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Carlo C Gomez Sep 2021
and kisses in the balcony

little soldiers
showing dogtags
to get a free refill

before duck and cover drills
at intermission

it's all one big movie

whether the summer rockets
arrive with Flash Gordon

or by way of Cuba
ConnectHook Oct 2020
Que suenen las trompetas
un don para el presidente:
La salsa lo hará grande
y elevará su mente.

Escuchen el tumbao:
compártanlo libremente—
y que él gane en noviembre
sin tumulto ni incidente.
nick armbrister Nov 2019
By Craig J. Burt /Jimmy Boom Semtex
Are you ok?
Your brain's rattling like crazy
You're dancing like a ballerina
Twerkin around these crazy hot streets
You say why be a bore?
Life is a chore
Refuse to fade
Like a shadow of a doubt
Silver star filled skies
Shining proudly
Living freely & deep in love
We're no longer
Strangers tonight now
Sensational romantics
Loving devoutly

And the clatter of heels echoes
Upon concrete downtown Havana
Never had it so good or free
The Castros’ grip and communism fade
While we dance chest to chest
Thigh to thigh Lambada-esque
Los Lobos couldn’t be this cool
Nor move so ****** like you and me
For freedom for Cuba for us
This goes on and on
Like a whistling wind
Calling your name
Stop stop and listen
Do you hear it?
I held two flags
Both  red white and blue
You said I could only choose one
annh Jan 2019
Cuban motorists
expect the odd puff of wind
‘nother day, ‘nother Zephyr
Wrote this completely oblivious to Sunday’s tornado in Havana. An untimely post - kia kaha! :(
Could you contain my sighs of solitude
by harboring the anxiety in this fragile sea?
On your streets lies the tenderness, aging,
incandescent wind shelters and recalls
them in the distance
the flame anchored in your colors.

Lucid, shadowed reminiscent garden
in an infinite insomnia
harnessing the dawn.
Throbbing uniquely,
uniquely understanding,
following the beat, freshness,
watercolor eyes of the city.
Giraldilla, proclamation, mystery,
chaste voice in a calm urge.
I consecrate your vitreaux,
sensing your baroque capitals,
Dusty, unraveled.
I'd like to talk:
Game, rainbow, love,
People, noise, cars;
Essays on flavors.
A captivated rumor,
your arbor dances a naked certainty:
A park, a cloud, summer, God.
The boundary hurts the clef,
the litany resorts to music,
when the stars nurse your elusive chant.

Far… blood calls for your passion,
Languishing, nobody edifies it,
in the absent dwelling of your sun, your moon.
The corner dwellers come to my mind,
the adjacent towns, trembling bedrooms.
I seek within you, dear city,
that home, The Cathedral,
that childhood, concrete flesh,
mother's kiss fading goodbye:
upholds my venerated memories.

Translated by Vanessa Cresevich
Book:  Under the Light of my Blood
Hjalmar Ekström Oct 2017
This is the end of the beginning.

I woke up in the dark.
A leap but no fall to remember.
The panic but no will to vanish.
Waiting in a corridor.
Driven mad by sirens.
A fragile memory.

Surrounded by friends and strangers.
Growing thirstier with every case of stairs.
Inventing. Connecting. Accelerating. Speeding forward.
A spark of the unexplainable.

Speaking with a new voice, I found myself in a dangerous way.
Laughter is the bane of control.
Be happy and kind.

No one to trust, everything to gain.
Focus on what is important.
When met with faces and words at high temperatures.
Miles from home and hours later.

This is the beginning of the end.
A trip to learn spanish a decade ago that went wrong.
ConnectHook Nov 2016
An oppressive and bearded dictator
has expired, and we sing "see ya later".
The intransigent pride
on the Communist side
makes Miami Cubanos' joy greater.
♥ ⛧ ☭  ⚧ ♥ ✿ ⚢⛧★ ⚥ ♥
good riddance to bad Marxism
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