My sketchy run-in with the cute gluehead.
2.  You say you’re armed, my girlfriend says you can’t have my camera.
3.  I guess I’m bilingual, but man do I feel stupid right now.
4.  No, coworker, I don’t feel like sharing with you why I’m going hiena in the break room. (culprit)
5.  What a pain that I don't remember your name.
6.  I ate my brains for breakfast with onion, tomato, and toast.
7.  If my daydreams were broad cast right now your boyfriend would probably hurt me.
8.  You, my friend, are my friend.
9.  Just dropped a drumstick 3 songs into our very first gig.    
10.  No sir I don’t want to buy that gun...oh...what’s that?  You’d like the contents of my pockets?
11.  My pleasant walk to wherever.
12.  Clandestine house-party tonail clipping session.
13.  My beard is doing a fantastic ashtray impersonation.
14.  Beérjá vu.
15.  “Um...did I really just say that?"
16.  ****** moment #247.
17.  Well well welcome to ***** Wonka’s South American silicone factory.
18.  Are my neighbors being cold because they know I puked in their front garden?
19.  Everyone is staring at me...must be time for a haircut.
20. ”Is this who I’m supposed to be?"

The little shnurple speads its wings
and sings of heaven's hellish kings
Adrift on memories future flung
Swinging, belting all eight lungs.
Awash, it never comes nor goes
It just is, what no one knows.
Flicking from the back of minds
Dismisplacing the meanest kinds.

Tick-Wicking prickles
Fig-Wiggling giggles
*** for tat
It neither qualms nor quibbles
Just lifts is hairy airs and sniffles.

This twisted sandman
strangles the sleep
of the guilty mind.
The over-exposed cycle
the why conjoined with I.

Persists, persistant, perspire.

He self-develops in your spine.
In black shadows, as he
dredges through memories
and dredges through memories
and dredges through memories.
All recalled, and in pain
sorted, distorted, and wrought anew.

But never quite to
a wholly dissonant cognition.
For these prints
These prints hold images
impossible to crush
or cast aside.

For there he stands
in his and your own dark room
in screaming defiance of the false.

The light thrown on
He smashes your funhouse mirror
and chemical-burns your closed eyes.

I love those moments when you get lost in the moon.
Neck craned back you collapse and laugh,
a random life raft and not a moment too soon.

Oh this life...
you make me swoon.

Shaded canopy,
Shaded canopy of green.
Moistly dripping, umbrella
of living, quivering,
sun sipping leaves.

Would that my life
carried the pomp and confidence
of a bombastic poem
an overwrought daytime drama

that bad action movie with the guy
who’s too cool for this world

Would that my rhymed greetings
always trumpet a joyful salute
blasting awake the tired and sad
rendering all introversion moot

Would that an invitation
for a beer a my place
be a more coveted prize
than a free trip to space

Would that every whipped up snack
be a culinary masterpiece
gasping in ecstasy my houseguests
cling to their seats

Would that the very tone of my voice
render women to squirm and swoon
render babies to giggle
and songbirds to croon

Would that any awkward silences
be scrupulously sifted out
cold cut conversations segued from hours
to clipped and cleverly crafted banter

Would that I’d compose the songs
that bring young lovers close
that wrench tears from the eyes
of those more cynical than most

Would that the clip of my canter
be the cadence of the soundtrack
of enlightenment

Would that my goodbyes be
an epic flood of emotion
my friends and colleagues
all so grieved to see me going

Would that in life
I be bigger than death
and in death I be
bigger than life.

...

But what would all that be
would that even be me?