"pereira" poems
He will not light long enough
for the interpreter to gather
the tatters of his speech.
But the longer we listen
the calmer he becomes.
He shows me the place where his daughter
has rubbed with a coin, violaceous streaks
raising a skeletal pattern on his chest.
He thinks he's been hit by the wind.
He's worried it will become pneumonia.
In Cambodia, he'd be given
a special tea, a prescriptive sacrifice,
the right chants to say. But I
know nothing of Chi, of Karma,
and ask him to lift the back of his shirt,
so I may listen to his breathing.
Holding the stethoscope's bell I'm stunned
by the whirl of icons and script
tattooed across his back, their teal green color
the outline of a map which looks
like Cambodia, perhaps his village, a lake,
then a scroll of letters in a watery signature.
I ask the interpreter what it means.
It's a spell, asking his ancestors
to protect him from evil spirits—
she is tracing the lines with her fingers—
and those who meet him for kindness.
The old man waves his arms and a staccato
of dipthongs and nasals fills the room.
He believes these words will lead his spirit
back to Cambodia after he dies.
I see, I say, and rest my hand on his shoulder.
He takes full deep breaths and I listen,
touching down with the stethoscope
from his back to his front. He watches me
with anticipation—as if awaiting a verdict.
His lungs are clear. You'll be fine,
I tell him. It's not your time to die.
His shoulders relax and he folds his hands
above his head as if in blessing.
Ar-kon, he says. All better now.
by Peter Pereira
.
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 1:02 AM UTC
Patas de perro con
mi primacho Miguel
en Pereira, buscando
un hotel pa pagar
la estancia de una cuartico
cerca al centro o
a poca distancia
del burdel.
Nos tomamos un jugo de caña
y como ya tengo la maldita maña, llamamos al Toro porque
sin esa hierbita jamás
cerraría pestaña
Dándole vueltas al centro, esperándolo a él
Vi un lindo edificio
y le dije a Miguel:
"un segundo hermano que me
gustó ese hotel, voy a entrar a
ver si hay cupo"
y a cuánto estaba
una noche en aquél.
Me mira bien serio y
me deja pasar
quedándose afuera pa disimular.
"Buenas tardes caballero,
bien pueda...
¿En que le puedo servir?"
"Busco un cuartico que mi primo
y yo pensamos quedarnos en
Pereira esta noche, ¿a cuánto
están?"
¿Cómo así? me contesta
y como creía que
no me había entendido...
repiti la encuesta.
Otra vez ....¿Cómo así?
En eso momento,
que pendejo te cuento,
me di cuenta que
no era un hotel.
De un salón a la izquierda
salían los llantos
seguidos por un desfile
en ***** de luto.....
y yo hijueputa ¡"que bruto"!
Volteaba a ver si el primo ya sabía que pasaba cuando
soltó la gran carcajada.
Huí sin mu decir
buscando la risa de Miguel
que decía uy... ¿que pasó no es hotel?
Pero se la hice también
cuando nos recogió el torito
y comenzamos a fumar y fumar. Tantos baretos estilo Bob Marley que ya no nos podíamos ver.
Cuando se escapó todo el humo Miguel se detuvo
antes de casi caer.
Con ojos cruzados y labios babeados empecé
a burlarme también.
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 1:06 AM UTC
Teachers? I'll give you ****** teachers!
There was a lazy old worm
dodged him most of the term
he would let you go home
if you bought him a tome
that stimulated shedding of *****
another thought he was fine
but at lunch he would sup on red wine
of english he thought that I could do nought
and mocked me all of the time
another for boredomes sake
found a rule he thought he could break
smash the lid of a desk on a boy he detests
then tell him the tears he does fake
then there was Mr pereira
how we wished he was fairer
never gave a toss 'cos he was the boss
but there was one even scarier
Red-Neck....
Big and crazy
very lazy
beat the ****
out of me with his mate
for reasons they found hazy
used the dap
I wouldn't cry
so they got
metre rulers
and they did try
the brass bit cut my leg
and ripped my trousers
bullying *****
which was lousier
all I did was come in late
was depressed and sick
and full of hate for school
but a good boy not a fool
scarred me a bit
ha! they were all full of ****
when I passed my exams
they resented it
Best days of my life?
DOWN WITH SKOOL.....
Jan 21, 2011
Jan 21, 2011 at 12:47 PM UTC
[if I want any **** out of u, I'll squeeze ur head]
There is another class that is acceptable to the boring,
by a single look I can see the ******* ******** Apostolic Letter
of the skin test [Mestizo ipsum dolor sit amet] the water of wisdom,
sister clings to the child worthy of mourning
[_Anda_ is said to be the dignity of the excited _Zambo_], in my opinion,
in the night, he purposed to slap the crazy fun female,
as the plague of the sea & began; the tamale had a dream
in the kitchen of the angels of [in stock of the praise of God]
the writing disguised woman as a mustard seed,
you're the only ****** now; crazy & put in the last cell on Tuesday
hot sticky storm in heaven fueling creatures face down
& *** up, the fish's twin leg lifts cause tremors on the avenue
golden glass voice heard the man's father, the owner
of my floor, choosing his friends moments to
creation, believing that the process of the beast
should contribute as a picture on a close grip
of your Pap nectar on the night when he
reprimands the seriousness of _cam pereira_,
I will not quarrel over the sublimation of the
selling remedy for the cold sand
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 1:07 PM UTC