Sitting at my lonely barside
I kneel before the patron saint
Of castaways,
And raise but two fingers.
The peanuts and peasants
Have much in common,
They are roasted, salted,
Glazed with a succor
No sweeter than savage starlight
They serve to compliment
The fine layer of salt
On the rim of my cocktails
The liquor as **** as their company.
This is the rite of reverence
That droops my eyelids
This is the gleaning genuflection
Of the day's stale bread.
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 2:55 AM UTC
Let us spark,
Lest we dwindle on
Such ill preconceptions.
Let us spark
For the steps
We have taken
Towards setting suns
And rising moons.
For the tears we shed
And the blood we’ve sullied
Alongside tobacconists,
Who pray without hands,
Hymnal steam seeping through
Chapped lips
For the sounds of laughter
That erupt from
Inconsequential selves
Who only ask
A tiny bead
Of hallowed light
To cut the smoke
Dense in our skulls.
This heaving ashtray
Will go on for miles.
I beg pardon for
A moment’s reprieve
In dear memory
With cigars.
-Juan Carlos Gomez
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 2:46 AM UTC
A life without roses
Is one of indifference.
There are no thorns to ***** off
Or to impale the skin
Love will no longer be sold
At the last minute.
Tall tales and epic romances
Shall revolve around no sweeter bud
My Mexican brethren
Would have one less crop
To sell near the highway,
And yet nothing to offer
Before the ******
The world is spared
Another image to spoil
Until it wilts away,
A tragic component.
Indeed, such a life
Is perched in diffidence,
But a life without you?
My dear, unfathomable.
-Juan Carlos Gomez
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 2:43 AM UTC
These days
It seems like you
Only show up to
Aggravate me.
You erase my
Footprints,
Rendering me
Aimless.
When I thirst,
You bring storms;
I simply ask
For a cup’s worth.
At night, When it’s coldest;
You aren’t there.
You sleep soundly?
When you’re mad;
You kick sand
In my face.
I’m still blind.
I still walk;
For every step’s
A nail down
The new womb.
Try and chase me.
-Juan Carlos Gomez
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 2:41 AM UTC
-For Kerry-
Gone are the days
Where we can talk about
How heavy the weight
Of the world is.
No longer can we insult
The mannerisms of the
Hoi-poloi
And how weird it'd sound
Escaping falsetto tones.
Gone are the days
Of violence and wrath
Behind crystal displays
Sharp as the culprit's dagger.
Or our remarks on how dumb
The teenagers are in the film,
With their over-sized *******
And miniscule minds.
I've heard about how you'd cry.
My heart can't ever bear to see it.
But it relishes every opportunity
To smoke cigarettes with you.
Good medicine always
Goes down bitter.
If we are ever to meet once more,
May the links of the world be
Loosened-- at least just a little.
-Juan Carlos Gomez
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 2:35 AM UTC
She is a river.
Boundless, undaunting,
Pristine.
Rosebuds, she blossoms
Through her gentle stride
Knowing not of Eden
That of which is lesser
I can no longer
Fear life,
For I shall die of thirst.
No liquor or brine
Is sweeter
Than her ebb ,
Undiscernable
To my vapid quarters,
My steamy mind.
Upon my end,
My only regret
Will be that I’ve never
Learned how to swim.
-Juan Carlos Gomez
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 2:33 AM UTC
At the park,
I sat beside an old man
A crone, a fogey
A father.
His nostrils flared
As he drew all the cool air;
The twitch and the twang
Of his ****** features
Have locked my attention
His neck cracked towards me,
And his gibberish enthralled me
To think that such a man
Can still sound so young.
Can he still be so young?
With his brittle bones
And his nasally nostrils
And his waxy wisdom
That slops off his mouth?
I went back home
And ate a bran muffin
I didn't bother to
Dab it with frosting.
-Juan Carlos Gomez
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 2:31 AM UTC
A ballad I wrote for my roommate's badass cactus plant.
Come hither, foreign passersby
And listen to this song!
A cactus plant of noble deed
Would vanquish that is wrong!
Of faerie’s tear was he borne from
So sweetly did it seep!
Absorbed into a common thread
A hero, did it reap!
Hell hath no fury like his arms
That launch sharp needles far!
A thousand ****** upon the skin
Of discord, he shall scar!
Once knighted true by queen d’fleur
He rides on gallant gold!
Through tides and cliffs doth feathered steed
Make haste 'cross lands of olde!
Such titles prized did Needles seize
For slaying spiders tall!
On bended knee shall he assist
Upon your beck and call!
To summon Needles just takes faith
So whisper to the sky!
The sacred psalm of cactus high.
Let evil fare to die!
-Juan Carlos Gomez
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 2:09 AM UTC
I want to tell you
That I broke my hand
Punching my dorm walls
Repeatedly in your absence.
But truth be told,
I’m still writing dumb prose.
I’d like to give you
A piece of my mind.
I don’t need it, it’s just
The anvil of my heart.
But truth be told,
I’m still writing weak prose.
I’ve got to leave you
Hanging like the solitary
Pay phone at the pier,
Beeping like a flat pulse.
But truth be told,
I’m still writing **** prose.
I must part from you
Yet my prior words
Are tied to my ankles,
There is never distance.
But truth be told,
I’m still writing lame prose.
I need to say to you
How special you are
With what little control
I’ve left of my body.
But truth be told,
I’m still writing this prose.
-Juan Carlos Gomez
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 2:01 AM UTC
-For my grandmother-
You came to me
Like a wolf.
Wounded and limp,
Yet so firm within
You knelt over
And welcomed me
Into your territory.
An alien wasteland
So barren, and yet
So rich with life;
Like the cacti
That blossoms
Effortlessly,
Yet without ease.
They are born
Under the eye
Of a loving spirit,
Who works,
Ceaselessly
Always feeding,
Always giving,
Always nurturing;
Yet is still so distant.
So foreign.
So unknown from me.
Let me be the one
For you in this
Looming dusk.
Let me clean your wounds
And brush your fur.
I don’t need to speak.
I never do.
Let me give you thanks
For this land of color.
This beaming plain of
Sorrow and vigor.
Let me be your spectrum
As the shade draws near
Keep me abreast
Always and forever
As the eyelid folds
To bring twinkling
Tears of grief
For all to see.
-Juan Carlos Gomez
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 1:47 AM UTC