Rosa

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

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?

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.  

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.

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.

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. 

A little gift

Happines is....

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…

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.

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

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.

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?

Death

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

?

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

__________________

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.

For writers only...

Write more, think less.

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.

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.

Hay que necios son los muertos

My bank

My bank.

I want to open a bank. A bank of poems

A bank were you could deposit a poem

And take out as many poems as you would like,

No penalties, no interests, no fees.

________________________________

By the way, I think that such bank alredy exists. The Internet is such a rich place to find all kind of poems. And it's great to be able to chat with other poets.