Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

Fifteen Doors to Silence Pain depends on the doors to silence. Heavy syllables creep like body bags full of calcined corpses and a neat bastard grammar, a spelling that imposes its hopeless scorpion seal on silence. It is not pleasant to die on a cross of ashes. It gnaws on your muscles forever. Maybe at door nine you'll find a bearable death, fate on an altar of fireflies. But who are we cheating?  Gate ten or fifteen should be a better choice. Distant doors like the tip of the sun celebrate winter. Although on second thought, what is it like to die  tacked to a dead door? Maybe it is necessary to burn the ships  and flee through an iron path to the mountains of widows. To die is to walk the Bible in reverse.

Mi amigo que llaman “Atleta del  A ño ” el que arenga sobre la solidaridad, y el amor a héroes caídos ―te siento oxigeno sin nadie que te respire. Un silencio neurótico vanaglorioso te hace relaciones publicas en los cielos suicidas.

neurótica la gaviota se zambulle por el agua como un ángel de panza grande y toma vuelo hasta llegar a su sed baja para limpiar el oleaje y comerse a los inocentes

Poems Up at Unlikely Stories Mark V

There is a pain - so utter - It swallows substance up - Emily Dickinson , poem 599 The windows open to the guardianship of the sun. But there is distant smoke in its presence, traces of an aftermath, a landslide of fumes vacating the shredded heart, a porous sea, a sliding window that gifts much more than a casual stare. It accumulates its truth in a coffer of reasons. The smoke is just a shortcut, an empire of anxiety. Windows resist but they’re so lazy, they never close.

KYGO Kyrre Gørvell-Dahll   ( Norwegian pronunciation:  ['çyʷ:ɾə 'gø:rvɛɫ̪ daːɫ̪] ; born 11 September 1991), better known by his   stage name   Kygo   ( / k aɪ ɡ oʊ / ;   Norwegian pronunciation:  [kyːɡuː] , stylized as   KYGO   and   ※ ), is a   Norwegian   musician, DJ, songwriter and   record producer . He garnered international attention with his remix of the track " I See Fire " by  Ed Sheeran , which has received over 50 million plays on  SoundCloud  and 65 million views on  YouTube [10]  and his single " Firestone " which has over 400 million views on YouTube with an additional 500 million plays on the music streaming service  Spotify , as of August 2016. [11] [12]  Kygo has accumulated over 1 billion views on his music on SoundCloud and YouTube. Kygo has since released several singles, such as " Stole the Show ", " Here for You ", " Stay ", and " It Ain't Me ", which ha...

Coldplay  are a British  rock  band formed in 1996 by lead vocalist and keyboardist  Chris Martin  and lead guitarist  Jonny Buckland  at  University College London  (UCL). [5]  After they formed under the name Pectoralz,  Guy Berryman  joined the group as bassist and they changed their name to Starfish. [6]   Will Champion  joined as drummer and backing vocalist, completing the lineup. Creative director  Phil Harvey  is often referred to as the fifth member by the band. [7]  The band renamed themselves "Coldplay" in 1998, [8]  before recording and releasing three EPs:  Safety  in 1998 and  Brothers & Sisters  and  The Blue Room  in 1999.  The Blue Room  was their first release on a major label, after signing to  Parlophone . [9] Coldplay achieved worldwide fame with the release of the single " Yellow " in 2000, followed in the same year by thei...

Este es el imbécil responsable por lo que está pasando con Oscar Rivera y el desfile puertorriqueño en Nueva York, un allegado al ex-gobernador Luis Fortuño, otro imbécil sin causa ni efecto. A esta alimaña le llegara su día de justicia.

The Muse-an International Journal of Poetry and Contemporary Poetry -An Anthology of Present Day Best Poems (Volume 4) will be publishing two of my poems. I will let you know when they are up.

Issue 7 of METAPHORE is now awvailable , My poems are featured in this issue

The place  from where you call in your first return is always far away its serene center strays  when it tries to explain the last farewell, the fringes fall  into expected shades of sadness

In your mouth  I can care for the dying even those who spit in my face who take themselves to the lottery cemeteries today I'm where your lips are  more beautiful than death but, do not get angry I am the eternal little cherry stone in your mouth

All of this years, 2017 NaPoWriMon entries have been taken down, they have all been submitted and journals don't want to see them on a blog.

Reaching for Lips frost music the authenticity of dirty snow the impenetrable instant when a body begins to approach another body when a river starts to enter another river without undressing plunging into another dimension in a humble Arcadia of infancy it might not even be a river, or a movement, or form,  but a garment covering bodies under a cherry tree with branches  strangely open  but it's not a cherry tree  it's more the shadow of a guardian angel knees tremble when lips reach lips

Another Virginal Silence I do not believe  in the Name of the Father. I believe in you, who tosses  and whisks my woods when praying on my body. I prefer to celebrate  this slow euthanasia with sweat-laden body  and exorbitant eyes on a meadow of radioactive stars, beheaded mallards on my lap. You dreamed the schism of the saints the mystery of hermaphrodite wreckfish. the Virgin of the dunes  and vinegar  for wandering antelopes. When I see you sleep, night perfumes herself with oranges.

Poem Up at Anti-Heroin Chic

My serenity written on warm dishcloths, and paper placemats with endless drawings of terminally ill rattles; the false premises of marijuana smoking hook-ups   climbing my old suffocations. Sometimes they twinkle because of the deceptive reflection and turbulence of the wild, the useless surrender of my desire. The wind of my anguish chases after you with a great spell, a recipe for all your epochs, a total, fleeting countryside, a cry from thirsty mouths full of supplications. My serenity is a sad, lonely Fairy Tale, petrified guano dispersed in the air, columns of dead bats burning, skin grafts from an obese man inhaling blood. I'm going to sew you a devotional scapular with the words, COME BACK!

Mi Serenidad está escrita en paños tibios, y en manteles de papel con interminables dibujos de cascabeles desahuciados; son las premisas falsas de amantes 420 trepando mis viejos asfixies. En ocasiones centellean pero es solo el reflejo engañoso y turbulento del salvaje compuesto de la entrega inútil. El viento de mi angustia te persigue con un gran hechizo, una receta para todas tus épocas, una campiña total y fugaz, llanto be bocas sedientas de suplicas. Pero la serenidad es un Cuento de Hadas tristes,’ guano petrificado disperso en el aire, columnas de murciélagos muertos incendiados, injertos de piel de hombre obeso inhalando sangre. ¡Te voy a coser un escapulario con la palabra, REGRESA!

Dear Friends,  I am back in the hospital with bronchial spasm. It looks like it might be my heart or it might be the consequence of bronchitis I got last month. So, please feel free to say some prayers for me, I have been a believer in the power of prayer for a very long time. It is one of those things some people call miraculous, you have to see or experience it to believe, and I have seen it and experienced it many times in my life, so I DO BELIEVE IN IT. Sergio