"xxxvii" poems
XXXVII
Pardon, oh, pardon, that my soul should make,
Of all that strong divineness which I know
For thine and thee, an image only so
Formed of the sand, and fit to shift and break.
It is that distant years which did not take
Thy sovranty, recoiling with a blow,
Have forced my swimming brain to undergo
Their doubt and dread, and blindly to forsake
Thy purity of likeness and distort
Thy worthiest love to a worthless counterfeit:
As if a shipwrecked Pagan, safe in port,
His guardian sea-god to commemorate,
Should set a sculptured porpoise, gills a-snort
And vibrant tail, within the temple-gate.
2.7k
dear basil,
i promise i'll go to sleep soon
as long as you promise you'll smile at me
if you see me in public
i swear i'll fix my posture
if you swear to celebrate your birthday this year
and i pinkie swear that i'll love you
if you always love me back
forever,
basil
Apr 4, 2021
Apr 4, 2021 at 4:19 AM UTC
Antes que tú me moriré; escondido
en las entrañas ya
el hierro llevo con que abrió tu mano
la ancha herida mortal.
Antes que tú me moriré; y mi espíritu,
en su empeño tenaz,
se sentará a las puertas de la muerte,
esperándote allá.
Con las horas los días, con los días
los años volarán,
y a aquella puerta llamarás al cabo...
¿Quién deja de llamar?
Entonces, que tu culpa y tus despojos
la tierra guardará,
lavándote en las ondas de la muerte
como en otro Jordán;
allí donde el murmullo de la vida
temblando a morir va,
como la ola que a la playa viene
silenciosa a expirar;
allí donde el sepulcro que se cierra
abre una eternidad,
todo cuanto los dos hemos callado,
allí lo hemos de hablar.
971
XXXVII
PAR(R)APHRASES TO BE ENGRAVED IN BRONZE
1
The future
A time bomb
2
Consumerism
A snake
That swallows its tail
3
A lot of talk about human rights
Little
almost nothing about human responsibilities
Number one human responsibility
To respect human rights
4
Return to democracy for what
To see the same film over again?
NO:
To see if we can save the planet
Without democracy nothing is saved
5
Third and final call
Individualists of the world unite
Before it's too late
----- --- -----
XLV
ULTIMATUM
Either they draw up once and for all
The encyclical letter on survival
Or I'll have to put it in writing myself
Weeps at the top of his voice
Your Lord Jesus Christ
Of Elqui
Domingo Zárate Vega
Alias the eco loco of the north
Hurry up!
There are eternities but not so many
The planet can't take it any more
Mar 10, 2019
Mar 10, 2019 at 4:44 AM UTC
The prince is dead
the castle has crumbled
he failed the quest as soon as he stumbled
off a high wall
and down to the ground
upon which he perished with hardly a sound.
The princess is doomed
now trapped in a tower
where she watches the world blacken hour by hour
the sun went away
and the grass shriveled up
the demons now revel in the ash and the muck.
Oh the kingdom is ruined
and the people all wail
but heroes all die in true fairy-tales.
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 11:42 PM UTC
In my years of practice, I have known how to deal with losing
How to cope with the pain, the hurt, and all the baggages
It usually takes me 7 bottles of beers, a shot of tequila,
and a drunk call every night for 3 months
I have known how to deal with the questions, asked to me everyday
by every person who has come to know my story
I have mastered how it is to struggle with the memories
the pictures, clothes on the closet, writings on my walls
the letters, the texts messages, the whispers behind my ear
I have known how to deal with people leaving
I am not the person everyone remembers first when they say forever
I am not the person anyone remembers
I am always the person they try to forget
scrub away from their skin, the poison in their blood stream
I have come in peace with the art of leaving
You came and all that crashed, all down the drain
All my preparations for the storm, gone
You came and all my heart could do was try
not to explode every time I steal glances your way
I tried not to take our conversations
as something you looked forward to everyday
I tried to stay away but my soul gets tired of pulling away
It knows what it wants, and you know I won't give up without a fight
I know you're not going to stay but **** it
My ******* soul recognizes yours
It has gone all out to make you see how much they know each other
Why do you have to set camp here, where it's a mess and nothing is good enough for your hands, your fingers, your touch
Why did you let me in, where all I could do is stay in awe of how enough I am for your late night random phone calls
Why do you have to tell me you have feelings for me but let me stay in places where no one recognizes me -
your heart still silently wishes it wasn't me
your soul still searching, something that does not resemble me
I have always told you to never settle
But now I am telling you I am willing to be the purple bruise,
the reckless bump on the wrong side of the table
the turn that leads to places only we know of
the stubborn decision over bottles of beer, breaths of poison
the speed dial # 2, the drunk dial, the **** dial, as long as you call me
the bad poetry, the rhymes that do not add up to a beautiful piece
the last drop of ink on your teal pen
the favorite shirt but is too short, too used to still use
the photo, kept in the dustiest part of your closet
the secret, the well-thought off outsider
the painting you never get the time to finish
the almost
I have always been the person who leaves
I'm going to stay
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 6:31 AM UTC
I'm looking for an angel.
Have you seen him?
He has drifted far from Heaven.
Crashed amongst the stars
Landed in the clouds
And the force struck earth.
When darkness comes,
Will you come and shine?
Jul 18, 2010
Jul 18, 2010 at 9:25 PM UTC
¿Dices que nada se crea?
No te importe, con el barro
de la tierra, haz una copa
para que beba tu hermano.
413
XXXVI.
because you really don't want to hurt them you just still cant believe that anyone cares enough to be hurt when you hurt yourself
XXXVII.
because every new year you say you'll get better and you don't you still don't know if you should be independent of arbitrary dates that you trust so much even if they've never helped you
XXXIII.
because it hurts so much either way
XXXIV.
you'll just have to decide which you prefer
XXXV.
because you really gotta put more faith in rough drafts
XXXVI.
because you always want everything to be perfect but you know by now it won't be
XXXVII.
because these thoughts don't even really scare you anymore or maybe you're used to being afraid, but you know you'll stay, even if this place is unchanging
XXXVIII.
because that's only half the battle sometimes,
this times its not even that
XXXIX.
because you've never been this close to both life and death at the same time
XL.
because you're not afraid anymore to make rash decision you think you should fear what might happen because of that
XLI.
because, for now, the solution- the next step, is changing everything
XLII.
because until now changing has only meant covering up better
XLIII.
because maybe you can get better on your own, and maybe you can't
XLIV.
but the point is if you reach out you will never know if you could have done this independently, but if you cant do it on your own and you still try,
XLV.
because I know,
it's okay to reach out for help but,
is it okay to hold on?
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 9:03 PM UTC
confer with the spirits
magnetize yourself
set sail for spiritual guidance
trust in some paranormal compass or other
a little magic goes a long way
a little lamplight in the dark of the everyday
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 1:42 AM UTC
Oh amor, oh rayo loco y amenaza purpúrea,
me visitas y subes por tu fresca escalera
el castillo que el tiempo coronó de neblinas,
las pálidas paredes del corazón cerrado.
Nadie sabrá que sólo fue la delicadeza
construyendo cristales duros como ciudades
y que la sangre abría túneles desdichados
sin que su monarquía derribara el invierno.
Por eso, amor, tu boca, tu piel, tu luz, tus penas,
fueron el patrimonio de la vida, los dones
sagrados de la lluvia, de la naturaleza
que recibe y levanta la gravidez del grano,
la tempestad secreta del vino en las bodegas,
la llamarada del cereal en el suelo.
383
Twenty minutes fantasy.
Two hours passionate.
Either would've been everything...
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 11:27 PM UTC
desnudo el viejo hombre va
a tu subido amor el día
que has de salir a vistas y hablas /
pequeñuela de pechos no
crecidos como desamparos
sino como albas / como tablas
de cedro donde el alto amor
defiende a la esposa como
muro de paz o yerbas donde
tu labio es sí como dos pechos
o puertas donde entrás a mí
como perfecta / como luz /
como calor donde crepitan
mis manos que el otoño ya
deja caer como hojas llenas
de luna clara como voces
puras que vuelan / pajaritos
de estos pesares / estas penas/
que me **** como verdad
desordenando mis furores
293
You write because you expect there will be more of them. Your mind works in fragments, though, so it’s fairly possible you may conceive a project plan for a series of works and then never conjure up a word of it again.
You’re outside on the roof of a Mediterranean restaurant on Tremont St., overlooking the John Adams Courthouse.
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 9:41 PM UTC