the phone rings, and I hang up without a single look, knowing who
it is and not wanting to talk to someone with drugs pumping
through their veins, death festering in their vision, clouding their
brain
and the bus keeps driving on, unaware that the world is slowly
tilting and I, without gravity to keep me under, am slipping out of
reality and the oxygen is depleting
a fight breaks loose, two kids, playing turned menacing, but no one
sees except the two pictures. words travel though, faster than
truth, and the gossip spreads straight to the ego so god knows
what happens
caught in the middle, my heart torn apart, a rope separating me in
half, a dream still holding onto innocence but fact facing the
growing world.
can I ever be the same? I don’t want to be drugged up, fake love
filled, but I’m glued to a screen and a hope that more often than
not leads to crumpled up soda can anguish.
can you ever be the same?
The Extinction of Mankind
How foolish a species must be to think they can rescue themselves from the inevitable!
They think they have been here forever
But the birds of the sky
And the reptiles of the earth
Watched them rise
And now they will watch them fall
And did they ever realize
That the monsters they see within themselves
Cannot possibly compare
To the undiscovered beasts
That survey the ocean’s floor?
Eleven thousand meters
Oh, if only they knew
The mighty predator, the creatures whisper,
As the echoes of
Gunshots ricochet through their ears
But they are prey to nature and its cosmos
Their fate was predetermined
Long before they came to be
But really,
What can they do?
When everything is collapsing,
Do they have nothing left to lose?
Their mortal pride is amusing
The ancient ruins
Of immortal empires
Relics
Of eternal civilizations
Prove a cruel reality
Cogito ergo sum
I think, therefore I am
But they never think anymore
So maybe it was destined
To be an unfortunate closure
By now they must have realized
That to be
Is a gift
But to think
Is a curse
The curse of a conscious
Maybe apathy and indifference
Are our greatest assets
But really,
What can they do?
When everything is collapsing,
Do they have nothing left to lose?
How could they possibly question,
Why their bridges burn?
They have gotten too close to the fire,
No wonder we all wish for their skin to smolder
Scorch
And fester
Down to the very ashes of their existence
Such a species should not expect a soft epilogue
But a rather bitter extinction
(They practically murdered themselves
Wars fought over trivialities
I’ve heard them say that the future is now
Do they know
That it’s also their finale?)
The beautiful golden haze glazed the mountains peaks
The dry air made the tall green grass dance
This was South Africa which was certainly not bleak
The place of my family and romance
This is where my children used to laugh and play
Where there was a happy ending to every day
As the years grew to many
So did the horrific government
I didn’t feel free
The mountains and bars where now coexistent
My dresses that were once patterned with beauty
Are now covered in desperate hand prints
The hands of my children clinging for safety
For if they let go they would be taken
With four sets of hands infixed
I had to be aware and unshaken
I was never allowed to be transfixed
After entering our home they could finally let go
The wind kicked the dirt up into the sky it was like African snow
As the sun retired and the moon came out to take its place
The bars where there because of the dangers of people feeling numb
As I tucked in my children and I went across the room to go to my resting space
In the same room so that death is not the prime outcome
As I sat there trying to fall asleep every night I thought about how this could be my last day on earth
I may only have twenty seconds more of a normal life before it’s over
Does the world think I have no worth
As I awoke I opened the curtains to see the wowing view
As the sun poured light into the room I saw the mountains and their gorgeous hue
And the bars where there too
One button pressed
A moment of hesitation, a word spoken just a moment too late.
Wait-
But already, it’s headed down, down, down,
and the plane zips away in an effort to save itself
from the capsule of death it has released.
10:34.
It hits.
By the time anybody realizes that something is wrong, it’s too late.
80,000 souls depart this world almost instantly,
and thousands more
suffer a slower death.
We unchained the monster, released the beast
and watched as it destroyed everything in its path.
Whose idea was this?
Who is guilty?
Everybody who stood by and let it happen -
their blood is on your hands.
Humans are excellent at removing the blame.
Nobody is as pure as they pretend they are.
The ballads of her dream,
dance around her thoughts.
Pleading to flee from her mind.
Scraping at her temples,
she nicks her crown.
Metal melts down her neck,
creating a monophonic melody
with the drops of platinum.
They create planets in her palms.
She screams down to her home.
Miami has stars too,
artificial objects.
They block out the real ones
like a drape masking rays of sunlight.
The shores fall upon her,
pushing her deeper into the blankness.
Stars flicker through her tears,
rising up.
With no gravity to hold her,
she floats her in perspective.
Her body hangs upside down,
the skin turns purple.
The destitution of air in space.
The Forte of the waves on the beach;
the key to the sand is in the air.
Waves throw acid rain in my face
by the upbeat sand bar,
my feet adapting to the cool water;
the fish dance in Dolce,
The water absorbs my stress.
The cargo boat stares at me,
it washes off the melancholy,
helpful antibodies smiling at me,
hoping he could catch a ride.
The cheer from the happiest people
on the beach catches my eye.
The Miami life is special:
I turn back around to the boat,
I see them pouring septic liquid.
It looks toxic,
the tides are green.
I’m frightened,
the fish flip over and pass,
the fish are dying because of us.
When will you realize,
That all the beauty you need,
Is right above you,
Waiting to be seen?
Millions and millions of them,
Light up the night sky,
Glowing brighter,
And brighter,
Feeding off of the beauty surrounding them.
And even when the stars dim,
Blocked out by the glow of the sun,
They’re still there,
Providing light,
To someone else,
Somewhere else.
But each night,
They still return,
To you,
Providing you with the light,
And the love,
That had always been there.
You had just refused to see it.
So now,
Open your eyes,
And open them wide.
Living City
Sun-kissed fingertips trace her blueprints,
up the asphalt arteries to her crystalline heart.
Countless hidden dimples and wrinkles adorn her skin-
expected anomalies in a changing world.
Her hair pools lazily into the Atlantic,
each strand waltzing with the warm waves.
She rises with the sun, conducting the sky's symphony
by early morning-
a minuet of soft pinks and yellows, trills of orange racing past-
all come together above the horizon, all in
harmony.
She drinks the moon’s cold fingers come nightfall,
watching the ocean's gentle push and pull
mimicked by the movement of manta rays.
Her distant sister smiles, her shining face lined with
gaping craters and deserted volcanoes-
one so alive and one so empty and pale,
they find solace in each other's differences.
The tide lovingly lulls Miami to sleep,
her darkened figure illuminated by
streetlights and moonbeams.
inmigrantes
in a blue van
the wind tangles my hair
with the smell of burned coffee
as my dad sing’s his Spanish songs.
you’re seatbelt!
i hear the red and blue lights.
i close my eyes,
to feel the roots of my veins pump.
i repeat what papa says,
we are just tourists
we are just tourists.
papa is tourist with thick palms
and tired eyes who wakes up at 3am
to move bricks and walls for america.
illegal
we sit in silence
immigration detention services.
my caramel grasps to my warmth
as the white walls wash me with cold.
i hear the red and blue lights.
a hammer punishing, driving,
against my throat, as I hold
my last breath to a number.
door clicks
67
door opens
68
door closes
69
illegal
america moves lips, tongue
and says,
illegal aliens weren’t born to dream.
i hear the red and blue lights
the sun in my skin,
the soil of my eyes,
the lines against my features.
tells on me.
DEPORTED
i hold papa’s hand,
under the sound of the air conditioner
he gently sings
ya llego la noche
cerrar los ojitos,
el viento te arrulla.
illegal.
We awoke in a haze
Immersed in our trepidation
For the future
For truth
We relaxed
We consoled ourselves
The day is young
And yet our minds beckoned
The thoughts were sparse
Remaining in fragments
And yet
Without discipline
Our animalistic rancor
Constricts our structured path
Dawn has passed into dusk
We all must sleep
Our minds adrift
No dilution
No security
Only truth remains
Our dreams show all
If only we could remember