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Guden Jun 13
Sometimes I look at you,
And love runs through my veins.
A love that that brings energy
For my brain,
My muscles,
My spirit.
Sometimes I look at you,
And I don't understand,
What you're doing here,
With me,
Why you love me
So broken
Beyond repair.
Sometimes I look at you,
And I want to drag you
To this hole I'm living in,
Perhaps that way
I won't be so lonely
Perhaps that way
You'll feel what I feel
And discover
You'll be better off somewhere else.
Guden May 2021
Un gato tuerto que mira
Desde una pandereta,
Desdén en su rostro.
A un lado camina un perro
Policial,
Un hombre policial también.
Tuerto el gato
No distingue profundidad,
No hay diferencia entre el perro
Y el hombre que camina,
Insolente,
Indolente,
Por un barrio que no es suyo
Ningún barrio le pertenece
Si defiende
A los ricos.
Y esos ricos
No lo quieren cerca suyo,
Preocupado de su vida arreglada,
Acomodada y maldita,
Malditos siempre.
En la pandereta
Mira el gato
Con un ojo,
Bajo él, los rayados
Nos recuerdan que como este gato
Hay muchos
Muchas,
Para el resto
Tener dos ojos
Es un privilegio.
Para los perros
Policiales,
El privilegio es no tener corazón.
Guden May 2021
Muffled sounds of laughter
At a clandestine gathering
Fourteen floors down the hill
The music stopped so the cops don't show up
They are seldom invited
That's why they are so bitter
Against people who are having fun
Yet the laughter continues
Old jokes are chanted like ancient anthems
Laughter is old and new
Guden May 2021
Rhythm is a song in itself
It's a word with music as you say it
Rhythm has the sound
And the tone
And the rhythm
Of music
In a word
Guden May 2021
Grow up
Short version
Lives not a game
Adventures are treasurous
I need a vaccine

Long version
Why?
Maybe a little of
So?
And the traditional
I don't really care.
Guden Nov 2019
I am a 5 year old Barnacle
Living on the side of a whale,
Although I don’t know
What a whale is.
I claim it as mine,
Other barnacles cannot live in my whale
Without my permission,
Yet I have no idea
What a whale is.
I live in a colony of barnacles,
I hate all of them.
I don’t believe this is a whale
And I haven’t a clue
What a whale is.
I am a 5 year old Barnacle,
Living on the side of a whale.
Some of the other barnacles
Say we live under the whale,
Not on its side,
They are wrong
They don’t know what a whale is,
Neither do I.
Guden Nov 2019
A tiny breeze
Cleans the stagnant air
Around my bedroom.
I thank the gods
Nobody comes closer to me,
So they cannot smell
The stench of *****,
Unwashed masses of hair.
A breeze that brings
The smell of tear gas,
I sense the protesters
Didn’t want to leave.
Now the smell
Of live death
Fades away
Mixed with scents
Of freedom and dignity.
I wish I was there
I used to be clean,
I used to move around,
When routines kept me going
Instead of being petrified
By the following day;
I used to be useful
Or so I’ve heard.
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