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

Sister,
I've been to your chambers,
I've seen that Holy Bible
Kept ***** with your tomes.
I know that you're secretly
A nun, or a Catholic schoolgirl.
But that's impossible,
Because I've never seen you
Flustered pink like
A fragile glass of
Lemonade
On a thirsty,
Sinful,
Sabbath day.

You can't be celibate.
You are way too beautiful for that.
And such beauty left to waste
Is proof enough that my God is
Absent.
He is spending His time
Dodging deadlines to watch
Every move you make.
There are always
Judgments to be made.

I beg of you,
Cleanse this *****.
Get on your knees and pray,
But do it slowly.
Kiss the shaft of your Savior
Renounce your title to Him
So we can both go to Heaven.

You might think I'm just a mongrel,
Filthy in the eyes and mind.
Love is a pearl born from nature,
And yours is due to be polished.

-Juan Carlos Gomez

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

I sit still
Behind wispy brushes
That cast the gloominess away
Enough to admire the beauty
Of this fragile azure trinket.

I sit still alone,
Behind wispy brushes
That act upon others
As forbidden territory,
As a sanctuary that’s
Mine, and mine alone.

I sit so anxiously
Behind wispy brushes
Observing the trinket.
What I can never grasp,
Dwindles before me;
I have claws
For hands and feet,
And the limelight
Blinds what was meant
To be a humiliating secret
If I get close enough.

If there ever was a day
To be recorded in infamy;
‘Twould be the day where
Stars sought new homes,
Tigers grew coarse and *****,
And villagers incinerated
Every fiber of my being
Behind such dapper azure faces
As too, my darling
Dancing wispy brushes

-Juan Carlos Gomez

I watched adrift on a putrid plank
That had saved me once before
‘Twas the elusive Pride of the Pacific
Constructed in ‘74

Her bronze bells and mighty foghorn
Commanded all to make way
And the tides knelt beside her feet
To congregate as they say:

“Tis pitiful, such punishment
Bestown upon the Ancient Blue
Our vengeance creeps forth each day
And will drown this peace askew.

Their corpulence, disgusting
As they carouse all day and night
Limiting themselves to their marvels”
Alas! A human they spied in sight!

“The humans have rejected you
From their blissful celebration
Now let us stir up trouble
For complete annihilation!”

With swift currents bombarding,
The passengers fled with haste
And in one implacable calamity,
The ship was left to waste

The bronze bells won’t resound
With the ship flipped on its hull
The foghorn’s left to drown
As beauty is left to null.

I sobbed adrift a putrid plank
Never abandoned from the start
“Such horrors would go unnoticed
If humanity had the heart!”

I want to
Break off both pieces
Of that wishbone.
And yet,
I want to keep them
In place together,
Still holding them;
Shaking along with you.

My wish
Has already been
Granted anyway;
I’m just greedy.
Enough to see
Where this surreal night
Takes us as we sway,
Lest we be killed
By the trembling masses
That crushes all our moments.

Sitting at my lonely barside
I kneel before the patron saint
Of castaways,
And raise but *******.

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.

-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

Love, why do you restrain me so?
Your metal manacles are cold and unforgiving
Just like you; and not much can be said
About my weak ankles as well.

Why must you leave me feeling astray
Like a damp labrador in need of a home?
Am I forced to remain street fodder for
The rats and worms in a criminal underworld?

Please release me, or at least
Slice off both of my arms so that
You may keep them, my arms that hoped
To have held you, loved you, written for you;
They shall serve you as a memento
Of a rotting memory in a dark corner
Never to have cherished you so,
But alas! To have cherished you from afar
Was a venture most fulfilling

I had once waited for your warmth
To make my heart of coal dazzle,
Like the diamonds I always saw in your eyes.
God, isn’t it funny how the beguiling wind
Bewitches the leaves to dance for her
Only to be scattered away like trash?

Walking in the woods, I fell
Down into a knothole that lead
To another realm, unlike our own

‘Twas a wondrous realm like a twilit dream
Where the dazzling sky at night engulfed all
And satyrs who were young like me
Beckoned me to their sordid ******
Fountains of wine poured into streams,
And wood nymphs danced and bathed in falls
Deliciously drunken and sweet, calling me
To pick their flowers.

We caroused and we aroused
As we fired our slingshots into the sky
And watched the night shimmer with the
Comets we launched up and away.
I fired mine, foolishly unaware
That my target was the moon so full
I shattered my joy to pieces
And brought this realm to darkness

The satyrs howled in fear
The wood nymphs withered away
The fountains of wine turned into blood
And I was left drowningl
Until a glorious golden hand
Went from the moon’s place to
Shield me, carry me back to reality.
I awoke in a sweat and a shiver
'Twas always night in the Satyr’s Garden
Be it drenched with stars and ecstasy,
'Twas night, and night to remain.

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

I’m that guyWho’s a sour noteThat sinks deep belowSuch ascending cadences. I’m that guyWho is a shitload of fuckThat shares a planet withFuckloads of shitI’m that guyWhose blindness cannot be curedWith mud slinged in eyesAlready tinted with brownI’m that guyWho facepalms wheneverGod’s precious little angelShares herself with thatintention.I’m that guyWhose insomnia is legendaryFor believing that the moonWill swallow us allI’m that guyWho crouches down betweenDissident friends partingEvery which wayI’m that guy Who plucks petals off flowersFor incense, ‘cause they smellbetterEngulfed in fiery passionI’m that guyWho strides in the snowUnscathed because no frostIs colder than regretI’m that guyWho hates the newsBecause killing, destroying,****** and stealingIsn’t exactly new.And when time itselfTransfixes its body Away from our existence;That’s when I’ll slump overAnd shut my eyes, just becauseI’m that guy. -Juan Carlos Gomez   

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

“Life is beautiful”, she would say.
“Negate everything but your heart.
Use its light as a beacon for others”
My dim mind disagrees

She thinks that God
Has blessed her with a gift
One for all to behold.
She doesn’t know
That my weak heart
Slowly dies as my mind
Steps all over it.

My thoughts, they process
The way acid rain falls on statues
Corroding the bodies
Of revered men
Who will just be memories
Often unspoken of.
I will be that statue
Defaced by time and spirit
Getting much more older
Yet much less wiser

If I truly am God’s light
Then the batteries must be reversed,
Or perhaps my ugly mind
Seized them away,
Never to spark
Through humankind.

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

Lean forward
And **** the stain
From my shirt.
Use your tongue
To lap up my error
And my father’s error
And my ancestor’s error, too.

Pull my hair back
Like a Pez dispenser;
I’ll let you promenade
Down my jugular
In return, let this cube
From my rouge pint
Feel you, see you
Three-hundred and sixty
Degrees around
Peaks of flavor.

If my loving you
Is sinful, then let
These sultry demons
Pick at my *****;
Scorching its pinions
Asunder.

Let my soul
Plunge south
So I can rest
My dreary head
Under your shades
And your grass-patches

Let my hands
Reach north
To the sky;
Holding your ever
Radiant sun
So that I may love you
All morning and
All night long.

Every fiber of my being
Evaporates as I scurry
Across sun-bleached dunes
That lack my accustomed shade.


There is no mother
To feed from—just salt
For stinging the wounds
And seasoning the psyche.

I’ve got little air
Generating from my swinging tail;
But certainly not enough
To fan my inhibitions.

Which would hurt more?
The excruciating pain that surges
From each bite, or rather
The uncertainty of its growth?

I died to live
And I’ll live to die;
As I seek the shades
Of life’s mirage.

A serpent
Coiled itself behind me
While I was diligently working
At my desk, with blank expressions
Alone on a somber night.

He whispered in a ghastly voice,
“Follow me to paradise.
I shall lead you to the orchards
Where the freshest fruit blossoms;
The pulp as appealing as the rind.

Yes, the orchards are vast;
Almost like living in a sea
Where you cannot drown!
And all of mankind
Could dwell in such an organic sea!”

I asked if I could ever breathe there
The same way I breathe today.
I asked if my cleansing sunlight
Could ever reach me
At such depths if I went.

The serpent went mute
And slithered back into my pants,
Where it belongs in its jungle.

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

Wintry nights in Spring.
The farmer sits with his icy glass,
His heart lathered with alcohol.
How hard it must be to sleep soundly
Whilst walking on a shattered dream?

Her body lies in there, in there!
The crypt of their foundation for everything.
Everything but a new life.
Her womb is quiet with sorrow, like a graveyard.
At rest along with her spirit are her three children
Never to have explored their minds along with our
Cruel universe that has recently buried a new mound.

It matters not how much he drinks.
His tears can never be fresh rain
For his flower, and her garden by the graves.
The fields outside lay in cryo-sleep, waiting for
A new day of sunlight;
A new day to sustain cities all across the
Cruel universe, and its sick injustice!

And when she stirs, there will be silence.
Lives muffled, my seeds can never grow
In her garden alongside the graves, such fate the
Cruel universe provides us.

-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

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