Below on Broadway
I anticipated writing of things more powerful than I,
Explain a combat of thoughts and ensuing reason.
As I remove myself from within the things and persons closest and most familiar I forget to remember.
The situations and lulls in place of time and containment below like an octopus.
A calm odor of rain being swept from abuelita and abuelitos’ porch consumes everything.
Wants and needs subside. The wind picks up.
The reverence and malice of the afore mentioned breaks like lines. Then…..
A subtle peace. Today let’s reach into the mountains and talk loquaciously, breathing deep on to the neck of awkward miscommunication.
I paint embracement. Cuddling with despotism. Yet everything affects me.
I want to stay simple yet be complex and in an attempt of vagueness I am filling pages with opaque life.
There is nothing science can do for me nor arithmetic nor philosophy.
At the end of my life I want to cry and spread the tears of no woes into every unfinished sonnet.
Today I write these ballads of egoism and narcissistic love still it is not my own voice in translation
A somber childhood. A confused adolescents. A tumultuous adulthood. A warming elderliness. An after life. A rebirth.
A simple glass of water.
Easier then death, more persistent than a woman’s body. Tender like years of regret.
WE touch each other.
Now anything can happen that already has.
I want to abide by these mitigating facts and say goodbye.
To whom it may concern:
To the infidels on their fathers plantation:
Exploited until the minds are weary, founded by a caucus of self-interest.
Here, now, then and when by day and night like hot and cold begin to become meaningless.
More so than last night and tomorrow morning.
More than a lying asshole
Right now I feel as if time has never happened.
I punch into the air around me to escape
The conductor converts me, and planets asleep they manifest creation ask us to plant orquids, dance to music
These confines are choking some, has desires.
Motivating less and less to finish…….
