Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

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

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 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.

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

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?

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?

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 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