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A Sense less Heart
Is Equal to a Thought
the only way i can ‘know’ my feelings,
is to feel my feelings!
i am moving forward in my path
though,
there is no distance
between here and there.
changing the ‘organ’ for those
impulses and feelings,
has to be a ‘fall'
from the restrictions of the mind,
housed and contained in the brain,
for a heart that is beating,
throbbing,
pulsing,
impulsing...
love is an endless ‘flight'
into the depths of light.
wings open to catch weightless,
senses
awake,
alive with self awareness
without knowledge...
because the mind
would have you believe
there is a sequence
of words
or a description,
that has a period at the end of it,
for the feelings that change
like the winds
and breezes flowing
between the molecules of love
have no other name,
no direction
to go
or
come from.
what is the distance between
thoughts and feelings?
the challenges of being a human being,
thinking i’m better than the other beings,
that didn’t pass the thinking test…
that wouldn’t pass the feeling test
because they would have had to
think about it.
senseless...
2016
a war on racism
would a leader dare
to declare war on racism?
where are the volunteers?
will there need to be a draft?
how will there even be sides?
what terms
will couch the lies
that will convince the ignorant
leave the dormant sleeping
that the lie is just
good
and worth dying for?
what separates us
when there are no more middles?
haves versus haves not?,
got versus getting got?
ousted versus gentrified?
thems that’s thriving
versus
thems that’s surviving?
a runaway capitalist dream
versus
a tsunami socialist nightmare?
who will be the patriots
in the war against racism?
are we the ones
they’ve been hoarding
their ‘right to bear’ arms for?
will there be insurgents?
will refugees find a haven
in their home?
or will refugees
become rebels
that become terrorists
whose cause is to disrupt
the status quo of the other?
how will you talk
with the veterans
that defended the losers?
all of us are tainted by difference.
none of us is the same.
even as twins
we are still different.
it will come down
to a war on racism
not between
Black or white,
but between
the human race and
an inhuman race.
2017
Ambivalence
the irony is that nature
will continue to be bella
whether we see her
or not!
whether we are
moved to tears,
or not!
she is ambivalent
to her beauty and glory,
while we are humbled
by her presence
aún su auséncia.
she will still bless flowers
with their scent
whether our noses
catch a whiff on the wind,
or
notice the breeze
with a hint of...
¿'qué sé yo?'
she will share her blues
with the sky
from the darkest
midnight blue
to the still blue
translucent waters
at the end of a wave.
the miracle,
that we notice
that we are allowed
to witness gaiamundo
in all her minute splendor,
is the small blessing
the solitude
of this quarantine
has inspired visions
of how it could be
if we got out
of our own way.
2020
At Dusk
the murmurings of the neighborhood…
listening to ‘una bulla’,
a cacophony of sounds,
music,
conversation,
silverware against empty plates,
the sound of content,
full bellies...
the same chattering sparrows
recounting their day
like no one is listening,
only chirping,
barking like dogs
at the setting sun.
what languages
are we speaking?
dog?
bird?
tree?
human?
breeze?
motor?
en inglés?
all in spanish?
no matter!
the earth knows only,
that it's time for the stars,
to have their say.
2015
listening to
a conversation
between snakes,
intertwining slither
making distance from guiliani
“mr president,
what is the name of this guy in the photo
shaking your hand?”
'i don’t know. i shake a lot of hands!’
“mr president,
this guy says he has dirt
on the corruption
you asked for the ukraine
to investigate,
“i don’t know!
no quid pro quo!
wasn’t that a ‘perfect call?
i don’t know!"
ask rudy
the warrior?
i dont know
ask michael
feeling like rudy
being thrown under the bus...
the president
my client
would never do anything like that,
besides...
i have insurance,
flashing
the face of his iPhone
like a hand grenade
with the firing pin removed.
all those within hearing range
were not listening
and all those listening
could not believe
what they were hearing.
in the the nuclear explosion,
covering one’s ass
will be the charlatan’s defense.
not even a speed bump
on the road to the gallows
innerverse
dreams
are like the
scenes
drawn across galaxies
like the
constellations
posing in space
like the
archetypes
described in mythology
across generations of humanity.
when i close my eyes
it is not blocking out light
making me believe dark
my inner vision
behind closed eyelids
sees light a different way
all perceptions
are distorted realities
when seen
from different perspectives.
though red horizons
portend toxic atmospheres
like dusk transforms
day to night
outer light
filtered through closed eyelids
shines brilliance
flowing away like sheets
billowing in my heart’s
exhalation of love.
closed eyelids
transform me
stardust awake,
to the universe
my innerverse.
a shaky balance
between nows.
2017
islands are lonely
islands are lonely
because they don't
know how to swim
waiting on a ferry
better build a bridge.
fill the ocean with lava
wait for the seas to dry up
learn to love alone
las islas están solas
porque no saben nadar
esperando una lancha
construyen un puente
llenar el océano con lava
esperan para que
los mares se sequen
aprenda a amar solo
2020