"luchador" poems
In my office me and Gonzo waited speaking on deep issues
with no true meaning as usual.
Bastardo's heart had been broken for Drew had left him a beaten and
love bitten luchador slash attorney.
Senior Gonzo speaking endlessly to the hat rack had reminded me why
I never dropped acid anymore.
Poor gonzo had just been served with divorce papers to which
his only response was ****** amigo i never knew i was married.
As his attorney i belived a trip to mexico was outta the question for i had just got back do to some well a misunderstanding its legal
jargin you couldnt possibly understand.
His deadline was near and without my solid advise this man wouldnt be able to pull it off so being we had been in the bar for more than
eight hours we decided to make a exit through the mens room window.
Front doors are over rated.
In my legal office slash camper hey eveyone starts somewhere
okay.
I was reminded of my loved hellcat Drew
she had left many items here a satanic bible her boil cream.
how I did mis rubbing her webbed toes.
How was i to work Gonzo was a mess hidding under the table
so the ginger bread people couldnt find him
and return him to there bitter talentless leader
Kate Perry i swear if you stab me one more time senior gonzo
with that fork in my maracas im going to get medevile on your ***
Oh how i missed my tag team partner drew.
i should never have introduced her el man donkey who
resist such a uhh personallity.
But now here I sit with a madman under my table tripping his
***** off insisting I contact Simon Cowell to inform him
man tities are so yesterday.
If only I had gotten the Lindsy Lohan case I would finally have gotten my brake or maybe just a std.
Oh well theres always hope Mel Gibson will need me.
The road warrior was a true classico and he seemed so well
balanced compared to my reallity challenged cilent.
Remember kids if ever you have a chance to trip with senior Gonzo
its probaly best you hide all sharp objects.
adios Bastardo
Jul 15, 2010
Jul 15, 2010 at 8:10 AM UTC
I once took a lover
who ****** like a bulldozer
and treated my ********
like the “A” button on an arcade game
(push-push-push-push-push)
he flexed like a Luchador
and I never saw him cry
There was one
who sounded like morning dew
in spring
when she came
and I wanted to taste
every inch
of her
I loved somebody
with a tire of squish around his belly
and purple scar stripes
like soft, whispered apologies
who counted my tears
while I honestly thought
he was the one
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 6:53 PM UTC
I do this to myself
Accept fights I could never win
Search for ways to disprove
What I've sought all of my days
Hurl myself into the ring
A luchador with something to prove
The fight rages on
And I lose my will
In fear and self doubt
I sabotage my win
Allowing the opponent that is my mind
To deliver that last fateful blow
Jul 14, 2023
Jul 14, 2023 at 2:07 AM UTC
La de amores intermitentes y fugaces.
A quien le dan un intento pero no dos chances.
La de encuentros efímeros a escondidas.
Escapes irreales, soñadas huidas.
Su tímida personalidad versátil
en ocasiones se torna agobiantemente volátil.
Tiene esa extraña energía que la hace genuina,
de cada rosa muerta conserva una letal espina.
La que camina a través de la multitud
con la cabeza en alto y una desafiante actitud,
con su corto vestido ajustado
y labios de rojo tirando a morado.
Muchos la devoran con una mirada ardiente.
Secretamente eso es lo que espera impaciente.
Guiña un ojo e irrumpe sin previo aviso.
Te invita al lado equivocado del paraíso.
Especialmente a vos, nudillos de luchador.
Vos, que llevas ese mote de ganador.
Sus coloridos caprichos a los demás alteran,
pero ella actúa como si no lo supiera.
Y en sus solitarias caminatas a veces hace una parada
en aquel café donde la triste rutina se ve pausada.
Pide un jugo de naranja y se sienta en una mesa de afuera,
el vestido se le sube demasiado pero sabe lo que genera.
Piernas cruzadas provocativamente,
su lengua juega con el sorbete de forma inocente.
Su piel de seda emana cierta energía
que te golpea con imágenes de todo lo que le harías.
La de pícaras sonrisas, labios sabor miel,
sabe que de sólo pensarlo te quema la piel.
Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 2:06 AM UTC
Si la caída te quiebra,
no es por derrota:
el espíritu es libre,
resurge y celebra.
Más allá de la muerte,
la eternidad es posible.
Como llama encendida,
tu alma es invencible.
Ningún espíritu es vencido:
resiste y renace.
Ningún espíritu es vencido,
si cree en lo que hace.
Y ante cada batalla,
ante cada muralla,
ante cada victoria,
y ante cada gloria,
el alma guerrera
es fuego activo,
fuerte y verdadero,
eterno, constante.
Ningún espíritu es vencido:
insiste y renace.
Ningún espíritu es vencido,
si cree en lo que hace.
Cincelado en roca viva,
firme, inalterable,
tallas y esculpes,
sumas y sigues.
El alma no se quiebra
ante las adversidades.
Naciste hecho en fuego,
con fuerza y claridad.
Tallado paso a paso,
luchador incansable,
la noche no te frenó:
el dolor fue tu clave.
Ningún espíritu es vencido:
insiste y renace.
¡Jamás serás vencido,
si crees en lo que haces!
¡Jamás serás vencido,
si crees en lo que haces!
Sep 7, 2025
Sep 7, 2025 at 12:43 AM UTC
I wondered the desert a lone luchador exiled from his home country .
I missed many things .
A warm bed to romance my many senioritas and a hot tub to enjoy underwater exploration .
The great dictator had banished ******** to wonder the dessert .
All because of the lack of a green card .
He was a evil man with orange hair and a small ***** but a man who understood sometimes you simply had to grab life by the ***** .
I admired that .
Although being a outcast in this desert made me wish I could challenge him to a no holds barred double *********** match .
Wear I would wrestle him.into submission .
I thought to myself ******** how can you allow this old lesbian to defeat you?
I decided to turn back and march myself to Washington for i was a man amongst many oiled and **** .
I tweaked my ******* and called across the desert .
Well actually I just called a uber.
I was off to challenge my opponent to a true battle of mono e mono .
A great debate on public access television .
For I ******** was going to run for president of the untied states .
I would change many things .
Making all drugs legal allowing free trade with Canada and finally allowing there people to cross freely into are country .
I would of course build the wall around New Jersey so no more terrible reality television shows could be produced .
I would issue all people knives and guns and make all vegans leave taking there ****** food with them.
I would also close all schools so as to prevent shootings and allow television to teach all the children what needed to know.
I would make ****** harassment punishable by spanking .
And I would make minimum wage a hundred pesos a hour .
I would rise to the level of other great presidents like Orson Wells and Elvis Presley.
Ole Ole Ole .
A vote for ******** is a vote for ******** what else do you think it is sugar britches .
Mar 27, 2018
Mar 27, 2018 at 4:39 PM UTC
It's been quite some time since I've seen my father.
He rests like the mask of a retired luchador;
a soft, withering hero's costume of my childhood.
I know I don't talk about him much;
it's not like you ever ask what he was like anyway.
My uncles and aunts who used to shine like diamonds
when talking about him, have corroded over time;
stuck in the dying art of living.
I used to be superstitious you know.
Each time I visited the cemetery
I'd make **** sure I wouldn't walk over his
grave.
I can still remember the expression his face would make
when he got angry with me.
I feel that demon seethe within when I don't get my way.
And I never, ever get my way.
So what gives?
Pay a visit, let my words rise and fall in the afternoon air;
Feel the hopelessness of communication; each word
a petal that's been torn off with no regard and roughly
placed on a half-assed craft.
At least there is a consistent mood I can depend on;
where every question remains unanswered;
a predicable outcome;
always a safe bet.
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 2:46 AM UTC