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"ruben" poems
Poema Code Switching By Aylin Soto-Aleman, Mercedes Caballero, Jesus Martinez, Marta Silva, Alex Alejandre 16.4.15 El final de una etapa The end, The beginning of a new journey un camino A un mundo extranjero Un deseo, un sueño A dream Haciendo mi propio path un camino rostros nuevos , new failures historias nuevas , new experiences a sequel to my story, con hojas rotas y mojadas INMIGRACION La memoria es un salto entre continentes crossing invisible borders swimming in the rios corriendo debajo del sol La memoria es los abuelitos ancestors cooking arroz y frijoles, flan, driving through for hamburgers, popcorn, sipping on horchata Basilica No todo lo que brilla es oro not all rainbows and butterflies, Clarita y sus cien años Ruben y sus Tacos del Camino Real El rancho Midnight movies Quiero a quien me quiera It’s been a long day, without you my friend Mexicanos al grito de guerra Oh, say can you see by the dawn’s early light Tepechitlan, Jerecuaro, Guanajuato Long Beach, Argentine, KCK, Chihuahua, A Distance Between Us El puente, the bridge. Three Little Pigs en casa, at home, don't step out marranitos, la llorona te va a llevar Memory is a leap between continents Cruzando fronteras invisibles, Nadando en los rivers Running under the sun Born in different places Pero las mismas intenciones
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May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 1:39 PM UTC
Immigration
Coming from your humble and holy houses each morning bringing blessings, your lively and cheerful "Good Morning!" sounds - all the power and energy that a good life brings. Living by the light God gives you every day, eschewing electricity, and all of the worst that it brings with it, teaching your children and loving your wives with gentleness and devotion. Ruben, Glen David, Marlin... did I spell these right? I only heard your beautiful, traditional names in your own, clear, grounded voices, as we began to know each other, while you travelled back and forth, from bright and early each day, onto our ailing roof. Tearing into four layers of old, sickly roofing tiles with your wonderful vim and vigour, a healing began that went deep, deeper every day, as we absorbed the precious fortune of having you in our midst. Your chosen, Amish lives inspired us, and still do, as we still, quite often, hear the echoes of your footsteps above us, each one a prayer and an affirmation of lives well-lived. One fine afternoon, one of you stood straddling the very top of our steep old roof line, and that image of a man mastering his craft, invested in a life that blesses everyone he cares for, and teaches by example, everyone he meets, will stay with me for all of my days.
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Dec 29, 2016
Dec 29, 2016 at 7:11 AM UTC
Available Light
After “lo fatal” When I read you first I was living in Bergen. Pretending at translation and going up scree, clutching at conifers in a painted flaxen sun. I'd imagined you’d given up on being Modernista to settle for a quaint shack— for the hardness of the carved fjord. Now if you were to arrive in the wild where I have kept this place strangely similar by the pine, blue herons, Mount Ozzard over the dandelions, how would you come walking down the road? Would deer pause to smell your tracks or the cedar cutter look up as he heard you pass, or these coal-black snags which guard the lot’s entrance and haven't swayed in so long groan? Dichoso el árbol, que es apenas sensitivo. Happy is the tree, you said. Scarcely sentient. Ruben Dario: what is the tree which rushes through this poem?
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May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 11:33 PM UTC
After "Lo Fatal"
When you're alone And life is making you moan, I know what you can do. Blow me. When you've got worries, And your speech get's all slurry Seems to help, I know, Blow me. Every time you come around you're always causing trouble. Why can't you be nice and friendly? More like Betty Rubble. Vicodin. You think that it makes you feel good. But it just ***** your brain up. You've misunderstood. So just BLOW ME! Don't be afraid to just BLOW ME! Even Ruben Kincaid says to BLOW ME! It's the best use of your mouth. blow me, BLOW ME Don't hang around While scratching your ***** mound, Unless you're willing to, Blow me. Maybe you know Some other places to go to But right now you can, Blow me. Every time you come around you're always causing trouble. Why can't you be nice and friendly? More like Betty Rubble. Vicodin. You think that it makes you feel good. But it just ***** your brain up. You've misunderstood. So just BLOW ME! Don't be afraid to just BLOW ME! You and your PhD need to SHOW ME! What you can do with your mouth. blow me,(blow me),blow me,(blow me)
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Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 12:59 PM UTC
Vicky Vicodin
you were supposed to be everything, more than anyone, but all he is to us now, is the nothing we feel as we breath, like it's not a big deal to take in air, like it's not a big deal to live, for anything or for everything, and if you don't have the love and support staring in his eyes, failed experiment 625, was made to be unsuccessful to start, because no one thought to show him how to use his heart. -Ruben failed experiment 625-
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Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 4:08 PM UTC
Failed experiment 625
Gilgal Oasis Green Sand Of an Unseen Tribe Water en Circled  Life Lyons Gateway Love's Meandering  Rose A Woman...  ISher White A Lions White Titanium Mystery Unspoken Infinity Dark Rose of FAITH Turning, Listening Smile She Met My Gaze Power Greeting Peace Felt All of It Ruben Red Coloring For a Rose Ex Libris
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Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 2:33 PM UTC
Red Stone
The day you left I thought of you - all afternoon - and practicing handstands I played in the woods Put your teachings in practice and smiled but it was mostly so that I wouldn't cry
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Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 1:16 PM UTC
Per Ruben
The Choice She was a lovely middle aged woman, who mostly only shared her vanity with the mirror. She is watching her weight having the strange believe that a man does not like women of Ruben like dimension nevertheless through her modest education she as able to meet people of economic status as she had the ability of sit on the greenest twig. But she must pay the prize of living away from here nearest In a town that makes her feel perturbed.
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Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 5:06 AM UTC
choices