Sunday, May 20, 2012

Mi Soledad


Mi soledad

He aprendido a viví con la soledad
Una soledad aplastante que en días de frio me asfixia

Inclementemente.

A veces trato de hablar con mi soledad, pero me deja sin respuestas.

Y es que mi soledad es sorda, muda y fría cual ira de un dios vengativo
Entonces me miro al espejo y no veo nada

Ni siquiera el vacio de los muertos. 
Ya no me importa, la esperanza quedo atrás,

Los sueños escaparon cuando ella se fue.


Mi soledad es inexorable
Es una soledad violenta, virulenta, sanguinaria, agria.

Mi soledad es insidiosa
Me miente, me corroe, destruye mi deseo de vivir, de amar, de ser feliz.

Mi soledad es una soledad salvaje, desbordada y sin remordimiento
Que me aniquila cruelmente,  

Me destruye sin piedad segundo a segundo como a un bicho repugnante
Y aun así, me aferro a ella,

Mi soledad es lo único que me ata a la vida.  

Sunday, May 06, 2012

Persiguiendo la felicidad.


Tenis y Perros
(A propósito del protagonista de El Gringo Latino quien juega tenis).
¿Cual es la diferencia entre un perro y un tenista persiguiendo una pelota? Que el perro lo hace con su boca y el tenista con una raqueta. Sin embrago el principio es el mismo, el perro y el tenista disfrutan grandemente correr tras la pelota. Los dos tratan de alcanzar su objetivo  una y otra, vez con obsesiva perseverancia.  Al seguir a la bola, su cerebro produce la dopamina que les produce felicidad.
En realidad, toda actividad física que cause goce conlleva satisfacción. Eso lo sabemos desde chicos, cuando comenzamos a gatear, y sigue, en todas las culturas del mundo, durante toda la niñez. En las sociedades modernas hay una gama muy amplia de deportes y todos invariablemente se refieren a un partido, a una competencia, a una lucha como un “juego.” Miles de millones de adultos practican deportes formal o informalmente, por puro gusto. Dichas personas no son muy diferentes a  un niño que corre para alcanzar a un amigo, o que trata de brincar más alto que un compañero. Y no solo los deportes producen ese sentido de júbilo, el bailar, cocinar, cuidar el jardín y miles de otras actividades crean un bienestar similar.
Por eso es triste que una gran cantidad de adultos dejen de practicar actividades físicas. Algunos lo hacen por razones médicas pero la gran mayoría lo hace por desidia, por miedo a hacer el ridículo, por temor a caerse, o por la errada creencia de que no es propio para una persona de cierta edad seguir jugando. Desafortunadamente al dejar de jugar, dejan la oportunidad de alcanzar un poco de la escurridiza felicidad 

Monday, April 30, 2012

La consolidación de la raza humana.


La identidad se forma a través de la identificación de los individuos con su entorno; su familia, su género, su época, su ocupación, su religión, su ciudad, su país, entre otras cosas. La gran mayoría de las personas no tienen mayor problema formándose su identidad; otros aceptan unas partes y modifican otras de acuerdo a su propio desarrollo e idolología. Generalmente entre mayor información maneje una persona, mayor va a ser su posibilidad de cuestionar algunos de los cánones de su cultura y con ello modificar algunas creencias y alianzas.
A través de la historia se puede ver que siempre ha habido sujetos inconformes que han renunciado a su religión, sexo, patria, familia, etc. pero la introducción del Internet ha abierto un gran boquete en los valores de todas las culturas. Por ello la gente que tiene acceso a la información virtual tiende a cuestionar cada vez más los preceptos bajo los cuales fueron instruidos. Para bien y para mal, la difusión de información está produciendo un nuevo tipo de persona, que maneja más datos y por lo tanto cuestiona más los valores de su patria, de su género, etc. esto es solo el comienzo. Se puede ver que las generaciones futuras van a formar parte de una cultura global en las que van a definir sus preferencias en base a la información disponible. Esto va a llevar a la eventual eliminación de las nacionalidades, los prejuicios y las identidades regionales. En otras palabras, estamos en el preámbulo de la muerte de las identidades étnicas fragmentadas y la consolidación de la raza humana; con todas las ventajas y desventajas que esto pueda acarrear. (por Carlos Ponce-Melendez).

Sunday, April 22, 2012

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

El Gringo Latino



He estado alejado de este blog porque estaba trabajando en una novela. Por fin la termine y ya está a la venta a través de Amazon en edición virtual o de papel. Se llama El Gringo Latino. Esta es la trama de la novela:
Emilio, un científico social de la Ciudad de México, oye un grito aterrador una noche. Su esposa piensa que todo es producto de su imaginación. Unos días después el grito se repite agudizando problemas entre la pareja. Problemas aparejados a los que trae el cambio en el sistema político mexicano que se desmorona lentamente. Cuando se le presenta la oportunidad de trabajar en una universidad de los Estados Unidos, Emilio se siente optimista de ir a vivir en un país desarrollado. Pronto se encuentra que la situación en el país del norte no es muy diferente a la que quiere dejar. La vida del protagonista se complica cuando es investigado por la desaparición de un niño.
La trama va más allá de un caso policiaco, Emilio encuentra que las complicadas relaciones entre México y los Estados Unidos, permeadas por tráfico de drogas, inmigración y corrupción, afectan su libertad y su vida.
El Gringo Latino es una novela moderna en la que las lealtades entre individuos y sus países son cada día más difusas. Particularmente los profesionistas trasnacionales (egresados de centros de enseñanza internacionales) adquieren una cultura de globalización de las ideas y la solidaridad que desafía el modelo tradicional nacionalista. Sin embargo, dichas personas siguen luchando por encontrar una identidad en un mundo de cambios virtuales que no ofrece substitutos a los lazos ancestrales de los pueblos. 
Por otro lado quiero decirles que no se sientan presionados por leerlo. El Gringo Latino es una novela que trata temas fuertes; religión, sexo y política entre otras cosas. El lenguaje es crudo en algunos pasajes y el uso de “malas” palabras está presente en diversas partes del libro. Algunas personas pueden encontrar la novela “difícil” pues no es literatura solo para entretener. Pero tampoco se trata de un escrito traumatizante o con artilugios literarios solo para escandalizar. No es nada que García Márquez, Vargas Llosa no hayan tocado (dese luego, ellos con gran talento). Yo creo que la obra es entretenida y vale la pena echarle un vistazo.  
Escribo sobre esos temas porque son asuntos que me motivan. Son asuntos importantes, para mi, y quiero poner mi granito de arena para el entendimiento de dichos problemas.

Sunday, November 27, 2011

The Witness



The witness

 Everyday, at seven in the morning Mr. Brown takes a plastic chair

that one day was white and plunk it in front of his house. 

He watches the neighbors going to work, to school, to shop, to drink.



They go singing, fighting, running, spiting, smoking, swearing, dreaming.

Mr. Brown says hello to everybody. Now and then he gets into his house

to get a soda, he comes back quickly to see a wife  who is running in distress

a man who returns drunk to his house a dog that gets stoned by a horde of children.



Mr. Brown never says more than “hello,” he may disapprove, he may support

nobody knows, he just watches. If somebody looks at him he barely smiles and says nothing.



Mr. Brown is fifty three years old, he has been disabled for the past twelve years

and he became a witness of humanity ever since. Mr. Brown knows all the secrets of the

people but nobody knows his.



At noon, Mr. Brown disappears inside his house eats crackers with honey and returns to his

post. As a witness he never misses the action around his eyes.

He knows all the faces, voices and mysteries of the neighborhood.



After a short recess for dinner Mr. Brown vigil the street until twelve o’clock,

then, he takes his plastic chair inside the room he calls his house where he

keeps his chair, a bed and his thoughts.



When there is a crime in Mr. Brown’s block the police and the journalists

don’t bother to ask him anything, he never sees a fly, he hears nothing.

Everybody knows he is a witness but people say he is a witness of God.

Saturday, October 22, 2011

My list of things to do.

Thing to do today
 

- Find happiness
- Search for an immaculate sweetheart
- Wash my cloths
- Write a remarkable novel
- Appointment with the dentist
- Stop watching TV
- Organize my closet

So many things to do so little time, but
at least I prioritized my list as the experts recommend.
However I must begin with the cloths,
all of them are dirty and I need a clean shirt for the dentist.
The happiness can wait. I have put it off for
43 years, it can wait one more day.

The same is for the sweetheart
but the appointment with the dentist is easy
I just need to go and I’ll get that off my list.
For the novel I need to buy paper first,
I’ll write it in my list for tomorrow.

I would organize my closet but I want
to watch what happen to the stupid Lucy.
As soon as the series finish I’ll have time
to organize not just the closet but my life.

I’m doing two things of seven.
Not bad! Yesterday I only finish one of six.
The experts recommend not trying to accomplish
everything in one day. It may be frustrating.
I think I’m in the right path to fix my life.

Friday, September 30, 2011

#11 Joy for Our Grandparents, Stories for the Grandchildren

 Joy for Our Grandparents, Stories for the Grandchildren

Level: All
Instructor: Carlos Ponce
As our parents, grandparents, and other family members age, their stories disappear forever with them. Alzheimer’s disease, depression and other cognitive impairments can affect our loved one’s mind. For elderly people, it’s rewarding when younger people show interest in their life. Besides, the new generations benefit from a wealth of experiences: heroic events, humorous situations, ethnic knowledge and interesting anecdotes. Many times older adults don’t tell their stories, or they only tell a few, and their relatives think they have heard them all. This is a big mistake. We’ll explore how to develop a plan of conversation with our elderly relatives in a way that is stimulating for them and will produce valuable family information for us. We’ll conduct interviews among the class participants to practice how to carry out sessions with our loved ones, and talk about how to make a family history document for future generations. (Spanish-friendly class).
Date: Saturday, October 15, 10am-3pm
(1-hour lunch break)
Limit: 15 Participants
Registration Deadline: Wednesday, October 12
Teachers CPE Credits: 4 Language Arts
Fee: $70 Discounted Fee: $60

(If you’re paying online via PayPal, the $10 Shipping & Handling fee is our standard registration fee.)
About the instructors:

Carlos Ponce worked for 11 years for the Health Science Center at San Antonio as a social researcher. He became interested in the stories of elders while conducting interviews for the UTHSC and used several of these conversations as the base of his collection of short stories Platicas de Mi Barrio. He’s published two children’s books, several short stories and poems in English and Spanish. He has taught creative writing to elders in community centers and to adolescents. He became interested in people with Alzheimer’s and dementia because some of his family members developed these conditions.

MOREINFORMATION:  http://geminiink.org/su11-12

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Thursday, September 01, 2011

Rosa

Rosa.
Las suculentas palabras salían de su intensa boca el día en que decidí dejarla por empalagosa.

Friday, August 12, 2011

ADHD

Attention Deficit with Hyperactivity Disorder

                                                  I’m going to clean my desk
                                                                          and buy groceries for the week,              and              but a letter appears and
                                                                                          I got to answer it. Then, a bill that I should have paid last month.
         Looking for a pen, what about the check book?  it
                        sends me                                                             to the other room
 I realize                                                 that I should put
                                                                                                 my cloths away,
meanwhile
           I’ll make a turkey sandwich to ease my hunger                                                       then I notice 
              that some of my cloths
                                                                          have to be washed.                    As I walk to the
                             laundry room
         I remember that I had planned
                                                                       to clean my desk today
                                           so I can begin to write my novel
                                                                                               tomorrow.
                  I have a lot of things    , oh my! I forgot to close the refrigerator
                                                        to do…  but I don’t know
                          where to begin
                                              I lost my list.
                                                                    I read
                        a book about prioritizing and took two
                                                                                 classes about time        management.
      I feel exhausted and
                                             I have not done, no anything that
                                                                          I wanted to do for today, for                      yesterday, for my life
                  I want to cry
                                   I don’t know why I can’t do the things
                                                                            that I want to do
     How other people         do ten things while I do half of one?
    Where should I start?                               This is crazy. Ok! No panic,                                          I’m going to star all over again.
                                                First I need a piece of paper,
or should I begin with
                                     my cloths?

Saturday, July 16, 2011

Helping God

Gardens

People who plant a seed or a tree

assist nature to reproduce the mystery of life

for no other purpose than to slightly

expand the beauty of the earth.
 

Gardens are spirit-inspired creations,

as ancient and disseminated as humankind. 

Gardens are manifestations of souls

that yearn for the sensual love of nature.


A garden is a parcel that reproduces the joy of life

It doesn’t matter if it’s a plant in a can

on the window of a dilapidated apartment


                             or

a pristine yard of a castle, both are

landscapes borne by the desire to breed beauty.
 

Gardens are the goods of humans and nature

working with magical colors, forms and fragrances. 

Gardens flourish when people play at being creators

and, while playing, become part of god.  

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Coffee anybody?

Her coffee.


Here she is

With her bright, broad smile

All the time.


What a treat

Just like her coffee

If she smiles I don’t need sugar.


I read,

She brings the aromatic caffeine

I like the smell, I like her fragrance.


I like coffee

I like coffee with sugar

I like coffee with her.

Sunday, May 29, 2011

A cactus with thorns.

I like coffee, I like friends, I like coffee with friends; hold the sugar.
Sometimes I’m afraid that I’m too afraid.
I like forests, beaches and walking. I like drinking wine and chatting about god and paella. What I don’t like is writing about things that I don’t like.

Friday, May 13, 2011

About God


How does God feel?
He lives in perpetual happiness; he doesn’t know limits, worries. He knows the future and the past, in other words he doesn’t know what is time. He also is ignorant of fear and frustration, he lacks curiosity because he knows everything but he lacks friends because there is nobody like him. 

Sunday, March 13, 2011

RED LIGHTS

If you spend an hour a day traveling by car in a metropolitan area you probably spend an average of twenty minutes in front of a red light. It means that you consume 7300 minutes a year or 121 hours, or 5 days of the year waiting for a green light. That’s a lot, especially for people who live the busy existence of a big city. Image what could you do with 5 extra days in your year; catch up sleep, read great books, play golf, tennis, take a nice vacation to the beach.

Anyway, this is the reason of my poem Red Lights.


Red lights


In front of a red light – for the thousandth time –
I’m sensing that life is a chain of waitings.

Waiting to grow up, waiting to graduate, waiting for a good job
Waiting for her, waiting to retire, waiting for god.

I’m permanently waiting in a loop of waitings until I don’t remember
What am I waiting for.

Always waiting for something or someone
I ignore stars, overlook smiles and devour time dreaming of rainbows.

Living in virtual stupor I suppose I’m waiting to die
And then the light turns green…





Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Short story


Grammar.



The most important thing in my life is grammar and I hate it. I wasn’t good at grammar at school but I had to learn it. It was twenty-two years ago that I learned the rules of syntaxes, morphology, periods, structure and other tedious stuff. Since then my life has been a hell. Spelling, adjectives, vowels, prepositions, commas and many other grammar subjects don't let me rest. I try to enjoy a movie and grammar rules keep coming to my head telling me that the detective is using poor syntaxes. When I'm talking to a friend grammar appears again and indicates me that my friend is misusing words. The same happens when I'm reading a novel, the newspaper, watching television or hearing the radio.



The worst part is when I'm making love. Like yesterday when my girlfriend told me: “Love me forever, love me to much times.” I know that she was in the middle of a passionate moment but ‘much times’? Give me a break. But the most terrible part was when I stopped kissing her and I told her the grave grammatical mistake she had made. Instead of thanking me for the correction she become furious and threw me out of the bedroom! But what can I do? If Karen makes a grammar blunder I'm turned off immediately. Last month she told me: “Your eyes make me crazy.” I became incensed and yelled a few incorrect sentences to her. She didn’t care that I made so many mistakes, and that made me even more upset. Then I called her illiterate, plain, grammatical blooper and other strong adjectives. She got my point and we had a terrible fight. My girlfriend gave me an ultimatum: “get professional help or I don’t want to see you again.” I went to see a psychiatrist. Unfortunately the poor doctor speaks English as a horse; I just couldn't take him seriously. “You may be suffering grammatical stress” – he told me, he wanted to put me on Prozac. Yeah right, I’ll take Prozac if he goes back to remedial English in a community college. Now I want my Karen to see a grammar coach but she refuses, I think we are at a breaking point.



I don't blame my girlfriend. I know I have to change, I know grammar is not the most important thing in this life but I can't help, my brain is a grammar program. Maybe I should go to live in a desert island where I don't have anything to read or voices to hear. The problem is that I'm not a rich person, I don't have a way to support myself without working, and I’m just a poor editor.






Sunday, December 12, 2010

Two Poems

 What a man really knows



A man is his family, his city, his generation


A man is a name, a face, a color, a social security number


A man is the books he reads, the jokes he remembers, the lies he says.


A man is his food, his lovers, his enemies
A man is his memories, his opinion, his gods
A man is what he really knows; nothing!


You can change but…



You can change your clothes, your job, your house,
You can move to another country, find a new lover, embrace a different god.

You can get a new odor, another philosophy, refurbish your face,
You can switch your gender, reform your conduct, reinvent your past.

You can act against your interests, your consciousness, your passions,
You can change many things many times and become a new creature; almost…

Because you can’t change your qualms or your dreams
And that’s who you are for a cosmic instant; until the universe reclaims your dust.

Published in Out of Our, Year 2, Volume 8, November 19, 1010

Sunday, December 05, 2010

La Tele

Efectos televisivos



La humanidad esta atrapada,


ya nadie cree en el azul,


la gente no habla del mar,


los amigos ya no comen juntos.


Los poemas mueren,


los pueblos viven en sus celdas,


los hombres han vendido a sus dioses


para comprar televisiones.

Thursday, December 02, 2010

What if...

What would hapen if one day you wake up and find that you don't like anybody at all? And after several days and weeks you still don't like anybody, you don't hate them, you just don't like people at all. What would you do?

Wednesday, December 01, 2010

Death

Don't worry about death, it'll come sooner or later, worry about your life, it's not easy. 

Monday, November 29, 2010

?

Being wise is being forgetful
_______________________________

It’s so easy to see the mistakes in other people and so hard to see our own faults

__________________

 
I love to love but I don't know how

__________________

Sunday, November 21, 2010

I think...

Me la pase pensando

Me la pase pensando
Pensé que vivía
Pensé que amaba
Pensé que moría
Pero nada sucedía
En mi monótona vida
Todo eran pensamientos
Que solo en mi mente sucedían.








My conscience weighs too much and I got tired of carrying it.



Thursday, November 11, 2010

With my imagination

With my imagination      Poems published in http://www.blazevox.org/



With my imagination I created galaxies and heavens,
Destroyed millenary gods and created others that nobody loved.
With my imagination I finish dictatorships and tyrannous,
Created marvelous and perfect utopias and made the past and present happy.
With my imagination I had more lovers than any sultan,
More wealth that all the kings together and engendered hordes of saints and wise men.
With my imagination I died and revived at will
Wrote all the poems and novels and forgot to hate my enemies.
With my imagination I finished time and matter,
And turned myself into a poem.
 
Depth


In the depth of my soul
Putrid doubts
Eat my useless god.
Everything is an existential error
Nothing is true but my secure fear
Even you are just a dead lie.

Tuesday, November 09, 2010

Writing

Writing is always an expedition into your own soul. Most people don’t want to go there because they are afraid they may discover their core is depressingly dull.