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Carlo C Gomez Mar 2021
Walking home
at twilight:

the gentle breeze

the lavender sky

the wave goodbye
before the sun
closes its eyes

and the lingering disquiet
of knowing
you're all alone
for the next several blocks
For Sarah Everard.
It wasn't her fault.
For many women simply taking a walk can be a gamble, even in a good neighborhood.
That is unacceptable.
Carlo C Gomez Mar 2020
Her body pulls away, outlying

Ask the mountains
Question the clouds

What is rotation's logic?
Have we spun fallaciously all along?

Communicating with inexact words?
Kissing off-target?
*******, an imprecise expression?

She settles now on unapproachable horizon

Learn from the shore
Understand the sea

Neither dare, nor desire, to claim
For the indignity or cumber of a difficult collide

Start anew by holding hands
Discover the "we" in you and her

Ever so gently, allow her to orbit
The offered affection
On her own terms

The heart will again probe for
A returning circuit to attachment

Her body will move closer
Carlo C Gomez Jan 2020
I promise
Not to cut you
Out of my life
Until it's absolutely necessary
Or the sky is blue
Carlo C Gomez Feb 2020
Oil
Exhaust
Handstand theatre
In the back of a van
Underground avenue
Has the scent of
Stale black licorice
Melted into the sidewalk
The familiar odor of traffic
Is a pedestrian substitute
For the Old World charm
This renovated place
Paved over
Long
Ago
Carlo C Gomez Apr 2020
An ocean now between us
Should these waters
Ever again part
I wonder
How deep the chasm
Carlo C Gomez Nov 2019
Even the gracefully beautiful
Sonnet inspiring
Adult butterfly
Started out
As an awkward unruly
Eat you out of house and home
Kid caterpillar
Carlo C Gomez Nov 2022
I saw an old man crying at
the precipice of his sanity,
ten stories above the sea,
and the world at his feet, a helo-deck:
a principality that had the worn out lay of home.

So trivialized.
So fantasized.
So immobilized.
Transmitting pirate-radio-waves eternally.

Seized the tower.
Hoisted the flag.
Crowned the queen.

"I've no blood right, only a passport," he said. "But do have the right mindset: I can't leave, we're so dangerous. Don't be a stranger now, we'll never be this dangerous again..."
Carlo C Gomez Jan 2020
The sound of children suffering from some far off shore in my ear

The tears of first light shed a certain sadness as I listen for a sparse hope

But all that transmits is an echo of fear...
Carlo C Gomez Nov 2019
School is nearly run out,
Will you sign my yearbook?

The outside world in the rear-view mirror
Is closer than it appears,
And I'm getting scared.

What of all our tomorrows?
What will they bring?

For now, let's go steady.

One last kick & cheer for the crowd.
One last ditch from third period.
One last lockdown drill,

Just in case we end up under the gun...
NOT AGAIN!

*to all the tomorrows that never came*

Columbine High School - April 20, 1999
...
Saugus High School - November 14, 2019
...
Carlo C Gomez Jan 2020
"I'm restless, I think I'll go for a walk."

And so, you visited Ephesus,
on the ancient coast of Ionia,
browsing books in the Library of Celsus.

You wandered through
large ionic columns in Jerash,
the chariot marks of
the Oval Forum and Cardo
visible at your feet.

You then climbed Mount Alban
to the rise of its 2,200 terraces,
“Grand Plaza” shadowed from the sun,
where the ritualistic games
often meant death.

"How was your walk?"
I asked upon your return.

"Substantial," you said
falling back into bed.
"But not as tangible
as my life with you."
Carlo C Gomez Dec 2019
The glint in your eyes
When I cupped your moons
Was only a prelude
To the gravitational pull
Between two heavenly bodies
Finally untethered
From the chains
Of solitary confinement
Carlo C Gomez Jul 2021
~
When Pharaoh
checked out at the Red Sea,
odd circumstance made a grab for his vacant scepter,

and kingdom collided
with plague to paint a mural
on the palace wall (or maybe, it was the hotel lobby),

of a dreamer's garden,
his wife in veils, her dance a cordial
invitation to a great many unmentionable things,

the feral sky had blown
itself out, and in muted candle
nightshade, the mistress of war disembarked,

and so somewhere
in those upper rooms, ruler
and consort, hearing the sound of running water,

mystified their carnal
senses by infusing themselves
with a little vigorous morphine of the soul

~
Carlo C Gomez Nov 2019
We know this particular neck of the woods well.
To know her is to love her,
Over and over again.

The nexus between us has a motive
All its own: strike the firing pin.
Then spin~spin~spin.

I see stars that uninhibitedly glow.
Heaven has opened
Up her waiting arms.

Who said,
"All that glitters is not gold?"
Was it not a desperate wistful streetcar?

Heyday!
We're bathed in a bridal veil of angel light:
The crowning nimbus.

*** is a knotty business: it binds.
Given enough rope, we
Hang from the rafters.

Come fruition come!
Ah, this sleep is sweet
On those morning afters.
Carlo C Gomez Mar 2022
~
A room lives in Zoria
And also the trees
At a critical distance
She seeks their shelter
An abiding solace
To wash free
To swim sea
Who can blame
The suffering of her stream
Whether it be
A time for hanging on
Or a time for passing
Let the waters come
And overtake her
Flooding her with
Safeguarding arms

~
For those suffering in Ukraine
Carlo C Gomez Apr 2021
~
Silver water
flowing out from under
moon-less-ness

Beautiful daughter of the stars
dancing in eclipse, remembering
the season of the sun

And how her
calculating love survived
its long hibernation

~
Carlo C Gomez Dec 2019
Is the sky falling
just because she's
soaked to the skin,
half-naked,
and with pixie smile
knows so little
of the affect
her bloom has,
here in the open fields?

Her evanescent day,
caught between
the suppressive cloud
of a mother's
mindful shaming,
and what it should
rightfully be,
an ingénue
let play in the rain.
Carlo C Gomez Jun 2020
She's in parties
& knees-up
She's half-seas over
& in the king's cup

She's in missionary
She's in backwards
She's on backseats
& dashboards

She's in fast lanes
& intersections
She's in full throttle
& Hail Marys

She's in obituaries
& cemeteries
Carlo C Gomez Jun 2023
~
In the mist of late night solitude,
                 from a mislaid plateau,
                 with a suitcase full of sparks

She observes constellations
        reflected as little needy eyes,
                        peering down at her

They could be midnight directives,
       postcards from distant nebula
                            suspended in gaffa

       "Ne t'enfuis pas..." She exhales

Still she wonders:

        will her children grow to love
          their perfect machines more
                                    than they love
                  their imperfect mother?

~
"Ne t'enfuis pas" is a French phrase which means "don't run away"
Carlo C Gomez Feb 26
~
First God
Then Everest
To the ends of elation

Her eyes in sunflare
An imprint from her light
Heavy and pulling me
The ever after of the hereafter

In that moment I was hesitant

~
Carlo C Gomez Aug 2021
~
The Umbrellas
of Cherbourg,
pastel-coloured,
rain-soaked,
bouncing
around the room,
blocking all of the exits,
in Doppler shifts
it all turns and returns,
indeed there's daggers
in a woman's smile,
from a grain of sand
to mushrooms in the sky,
say it in a letter—
a hostage crisis,
recitative,
and catlike,
load the cartridges
and let them fly,
(flutter of wings),
face the sun and
bargain with flowers,
(flutter of lashes),
grow as clingstone and
follow my warlight home,
(flutter of heartbeat),
just close your eyes
and make believe,
it all turns and returns,
Geneviève,
I will wait for you,
la petite amie,
I will wait for you,
anywhere you wander,
anywhere you go.

~
Carlo C Gomez Mar 10
Reality is so unreliable. In the water of life we surf the wave of chance. Rise or fall as hunters in the snow. The isolating future is already here. But people are still people, they still need each other. The anachronistic branch of knowledge we are dedicated to - the day in, day out - is a deluded science. It is we who would be the objects of enquiry and fascination to an alien mind. Humanity is the true wonder, the true miracle.
~
She smiles only in pictures
Her hair is growing long

With eyes closed
Au coucher du soleil
Her voice is dulcet
Her laugh is nexus

"Take me with you," she says.
"We'll make kites, we'll steal land."

The gentle arrival of rain
In the blue hour of
The portrait gallery
Makes her qualified to dream
About a serenade of water
And the blueberry boat

~
Carlo C Gomez Mar 2020
Rent-to-own heart
Sits awkwardly upright
In a hope chest
It can take a beating
And keep right on ticking
But beware of jump scares
Next to the fireplace
Carlo C Gomez Apr 2022
~
I see starfish from
my false bottom
canoe

stretching the wave,
a shimmer to the sound
—slow, fast, wide, and narrow,

then gray over blue
in the empty mirth.

I see trouble and strife,
a beacon of
decadence,
trembling consistently
on each note as if
she had the permanent fever.

I see death and transfiguration,
(equal bedfellows),
out of the ground
as glorious
wisteria,

there's ether on hand
and a lot of bridge work
to cross the vocal span of our
vibrato wars.

I've only got time
for the business at hand,
these cobwebs in the corner
(of history) can linger,
or die like
flies

on the Queen of Compromise,
who never was,
who might have been,
who will always be.

am I cantillating
or have I ventured into
false memory syndrome
again?

~
Carlo C Gomez Oct 2019
Dreaming of the never mind
--the burden of proof my thoughts struggle
over if it was even such a thought.

It's in my nature
--the uncertainty
--the clutter of an empty space begging
for stronger remembrance:

like signal to noise.

Even in the harsh light
it casts unknown shadows

causing me to turn to something more tangible
--people, places, and things:

the ones I can criticize
or stylize, hold in my hand,
crush with my fist, kiss with my lips
--honing it down until a kernel
of something remotely mine.

Then I smile
at being a tourist in my own mind:

Paris syndrome: litmus test:
that disconnect between fantasy and reality,
fragment and rumination

--It's right there now
on the tip of my tongue.
Carlo C Gomez Jan 2020
Eating out is a nightmare
as every meal dissolves
into a food poisoning scare.

Riding the merry-go-round
is a disaster, your claim of being allergic
to horses forces them to shut it down.

Google is your friend,
symptom searches are endless
whether they're real or pretend.

While reading this poem
you begin to feel a bit worse for wear,
wishing you were in bed at home.

Headache?
Brain tumor is your answer.
Sore throat?
It's probably cancer.

You're not sure if your back hurts
or your kidneys are failing,
neurotic to a fault
you call in sick to your own wedding.

You even press for a second opinion
to see if it's serious,
nonetheless, we do wish you a speedy
recovery from your imaginary illness.
Carlo C Gomez Aug 2020
Kinetic energy
Without equilibrium

A fixed star
Collapsing in on itself

There she stares unblinked
At stellar remnants

Sprawled face up
In the dry aqueduct

Holding her breath
He won't return
Carlo C Gomez Jun 2023
I'm waterproof positive:
This may be John Hawkins's ship
But I've no idea why that matters.

This is disease infested waters,
And piracy is highly contagious,
I should know.

I grew up on the same street as money,
But he migrated to Los Angeles,
Where there was greater curb appeal.

This life is a house of stairs,
And no one walks
The plank better than me.

But all too soon
This old vessel is firewood
And tread board.

It might be the new world,
But the pilgrims are covered
In Spanish moss,
Mixed warning signs on their hats.

We pirates are forgetful escapists,
Doing high wire acts at sea,
To harbor regret is to mutiny
In thy heart,
I should know.
But I don't.

Seems my mind has gone
And given me the slip,
Meet me for a pint
At the Crooked Wig
And we'll talk shop...

Maybe.
Been sitting in my drafts for 2 years. Thought I would free it...
Carlo C Gomez Mar 2020
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a swimming companion when enjoying his pond.
Carlo C Gomez Jan 2020
My wife doesn't know
Which is worse:

That this comes in only two sizes

Or that it's reusable!
This is an actual type of women's ******.
Carlo C Gomez Nov 2020
They fought with swords and shields in sorted fields

of acrimony, declared life and limb to a barren kingdom,

bowed to the royal crown and wooed its fairest daughter.

They won her heart, graced her walls, and worked within them to produce an offspring

—a love child forged with the will of iron and a random, but possessive eye chart.

It nearly took the death of an empire to bring this passion to birth,

and here it so rests upon her breast, pleading an allegiance to her tattered flag.

Why even a thousand years of war demurred to her letting down her hair.

But whose army crossed that wanton bridge and stroked her into carnal submission?

Who kept watch at the crossroads?

History tells us c'est la vie was the culprit, and détente the better angel.

Sometimes it's useless to be useful...
Carlo C Gomez Aug 2021
~
abruptly waking to discover
the sempiternal daylight of herself
in a small silent village in Brussels

the sky's a cloudless blue
and she needs the sun
like children need two parents

sunglasses conceal bedroom eyes
smiles hide like inverted *******
clothed in peekaboo milieu

a highly individual creature
in an era of the exaggerated curve
she's an amnesiac

doodle-dawdling in the altogether
wrapping herself around
mise-en-scène

it's breakfast with Mr. Svengali
then unacquainted foothills
and undergrowth
in the flaring of conjugal
light and shadow

hum
thrum
'n strum
she's got the whole wide world
in her hands

her simple slantwise silhouette
declivitous neck
inclining embonpoint
summoning him

no clock, no watch
the keeping of time
is served by rapping
her crown upon the headboard
at regular intervals

her open-tempered sighs
closing with the heaviness
of a sleepy hush

until the echoing of church bells
announce the footfalls
of tomorrow-come-looking

~
It opens in transition
Warm Texas rain in June
Dallas in a cocoon
--
Kingdom of the sad harvester
Crop of tears raised in the sun
Forming long shadows on the screen
--
Starlight in cathedral
This explosion within
Enter the soldiers
Enter the dragon
--
Framed insects
Relying on hidden stairwells
To cover their hasty escape
To seal their fate
--
Inside a fascist restaurant
The men hiccup and cigarette
The women just smile and pirouette
Dancing around the blast zone
Detonating minds and hearts
Just as the end credits roll
Carlo C Gomez Jan 2020
All play and no work
Makes Jack a La-Z-Boy
Carlo C Gomez May 2020
The eyeshadows
Of her favorite color palette
Were every bit as neoteric
As they were triturated
--broken to pieces
Inside a mailer
Without bubble wrap
Based on a true story.

BLT's new challenge- to write a poem using the Merriam- Webster word of the day, neoteric.
Carlo C Gomez Dec 2019
Help control the predator
population
by having your threat
spayed or neutered
Carlo C Gomez May 2022
~
She cannot feel the full passion of this peak because it is not her passion: It is seen at a distance, as a phenomenon, like the weather, or the plague of grasshoppers that signals the beginning of the end.
~
Carlo C Gomez Nov 2020
Holy Roman Empire
and its Hakenkreuz.
I hear it in my spirit,
It starts to fall,
Flake even.

In open areas of sylvan and pastoral jazz.

On the iron plating of
Spandau, situated at
The confluence of the Havel and Spree.

Along the rails of "we the children from
Zoo Station."

Inside the books about
Katharina, the burned out postmaster.

And at no daylight, no time frame
—the Final Solution, Auschwitz.

I hear it in my spirit,
It starts to fall,
Tell me how I fear it.
Do we buy hatred for our health?
Is it really worth the taste?
Hakenkreuz [ hah-kuh n-kroits ] : a *******, especially that used as the emblem of the **** party and the Third *****.
Carlo C Gomez Nov 2019
Mirror, mirror
On the wall,
Why am I
Still concerned
With being
The fairest of them all?
Carlo C Gomez Nov 2019
Sometimes there's nothing
More real than
An imaginary friend.

Through good times and bad
For all the laughter and tears
Even if only pretend.
Carlo C Gomez Aug 2020
Hello happy hour!
I see you're now reduced
to fifteen minutes of
soft drinks and
smiling depression:
simper and wine.
check that...Sprite.

But I'll drink to
nagging doubt anyway.

Cars are now a kick.
Who knew gridlock
could offer such joyride:
the drive home each day
my ******* sabbatical.

I wrote 3 letters the other day
(the handwritten, paper kind)
and feel a little
like Jane Austen.
I think she'd like Dr. Pepper,
but not Mr. Pibb.
Too foppish.

Then there's this:
the wax and wane
of life between the bed
and the couch.
There's six degrees
of separation
through the five layers
of this reusable face mask.

Speaking of masks:
"one for the money,
two for the show,
three to make ready
and four to go."

And somehow I know
I will never breathe it in
that way again.

Random curtain calls:
I'm so starved for someone
to talk to; the mail lady
had me at "hello."
I offered her a soda.
Mail order catalogs are king.
The Saturday Night Special
from the burglar alarm brochure
was my final good buy.
Carlo C Gomez Jan 2020
Rustle of trees,
Static in the air,
Radio wave disturbance,
Satellites offline,
Yet, undetected in the solar constant.

If a woman's voice
Falls in the forest,
(Or her own home,
for that matter),
Does it make a sound?

Or does it simply,
Once more,
In the grand scheme of things,
Fall upon the deaf ears
Of an ignorant man?
Carlo C Gomez Jan 19
~
--third transmission--

time to be
less than alive
tube in, tube out

for madmen only
in struggles for utopia

semi-super friends
marching the hate machines
into the sun

the dehydrated sun

smashed into splinters of dead light

keep out of sight
keep behind the light
or it will hunt you down

make you one of
the thin pixelated crowd
washing their sins with stardust

the little hand is overhead...

--losing transmission--
~
Carlo C Gomez Oct 2021
I'm on a bus,

I'm in a tunnel,

As the choppers fly low

Over the belly of damnation,

Looking down at

The fractured city

From the 44th floor,

I'm a gun turret,

Hit or miss

The light pours out of me,

Now I'm a solar panel,

A Christmas tree,

Powered up

And manufactured,

The sum of my parts

Somehow worth more

Than what it means

To be human.
Carlo C Gomez Jun 2021
He trails.

He turns.

He falls behind.

But always discerns.

Fortunately our tastes for this
sort of life coincide,
except in the matter of sunrise,
which he likes to see up and dressed,
and I from my bed.
Carlo C Gomez Nov 2019
For a minute there I forgot
I lost my mind

Probably a good idea
to make a list

That way, if I should stumble
upon it, I will know it's mine
Carlo C Gomez Dec 2019
It figures, doesn't it!
Just when you think
There's no room for regret,
He still manages to find a way
To spend the night on your couch.
Carlo C Gomez Oct 2021
~
Eulogy of the heart
in a locket around her throat
all the little memories
of sun and moon
of wind and rain
recited by bruised lips
that took the euphony
of his kisses
to mean him a lover
of such beautiful things
but will-o'-the-wisp was he
as so mistaken was she

~
Inspired by and title taken from Caroline Shank's poem "Tango"
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4466022/tango/
Carlo C Gomez Jul 2024
~
"Why is there only one chair in this room?"

"This once was an island." She replied.

"You favor this place then, I take it?"

"How can I not," said she. "The dawn here is quiet."

"Not on this floor, you are much mistaken! The stairs are like an avalanche."

Looking down at herself, she quickly changed the subject. "There are barcodes on each breast now."

"I see. Were you nervous?"

"Only when focusing on the morning break," She confessed. "Otherwise I was much like you--killing what keeps us alive."

"Is that so bad?"

"I wonder. Sometimes I still feel the bruises." She stated. "But I am told this is normal."

"What else did they tell you?"

"To quit worrying about not being built to scale," she stated in displeasure.

"...and?"

"For me to prepare to fall again for the apocalyptic things written in the sky," She admitted with a wicked smile.

"What's so funny?"

"I recognized your handwriting long ago," She uttered into the centrifuge.
~
Carlo C Gomez Dec 2019
A recent study on excuses
people give for missing work
found a growing trend to be
24-hour alien abduction
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