"cortez" poems
They set off from white rocks,
red geraniums, blue tile,
and let the green sea
lift and drop their ships far above the white foam waves.
The stony islands that were home
were swallowed in minutes by the hungry Atlantic
but they hunted the big fish,
the giant whales with human eyes
who rolled and sang and swam
in oceans a continent away.
They came from Sao Jorge, Sao Miguel
Faial, Pico, Terceira, Horta -
Nine island emeralds set in a black volcanic chain,
neither of the old country nor the new:
Halfway there and halfway gone -
secret jewels of the Portuguese sailors.
They sailed into unknown waters,
south around tropical shores
where dragons smoked and writhed on the rocks
and birds with brilliant red and yellow plumage
rose in clouds around their heads.
Then north, and north, north again
to colder waters
where sea lions barked and lunged
at the strange massive wooden beast
that coursed the waters,
strung with brown bodies swaying
on the lines and cursing the sails.
North still they swept
casting contemptuous eyes on
the cheap turquoise waters and monstrous slow turtles
of the Sea of Cortez.
Coming up from the desert, past the palms and the yucca,
the Joshua tree and Spanish daggers,
they chased their smooth grey prey,
riding the vast Pacific on their wooden island,
herding the leviathans onto their spears,
adventurers with an audience of only
gulls and sky and seal.
Until they sailed too close one day
to a rock-strewn shoreline
and saw the golden hills.
Gnarled oaks like grandmothers from home
with orange poppy jewels at their feet,
missions strung like beads in a ruby marked rosary.
The boats slowed, ****** in by a Scylla of soil
rich and brown and loamy
waiting to be seeded with grapes and apricots
peaches, avocados, lettuce, alfalfa,
fertile and heavy with sweet promise.
And the whales sang and the lions barked and the gulls cried
but the sailors were entranced, encharmed, ensorcelled.
The treacherous sea, the mysterious deep, the stony jewels of home,
called and wept
and waited in vain for the sailors
- beached and grounded -
cutting not waves but earth,
tracking seasons not whales,
seduced by dirt.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 9:51 PM UTC
Between empty junction gullies of the Dogskin mountains,
the BLM has once again released their Judas horses
luring the free ranging mustangs into capture corrals.
Their crime --- thriving in a battle of survival.
I assure you the Comanche do not dance around the fire,
nor does the ghost of Cortez roll in the wildflowers of El Dorado.
Ironically this native species is now considered feral,
introduced in the very habitat which shaped its evolution,
arcanely empowered to exceed enviromental carrying capacity.
The lands of nature are so dear: rejoice their freedom!
The mountains do not judge, they merely shelter.
Let the mustang graze unfettered through winds of dawn.
Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 5:56 AM UTC
She stopped at the light
outside the Double Drop D in Cortez
and looked me over
I was day dreaming about a girl
with finger cymbals
between shows
Her top was down
and I could hear Neil Young
singing Cinnamon Girl
on the radio
...*i could be happy
the rest of my life..*
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 9:56 AM UTC
Pocahontas, Little Snow-Feather,
what possessed you to marry that pale stranger,
to cross the blue, blue Atlantic,
leaving behind your mother and your father?
How naive you were to think they wouldn't destroy you....
But Pocahontas, Little Snow-Feather,
bones-under-England-soil, it is your spirit--
not that of Cortez or Colonel Forsyth*--
your generosity, your love, which will prevail.
Aug 1, 2017
Aug 1, 2017 at 3:12 PM UTC
The Gifted ones we turn into
The "Wild Ones" to be
The Chosen-Ones of the
Golden- Gods*
Wild Oats organically
are grown into
your younger heart
Like (Cheer)ios
Mysterious Honey O's
Uniquely-- tied-- unknown
Does everybody become __?
The Joker playing poker
Too many "Billygoats"
Wild card players
Playing jeopardy in
(January)
To be his chosen one
Miss (February)*
True gifts the big ones
(March) in wild ones
The Emerald-Green door
planet
Poems on earth sonnet
(April) no fools I'm cool
Orangutans wild dolphins
Italian vineyards
Wildlife Fruit surgeons
(May) I click to tease you
Shark bay will bite you
Getting burned with a
flat iron
Walk the talk Sea lions
Sea Cortez smartphones
Married in (June) candy Pez
So personal in (July)
What awaits through___ the___ door*
Mom brightens my August day
I pod imaginary dreamscape
Cat got your tongue
Darkness like Grunge
Amazon Jungle-book in
the lounge
Got Scrooged no gifts
To Google the camel got
your back move to the
frontline with her "Big Cats"
On the Jet gifts and magical hats
It pays to be wild
"The Man's Pleasure" he is
The most wanted list
Oh! Christ
The last gift watch out
The Brittish are coming
to brighten up your
bucket list
Saint Nick canary slippery
hands tight fist protest
The wild ones "Readers Digest"
Trees and eyes don't lie
Knocking on heavens door
Don't be the swagger
**** Jaeger
White snow sugar dance the
Warm maple brown sugar
* * * *
I hear the Godly caller
Writers, all doors welcome
Feb 6, 2019
Feb 6, 2019 at 7:32 AM UTC
Can't sleep again.
Guilt in my head,
spinning, leaping,
autumn leaves,
bullfrogs and song lyrics.
Dice or bingo *****
which one comes up first?
Again, again,
remember to slow down,
and Olivar favorite parts.
When they were ours,
when we belonged.
log, sixty-six percent,
percentage of original,
original sin, seven sins, se7en,
Sin of Cortez,
tea, teaz me,
Olivar favorite parts.
Can't sleep again.
The Ones Who Walked Away From Omelas.
Salem, O.
Greyhound, stick-on roses,
cigarette smoke,
choke in my lungs,
stink on my clothes,
desperation in skinny jeans
and step-dads tranquilizers,
the open window beckons,
sleeping beauty, Rapunzel.
Tangled web,
Charlotte with 8 legs,
and a Durok below,
hounds howl, bellow, yodel
at the moon above,
desperate for a life long gone,
adventures never known.
Indiana Jones, satchel and lasso.
Or was it a whip?
Apr 15, 2012
Apr 15, 2012 at 3:14 AM UTC
The walls are slipping, in your mind that apartment is ever a reconciliation of forced adulthood and early realizations with the faux french ceilings and the off white walls, everything from the closet you trapped that cat in because it dug it's claws too deep into your skin and where's the line between affection and possession. The Cortez Apartments, like the last name you will never be able to claim because it doesn't show up on your birth certificate, not that you ever much cared about birth. Would-be apartments once hotels, now stripped at the turn of the century, my mid-century nightmare. But it never loses the gusto to haunt you in its corridors and I think I could have learned to love that but now things are less glamorous and I only wear dirt-stained jeans.
I should have used that fire escape, I should have climbed to the rooftop and absorbed the city into a jar that I could look at when I felt empty of blood cells. A defiant permanence, I can still taste the lead paint chipping and the exposed pipe but you aren't supposed to know that and why would you.
Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 2:53 AM UTC
Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold,
And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
Round many western islands have I been
Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.
Oft of one wide expanse had I been told
That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne;
Yet did I never breathe its pure serene
Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:
Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
When a new planet swims into his ken;
Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes
He star'd at the Pacific--and all his men
Look'd at each other with a wild surmise--
Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
1.4k
Cortez, theyre just running through my mind
Like track and field junior year
You want to cyph before class, but i don’t think that’s for the best
Look in your ****** eyes, but you had to change into sweats
I remember that afternoon, it’s in my mind all the time
You gave me your hoodie and went home like routine
Snuck out the back door and forgot to take me
White Cortez, but they’re ***** on the sides
Dirt on your pants, but never did you mind
You’re so versatile,
how you build up your walls and know when to break them down ?
At 16, i never would’ve guessed youd actually ditch town
A city on lights, like do you know what you’re leaving?
Persuasion and ideas, you know I’m still here waiting
Connection is rare, and with you, it was waning
Black Cortez, cleaned it up on the sides
Fade into dark Caesar, never did i mind
You smelled like axe and gelato, you probably taste so sweet
In my head, there’s a sword fight where two ends never meet
I hope you’re passing your tests, or training your chest
I still have your hoodie and i wear it here and there
I washed it so many times, but i didn’t think you’d care
SEP, where they prayed for me,
I remember you spoke to me about your goals
You told me you wanted to have a relationship with God
I told you i wanted love, i was a fraud
Spending every day of the year, you were mine
you were a physical manifestation of everything that was bound to be
A physical manifestation of everything attracted to she
Classic Cortez, lit up and you ran into class
Never expected you to fall so fast
You could roam the earth and be who you are
I just don’t want you to ever run too far
Apr 5, 2019
Apr 5, 2019 at 1:23 PM UTC
I open my mouth to speak to a crowd of unsimulated sheep, I was a king then, I am a king now, but I've never seen a bow, I conquer minds, unravel the individual sign write on it I am not hungry but I would love some common courtesy, seeing pass the facade of happy caring faces, we are all like ogres thick layers of self doubt, piecing together a broken fault, the best release may be inner peace, but our perfect creations become corrupted at the slightest tease, how am I to speak when no one reads, there are so many screens invading the scene, even now there is a glow upon your face, and the sheep are beckoning the insomniac to sleep, the choice is when, the decision cannot be corrected by easy pill supplements, conspiracies, floating in a pool of ignorance, calling out each others name as life lines, together our words may blanket the eyes, forming the disguise that reveals the truth hidden within I
Jan 2, 2017
Jan 2, 2017 at 12:58 AM UTC
Was life truly; ever so sweet,
As in the sun-worshipped, One World,
Beneath feathery banners, all unfurled,
Celebrated rhythm of the Mexica beat,
Applauding the gods with dancing feet,
While eagerly anticipating the final breath,
Of the honoured warrior’s, flowery death.
Lost ancient world, carved in stone,
Temples and plaza’s of grandiose plan,
Before the great pyramid of Tenochtitlan,
From lowliest slave to the highest throne,
Gathered before gods to whom they atone,
With obsidian blade priests begin the flood,
Of a sacrificial ceremony sealed with blood.
But do not weep for the ritually slain,
Or condemn this misunderstood race,
This culture both in and out of place,
Who flourished before interference from Spain;
Immoral inquisitions wielding torture and pain,
Led by Cortez’s murderous gold greed,
Condoned by religion’s, fanatical need.
A pyrrhic victory for invading Spanish-whites,
Conquistadors, who murdered, pillaged and *****
A savage slaughter that not even children escaped,
Brave Mexica vanquished in the one sided fights,
A nation revelling no more during hot sultry nights,
A lost civilization weeping for countless lost lives,
And yet, and yet . . . Mexica spirit; forever survives.
©Paul Chafer 2014
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 9:45 AM UTC
I'm a soldier de las calles
To the fake & ********
I still say chalez
Nike cortez, mortal cortex
Psychological vortex
Ya tu sabes, keep it real
Lento pero fuerte
Se los presento
A cualquiera me le enfrento
Sabes donde me encuentro
Spare no time con chavalas
Fiel en las buenas y malas
Hit you with plomo y balas
Soy cabron pinchi mamon
Te derito como el jabon
Te mato junto al raton
Cara a cara no por el espalda
Maricon bestido de falda
Te pintas solo con maquillaje
Te llevo aun valle
Crusando por la calle
Al fin que nadie te alle
Alratoz, el kompa conejito
Abuelito al pepito derito
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 11:37 PM UTC
Through the
Hills of Spain,
Pink and white
Cortez flowers
Adorning the
Enchanted blue windmills
Underneath this gray December sky
Are Don Quixote and his esquire
Poncho, riding through the Spanish flames
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 12:50 PM UTC
orcasio-cortez i got a word for you
what if we break the divide by dividing the break
like marvel heroes and villains.
we band together.
the young and fearless.
the old and wise.
the true hero and
the true villan.
we can name them all.
use them all. construct a narration
that builds a nation. we can live
in america again with
a little
imagination.
Nov 26, 2018
Nov 26, 2018 at 10:06 PM UTC
i can't wait until we go through with 25A
once we remove trump from office
then ALL of our problems will go away
& world peace will be here to stay
i better start practicing telling everyone
what they can and can not say.
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 2:28 PM UTC
Today you were
anguished, with what ordered sentence to fray
into organization. Shimmering splendid thigh
of noon numbered, overtakeless I peering
through a gray eye of storm. Ambulatory motors
whir double ballasting ground / AC Cortez was nothing like any other held captive loosely frolicking
the summer gone through a bat of an eye
reimagined, engraved into / what for is this
inheritance but a dangling stucco of a home. Else
the newfangled man will have skin ripe to borrow
denying the statement. I could no longer raise
tomorrow and fall for, a form broken in
by a crossing of the river I smell turpentine
bearing the casualty of paint because color when
seen as absence of something, a thing worth
mooring to where we were and kept
for the next docile minute, mourning what but
a closed preserve drowned by a hand
deep between what was once just once and
a continuing strangeness, one's own rearview
but insatiable affront. Today you were
spoken of, not to, once again this weather
is here heavy with debris, less than ash fit for
return curious as perfume clinging to
soiled collar learning every breath a crevice the
body seeks to fullness feeding on some sense
of abandon -- today's news gasp for clearing
which you weighed in today as you were
again and again and again just as sound is
but a remainder of a tremendous leftover.
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 9:56 PM UTC
nothing more satisfying
than that
first swim
of the summer
that first lick of a
dripping icee or gelato whatever floats your goats
but that view
of that first warm sunset
reminding you that you don't got a man yet.
_absolutely precious_
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 5:11 PM UTC
Anyone ever hear that Cortez might have said,
lo siento;
Or Hudson's Bay recall one blanket?
What regret or remorse would be achieved.
Why? Because of more or less.
Sorry. I'll try harder.
That sounds like your heart was never in it.
*Sorry. I ****** up*.
That's sincere.
I recanted on a really big SORRY,
And sorry I am
That ever I did mouth it.
Nov 28, 2018
Nov 28, 2018 at 10:56 AM UTC
Cuz it ain't mine
Everyday the sun shines
Blind
To the chaos circles around my life
Too much strife
Problems so deep
Couldn't cut with a knife
I used to feed on religion
But religion
Ain't nothing But a slave tool
To keep you bemused and full
A fool of knowledge
Indoctrinated from what they learned in college
Of theology break the mentality
Shatter intellects soon to be a fatality
Weighin in on ya spiritual capacity
All throughout ya ananotomy
These critics be
Trying to **** me slam me
And say I'm going to the depths of He'll
But how I'm going to place
That nobody evens knows
It just goes show
How ignorant mankind could get
Trying to control us through there philosophies
Didn't break through me
Or silence me enemy
Of the shadow entities
That's open in plain sight
N I just might
Die like Jesus at thirty three
Check irony
Most folks that love em will shove em
Back on the cross
Two nails and crown of thorns
Empty hearts
Cuz they soul torn
Let the darkness covered there conscious
Bruised up can heal up
Cuz too deep in the cut
They say I'm lazy cuz these world
I once believed in don't phase me
So I'm ghost like Pat Swayze
Beat my feet in my blue Cortez
I'm mystic as the goat Mendez
Never played Simon Seyz
Cuz I like to do
What I wanna do
Only a few of the real
Will say **** you n tuck you
In for the night
Fightin with all my might
Its ludicrous
Gotdamn Who's world is this?
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 9:24 PM UTC
This is for the seasoning of ya brain,
Hits harder than fresh cut *******
It's simple and plain,
Light my jane, only of few of us is sane, in a world so insane vain,
Once I found my essence deadly presence,
When I creep with the instincts,
Slow to blink, saw death many a times left my conscious to stink,
Couldn't keep the filth from my mind,
Now I'm focused on the divine,
Align my spine, to the three routed pyramids
Check the cold digs,
Stars glistening like water to wind whispering, tell me when,
The time is right to strike, baggy jeans neo shirt with that Cortez nikes,
Iight let's get it on, you in the way of a don,
Y'all stay swimming in pondz,
While I'm the ocean coasting, yaht looking fat but in far from boasting,
Champagne toasting, we living the good life gotta good wife,
Who pinned to my life, forfeited enemies equals a blazing victory,
Sweet as hickory, barbecue ya view patience is virtue, I thought I told you,
I move at the pace of a snake, carefully await before I strike the bait,
Tongues a sword master mic lord, quick to gilloutine slow string the chords,
Of a vocal some say I'm loco, stay laced with the cocoa, performance ocho,
Bed *** make the sheets wet, lay trips that my girl will never forget,
Iight it's no regrets, ice riveted on the Rolex treat everyday like it's that last rep,
Squeeze out darkness let me shine sparks
To this,
I stay on top like Ludacris, some take it as a diss, I'll just dismiss,
The true lyricist judge only by the finest,
Diamonds princess,
Stand in line and witness, the greatest scene youve ever seen,
Mar 15, 2022
Mar 15, 2022 at 4:33 AM UTC