Fly Over
I can be one to set you free, far from the gravity of your aches, the potency of my love alone unchains you instantly.
Babe your weak knees are enough to stand boldly against troubles, do like Atlas and shrug, then rest on my chest away from your struggles.
All along your storied tears, you failed to notice me, clever boy, open your heart as darkness disappears.
Now dry those brown eyes, so much sparkle, I’d rather see your face radiating than petrified.
Don’t let it fly over you, my heart palpitates, my smiles form uncontrollably, I’d make your presence in my life permanent like a tattoo.
All you see is pain, choking on your storied chapters, so let these hands shake off those chains.
I can be the one to set you free, bring me all of you, set it out and I’ll make you better through love, you’ll see.
Gardening
Moist dirt hung from my fingertips, and my palms carried seedlings across a labored yard.
Salty sweat stung my bitter buds, and the heat waved in ebbing winds that soared my spirits far.
Buckling knees as I squat and tie my climbing lovelies to a stump, and my soul relaxes as I work increasingly hard.
I’m done and finished with my greens and colors, and how much more lively I feel to have observed that my labors have beauty as my reward.
Tangerine
Tangy, was my baby, sweet and hasty. Not for weaklings, surely.
She’d turn you blue, give you spells, there’s no telling what she’d make of you.
Tangerine, won’t you be, my half orange, girl you got me, like a mad man across these border streets, stumbling walking, searching for my careless baby.
Fully-charged woman of a fiery hue, those hips sway with the strike of my cue, in that red dress I must bid you adieu, I’ve had it with that body being rammed across the city avenue.
Tangy, baby, soft and crazy, can’t you see that I love my lady, truly awfully. So tonight, despite the lies, and the fly-byes, I’m bedding my sweet and hasty, true-love baby,good ol’, Tangerine.
My Day
Afternoon I fell for you, by night I cursed your smiling face, you make me blue.
After dusk the world dreams with your eyes, in the morning the sun sobers up knowing your true lies.
During midday you are stumbling past me wondering “what an angry man”, at the same time I stand here secretly loving you without a game plan.
Boo who who.
Locked out
Young long thick legs covered in tiny blue shorts, small breasts under tube top and light sweater, nighttime tinted coarse hair waving on Summer’s hot breath, she didn’t anticipate the force that laid on that trail home.
He sat there in a sculpted youth, his hard style was hidden amidst captivated brown eyes, his boxing hands held in them a few snacks, and his soul rushed him towards her and he offered her his candied heart.
Her sun was his moonlight, his tough animo animated her to discover life, their union was nothing short of bliss, despite her overly sentimental beat and his fiery passions.
They lived in a cusp between two worlds, Mexicano and Americanista, she was a businessman’s daughter and he a shopkeeper’s son, both with ties in the twin cities along a mild mannered river.
Fearing her obedience shifting from one man to another, her mother urged her to not forget her father’s dreams of kingdom and palaces. Noticing a rebellious son growing mightier against his iron rule, the shop keeper arranged for his son’s relocation deep in America’s urban jungle of Chicago to get taught a lesson.
She ran off with him to Mexico so she would have more time before he departed, cotton candy clouds gave way to harsh blue skies each approaching day, her candied heart melted every night in his boxer hands as they shared hard sugary kisses by candlelight.
He carried her across town on a splendid chariot, the dusk made love with dawn at every party, so did they with every dance, he was her first taste of confectionery, she was his tamer, coating his heart with sweetness.
The day came when his father abruptly ordered him away to distant lands, tears made tsunami streams down her precious face, his heavy hands trembled as the last call before departure was announced, and their eyes locked intertwining souls until the bus cut a corner, severing the delight between young lovers.
With one swipe a youth’s heart was broken in two, disabling her from viewing life as sugary and sweet. She remembered her mother’s plea, thinking that it’s better to be locked out of a palace with love by your side than be in her current situation at 4 in the morning.
A week passed and her days were lackluster and her nights without moon to shine upon. Life became simply dull and nothing sparked her spirit as before, and she began jogging again to clear her mind. Once home she noticed that wedged between her door and the side wall was a letter from Chicago, in it contained a declaration of a lifetime of love attached with a heart shaped lollipop.
Skies in red haze, cars jet across black rivers
Bloody heart in my idol’s hands, crown over my mother’s braids
Thump goes my glee, tick tock runs in the -capilla’s- hall
Saints guard my -viejitos’- green castle, our love feeds the kin and soothes our age
Skies’ mascara drips deep blues, and my soul rests in grandmother’s incense-smoked room
Brevity
Brevity is this game, and earth is the console.
It glides on a breath, it’s a secret waiting to be said,
Nothing quite brings grinning like a tangible friendship and aiming for the whole.
Relations with the many or perfection of the self,
I’d prefer ill-trodden mortality than the painless state of death.
Brevity is the diver on these full young lips, if only the world were more an open sea than a rigid pool which is at best managable
Spiritu
The sickness of faith poisons me, slipped into the cup of my heart, simmering stealthily throughout my doubting body.
I’m being twirled between different parties, one of analytical deducement, one of electric feel, one of thunderous inference, and yet I chose none because I fear the face behind the masquerade.
Why must I even chose? Can’t I breathe, stroll, labor, and love without having to make a choice of what to believe?
Even the drink of reason tastes a bit too stale, and here I sit with hands roughly laid on my head pondering too much.
Mental notes clutter, and make a mad concierto best played by a screeching violin. I aim for a bottle of good spirits to make such an orchestra’s work into something I can bear.
Ask and be free
I prod at these ‘concrete’ tales of people, I stroll alongside their varying walls and my face only squints and nothing more. There’s no awe in these eyes, just a dead stare which is void of any respect. Why should we give in to dictations of what others deem to be normal, why should we conceptualize labels and things to humanity when it doesn’t belong in nature? What is a race, what are my qualifications good for, what is this thing between my legs and why do you care, why is my tone important and why should I follow what anyone has to say?
Ask, I tell everyone to ask, ask your priests, ask your parents, ask your teachers, brothers, sisters, friends, anyone, for humanity’s sake, ask! Culture and traditions are not concrete, they’re a glue that molds and runs with the changing pages of demographics. Marriage is a tradition, since when? Since the Catholic Church thought it to be profitable in the last thousand years? Or when dudes decided that women were merely chattel, or property? Why is marijuana illegal? Did it start with a Christian crusade as my priest once proclaimed, or was it a crusade against Mexicans and other minorities (then codified in the Congress)? Why are things the way they are? Why are words attached to things the way they are, why does it matter? Ask yourself, what does it mean?
I ask my cousins, who happen to be women and girls, why do you do things, especially in relation to men. Think! You are not inferior, you are conditioned mentally to be, but in reality you are strong, you are an individual as much as flesh and bone as he. Don’t go marching like sheep facing the ground, no one should, ask yourself. When in misery, when you’re lost, ask, and set yourself free. Through reason and self perfection, can you truly set yourself free!
Besame
Besame corazon, for dew ripens with my raining tears. Yo volvere, dressed in nothing but skin with love and some fears.
Walk here sweet lullaby, quiero tenerte aqui en mis llantos sobre mis huesos. Follow me into dim light, mis lagrimas han formado y necesito en mi hombro tus besos.
Entrale a estos ojos tristes, your inebriating touch riddles my chest. Dejame temer tu mirada imensa, my heart beats stronger, dripping in what is love-manifest.
Besame fuerte que mi vida teme perder tus labios, your puckered lips fly on this passionate night. Este barco que es mi corazon choca contra el viento borracho, kiss me now before you take off, kiss me before your heart takes flight.
