"morales" poems
Roselva says the only thing that doesn't change
is train tracks. She's sure of it.
The train changes, or the weeds that grow up spidery
by the side, but not the tracks.
I've watched one for three years, she says,
and it doesn't curve, doesn't break, doesn't grow.
Peter isn't sure. He saw an abandoned track
near Sabinas, Mexico, and says a track without a train
is a changed track. The metal wasn't shiny anymore.
The wood was split and some of the ties were gone.
Every Tuesday on Morales Street
butchers crack the necks of a hundred hens.
The widow in the tilted house
spices her soup with cinnamon.
Ask her what doesn't change.
Stars explode.
The rose curls up as if there is fire in the petals.
The cat who knew me is buried under the bush.
The train whistle still wails its ancient sound
but when it goes away, shrinking back
from the walls of the brain,
it takes something different with it every time.
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 12:39 AM UTC
You can't just write a poem,
With no meaning behind its lines.
It can be about your happiness,
Or what goes on during your troubled times.
I personally can't write about a tree,
Without there being a story.
Such as me climbing up one,
Or an animal that lives in the tree.
A poem is nothing without morales,
And that is how it is.
There always must be meaning,
And I don't mean this as a dis.
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 5:27 PM UTC
help me be like a tree
strong and mighty healing energy
let me be like the wind
always there
no beginning or end
guide my soul
as i start again.
sacred womb filled with deep desires
divine flame that lights my fire
guarding, guiding, dodging out the dark
unique individual
creating a spark.
my sacred spider spirit guide
i come to you within the night
weaves webs of hope on my thorn pricked thighs
morning rises
dew drops
drip on my bed
water heals my worried dread
reflections of truth
act as a reminder
to soften my heart and always be kinder
may i always remember
my destiny and who i was made to be
remove my ego and pride
so now i can see,
IN LA'KECH
i am u and u are me
Maya Ixchel Morales
Feb 20, 2021
Feb 20, 2021 at 10:48 PM UTC
I was a dare devil,
I always raised the level,
I got bruises and scars,
But that didn't stop me from going bizarre
I would jump and skate,
But it wasn't my fate,
I have to find something else to do,
Before I don't have clue
© Sasha Morales
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 8:45 PM UTC
I'm sorry boo
I never meant to
Couldn't forsee this happening
Oh god what have I done?
Am I unfaithful...
Thats been on my mind this past couple of hours
I didnt mean to say what I did
Was trying to be nice and friendly
Trying to brighten their mood
I wasnt looking for love
I have you
Right?
You'll stay here right?
I'm scared...
Terrified
Petrified
Mortified
What have I done
Am I unfaithful...
I cant live with myself
Whyd i act in such a way
What's wrong with me
The voices they scream inside
Someone please help me
I've dishonored myself
My character
My partner and
my morales
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 9:00 PM UTC
Have the shatering cries awoken you
Have the conscientious thoughts split you in two
Or will you shrug and let it pass
Mumbling silent "I'm glad it aint my ***
Contradicting morales give us hope
Dangling in view like a transparent rope
Instead of taking action we hessitate, stall
All the whille letting the person below fall
I however, will not run from the fight
Face down the darkness even in the shadow o f the night
I will be there to say "Hey miss,
Why are you crying
Is it cuz of all the people dying
Don't worry it won't be long
One day they will hear our sad song
They will realize what went wrong
For humanity will see us through
This I promise you"
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 7:45 PM UTC
You will see what I mean, log onto any internet site
Pick up your remote and turn on any station
Read your local paper, chat with all your neighbors
This is one more unbelievable investigation
Impossible! He's lying, she's lying, they're all lying
Things like this just don't happen in our nation
In this great land, people are down right respectable
Believe this everyone receives a proper education
See families with children are always kept together
Small children being raised by parents impeccable
Government entities aren't transplanting flowers
Check this, in this great land of morales acceptable
Would you believe one has their own perspective?
Half of what I said just may be true for all of you
On the other hand everything I said may be false
So if you choose, you can say the sky is baby Blue
Only some of us know the Truth!
Jul 7, 2018
Jul 7, 2018 at 8:20 PM UTC
The world is colder when you open up its’ jaws.
The sign says no, but your heart says go.
You’ll blame the stars or the snakes beneath your feet,
don't forget to hide the receipt.
You inject blame to the dead.
Where are your morales, where is your sense?
Where is the blood when you need to mend?
This is your fault and this is your sword.
Please, take your daily dose.
Ignore our existence, so you can beg for more.
Beg for the claws inside your heart.
And once they’re out, once they melt,
I promise, I promise
It’ll cool you like a quilt.
I promise, No!
I guarantee-
You’ll miss the bruises and the cuts.
You’ll miss the screaming and the torture.
No more clay in the ruts, no more tape to the edges.
Just blood and heart attacks.
Oh, You’ll miss it.
And when you sleep at night you’ll ask the ceiling “why?”
“Why is it so cold?”
Because you opened up it’s god ****** jaws,
slit your wrists and fed the beast.
A meal on a plate, dessert in it’s hands.
Torture that you call it, a blessing that we give.
Seasons kiss your skin, but pain will destroy it,
no mending for your sin.
No light will kiss you, no laughter or kin.
The Ice will take you in!
The Ice will take you in!
The ice will love you. The ice will bathe you in it’s grin.
You will miss us dear, oh how I promise.
Do take a walk in the forest. Let the wind sink in.
I will whisper I will scream.
You will shiver to my note.
The cold bites honey, wear your coat.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 1:41 AM UTC
El día de los desventurados, el día pálido se asoma
con un desgarrador olor frío, con sus fuerzas en gris,
sin cascabeles, goteando el alba por todas partes:
es un naufragio en el vacío, con un alrededor de llanto.
Porque se fue de tantos sitios la sombra húmeda, callada,
de tantas cavilaciones en vano, de tantos parajes terrestres
en donde debió ocupar hasta el designio de las raíces,
de tanta forma aguda que se defendía.
Yo lloro en medio de lo invadido, entre lo confuso,
entre el sabor creciente, poniendo el oído
en la pura circulación, en el aumento,
cediendo sin rumbo el paso a lo que arriba,
a lo que surge vestido de cadenas y claveles,
yo sueño, sobrellevando mis vestigios morales.
Nada hay de precipitado ni de alegre, ni de forma orgullosa,
todo aparece haciéndose con evidente pobreza,
la luz de la tierra sale de sus párpados
no como la campanada, sino más bien como las lágrimas:
el tejido del día, su lienzo débil,
sirve para una venda de enfermos, sirve para hacer señas
en una despedida, detrás de la ausencia:
es el color que sólo quiere reemplazar,
cubrir, tragar, vencer, hacer distancias.
Estoy solo entre materias desvencijadas,
la lluvia cae sobre mí, y se me parece,
se me parece con su desvarío, solitaria en el mundo muerto,
rechazada al caer, y sin forma obstinada.
1.6k
She said, I'll never love a man...
Who ridicules my weight,
I said then don't,
Who bothers me about my posture,
Being straight...scoliosis,
I said then don't,
Who says I can't wear this or that,
I said then don't,
Who questions my morales & beliefs,
I said then don't,
Who makes fun of the things,
That bring me relief,
I said then don't,
Who wants to have *** after the first date,
I said then don't,
She said, I'll never love a man...
I said then don't.
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 10:42 PM UTC
Una y otra vez,
Mi percepción falló.
Las opiniones que antes tuve,
Se escondieron.
Tu voz ganó.
¿Qué será del mañana
y dónde guardo el ayer?
La mente da vueltas
Intentando comprender.
Si en verdad eran mentiras,
¿Entonces, a quién logré conocer?
Eras tú quien me tocaba con placer,
¿Eras tú quien amanecía en mi piel?
Eras tú quien prometía eternidad,
¿O sólo estabas jugando con mi debilidad?
Si todo era una mentira,
¿Entonces, a quién logré conocer?
Una y otra vez,
El corazón me falló.
Las morales que antes tuve,
Me dijeron adiós,
Tu risa ganó.
Yo aquí con más ganas de ti,
Tú allá como un mago
Haciendo desaparecer todo de mí.
Yo aquí escribiendo la historia sobre este papel,
Tú allá con tijeras, escondiendo el ayer.
¿A quién logré conocer?
Una y otra vez,
Me doy cuenta muy tarde
Que fue mi pura ignorancia,
A la quien logré conocer.
Feb 24, 2012
Feb 24, 2012 at 3:14 PM UTC
I used to run-Never for fun--I would more often be running away from something than to it. I think it started in childhood. Never staying in one place long enough to have to fight every kid in the school.-I liked and i hated it. More often i had no control over it. On reflection it was for the better, my nose bleed too much for a kid my age. -In the second phase of my running career I began running out. Never telling the bosses to go play in heavy tracffic or do your **** self. I had morales and above all practised good manners. Instead i would tell the bosses that i was taking out the trash and make my freedom dash. -Oh, beleive me I flet free. The funny part was when the bosses would call my parents. Just as countless pricipals would do when i skipped classes. My parents would luagh and call them an ass. -Then i began running away. I only did it once...well that's a lie. I ran away from my highschool guidence office, far too drunk to face my parents scorn. "Yeah i drank it all. i replaced it with water, much healthier." -The last time I ran away I thought I was going to find myself. I had lost a part of myself to drugs and alcohol. I thought for sure i would find myself on the other side of the country on a small island on the Pacific Ocean. I went to rehab and could not find the person i went looking for. I thought briefly i had found myself, but when I looked in the mirror i could not even recognize my own face. I blamed my mustache. -I realized that running away to find myself i ran away from my family and my friends. Alas the old dies so the new can be born. -In my opinion if one is to run away it's for good. Never to return to such and such a place again, unless of course you have to do your taxes.
Mar 1, 2010
Mar 1, 2010 at 4:38 AM UTC
You took everything
and returned to the scene
To take home some images of victory
and I knew too late what happend
Staring right into your eyes as the realization ended
All I could do was try to look anew
Attempting not to bleed right through
While I splashed about in shallow waters
I'll just have to learn how to go without
The shame in this game will never max out
and you left me there weeping
Sold me cutthroat trout
I ate it up
Gluttonously
Then spit out the bones of the person I used to be
She's so far from me
I ode to the quicksand beneath my feet
To the weasle who found a way into my keep
The racoon who robbed me so blind
and left me defiled morales
Now left behind and strung about
I graced him like a loser should
I fought but much too late I understood
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 3:52 PM UTC
One single minute ago it was yesterday.
But now it's today.
Minutes are a funny thing.
They can go by in the blink of an eye when you want them to last forever.
They can take forever to pass when you just want the next one to arrive.
Hours are an even funnier thing.
Just one hour ago I was shivering.
I was cold and I was alone and I was sick and I was thinking about you.
Now, an hour later I am uncomfortably hot and I am thinking about how to get my next pack of cigarettes.
One hour someone could be in love and the next they could be hateful.
Days are odd as well.
One day ago I was happy.
I was in a place that I love and I was enjoying myself.
Now, one day later I am home and yet I am home sick.
One day someone could be alive and the next day they could be dead.
Months are ridiculous.
One month ago I was carefree.
I smoked anything I could get my hands on and I was the highest flying bird in the sky.
Now, one month later I am recovering and I am paying the price.
One month someone could be scared for their life and the next they can be living without a single thought.
Now years, there's some tricky business.
One year ago I had morales.
I was strong and I stood by my beliefs and I was surrounded by love and friends.
Now, one year later I am intolerant and in need of a soul search.
One year someone could be the king of the world and the next they can be the one shoveling ****
But lifetimes, don't even get me started on those.
One lifetime ago I could have been a priest. I could have been a king. I could have been a drug dealer and I could have been a drug addict.
Now, one lifetime later I am myself and I am happy and than sad and than happy and confused.
One lifetime can see a lot but it can also be blind from what's going on.
Time is a man made concept.
It is not real and it will never be real unless you let it.
You can let it control your life and make you decide on subjects you are not ready to.
Or you can **** on time and live your God **** life however you please.
"The past is a liar, the future a *****
Now, there is this thing called distance...
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 3:05 AM UTC
Bleary, dreary bifocals looked out through seeing eyes. At the maze of apiculture before him. He pushed a cart his whole life, never stepping up on the ledge to ride it.
Every Tuesday night, his fist packed tight full of ones. Uncrumbling, Washington from his back pocketed jeans. He'd lay him out flat, on the desk, like I should be impressed. One pack of cigs please.
He'd take his cart, around the world & back. Show kaleidoscope girls a good time. Because no matter how pretty that **** picture was, no matter how many times you tore it a part...it was always ugly. Just like the make up, that caked up the beauty on her face.
Parking lot pickups, corner cat-calls, was all she would be worth, a penny in the gutter, if she was lucky. Face up, grasped by hands that'll never love her. Such a steep price, for such a cheap use of love. Generic.
He tells them, he loves them as his boots slide on, comfortable. Too much in a hurry to take his socks off. Humming, Spin Doctors under his breath. He breaths heavily, like he worked so hard that day.
She holds onto morales like lose change, change is lose when you're use, to anything. That shows up on the corners on a Tuesday night, with something new to ignite. Not just the ciggerate between his lips. Lion skin, hipocrathy.
I lay the bills neatly in the drawr, wondering what price he really pays for the stress to relieve his mind. What price does the girl pay, how many clinics does she visit in a year. Baby girl YOUR NOT AN ACCIDENT, YOUR WORTH MORE THAN THE WORDS THAT HIT YOUR CHEEK LIKE A SLAP YOU HAVE MORE POTENTIAL THAN THE MEN YOU LET COMFORT YOU INTO THIS ABUSIVE SOLIDTUDE. YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL, I WOULD SPEND EVERY CENT I HAD JUST TO SIT & TALK WITH YOU.
**Luke 7:47
"Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—as her great love has shown. But whoever has been forgiven little loves little.”"**
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 12:46 AM UTC
I have a plethora of empty et ceteras ahead of ya for getting you a head of yeahs. With this thick pen i spaz, repeat my jazz, ****** foobaz. Move through new class. U2 sweet lass or move it last. like molasses through the past without esses. Witout ss? Ooh, too fast? So we give r for morales, too, dad. You don't get it? Oh, too bad.
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 8:42 PM UTC
I was thinking of a poem
About a girl I saw
With a starved face
Eyes bulging
Teeth protruding
A screaming skeleton of despair
I saw her and thought
I could love you...
But that was interrupted
By a poem about a new fondness
For sleeping pills
Numbness
I once tried to cry at night
But couldn't
And I felt like a real
******* for even trying...
I walked into the bathroom
And threw a few jabs
And right hooks
Into the mirror
I thought
I'm 5'7
145 lbs
Just like Barrera, Morales, Chavez
All the great Mexican fighters
I walked out and thought of quotes
By Fante, Sartre, something Hemingway said
I looked at all the people around me
And thought
They couldn't quote anybody
Jesus Christ!
What the hell do THEY think about?
It must be terrifying!
They don't read
They don't scream
They don't fight
They don't go on drinking binges
Where's the scars?
Where's the passion?
Where's the life?
But then I noticed
They were all smiling
Talking
Laughing
Walking
Together
I suddenly felt a massive
Heaviness
Upon me
I noticed it had been there
All along
Maybe
I've been doing it all wrong
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 10:32 PM UTC
You were like nothing I had seen an open window ready for me to make my escape
i never thought i'd need an easy way out , but I guess you only get what you can take.
I was always one for taking to much fun and not giving in to the things i'd done
but the things i'd do, I'd do for you and can I ask, if you would do them to.
You were like a door way out, but i was scared of the town we were in and i waver closely only to places i had been. And some times a door left open is never used, despite the fact that the cat had the chance choose. Was I the cat runing forth and back waiting for a chance to slip away unseen, cause my morales couldn't stand to be mean.
Would I be the one to hurt you as long as i didn't seem to. Would i be the one to take what wasn't mine. I couldn't be unkind, I couldn't be unkind.
Feb 12, 2017
Feb 12, 2017 at 5:19 PM UTC
Ye as i walk through the valley of the shadow of death
i have the lord on my right pushing me forward
but the opposing force that resides on my left
that overwhelming feeling to do bad
always composing a symphony of destruction in my head
conflicted with trying to do right the opposition displays treats and everything i like to keep me goin his way instead of believing gods right
distracted with the thrill of having a life
every decision made comes with a price
two rodes paved but which way is light
a boy on the verge of becoming man
conflicted with his Morales and where he stands!
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 4:16 PM UTC
Can you ever really make up sleep that you've lost,
Can your mind settle when your health is the cost?
When she tells you she cares and a moment you pause,
but her actions are damning; they paint a lost cause.
A wiseman once said for the highest of highs
Are the lowest of lows when the fireworks die.
Must we be young and stupid, if to ever be wise,
Or know the truth in her words, if we've never heard lies?
Will men always pay for the damages brought,
by boys making choices without second thoughts?
Will she always abandon in search of adventure,
Morales, and manners; replace values with anger?
Am I not a man if I act out of fear,
but to feel naive when I look in the mirror?
There isn't a path the truth will not alter,
Not a shadow is found in the final hours.
As the fireworks end, the colors will taper,
Answers lie in the ashes and die with the cinders.
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 1:38 AM UTC
The devil isn't hidden in darkness.
He is in the eyes of the girl you love,
And in the smell of the man you desire.
He is hidden in the tiny crevices of your morales,
And in your thoughts of sinful deeds.
So, do not dread the dark,
It is asleep like the will of God.
Beware of those echoes in thought-
That speak the will of demons.
For the real dwelling of the devil,
Is in the prosaic details of your life.
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 2:00 PM UTC
I am dangerous
I am sociopathically insane
I crave to build someone up
Then break them down again
I want more power than I need
Simply so I can terrorize
Terrorize the animals and humans and
Every single being that passes my eyes
I'm not safe for you
Because I'd like to **** you up
I'd love to break your morales down
And see your dreams crushed
I'd like to take your standards
And rip them all apart
I'd like to make you need me
But I'd prefer to rip out your heart
I'd like to control everything
Life, death, and everything in between
I'd like anyone to see
That I'm not safe
I'm not okay
I'm power-tripping
I'm so insane
I'm stuck on my brain
I'm stuck on this thought
And when I'm not drugged
When I can freely think
When I can feel the paranoia
When I can see clearly
I begin to plot
I plot your death
I plot your life
I plot your servitude
To me
I plot exactly how
Your blood will trace the lines
On the tile on the floor
So crimson now
So brown later
I plot our conversations
I plot our silences
I. Plot. It. All.
And it's not enough
I want you to breath
Only when I say so
Blink.
At my command
Live.
Only when I let you.
It's only when I see this part
Of my brain that I remember
I'm dangerous
In all the wrong ways
I push it all down
It's not human to feel this way
So I push it all down
But one day
I know
I'll snap.
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 10:39 PM UTC
She cringe when she looks at herself
In the mirror, she is tedium all she
Could see is what people say about her
UGLY, MEAN, WORTHLESS
She has been told;
So in her mind it's
Very plausible that this
Is who she is
She reprieve herself by agreeing with what
People say about her
She always abstain herself from
TEARS
She has a plethora amount of sadness
LACKLUSTER
She wished she had
She is very tenacious of keeping what little
HAPPINESS
She has the gift she gave herself to be
HEADSTRONG
And that is her
RESIGNATION -By, Emely Morales N.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 5:58 PM UTC
As I sit there and wonder by my window
I see the night sky take Over..
I Get lost..while I glare out drifting through my mind..
I Get lost on what seems to be the light of a
street light. How it glows in this darkness..
How it calls.. for Inspiration. How my mind craves creation.
What am I..
We are human..
Will I be found.. will they love me.. ?
They will..
Just don't forget Me. .
- Alex Medina Morales
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KdtSXiHVgpE
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 9:58 PM UTC
Yeah.
I often drink 10 beers
Alone
On nights like these.
And shadow box
Morales style
In the corner of my room
In the moonlight
Singing Lorca's screaming poems
And feeling Sartre's
Nothingness
I walk the streets of
Los Angeles
Like its ******* Ask The Dust 1939
Ignoring droids and hover boards
Flying right past me
All the good writers are dead.
And all the words are just ******** now.
Especially
Mine.
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 10:07 PM UTC