Saturday, December 16, 2017

things that fade - tanka





the clash between
opposite proximities
adrift
impalpable-untouchable weight
of things that fade

A la deriva





A la deriva



duelo de proximidades opuestas,
la inconsistencia de la dicha:
para explicar su partida,
su materialidad

el peso intocado-intocable
de cosas que se desvanecen y
permanecen furiosamente,
tesoros derretidos,
posibilidades abandonadas

las sílabas se preguntan
en qué tono convocaran
el coraje para rendirse
 y obedecer
las leyes luego de la pérdida

luego de hablar de la tensión
al momento de obedecer

los ojos enmarcarán
el consuelo del perdón?

From where




From where

does this attempt,
this triumph, this excessive

impulse, this unneeded
salt frame, cruel

& lukewarm at times,
uncontrollable, perennial,

hateful, feeling
of sadness arrive?


Friday, December 15, 2017

miss me? - tanka





when the sun begins
to hide, a black-whiskered
vireo slurs
the question I'm asking ...
are you going to miss me?

Wednesday, December 13, 2017

Sam Smith - One Last Song (Official Video)



Sam Smith - Palace (On The Record: The Thrill Of It All Live)






"Palace"

My head is filled with ruins
Most of them are built with you
Now the dust no longer moves
Don't disturb the ghost of you
Mmm

They are empty, they are worn
Tell me what we built this for
On my way to something more
You're that one I can't ignore
Mmm

I'm gonna miss you
I still care
Sometimes I wish we never built this palace
But real love is never a waste of time
Mmm

Yeah I know just what you're saying
And I regret ever complaining
About this heart and all its breaking
It was beauty we were making
Mmm

And I know we'll both move on
You'll forgive what I did wrong
They will love the better you
But I still own the ghost of you
Mmm

I'm gonna miss you
I'm still there
Sometimes I wish we never built this palace
But real love is never a waste of time

I'm gonna miss you
I'm still there
Sometimes I wish we never built this palace
But real love is never a waste of time
But real love is never a waste of time

Ed Sheeran - Happier (Music Video)





"Happier"

Walking down 29th and park
I saw you in another's arms
Only a month we've been apart
You look happier

Saw you walk inside a bar
He said something to make you laugh
I saw that both your smiles were twice as wide as ours
Yeah you look happier, you do

Ain't nobody hurt you like I hurt you
But ain't nobody love you like I do
Promise that I will not take it personal baby
If you're moving on with someone new

Cause baby you look happier, you do
My friends told me one day I'll feel it too
And until then I'll smile to hide the truth
But I know I was happier with you

Sat in the corner of the room
Everything's reminding me of you
Nursing an empty bottle and telling myself you're happier
Aren't you?

Ain't nobody hurt you like I hurt you
But ain't nobody need you like I do
I know that there's others that deserve you
But my darling I am still in love with you

But I guess you look happier, you do
My friends told me one day I'll feel it too
I could try to smile to hide the truth
But I know I was happier with you

Baby you look happier, you do
I knew one day you'd fall for someone new
But if he breaks your heart like lovers do
Just know that I'll be waiting here for you

Ed Sheeran & Beyoncé - Perfect Duet (Official Music Video)




"Perfect"

I found a love for me
Darling, just dive right in and follow my lead
Well, I found a girl, beautiful and sweet
Oh, I never knew you were the someone waiting for me

'Cause we were just kids when we fell in love
Not knowing what it was
I will not give you up this time
But darling, just kiss me slow
Your heart is all I own
And in your eyes you're holding mine

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark
With you between my arms
Barefoot on the grass
Listening to our favourite song
When you said you looked a mess
I whispered underneath my breath
But you heard it,
Darling, you look perfect tonight

Well, I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know
She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I'll share her home
I found a love to carry more than just my secrets
To carry love, to carry children of our own

We are still kids but we're so in love
Fighting against all odds
I know we'll be alright this time
Darling, just hold my hand
Be my girl, I'll be your man
I see my future in your eyes

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark
With you between my arms
Barefoot on the grass
Listening to our favourite song
When I saw you in that dress
Looking so beautiful
I don't deserve this
Darling, you look perfect tonight

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark
With you between my arms
Barefoot on the grass
Listening to our favourite song
I have faith in what I see
Now I know I have met an angel in person
And she looks perfect
I don't deserve this
You look perfect tonight

Tuesday, December 12, 2017

In the window








Naked as the sun skull,
I blow murmurs to the clouds,
impregnate the pale neck of light
with my groping hands,
and swallow the agony
of the tired images 
in the puddles.

The rain stops.
Immersed in the howl
and the gratitude of eyes
I discover my Aunt's favorite
collection of poems.

A cigarette walks across 
the moon's dark ear. 
An Old-World sparrow pecks 
a hole in the metaphors 
while I write for the afternoon 
make-believe wages.



Monday, December 11, 2017

With You





With You


Because the soul does not live in things
but in the bold action of deciphering them,
I love the light that encourages my senses.

A thousand times I've wanted to find out 
who I am. After so many names,
so much crossing of my own compass,
I could hug sand for several centuries.
Watch silence pass and embrace it as well.

The truth is not in me every second.
It is a fleeting attempt to catch the ungraspable.
Truth is not in anyone, it's further
from a king than from beggar.
If someone thinks about pursuing it,
do not forget this: fire has always 
been a harbinger of decline,
the precursor intensity of oblivion.

When my eyes return to my origin,
I ask for one last gift.
 Nothing else.
Write all my words in my grave,
what I said a thousand times
and what I would have liked 
to have said at least once.
Keep my words nearby,
the ones that I used to love,
the ones that I learned along the way.

Include me within them,
do not fear their weight.
Treat them with respect.
Place them
             over my heart.
Truth is not in anyone, 
but words could engender it.

Maybe then, the words I said,
the ones you were accustomed to hearing,
will lie down beside me with tenderness.


I am a Bird




I am a Bird


When the sun starts to hide
when it sinks parsimoniously
like a burned-out fire at the bottom
of the immense chalice
of sleeping water

I start singing and become a black-whiskered vireo
on the trembling branch of a mangrove
moved by the breeze shaking bathed leaves
by the last glimmer of twilight water
I sing to the jumping fish

They rise to the surface
sweetened by my trills
of slow sunsets hidden
in the thicket of the
agonizing horizon

Preterits of Another Light






Preterits of Another Light


These are the signs of the old flags
pierced by the gales of discord
The wide-eyed stares of the hordes
passed through here
Deranged, thirsty for relentless revenge

In these dilated savannahs impaled
those who dared defy the secular
domains of dogma

On the margins of these confines
waved Presidential flags and the strangled
voices of his ragged constituents
remain screaming in agony
while day comes to light

They remain the postponed promises
of legions of preterits mocked and reviled
We are the heirs of the sad vilification
of cloistered convents, peaceful tombs
and withered gardens

This earth has dried and from its bowels sprout thorns
in whose bosom bud the horizontally crucified
rising to the edges of the world


Sunday, December 10, 2017

My soaring boy







My soaring boy


who levitates on December afternoons:
I take care of you, cover your light slumber 
on cold early mornings

A faint twilight thread draws your river god 
body paddling over my calm waters 
on weightless Mondays

I celebrate your untamed, unheeded, 
festive beauty while you row back 
and forth from my stubborn warnings

to your delightful torso
which you attempt to keep secret 
during evening escapades on my waters



Three Poems Up at Rat's Ass Review

Three Poems Up at Rat's Ass Review


Friday, December 08, 2017

all those voices - tanka





all those voices
lurking in the urns
of my death—
my shortcomings break
your window shutters

Saturday, December 02, 2017

Thursday, November 30, 2017

Light to the World - Copyright Baha'i World Center

On Warm Afternoons




On Warm Afternoons


Your whispers call me,
write the prophecies that die
on my skin. I overflow in concave,
flexible moments where everything
I have invented about you fits.

I never find the tender caravan of fans
with which you cover your body,
or the mutual days of ecstasies
in the spaces of time. The reason hides
in the shape of a bronze stone man.

My imagination peeks to protect
and avoid melting at inopportune moments
of love. This is how blood travels 
to the farthest corners of my tested sweetness,
inhabiting the limits of your lusts full of mysteries.
I escape your burning witchcraft with hands
ready to rescue old tenderness.

The swift banks of my memory
suppress drunken details. I hear
a dissertation embedded in the vases
of death, the abys that rubs
my shortcomings on your chest

curls up, breaks the windows
of your beach. Draws snakes
with fangs that steal my hours of rest
then stretches out on your seashore
and wallows in your love spell

like cushioned silence of parsley.




Wednesday, November 29, 2017

Approaching Infinity





Approaching Infinity





I am not the fragile child

who thought nothingness



would one morning appear

to become nothingness.



I am not that baby boy

in whose arms reigned



motionless, lonely, silent arms.



Flight is all my soul needs

to feel your sorrow.

The Waves






The Waves

The body
is wakeful space
in translation,
inexhaustible tension
between outside and inside.

There are no shores
to contain the storms
and inward darkness
of its sweeping winds.

The body does not know
the extent of its inner anger.
The waves expel
and everything is erased.

I refuse to see
the empty corners
of my frame.
In its translations
I'm still a child.


Tuesday, November 28, 2017

Poem Up @ *Loch Raven Review, Volume 13, No. 2, 2017*

Poem Up @ *Loch Raven Review, Volume 13, No. 2, 2017,  Taurus  take a look!



Tell Me






Tell Me





Tell me how your hours go by,

your startled hates, your cheerful dynamites

and the electric waves that carry you lost

in the versatile foam of a surreal whiteness.

Tell me how you live.

Come to me, face to face;

tell me your deceptions (mine are worse),

your grudges (I also suffer them),

and that stupid pride (I understand).

Tell me how you survive death.

You have no secrets:

the gap of emptiness (or pleasure) is the same,

the sudden madness of some living moment,

the longing that stubbornly deepens emptiness.

Tell me how you die,

how you resign -Mr. Wise-

how -Mr. Frivolous- you shine like pure fugitive,

how you end up as nothing.

Friday, November 24, 2017

Nostalgic Hate






Nostalgic Hate


My ears listen to you lovingly
until the very end of love.

At the finish my hatreds harken,
my mind figures it's a weapon

made of paper and tattoo ink.
I'd journey to East Asia and do us

love-making in origami.
Listen to the paper fold finely.

Imagine my ears there,
where the only thing that's heard

is me disassembling, each time,
every time, at the end of tenderness.

Where hate is nostalgic
finalization of affection.

Sunday, November 19, 2017

Nina Simone Explica Delirios al Gobernador de Puerto Rico



Nina Simone Explica Delirios al Gobernador de Puerto Rico

¿Qué perspectiva única trae un estudiante minoritario a una clase de física?
- Juez de Justicia John Roberts, Tribunal Supremo de los EE. UU., Fisher v. Texas,
9 de diciembre de 2015


Nosotros fuimos inocentes una vez, sin la protección
de nuestras mentiras. Sin dragones. Celebramos incrementalmente

el no real, el nunca lo fue. Lo que pasó fríamente sobre los mares
olvidados y la roca del río—

fusionada entre una pradera sin nombre y un delta desconocido—
todavía se extiende sin interrupción, sin proclamación. Llamamos

al perro muerto porque los niños pequeños no entienden la muerte.
Cuando Cortés llegó a la costa de México ordenó

que trajeran a un nativo a su barco, ya que él creía que era el perfecto
conquistador. Le preguntó a su cautivo. Ma c'uhah que, el hombre respondió,

y los españoles oyeron su primer yucateco en el lugar
de su descubrimiento, donde Ma c'uhah que en maya significa

"No te entiendo." Tu amor vodevil por los conquistadores
es solo un salvavidas entre codos. Te vas vivo

y regresas en falsete. Me gustaría presentar estas canciones
a los niños de mi juventud que se burlan y se jactan de las baratijas.

Ellos creen que deben ser tomadas de la habitación de su hermana
y reventadas por aburrimiento y tacones de botas, aunque sea solo

para forzar confesiones de las gargantas de sus cautivos. Todos
están protegido porque todo lo fingen. Prefieren no hablar

que hablar disparates sobre un futuro 
donde los administradores de esta isla olvidan

que todavía usan sus viejos sombreros. 
Su arcaico lenguaje satisfecho de estar obsoleto.

Comrades of the Dream Life






Comrades of the Dream


I recognize you,
those with the moon
spread on their face,
whose faces have no beginning
but have a resounding
and enveloping end,

the ones with smiling sores
on their bodies,
who sweeten thorns
and pin hope to hearts,
who have painful tails
and tender eyes, and move
like a falling leaf or a
shooting star.

I regret your arrival
before or after the pain,
always at the wrong time
but when needed.

Volunteers of laughter,
multipliers of atmospheres,
inventors of the game
who win without winning
even when losing.

Brothers of the flesh,
companions of the fierce tooth
that leaves a mark,
connoisseurs of navels and buttocks
and of their own music,
I greet you!


Friday, November 17, 2017

Pablo Alborán - Vivir (Audio Oficial)




Pablo Moreno de Alborán Ferrándiz[a] (born 31 May 1989 in Malaga) popularly known as Pablo Alborán,[1][2] is a Spanish musician, singer, and songwriter.[3] In 2011, he was nominated for three Latin Grammy Awards.[4] Alborán has released three studio albums, two live albums, and various musical collaborations. His records are distributed by Warner Music which debuted in 2010 with their first official release, "Solamente Tú", the first single from his debut album Pablo Alboran(2011), released in February 2011. The album ranked No. 1 in its first week of sales, making Alborán the first solo artist to sign a complete debut album to rank to the top since 1998 in Spain.[5]


A few months after releasing his first album, it was published in acoustic as the first recorded live concert by the singer. Several weeks after it debuted to the top in Spain, it was launched in Portugal, getting to be No. 1 for several weeks. Of all his singles, two stand out in terms of popularity: "Solamente tú" and "Perdóname" which he sang together with singer Carminho, being number one in sales, both in Spain and in Portugal.

Wednesday, November 15, 2017

Today at 5:30pm Montreal time Post Review will publish one of my poems

Today at 5:30pm Montreal time Post Review will publish one of my poems. It's the first time I get published in Montreal,
Canada.


Tuesday, November 14, 2017

Friday, November 10, 2017

Chapbook Acceptance at Finishing Line Press




Finishing Line Press just accepted my chapbook, "An Animal Resembling Desire," for publication. I will be sending out notices for pre-orders as soon as I know the details.


Sergio A. Ortiz

Thursday, November 09, 2017




La Memoria en la que Me he Convertido


Las frases giran como lo que recordamos
desde el momento en que  nacimos
la primera vez. He construido estas memorias
con palabras, pero ahora solo son sombras.

Sé que todo origen es una Roma que arde,
toda belleza nada más que arrepentimiento.
Lo que he trabajado corre como agua través
de los tubos de drenaje del olvido.

Inquieto, como las palabras, desposeído,
basado en la repetición cautelosa
de tu frágil inmensidad, reconciliado
con el silencio brutal que llevo por dentro,
una tierna autoridad.

Los días no dan respuestas.
Pero los días son descuidados en su apariencia.
Para prosperar uno debe estar  infundido
con supervivencia hasta cuando la duda
es anunciada y arreglada impecablemente
a medida que las voces desvanecen
y el aliento toma el control en tenue progresión.

Sunday, November 05, 2017

Your Moaning, my Moaning




Your Moaning, my Moaning




Our salt-pepper locks
gallop translucent at dawn
Your lips and my lips
saltpeter at daybreak

Your eyes and my eyes
Your hands and my hands
bodies dripping
slippery algae

Oh desire, my desire
our morning seashore

Sunday, October 29, 2017

Visibilidad



Visibilidad



afuera llueve
está oscura la tarde
pesadas nubes
se mueven lentamente

giran alrededor
de un centro de gravedad
que compite con la tierra
empujando hacia arriba
todo lo que encuentra
a su paso

canales y tuberías de tormenta
no pueden hacerle frente
a toda esa agua
las luces están apagadas
los celulares no tienen señal
solo te acompaña
el concreto húmedo
de la ciudad

no puedes esconderte
detrás de un teléfono
no hay conexión

en ausencia
de estos monstruos
el vacío ó lo que queda de el
es lo único que tienes

Friday, October 27, 2017

Consciousness


Consciousness


And if
I were to
expand
to the point
of bursting
into thousands
of pieces,
if my suffering
should reach
that level
do not sanction
my heart
do not
let it escape
into the void like
an insignificant
hot gas



The Meaning of Nothing

The Meaning of Nothing


There was a certain sadness
to it all,
grey moss and violence remained
--a sorrow music could not disclose
where it came from--
it just kept floating by me,
aging pure and perfect,
the sound pounding its inescapable
presence, a vow
of eternal ownership.
It was a warning,
like the kind discovered
when sentences start
with "it must have been."
As with the things that must have been,
there is never an offering
of a revelation, a meaning.

Sunday, October 15, 2017

Mudanzas y Cambios




Mudanzas y  Cambios
.
.
Me he querido mudar lejos
del huracán de la incompetencia
y los viejos ladrones de Wall Street creciendo a orillas del Atlántico.

He querido irme lejos
de todo lo que se repite
interminablemente
en esta isla al descubierto.

No sirven los fantasmas de papel que contamina las conciencias con vapores inútiles
y truenos que no asustan a nadie.

Me he querido ir lejos
pero temo no haber vivido
el mismo dolor de mi terruño cubierto
de tantas mentiras absurdas

Saturday, October 07, 2017

Cold Water



Cold Water
.
.
Save me, I'm about to faint.
I lift my hand to hold up the sky.
Not for the flag. Not because of hunger.
It's not the thirst.
It's my solitude surrounded by screams.
It's knowing  what motivates
my desire.
It's the fatigue of being a puppet.
My strings collapse
amid the beauty
and laughter of children.
I can't save myself.
I'm this crumbling, desperate country,
this unthinkable winter.
Water, who has a bottle 
of cold water 
for me to bathe in?

Wednesday, October 04, 2017

Oh, Dios de la Miseria



Oh, Dios de la Miseria -


Oh, God of misery
and incompetence
chain the winds
of destruction
to the doors
of the Casinos
of the orange giant.
May he suffer
until his reality
is no longer a reality
and we take turns
spitting his face.
A Presidential Mistake 


.
toilet paper 
or disposable towels... 
insensitive son 
of a bitch--do we really need 
to kiss his presidential ass?
.
can we afford 
another five hundred 
years of insults,
grave diggings, war deaths 
and stupidity?


 presidential tanka poem, Somoka : 


.
toilet paper 
or disposable towels... 
insensitive son 
of a bitch--do we really need 
to kiss his presidential ass?
.
can we afford 
another five hundred 
years of insults,
grave diggings, war deaths 
and stupidity?

Sunday, October 01, 2017

Hasta El Silencio



Hasta El Silencio

Se desvistio
la noche
su cuerpo quedó
al descubierto
dejo de llorar y llamar
al sendero
perdido

se fue a rescatar
lo poco que quedó
de su orgullo,
los puertos,
el espacio aéreo,
corazones subyugados,
el puño combativo

sin saber que el yugo
pesado doblegó
hasta el silencio

Even Her Silence


Even Her Silence


night undressed
and all could see
her nakedness
she stopped weeping
and wailing
over lost paths

to rescue
what was left of her
pride, seaports, airspace,
enslaved hearts,
and raised fist

without knowing
the shackles
were so heavy
that even her silence
had toppled 

Saturday, September 30, 2017

Remoteness

Remoteness


And the world disagreed 

with its blood.
The wind blew away sanity
and today we pull
against the riptide.
Time and space, wooden shacks,
flew in an unknown direction
and love lays on the image
of a moon tired of unfaithful loves. 

Tuesday, September 19, 2017

Hurricanes





Hurricanes


Clouds do not know where to rain
and the air smells of electric storms.

Blood, as it is logical, dissolves
into the river of concern.

Its honey removes the sediment
that falls on the island bed.

From each star hangs a probe,
a 110-volt extension,
in whose spectrum eyes see
translucent viaducts crossing water.

Everything is organism.
Here an artery, there a frond,
a mudhole its demulcent.

In an expanding
and contracting of pulses,
all is sown land.

Ignited, light-matter floats
on the water as its flora
is dragged adrift.

The only shore is night
and it's no shelter.

Eyes do not know where to cry
and the air is lightning's prism.

Where is the deity?

Blood is tragic
in its full torrent.

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