Poetry

Works of verse

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The ice dragged down the desk

as dreams were slashed

and nouns were tickled

and bluebells whispered to the pessimistic hawks

 

As dreams were slashed

she called his name

and bluebells whispered to the pessimistic hawks

and he hid his face in negativity

 

She called his name

like stifled greetings

and he hid his face in negativity

‘you’re such a slacker’ she said

 

Like stifled greetings

her sky-lit eyes welcomed the warming rain

‘you’re such a slacker’ she said

and the bubbled rain played Water Music

 

Her sky-lit eyes welcomed the warming rain

‘why would she want to leave him?’

and the bubbled rain played Water Music

a halo in the hands of a demon

 

‘Why would she want to leave him?’

when solutions slid like star-gazed Swallowtails

a halo in the hands of a demon

and all she lost was left to find

 

When solutions slid like star-gazed Swallowtails

she was left alone: fondly antisocial

when all she lost was left to find

but all she’d found was traffic

 

This work received a Gold Award in The Scholastic Art & Writing Awards of 2002.

Icarus

If you were to fly

upon high, courting the sun,

would you think back upon humble

Earth?

If you soared,

higher than the envy of the clouds,

would remembrance of the pleasures

of the world give you pause?

Do, my love, fly,

but as you pay homage

to the stars,

think on me as I sigh

gazing up to the heavens

for the lost.

Before Dawn

Somewhere on the other side of the world,

he acknowledges the waning stars

with a casual wave of a tired hand

through the only unbroken window on his street.

His focus now returns to the words scrawled

in jagged spiral patterns around his arm—

images from three-nineteen a.m.—born of

caffeine nerves and the muffled resonance

of a pained creature shrieking

inside his skull.

The Car

I’m driving

down a road with no destination.

Crowding the backseat

are Fifteen, Sixteen, and Seventeen.

They all love me.

Love me? What do they know about love?

I keep driving

trying to hide what we seek.

Happiness.

It’s hidden in my bag.

Cradled inconspicuously next to the boys.

Our path soon wavers

and the boys attempt to sound like men

as their voices rise.

I want to keep on going with our lives,

but I pull over,

knowing it’s best.

I smoke my Happiness

while the older boys

leave parts of Fifteen’s life on the side of the road.

Hopefully someone will come along and pick up the pieces.

History is destined to repeat itself

and too quickly the car is filled only with me and Seventeen

who wishes to show his affections

and have his daily dose of Happiness.

I drive a little farther

and park in front of a beaten-up motel without a name

that opens its doors to us

Seventeen goes to check in

keeping his Happiness near and dear.

I wait in the car

my hand on the ignition

knowing I can leave,

wondering where I have driven my life.

Esperando

I.

Me duele en verte

Me duele en verte en la luz de sus ojos,

La luz deslumbrante de los ojos de ella

Ella, quien nunca llora

Nunca llora para ti.

 

II.

Mis lagrimas están sabrosos

La comida como dijo

David en los Salmos.

Son mi banquete,

Porque son regalos de ti.

 

 

Translation into English by the author

Waiting

 

I.

It hurts me to see you

It hurts me to see you in the light of her eyes,

The dazzling light of her eyes

She, who never cries

Never cries for you.

 

II.

My tears are delicious

The food of which

David spoke in the Psalms.

They are my feast,

Because they are gifts from you.

Siinter Klaas

I saw him today, I swear

on the sidewalk beard and all

 

yessir,

 

with a burlap sack of treasures in a battered shopping cart.

He was walking past some guy in a red suit

ringing a bell chiming gimme gimme—

 

quite unlike santa, who didn’t beg

and sat slouched alone with a bottle of paper-bag wine.

Llanto del Corazón

Estoy navegando por tu sangre

pues un llanto melancólico espera por el día.

Encuentra la respuesta en mi corazón

pues has robado el silencio de mi esencia.

 

Voy volando hacia ti con mis alas del alma

Te hago llorar en lo que tu me haces tuyo.

Dulce, dulce luna me hace cegar

Pero la luz de tus ojos me dan la vista.

 

Por mucho tiempo te he espiado

Te amo, te adoro, no puedo vivir sin ti.

Contagias tal enfermedad que me haces morir,

Así que por favor lo que sea que hagas, dónde sea que vayas

Mira a mi tumba y volveré a nacer.

 

Tú eres la razón que mi sol vive

y la oscuridad no puede encontrar la verdad

Porque tú eres la verdad que permanece en

mi corazón hasta lo largo que la eternidad termine.

 

Tu memoria es la derrota de la injusticia

que ahora sufre mi alma, la debilidad

que permanece en mi amor, el peligro

que destruye mi vida.

 

Mi mente no encuentra las palabras

Parece que finalmente han muerto

Y el Océano Pacífico permanece en mí poesía.

 

Pequeñas migajas de alegría son dobladas

y envueltas en botellas de locura.

La pasión salvaje de mí corazón ha sido aplastada.

Me encontré sola, sin un hogar.

 

Ahora vivo en los horizontes del Asia

Beso al novio de bodas y veo mi tumba

Espero encontrarte otra vez, allá arriba

en los cielos, en un lugar lejano, dónde una vez vivía yo.

 

Espero que me quedé con esperanzas, parece

que el mundo agarra mi aire y hala mis pulmones,

Me hacen querer ahogarme.

Yo amo mi vida, pero más aún te amo a ti.

 

Y por eso es que debo morir. Debo morir

para hacerte vivir, debo sacrificar para verte

ir, debo perder para hacerte ganar.

Adiós mi amor, adiós y haz bien.

 

 

Translation into English by the author

Tears of the Heart

 

I am sailing through your blood

for a melancholic cry awaits at dawn.

Seek the answer in my heart

for you have stolen the silence of my essence.

 

I fly to you with the wings of my soul

I make you cry while you make me yours.

Sweet, sweet moon makes me blind

but the light in your eyes gives me sight.

 

For a very long time I have been watching you.

I love you, adore you, can’t live without you.

You contaminate me with such illness that makes me die,

So please whatever you do, wherever you go

Look at my grave and I shall rebirth once more.

 

You are the reason for my sun to live

and the darkness cannot seek for the truth

Because you are the truth that remains in

my heart for as long as eternity ends.

 

Your memory is the defeat of the injustice

that now suffers my soul, the weakness

that remains in my love, the danger

that destroys my life.

 

My mind has not found the words.

It seems that they have finally died, and

the Pacific Ocean remains in my poetry.

 

Little crumbs of happiness are folded

and wrapped in bottles of madness.

The wild passion of my heart has been crushed.

I found myself alone, without a home.

 

I now live in the horizons of Asia.

I kiss the groom and see my tomb.

I hope that I find you again, up there,

In the heavens, somewhere far away, where I once lived.

 

I hope that I stay with hopes, it seems

that the world grabs my air and pulls my lungs,

They make me want to drown.

I love my life, but far more I love you.

 

And that is why I must die. I must die to

make you live, I must sacrifice to see you

go, I must lose to make you win.

Goodbye my love, goodbye and do well.

Erudite

“I’m looking for a book,” said the man

to the thin, yawning librarian. “Baryogenesis.”

And added, “It’s great for light reading,”

Stressing on light.

 

The librarian pointed impassively to the catalog,

Just as she did when that girl asked for a Mills and Boon.

But she had understood the girl’s enthusiasm…

Common ground.

 

He walked past the shelf with the glossy film magazines,

half-dressed glamour dolls and gossipy news

flashing from the covers. And did not turn his face towards them;

he knew everyone else did.

 

Perhaps someone noticed it.

The man in the nearest chair looked through him

and doodled in his notebook.

 

He found the book, “Baryogenesis,”

Chose a chair in an unoccupied corner,

Laid the book reverently on the table

And settled down to some “light” reading,

 

Turning the pages of a film magazine.

Influence

I never drank Mountain Dew

until you swore it was the beverage of the gods

and I’d die if I went another minute

without chugging an icy cold glass.

I never watched professional soccer

until you forced me to endure game after game

as you gave me back rubs on your cold basement floor.

I never listened to underground punk or ska

until we drove with the top down

and blasted The Indecisives through your dad’s fifteen-hundred-dollar sound system.

So I’m sitting here sipping my daily dose of sweetened caffeine

with the afternoon soccer game on mute

so I can hear my new Mustard Plug CD flowing from the speakers,

thinking about how I like you in a way

that has nothing to do with soda.

Present Drag

The past is ever present now

I try to escape, but it drags me down

like a dog, it’s a fog over my brain

pain covering my face

a haze

I wish it would fade

but it clings tightly to me

 

It’s always there on my back

Just drag drag-drag-dragging

at my intentions

and holding my future out of reach

where I cannot touch

no matter how much

I crave to be set free

I’m caged by my own history

 

It’s a ghost

I know all too well

My own personal host from hell

that stems from within

Bleeds me dry

and then calls me friend

a tour guide of misery

that’s tearing twine

tearing up my eyes

 

It doesn’t matter if I cry

It’s never going to get better

it’s all a lie

maybe if I just give into this melancholy

It would leave me be-be-be

 

Instead it’s always in my head

pounding down my thoughts

a demented demon

ordering up a high cost

over-paid and loves his job

He keeps me lost in this pathetic maze

he made to keep me weeping behind this iron hurt

Burning up my hope, my life

with his worthless ways

 

Cigarettes he smokes

He’s a cancer in my core

I gave him my soul, and still he wanted more

I don’t know