"astro" poems
we go higher than a plane
and further than a car
is it not good enough
to enjoy beauty from afar?
we are the aliens
(we are propelled to take chances
with trajectory toward illumination
lifting off into oblivion
to our new space station)
we build rocket ships
to keep us up to par
is it not good enough
to only wish upon a star?
we are the aliens
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 2:14 PM UTC
In your very pure mouth ( god save it )
clanked metal mouthpiece
by cold water in a strange basement
or perhaps even less
Morning doves catapult
leukemia
Astro goth acid wars
White fire black ****** mania
Could we just kiss
right here this September
not have to wake up
or sleep ever again ?
Jan 5, 2012
Jan 5, 2012 at 3:43 AM UTC
Cebolla
luminosa redoma,
pétalo a pétalo
se formó tu hermosura,
escamas de cristal te acrecentaron
y en el secreto de la tierra oscura
se redondeó tu vientre de rocío.
Bajo la tierra
fue el milagro
y cuando apareció
tu torpe tallo verde,
y nacieron
tus hojas como espadas en el huerto,
la tierra acumuló su poderío
mostrando tu desnuda transparencia,
y como en Afrodita el mar remoto
duplicó la magnolia
levantando sus senos,
la tierra
así te hizo,
cebolla,
clara como un planeta,
y destinada
a relucir,
constelación constante,
redonda rosa de agua,
sobre
la mesa
de las pobres gentes.
Generosa
deshaces
tu globo de frescura
en la consumación
ferviente de la olla,
y el jirón de cristal
al calor encendido del aceite
se transforma en rizada pluma de oro.
También recordaré cómo fecunda
tu influencia el amor de la ensalada
y parece que el cielo contribuye
dándote fina forma de granizo
a celebrar tu claridad picada
sobre los hemisferios de un tomate.
Pero al alcance
de las manos del pueblo,
regada con aceite,
espolvoreada
con un poco de sal,
matas el hambre
del jornalero en el duro camino.
Estrella de los pobres,
hada madrina
envuelta
en delicado
papel, sales del suelo,
eterna, intacta, pura
como semilla de astro,
y al cortarte
el cuchillo en la cocina
sube la única lágrima
sin pena.
Nos hiciste llorar sin afligirnos.
Yo cuanto existe celebré, cebolla,
pero para mí eres
más hermosa que un ave
de plumas cegadoras,
eres para mis ojos
globo celeste, copa de platino,
baile inmóvil
de anémona nevada
y vive la fragancia de la tierra
en tu naturaleza cristalina.
3.1k
...plain, white light of conscious sight
carved with the black of depictions,
stretched imaginations, dance of
curves and shapes, the inner vision
needs a pair of shades, color it
with flames of passion, free flow
of feeling, breeze of dreams
whistling through the meadows
of vibrant forms
...from the dust
this thought was born, to the
dust, the vision fades, in the dust
are the sparks, minerals, elements
of life, fertile fields, sow the seeds
...from the groves, the forms are
reborn, then the critters and grubs
swarm in, eating the scraps, ********
new life into the soil, new sparks
and minerals, eggs and chances,
rhythms for the new generations,
vibrant once more, a matter of
potent renditions, the breath fueling
the black depictions, white light geyser,
grey clouds, tarnished ores,
dirt and dust, all colored with the minerals
of light
...and in that light is solar life,
lunar reflections, Earthly fullfillment of
'son'shine, mother's milk, and dad's
beer brewing in the astro's firmament.
Dancing all through again and again of
swirvy curls, recollection of scattered pearls,
casted and then returned.
Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 5:13 PM UTC
El corazón y su redoble iracundo
el obscuro caballo de la sangre
caballo ciego caballo desbocado
el carrousel nocturno la noria del terror
el grito contra el muro y la centella rota
Camino andado
Camino desandado
El cuerpo a cuerpo con un pensamiento afilado
la pena que interrogo cada día y no responde
la pena que no se aparta y cada noche me despierta
la pena sin tamaño y sin nombre
el alfiler y el párpado traspasado
el párpado del día mal vivido
la hora manchada la ternura escupida
la risa loca y la puta mentira
la soledad y el mundo
Camino andado
camino desandado
El coso de la sangre y la pica y la rechifla
el sol sobre la herida
sobre las aguas muertas el astro hirsuto
la rabia y su acidez recomida
el pensamiento que se oxida
y la escritura gangrenada
el alba desvivida y el día amordazado
la noche cavilada y su hueso roído
el horror siempre nuevo y siempre repetido
Camino andado
camino desandado
El vaso de agua la pastilla la lengua de estaño
el hormiguero en pleno sueño
cascada negra de la sangre
cascada pétrea de la noche
el peso bruto de la nada
zumbido de motores en la ciudad inmensa
lejos cerca lejos en el suburbio de mi oreja
aparición del metro cojo
el puente roto y el ahogado
Camino andado
camino desandado
El pensamiento circular y el círculo de familia
¿qué hice qué hiciste qué hemos hecho?
el laberinto de la culpa sin culpa
el espejo que acusa y el silencio que se gangrena
el día estéril la noche estéril el dolor
estéril
la soledad promiscua el mundo despoblado
la sala de espera en donde ya no hay nadie
Camino andado y desandado
la vida se ha ido sin volver el rostro.
2.6k
In every bad-day-dream,
you have ever had.
There was always
a giant
Silver Serpent.
Staring at you.
&
Just a slithery second
away from your snatch.
That little ghost-tail.
Apparition-creature-thing.
That everyone seems to talk about?
While he is.
Slithering in through
the cracks of your mind.
&
Out of your hollowed out
graveyard heart.
I say, Astro.
Don't chu know?
Ya can't trick him.
Cause he is many years dead,
before you.
You can visit, him.
You just need a
different air-plane
to travel in.
Think about it.....
You little astral-star,
you.
Need to listen, closely.
Serpent talk
is
simply shady-speech
for
slutty-scummy-snakes.
Jun 3, 2012
Jun 3, 2012 at 5:26 PM UTC
A pastel blue backdrop
behind three glass frames
not a cloud in the sky
not a plane flying by
Yet I cannot learn to love
the sky without the trails
smoky puffs of vapour
line a day with uncertainty
For a blue sky is bland
without the odd trace
of imperfection, even
birds in formation become
the aforementioned.
"I can't stand to sing
the same song the same way
two nights in succession"
Routine it seems is its
own imperfection.
Give me a grey sky in June
And thunder in peace
A stark croaking crow
Can be sheer bliss
All things aligned,
Excitements amiss
For the brain needs
A puzzle, a challenge...
Confrontation, **** your
Hollywood films and
Normalisation, your
predictable habits
And false gestation;
Astro-Turf fields
And palm tree islands,
Man-made beaches
And glacier skylines
Synthetic audio
and bastardisation
of the arts, your
contempt for nature
Shall be your Achilles
for the world we live in,
the forests and canopy's
are the very providers
Of human abilities,
rid us of them and face
extinction, this is the
nature of colonisation.
The earth which houses us
is not formulaic, It's a collision
of astronomic proportions
every detail as vital as another
Mankind can be primal, Oedipal
and graceless, but respecting your
home is not an optional gift, for
we cannot survive as a species adrift.
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 11:10 AM UTC
I always saw a fascination in the stars, the far away galaxies
Your eyes, the creases in your hands
The way these all formed together in a constellation
Exploding with stellar being
Everything about you was celestial.
Hours studying Zodiac signs left me empty
I needed to find myself in your solar system
Forcing life onto other planets
Deserted meteors I saw in your mind
I wanted to restore you.
As I looked to you I felt ablation
My mind melting away the ideas of horoscopes
Making room for you and your astro being
Never once wanting any sort of apastron
I awaited the chaos.
You are an evolved star
Burning out slowly, ever so
Sinking to be extragalactic
A place I never imagined
I was far from extraterrestrial.
But orbiting around you I felt the brightness of our galactic halo
Pushing deeper to reach your nucleus, I became your gravity
As one, our luminosity pressed tightly on all sides
Forcing darkness to disband, a large nova exploding from us
And now we are an elliptical galaxy.
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 11:23 PM UTC
The boy walking in front of me
With a slight limp on his left leg
A backwards astro hat
And dark skin underneath darker clothes
Smelled of coffee
And the humid breeze lifted axe from his neck
Backwards and up my nose
He smelled of trouble
Of seventh grade solitude
And looked as if he walked out of my fifth grade memories
Still I thought of you
***** and dark
Dope across your tee shirt
Freckles spotting your smile that press into your dimples
Lifting the corners of my mouth
I'd like to lick cologne from your neck
Made of sweat and ****** solitude
You made none of my memories
Smelled and looked of nothing familiar
Only past daydreams
Maybe I'm just tired
I was up all night thinking of Ma
She has always smelled of Ck perfume
No matter how much money we had
She looks like all of my memories
Her short boy haircut
Her androgynous women's work suit
I remember her younger
Still loving women
Made of muscle, teaching me how to run
After soccer and before the gym
At night
She went out in slinky tank tops
Made of sparkles or silk, and sometimes both
Leaving, she'd kiss my forehead as she left me with father and my 101 Dalmatians sippy cup
I'd hug around her neck
And breathe in her Ck perfume
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 11:51 AM UTC
There will be astronauts who will take your space.
Wanting no more space between you
Enveloping you in a sheet of stars and warm spheres
With the promise of your love living forever like stars
because you’re the only thing prettier than the milkyway
His love for you is bigger than all the galaxies combined
He’ll say
To heat up that heart of yours, till it collides with his like shooting stars
Two universes become one
But stars don’t live forever
In love as deep as space you can’t avoid black holes
That will consume all your love, all your strength, happiness until there is no more
You
Or him
Or love
Just to spit you out into lower atmospheres
And hey, Andromeda is kind of pretty too
You are no longer good enough to go to space
Mainly because they made you so
Earth feels like hell once you’ve been to heaven,
Trust me I know
I have been deprived of my fuel too
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 6:47 AM UTC
La calle
se llenó de tomates,
mediodía,
verano,
la luz
se parte
en dos
mitades
de tomate,
corre
por las calles
el jugo.
En diciembre
se desata
el tomate,
invade
las cocinas,
entra por los almuerzos,
se sienta
reposado
en los aparadores,
entre los vasos,
las mantequilleras,
los saleros azules.
Tiene
luz propia,
majestad benigna.
Debemos, por desgracia,
asesinarlo:
se hunde
el cuchillo
en su pulpa viviente,
es una roja
víscera,
un sol
fresco,
profundo,
inagotable,
llena las ensaladas
de Chile,
se casa alegremente
con la clara cebolla,
y para celebrarlo
se deja
caer
aceite,
hijo
esencial del olivo,
sobre sus hemisferios entreabiertos,
agrega
la pimienta
su fragancia,
la sal su magnetismo:
son las bodas
del día,
el perejil
levanta
banderines,
las papas
hierven vigorosamente,
el asado
golpea
con su aroma
en la puerta,
es hora!
vamos!
y sobre
la mesa, en la cintura
del verano,
el tomate,
astro de tierra,
estrella
repetida
y fecunda,
nos muestra
sus circunvoluciones,
sus canales,
la insigne plenitud
y la abundancia
sin hueso,
sin coraza,
sin escamas ni espinas,
nos entrega
el regalo
de su color fogoso
y la totalidad de su frescura.
1.9k
like swirling colors, we begin at a party.
at a school
in a town
and a time on earth with the people and the streets and the trees.
tv’s/
like swirling oil of holy alignment. we begin
as a glob (or embryo)
tiny little me/you/each
(organic ******
as children, involved and wearing warm hats,
we wait
on furniture.
the home stretch is free
unto college,
unto seasons, moss or mold, to bud new spells.
boy dunked in the river/
baptized.
transformed into horror.
(summer slash winter)
little brother,
little baby orb of water / air / mountain(s).
fish.
my son becomes a stoner.
he puts a giant-squid on his head
& dances the cha-cha.
star ghoul &
star-calc, skull of light/
bits of she beaming through and known only as the sky at night.
charted;
astro-logically.
in goatsblood.
& the mathematic sacraments of babylon.
meat and feast on forests of tall city steel beasts in beams; towers;
with the blood of men to raise them;
molochi.
(the consumed one)
(consumers)
swallowing dreams and family force nutrients for more and more and
more; as said to sustain.
for life is to devour.
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 6:08 AM UTC
I like to talk **** when I write - so
-
Astro management
Secure the banished talisman
Martyrdom and ice cream
Melt of the establishment.
What's that? You don't recognize this as a style in your text book?
Doesn't fit inside your box, eh?
It's poetry **** face!
I'm not writing for a grade. This isn't meant to fit anywhere other than outside of my head.
Can't relate to me?
Chances are you've fit in with the normalcy of manufactured lies - I admire your blissful ignorance.
Go ahead and cite your work. I do this to get relief from the APA format.
What's it feel like for someone who ***** at living?
Keep reading, you're not alone.
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 8:51 AM UTC
I am sorry to announce that due to intermittent
thick cloud cover,
(I am so a lover
of meteor showers) our viewing is cancelled,
no wait is that
a clearing in the sky the deep blue colour and
are those stars
not near but afar, nope, just some plane, making
for Bellingham or Blaine, might
as well be Spain.
Shower me with flowers. (no thorns please)
Shower me with (dark)chocolate.
Shower me with meteors.
No not me personally.
What lights their tales
What makes their beards
Flame...to warm my heart
I know the physics, astro-too
Does it affect me, like it affects you
Just one hour of a meteor shower
I'll be good for another year of power,
like one super hero (or ONE with a super lot of zeroes, after)
We can hold an after meteor party at my place and
your all invited and I will put your names on the
guest list, now we can't now we won't there is no
shower here this night
clouds shield my sight
they are like a blight
on the fruit
that I toiled
for a year,
readied my
sleep cycle,
pruned back
tree tops to
see the horizon,
set up lines
of sight to
track their
paths this night
across the heavens
but now I will
go to bed,
if you show
up to a dark
house, I am
sorry in advance
as I said sadly at
the start the
show is cancelled
and for my part
I will try again
tomorrow night!
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 1:37 AM UTC
A blank empty canvas
Pure as the winter's snow
Open as but a vast window
Seeing deep into it's soul.
The mind ticks in emotional frustration
Relics of imagination fly and form
Particles of atomic consciousness
Gathers and flows like an Astro storm.
White wash covers the surface
The first invocation soothing and mild
Then images gather before the eyes
Like a raging storm, fierce and wild.
The pallet is filled with rainbow mixtures
Here one joins to the alchemist's dream
Establishing upon board, paper or canvas
The unfoldment of the creative stream.
Brush in hand, Like an ancient wand
One casts the horizon like a spell
Summoning, coaxing, those tides within
Where the possession conquered, flowed and fell.
Dashes here, strokes there
Balancing the tones within each hew,
The thoughts so fast, mind captured
Projections all of that inner you.
Murky and shapeless at the start
But shadows enhance, inward glance
Light engulfs and shines but through
The eyes captured to the romance.
The artist gallant before his glory
Yet! Never fulfilled by its view
Playing upon its essence and structure
He draws upon images new.
One here becomes the timeless Shaman
Working the magic of natures way
Gathering the similarities and imbuing with fire
Elevating ever the thought to the creative day.
Or like a modern mystic
Grasped tight in spiritual bliss
subduing into but representations
The reflections of the heaven's kiss.
But all in all the artist is
whether by paint, sculpture, acrylic or oil
A voyager of the main stream existence
His vision of his own scared soil.
The goal is not unlike any science
To acquire that bridge of untold reason
For artist down throughout the ages
Have awakened the soul to its season.
The emotions arise, fly, excite
Those creatures of the inspirational mind
Poets, musicians, painter, writers
By what ever character there we find
All artists, All Magicians.
Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 21, 2011
Mar 21, 2011 at 12:39 PM UTC
Astro space dust peaking over the bows
Jesters prance across your belly causeing blindness
And practical giants pick your clothes for tonight.
Although we have danced together
Yesterdays lunch backs up our crusades.
The spiked pants have formed a crust
Around the water bed
Filled with the tears of your family.
Your halos burn in the fire of the ages
Scorching the carpet.
Liquor and wine fill the packs
A toast to life is a thirst quenching mission
Taking away our lust and bleaches our skin
Forgotten births spread across the floor
Covered in last nights brew.
The night bodies jangle around under the gauze
Bells toll in the distance but the breath drows it out.
Under the bridge, behind the stores,
In the Inns, out inside.
The physics are catestrophic in their own way.
Crys begin once the breathing stops and the men leave.
Today we are creatures but how did we get this way
Who was the one who came up with the idea?
Don't question yourself
The leopards can't chase you forever
Give yourself to the hunters
They starve another night.
May 5, 2010
May 5, 2010 at 4:59 PM UTC
¿Sabes tú?
Mi vida es como un canto que nadie ha de cantar,
pues tuvo las violentas inquietudes del mar
y el espejismo de la droga hindú...
Yo anduve errante, soñador proscrito,
un año, o veinte, o quizás cien,
y medí las pirámides de Egipto
y las murallas de Jerusalén.
Yo tuve más tesoros que los Zares,
y un diamante mayor que el Gran Mogol,
y en cada uno de los siete mares
me vio náufrago el sol.
Yo visité con tembloroso paso,
como quien rinde un fúnebre tributo,
la húmeda celda de Torcuato Tasso
y el oscuro taller de Benvenuto.
Yo busqué en los jardines de Versalles
la huella leve de María Antonieta,
y lloré por Ronaldo en Roncesvalles
y por Ícaro en Creta.
Y como fin de una aventura rara,
enloquecido por un astro hostil,
fui jeque de un aduar en el Sahara
y negrero en la Costa de Marfil.
Aún guardo en el cristal de una redoma,
para unir mis creencias y mis dudas,
un pelo de la barba de Mahoma
y una hoja del árbol donde se ahorcara Judas.
Tuve un corcel de resonante casco
que florecía en la llanura seca,
y mendigué en las calles de Damasco,
y oré en una mezquita de La Meca.
Y mucho más, que huyó de mi memoria
y que quizás no ha de volver jamás:
días de amor y odio, de fracaso y de gloria;
y mucho más... y mucho más...
¿Sabes tú? Quizás nada ha sido cierto.
Acaso únicamente lo soñé...
-o sé bien si dormido o despierto;
no sé...-
Quizás la vida que he vivido ha sido
tan abrumadoramente ******
que inventé los recuerdos por no morir de olvido,
y nunca vi de cerca el mar.
Pero si sé que he naufragado en una
lágrima de mujer:
fue un naufragio romántico, a la luz de la luna,
y me quedé en el fondo, sin querer.
1.6k
Aquí los antiguos recibían al fuego
Aquí el fuego creaba el mundo
Al mediodía las piedras se abren como frutos
El agua abre los párpados
La luz resbala por la piel del día
Gota inmensa donde el tiempo se refleja y se sacia
A la española el día entra pisando fuerte
Un rumor de hojas y pájaros avanza
Un presentimiento de mar o mujeres
El día zumba en mi frente como una idea fija
En la frente del mundo zumba tenaz el día
La luz corre por todas partes
Canta por las terrazas
Hace bailar las casas
Bajo las manos frescas de la yedra ligera
El muro se despierta y levanta sus torres
Y las piedras dejan caer sus vestiduras
Y el agua se desnuda y salta de su lecho
Más desnuda que el agua
Y la luz se desnuda y se mira en el agua
Más desnuda que un astro
Y el pan se abre y el vino se derrama
Y el día se derrama sobre el agua tendida
Ver oír tocar oler gustar pensar
Labios o tierra o viento entre veleros
Sabor del día que se desliza como música
Rumor de luz que lleva de la mano a una muchacha
Y la deja desnuda en el centro del día
Nadie sabe su nombre ni a qué vino
Como un poco de agua se tiende a mi costado
El sol se para un instante por mirarla
La luz se pierde entre sus piernas
La rodean mis miradas como agua
Y ella se baña en ellas más desnuda que el agua
Como la luz no tiene nombre propio
Como la luz cambia de forma con el día
1.6k
And then he didn't come back
The summers passed, autumns faded, winters roared, and springs bloomed but he's nowhere to be seen.
As she made her way to the shore, she felt the gentle breeze and the embrace of the waves and as she looked up; she saw the moon alone in the vast nothingness of the sky with no star to keep her company.
She remembered him, thinking that maybe the stars are gone for the moon is too broken and is not as illuminated as it was the first time.
Then she remembered the first time he laid eyes on her. His eyes shone so bright, held much admiration in his gaze that she couldn't understand for she is nothing sort of a goddess the moon had blessed.
None of her poems caught the light and the life in his eyes when they first met: of how it looked silver and storm that reflects his turbulent emotions, of how his eyes reached the depths of her soul with his gaze, of how he saw her as his moon.
None of them could ever describe how his eyes demand to be stared at. None of them.
But then, he was a fleeting light like a poem you will only read once for it is blindingly painful that it hurts looking the second time.
And now, she feels a part of her is missing as she search for the stars up above.
And then she fixed her gaze, closing her eyes to the moon: wishing that when he said "It's because of you." He doesn't mean goodbye. Wishing he doesn't mean she's the reason why he's gone. Wishing that dreams aren't supposed to be just dreams for when they become reality, they take away the magical feeling.
A few tears escaped her closed lids and glistened as they bathe on the light of the moon as she thought of the last poem she'll ever write to him.
And then she finally whispered hoping the wind will bring it to him:
" And maybe,
paintings and poetry
couldn't hold a candle
To every emotion
we once had.
You
hold a key
when we
first met.
I should've known
that that key
is not for me
For I
was never
your home. "
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 12:05 PM UTC
I remember so much that I wish I could forget.
This is a poem about Psalm 23 choked out through tears.
This is a poem about astro vans and
tractor lawn mowers and
driveway car washes and
small garden spaces and
digger wasps and
three wolves and a moon.
This is about the Backstreet Boys and
Def Leppard and
Kenny Chesney.
“Dreams” by The Cranberries.
About waterparks and
swim lessons and
the smell of chlorine.
Fresh cut grass. Bonfire smoke permeating through the house.
Grey diamond tiles on white linoleum.
Hands clenched down on washcloths.
Muddled. It’s all so muddled. Stuck beneath
brain matter and cerebrospinal fluid and
down, down, down beneath the lake.
How can I dig it out while also digging it down deeper?
I want to forget it all. No memory, no pain, no ******* problem.
Goldfish life: a pipedream.
Oct 23, 2021
Oct 23, 2021 at 12:35 PM UTC
Senate Clever, Ohio - 1000, 1850, 2. Download
the new label model Successor 2: Other
Francs, if needed Ijärvi princesses with good
ears, healthy and secure = total aging time;
Livestock tax (Dutch, Dutch, 1925 for thousands of years;
Cyprus is simple and safe [1] SARS (+ opinions)
Multiple tubes; Animals in the Sahara Desert;
Plants, Wireless Mixes (/ juki) Competitor
Protection (bacteria Astro-Microbiologists, Etc.),
by diet [3] [2] [Greek, "yes" or "right" In Greek]
European Union, b Tomas Pain's
Language- Yet, YBU: The burning of the Qur'an
Who does not speak to the king of the king
Associated with the Emperor, Biology
Biologist Products also cover many different
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Nothing to work with a small universe;
Some have large holes; To cope with the worst
of problems? You will get swift changes
to your stomach; For the future. Every change
will be reported to the new employee service
board. I do not like Chinese. For example,
if something Changes Every Four years;
These are general Instructions. Brand new;
Similar women, but a little bedroom; This is true ...
not for you and the other fish. Read on Read
[7] Pedestrians can be used on foot. Examples: C.
And lastly. Ten years later, your Frequency
will
range from 10% to 1.1 ...
Oct 18, 2018
Oct 18, 2018 at 1:31 PM UTC
La luz devasta las alturas
Manadas de imperios en derrota
El ojo retrocede cercado de reflejos
Países vastos como el insomnio
Pedregales de hueso
Otoño sin confines
Alza la sed sus invisibles surtidores
Un último pirú predica en
el desierto
Cierra los ojos y oye cantar la luz:
El mediodía anida en tu
tímpano
Cierra los ojos y ábrelos:
No hay nadie ni siquiera tú mismo
Lo que no es piedra es luz
Como las piedras del Principio
Como el principio de la Piedra
Como al Principio piedra contra piedra
Los fastos de la noche:
El poema todavía sin rostro
El bosque todavía sin árboles
Los cantos todavía sin nombre
Mas ya la luz irrumpe con pasos de leopardo
Y la palabra se levanta ondula cae
Y es una larga herida y un silencio sin mácula
La alegría madura como un fruto
El fruto madura hasta ser sol
El sol madura hasta ser hombre
El hombre madura hasta ser astro
Nunca la luz se repartió en tantas luces
Los árboles las calles las montañas
Se despliegan en olas transparentes
Una muchacha ríe a la entrada del día
Es una pluma ardiendo el canto del canario
La música muestra sus brazos desnudos
Su espalda desnuda su pensamiento desnudo
En el calor se afila el instante dichoso
Agua tierra y sol son un solo cuerpo
La hora y su campana se disuelven
Las piedras los paisajes se evaporan
Todos se han ido sin volver el rostro
Los amigos las bellas a la orilla del vértigo
Zarpan las casas la iglesia los tranvías
El mundo emprende el vuelo
También mi cuerpo se me escapa
Y entre las claridades se me pierde
El sol lo cubre todo lo ve todo
Y en su mirada fija nos bañamos
Y en su pupila largamente nos quemamos
Y en los abismos de su luz caemos
Música despeñada
Y ardemos y no dejamos huella
1.4k
Sir Isaac Newton wasn't "using his head"
When the "aha moment" fruit fell
He assumed it was gravity, an attraction to the earth
It was weight and decay rate, no romantic pell
Many scream "separation of church and state"
In the Constitution you will not find that phrase
But in a personal letter to the Danbury congregation
It has been arbitrarily elevated to "law" in our nation
In the Scopes trial Evolution was criticized
Scopes was arrested, the masses cried "victimized"
To play on the "heart-strings" of the "under-educated"
Those worshippers of Evolution were placated
Hypocrites obscuring all God-given laws
Building a "strawman" with individual straws
Satan has questioned all God's "thou shalt nots"
NASA has filmed in a studio basement "our Astro-nots"
Jesus' words have been futurized by Baptist dispensation
Jesus said plainly it's "in this generation"
Scripture is not a "wax nose" you can eisegete
Exegete in the present tense Greek
How do we equitably represent all voices, in a
Public school system that claims they consider all choices
Public schools don't exist, "special agendized" schools do
Claiming universal intolerance, they're intolerant of truth
Let us say in the "Dagon bye" to all "blessings in disguise"
We'll be in[spire]d by the "blessings in the skies"
We're all from Adam's atoms by God's sovereignty
Lord roll my soul in humility, cajole my spirit patiently
Feb 3, 2019
Feb 3, 2019 at 11:25 PM UTC
Ya se abre el palacio de ébano de la noche,
y salen en tropel los pajes de los sueños,
a ilusionar los ojos de la virgen dormida
y a ungir con miel la urna de su boca sin besos…
Yo, espero en la alta noche. No sé qué es lo que viene,
ni qué ansiedad me azota, ni siquiera qué espero…
No hay más rumor que el tímido de algún mueble que
cruje,
ni más luz que el de un astro que se mira en mi espejo…
Ya todos los amantes dormirán abrazados,
a un lado las revueltas sabanas, y en sus nervios
estará ardiendo aún la caricia postrera,
que dejó acaso trunca la llegada del sueño…
Yo me siento muy solo en la alta noche. Solo cual
si estuviera en medio de algún vasto desierto.
Yo solamente escucho lo que dice la noche;
yo solamente sueño con los ojos abiertos…
Ya en sus cunas rosadas, sonrisa tras sonrisa,
entre sueños, los niños revivirán sus juegos;
**** cuerda a sus trompos y rodarán sus arcos,
y beberán el néctar de los besos maternos…
Yo espero en la alta noche. No sé qué es lo que viene,
ni qué inquietud me abruma, ni siquiera qué espero…
Yo solamente miro los ángeles que pasan,
con sus alas tan blancas, con sus ojos tan tiernos…
Ya en los antros hediondos, soñando, los malvados
se ven tras fuertes rejas, como animales fieros,
o ante la pavorosa silueta del patíbulo,
entre antorchas y armas y embozados de *****
Yo me encuentro muy solo, muy solo en la alta noche,
oyendo el rechinar de los dientes del Miedo,
cuando cruzan las sombras de los ajusticiados
y aúlla el ***** can de los remordimientos…
Ya dormirán las bestias… y si ellas también sueñan,
soñarán en que tienen un amo más benévolo,
o en galopes fantásticos, o en cópulas violentas,
o en baños en el río, o en festines de pienso…
Yo estoy solo en la noche, como superviviente
de una inmensa catástrofe de todo el Universo,
viendo a las pesadillas, cual monstruosas arañas,
tejer torturas entre gajos del silencio…
Yo estoy profundamente solo en la alta noche,
cual si estuviera en medio de algún vasto desierto,
viendo el desfile torvo de los ángeles malos
y el vuelo musical de los ángeles buenos…
Yo solamente escucho lo que dice la noche;
yo solamente sueño con los ojos abiertos!…
1.4k
My anger is a gift.
My anger is a gift
And for, that you will not acquit me.
So judge me.
I get it,
You wanna stick up for the little man
But what are the terms and conditions
you got written on your hand?
Is that freedom?
Determined to rid the vermin
Hatreds poisonous venom
Annihilation of oppression
By concreting a standard that fits your balance?
Fascism
Disguised by liberal ways.
Cause the left won the culture war
And we must fulfill the agenda to save the day.
Or is it about the money?
With a buck in my right hand
And my left fist full of pills grasping in half prayer for rehab
They say I need help.
My mental status is high on bad health
I'm caged in my brain,
All 9 circles of hell
With no guiding light,
I'm always told to tread light
My heart beats questions,
my words start fights.
I am the snow storm of Capricorn
Loose chains around my neck
Pentacles
Cups
Wands
Swords
Astro-Tarot cross burns with no exhaust
At the bottom of the gate,
You can see my bones in Lucifer's mouth.
So why do I feel angelic?
My anger is prolific
Biblical scriptures leave me destined for heathen obsessions.
I am the division
No balance without permission
My air fuels fires and creates unison.
I am destruction
But rebirth in the same phase.
Cycling the celestial waives
Swearing in God's name.
I can't be the only one
Who feels that condescending thumb
We must create a stage to fit the population
who wants to express their pain to his son.
But its crowded,
About to cave.
The weight of the world will be best defined in mass graves.
And here comes my gift.
My anger is my bliss.
I can't come to grips on why the world is the way it is.
I respect this age for hands raised in rage.
But I will be quick to slap down others who think they are center stage.
I'll break anyone's four walls and follow Shakespeare in a Socratic annoyance.
This is a moment of clairvoyance
Repeat these words with me and find a voice;
Solve
Coagula
Solve
Coagula
Dissolve the paradigm
To form a new life
Solve
Coagula
Solve
Coagula
My gift to the world
Is written on my arms.
Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 12:56 PM UTC