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Jake Espinoza Oct 2010
Give me bread, he said
There's something wrong in my head.
I'm passing thoughts to the dead, he said
Thoughts lost in black and red.

My father's a liar, he said
I saw him birthed from the fire.
He rose from that pyre, he said
To curse the world with Saturn's satire.

I know that I'm crazy, he said, I know that I'm crazy.
My chair and his cat, the pair could call me Daisy.
I'm scared to be lazy, he said, I'm scared to be lazy.
My beard is getting hazy, my eyes are a bit hazy.

Ooh, my skin feels so funny, he said, he said funny.
I feel the cave of bats – no – put your hand on my tummy.
Come summertime, he said, come summertime my nose gets runny, but only in Alaska, he said.
He said I'm a bad man, a bad bad man, said he to me, sonny :

You'll always remember me, my Lord and Savior.
Always.
Criticism is encouraged, literary or otherwise. I absolve you of the guidelines of HelloPoetry.com, because I want to hear whatever you have to say, whether it be praise or obscenities.

This is something I wrote while hung-over, after a three-day anti-festival of excess.
Jake Espinoza Jul 2010
J'ai toujours menti pour dire la vérité.
Je joue aux jeux pour que les autres puissent gagner.
Tout est si important
     que ça m'est égal.
Si je pense assez
     j'oublierai tout.
Je suis le Roi des Ombres
     important seulement pour les êtres qui existent en silence et poussière.
Je me change en pierre si je me tiens tranquille
     à me trouver dans un jardin d'une telle beauté
     avec les couleurs qui ont une sonorité jamais vue.
Je sens les émotions à travers le temps
     celles qu'aucun humain ne peut sentir.
Je tombe à travers la sécurité confortable et rouge-noire
     dans la clarté des vastes profondeurs du bleu foncé.
Mon corps s'est fait parfait pendant que je succombe
     et mon esprit se réveille.
La musique du violon se condense en amour sous mes yeux
     l'accord profond et sonore déchire le poison de mon esprit.
Je ressens les montées bleues claires de la vie dans mes veines quand je suis seul.
Je m'assieds avec les montagnes jusqu'à ce que nous nous unissions.
Mes yeux ne pourront jamais devenir impurs
     mon âme est sans tache.
Il y a la curiosité silencieuse dans la Vie
     l'amour dans ses yeux est si manifeste
     son sourire si tendre
     si silencieuse.
Ici sera où je pose la tête
     c'est la réalité que je choisis.
See "The Sound of Sleep" for the English translation.
Jake Espinoza Jul 2010
I have always lied to tell the truth.
I play games so that others may win.
Everything matters so much
     that I don't care about it.
If I think enough
     I'll forget everything.
I am the King of Shadows
     important only to the beings who exist in silence and dust.
I turn to stone if I sit still
     to find myself in a tranquil garden of such beauty
     with colors that possess a vibrancy that has never been seen.
I feel emotions through time
     those that no human can feel.
I fall through the comfortable, red-black safety
     into the clarity of the vast depths of the dark blue.
My body is made perfect as I succumb
     and my mind awakes.
I watch as the violin's music condenses into love before my eyes
     the deep, sonorous chord tears the poison from my mind.
I feel the light blue surges of life in my veins when I am alone.
I sit with mountains until we are one.
My eyes can never become unclean
     my soul is blemishless.
There is quiet wonder in Life
     the love in her eyes is so evident
     her smile so tender
     so quiet.
This shall be where I lay my head
     this is the reality I choose.
This is the English version of a poem I wrote for my French Composition class in the Winter '10 semester at Grand Valley.
Jake Espinoza May 2010
Black like spiders telling truths only God should know
The wise old hermit
Offers you his hand as if you were a child
And leads you forth into the unknown.

As you walk, you think to ask,
"Where are we going?"
But you realize it doesn't matter
Since you know that wherever you're going

He'll be there with you
In the shadows of your mind
Holding your hand
I wrote this poem because of the first line of the first stanza. It was one of those nights where my mind wouldn't allow me to sleep, and that was one of the things it produced.

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