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Daydreams drift into vivid memories,
shadowed thoughts of "remember when"
grow bright with a gasp
as I dip my feet into the icy river.

The new road used to be old riverfront
and the only travelers were ducks and geese.
We skipped school and skipped rocks,
chased each other with lightsabers
made of twigs and fishing twine.

I flex wrinkled toes and dig further
into the cold sand, feel the pulse
of the river mingle with my own.
A toy boat flounders on the shore,

its torn sail flapping in the breeze.
I rescue it from the rocks,
patch it up with twig and twine
and set it free.
Aaron LaLux Oct 2018
The 3 Crucifixes sit,
atop this city like a tombstone,
but this grave feels so alive,
so vibrant in it’s Post-Colonial glory,

the Spaniards came & went,
well “came & went” is too courteous a term,
but hey either way wherever your beliefs may lay,
they left & when they did they left behind their language & La Ermita Church,

now what’s left is gift wrapped & embodied in Native Blood & Colonial Skin,

ancient wisdom lost in translation all in the name of The Cross,
sacred status melted down for the gold they contained,
I wonder if Colombians or any South Americans for that matter,
think about the past past but the remnants that were left when speaking Spanish,

I guess the Spanish never really left,
& the Inquisition is finished but still I must confess,
Native Blood & Colonial Skin is a pretty good combination,
because 200 years after they left look what we get,

a vibrant culture a wonderful mix,
late night Salsa fiestas at Zaperoco,
hot weather hot food hot women hot music,
& vibes so alive you’d almost forget about the looming tombstone,

watching everything like it’s on replay,
like everyone is already gone which they as in we will all be one day,
when Nature finally returns to reclaim,
what was rightfully Hers in the first place,

in the same way Colombians reclaimed Colombia once the Spaniards went away,

but until Nature comes back to reclaim it’s arepas salsa & coffee,
it’s a beautiful day in Cali let’s have a lively debate over empanadas panela & pollo,
partying from sunset & on in to the humid Cali night,
making such amazing memories that we temporarily forget about the crucifix tombstones,

but all the while there those 3 Crucifixes sit,
atop this city like a tombstone,
but this grave feels so alive,
so vibrant in it’s Post-Colonial glory…

∆ Aaron LaLux ∆
ConnectHook Aug 2020
Timothy Dwight (1752–1817)


COLUMBIA, Columbia, to glory arise,

The queen of the world, and the child of the skies!

Thy genius commands thee; with rapture behold,

While ages on ages thy splendors unfold.

Thy reign is the last, and the noblest of time,

Most fruitful thy soil, most inviting thy clime;

Let the crimes of the east ne’er encrimson thy name,

Be freedom, and science, and virtue thy fame.

To conquest and slaughter let Europe aspire;

Whelm nations in blood, and wrap cities in fire;

Thy heroes the rights of mankind shall defend,

And triumph pursue them, and glory attend.

A world is thy realm: for a world be thy laws,

Enlarged as thine empire, and just as thy cause;

On freedom’s broad basis, that empire shall rise,

Extend with the main, and dissolve with the skies.

Fair Science her gates to thy sons shall unbar,

And the east see thy morn hide the beams of her star.

New bards, and new sages, unrivall’d shall soar

To fame unextinguish’d, when time is no more;

To thee, the last refuge of virtue designed,

Shall fly from all nations the best of mankind;

Here, grateful to heaven, with transport shall bring

Their incense, more fragrant than odors of spring.

Nor less shall thy fair ones to glory ascend,

And genius and beauty in harmony blend;

The graces of form shall awake pure desire,

And the charms of the soul ever cherish the fire;

Their sweetness unmingled, their manners refined,

And virtue’s bright image, instamp’d on the mind

With peace, and soft rapture, shall teach life to glow,

And light up a smile in the aspect of woe.

Thy fleets to all regions thy power shall display,

The nations admire, and the ocean obey;

Each shore to thy glory its tribute unfold,

And the east and the south yield their spices and gold.

As the day-spring unbounded, thy splendor shall flow,

And earth’s little kingdoms before thee shall bow:

While the ensigns of union, in triumph unfurl’d,

Hush the tumult of war, and give peace to the world.

Thus, as down a lone valley, with cedars o’erspread,

From war’s dread confusion I pensively stray’d—

The gloom from the face of fair heaven retired;

The winds ceased to murmur; the thunders expired;

Perfumes, as of Eden, flow’d sweetly along,

And a voice, as of angels, enchantingly sung:

“Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise,

The queen of the world and the child of the skies.”
She bought me good times
and really felt my lines
it made her say many things here
like venture on a map
so let me inundate her wraps
under Christmas Trees abroad
that balsam lights her cigarette and
there is hers with Maria in Cali
Heat index in July his summer
MARK RIORDAN May 2017
CASSIE THE AUSSIE DRUG SMUGGLER
NOW WANTS TAX PAYERS CASH
THIS IS INCREDIBLE AND STUPID
AND A WHOLE LOT OF TRASH


IF YOU SMUGGLE DRUGS IN A COUNTRY
WHERE THE PENALTIES ARE SEVERE
YOU WERE VERY CONSCIOUS OF YOUR ACTIONS
TAKE RESPONSIBILITY MY DEAR


DON'T EXPECT HONEST PEOPLE
TO NOW HELP BAIL YOU OUT
IF YOU SMUGGLE DRUGS AND GET CAUGHT
YOUR ON YOUR OWN NO DOUBT
A YOUNG AUSSIE GIRL CASSIE IS BEING HELD IN COLUMBIA. WHY DIDN'T SHE CHECK HER OWN LUGGAGE AND CHECK THE PACKAGES GIVEN TO HER. YOU SHOULD KNOW WHAT IS IN YOUR OWN LUGGAGE. NOW SHE IS ASKING HELP FROM AUSSIE TAX PAYERS TO FUND HER DEFENSE IN COLUMBIA. THE POEM SPEAKS FOR ITSELF.
Spenser Bennett Apr 2016
Afraid to speak, they only knew
Think me weak or know me true

A silence, let linger
Please see the depth
Don't let me sink for

There is more to breath; promise.

Hard to say heavy words

My mouth betrayed, broke down levy
Don't let me drown, love

Don't drink the flood
Hold my hand, whether
storm and blood
Edward Coles May 2014
He washed his hands in the Caño Cristales.
Five colours of healing bruises put to pasture
Within his purpled veins. There was blood again;
He was now a resident of Earth.

****** hair had grown wildly into a half-beard.
He scratched at it in the Columbian sun,
Sweating in the lack of British rain
And thinking of all the miles he had
Put between the two.

He’d spent all his life combing the mirror.
Combing the mirror and expecting change;
An escape from vanity publishers and
Celebrity snapshots. Combing the mirror,
And so always ending up in the same place.

Searching his memories of Peruvian plains,
There were diagrams set by the former residents.
He took out his folded notebook and started on
The Brand New Testament; before throwing
Its ashes into the liquid rainbow.
c

— The End —