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Carlo C Gomez Jan 12
~
Poor deluded brute
he waves his sword
in orchestration
to a ruthless symphony
played for miserable centuries:
the running of the bulls
"sketches of pain"
some monsters come
decked out in hat and cape
inside the arena of his pride
where he hears the chant
within the arts of
cowardice and cruelty
where he envisions
the feathered crown

Gala! Gala!
"how to see the toreador"
lost as San Fermín
pricked by hairpin
pierced by ragged horn
suerte de la muerte (luck of death)
foreshadowing Hemingway
turns into the troubled sun
and underneath his muleta
a deep red
blood alchemy
his fame spilling out
in drips and drabs
as the crowd sings
'Pobre de Mí (Poor Me)'
to the mystic stab of church bells

~
JT Sep 2021
The bird sings
He cries
He screams
The words of the great and free
Of the one.
He who took it all
And he the one who cried
"I am the one!
The one to end it all
And begin the new time
Of me."

Screams disappear into the forests
His eyes glimmer
He fights in stone
And sets in metal
The iron gaze to the right
By the disgrace of God

The people are gone
Never to tell their tales
Of this suffering
In his hands

Señores, this is all we have left
It won't buy you a loaf of bread
But it may buy him a heart
for him to feast on.
I found a Spanish coin from 1949 featuring Francisco Franco. It made me think.
LLL
8pm sunsets man who could’ve imagine
Seeing us in each other’s arm could be so magic
One ****** and we moving backwards
Lately your texts are getting cold,
Like ice cubes in this summer cooling away
from our fire energy, the when time is emites
Repeated arguments got our feeling so redundant.
Hoping to see better days, hoping we see a better vayca.
Live yours and I’ll live mines, but we pendulums our time will come back at the terminal when I arrive.
Theanm Ankh Jan 2021
It all started in my second-story room.
A quiet summer night, not a single sound,
And then a loud boom.

I looked out the window for a better view
And rushed down to the kitchen, out the patio door, and onto the deck
Because what I saw in the sky reminded me of you
A small chill nipped at my neck, and I wondered,
Could you be remembering me too?

Because with every reverberation a star shot through the sky.
A shimmering burst, like a fiery blossom, every one of its blooms.
But it lingers for just a moment, and then it disappears.

Remember when we believed that if we swung high enough we might be able to fly?
Remember when we thought we could be artists and authors by just the age of sixteen?
Now all we do is sit and sigh, waiting on the Wifi,
Telling ourselves that the dreams we had were just unachievable little schemes.

They say you moved to Spain.
Three years ago, I heard.
Tell me, did that rid you of your pain?
And don’t lie, because I know, behind closed doors for your mother you cry, because Cancer had her killed.

And I might have found a lover.
And you’ve probably found another.
And we might feel fine as of now, but someday,
Just like the pyrokinetic flowers that bombard the night sky,
My memories of you will fade away.
I just wanted to say goodbye.
in the
pit I'll
visit tonight
with her
said the
yellow *******
of cordial
and skylight
in Monserrat 
she ought
to treasure
my Abacab
with séance
with her
quilt of
resilience that
she'll muddle
a night in Barecelona
Carlo C Gomez Jun 2020
Night withdraws
and I alone inhabit
those Spanish eyes

We sit upon the hill
where El Greco once regaled
the arts with a masterstroke

We listen for dawning chimes
as she picks flowers
& passes explicit love notes

I catch the shadowed
reflection of erstwhile
against her naked back

How it resembles curiosity
& imperial city bells
ringing forth

A klaxon
a clarion
the siren call

To passions both painted
& fleshly achieved
by the same inspired hand
Colin Mulligan Jun 2020
Oranges
and lemons
augment the paths
we walk down
into town
in the
mid afternoon
sun

Behind gated villas
like modern day Cerberus
hounds grumble into half life
howl languidly
as we pass

Whilst pink and purple
bougainvillea
wild and free
as our love
flourishes in the ragged
hedgerows.
Mohammed Arafat Mar 2020
Mirror hung on my wall
I am staring at you
A conversation starts
between us two

You:
Ununited the world is
You have hate to one another
Rage sneaks into your lives
to your nerves and blood
They love you when they need you
They leave you when you need them

The strong prey on the weak
The rich steal the poor
You have no right to speak
Patronage plays the role

Families divided
Decisions decided
Bad presided
You misguided

I come for a reason
to make you thankful
to stop the treason
and believe in handful

Me:
You came to teach us
but with a big fuss
Our families are pretty ill
Please, teach, but don’t ****!

Mohammed Arafat
25-03-2020
Every new day comes while we are still quarantined at our houses and away from our friends and beloved ones, the Coronavirus shocks us with new surprises. Today, it inspired me to write this poem.
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