I stayed at home, thinking
I needed time to do some thing
Artistic
But since I am not an artist
It started raining,
and I took a cab
To see my girl and
Her two lovely children
My kids
at the library
My daughter was playing with the books
on the floor
My son screaming
Dad
Dad
Dad
With his three year old voice
the very serious people looked at
My son
And wondered where the **** is
His dad
The noise the noise
I am trying to concentrate!
And I appear with my 6 feet four
Carrying my daughter
My flower in bloom
radiant like A firecracker on lonely nights
My son started giving DVD’s to all the people
Around us
He made a mess
My daughter was tossing cookies at the floor
There must have been an interesting
Animal feeding on cookie crumbles

Children really know how to behave
When we left
Boredom fell again over their heads
Consuming knowledge

You are a rocket straight to destruction in the midst of the opportunists you rise and fall to see the newspapers even if you think them the most horrifying aspect of pieces of meat you start to revolt, the **** will end up flying like a circus without turns and faults, magical like the curtains of my bed turning the atmosphere into a dragon mystery lake for children to play the forest and the knick knacks of their desires, but lo! Here comes the banker and the financier all galloping on tamed mechanical horses advancing with Colgate smiles disappearing your face and stealing your persona and your trousers made from cotton, synthetic cotton absurd cotton love cotton fear cotton waiting for you at the train station taken away to Europe where models eat a turnip and a peanut in your face to ***** lace and pepper dine in the shape of a paper centaur coming to avenge with his wooden sword the mess of intelligence and progress, he has waged war many times over, he lost, he disappeared in the shape of a blender for misunderstood poets and hoes of freedom talking about moving to the right direction assuming you will never rise up like a fountain in Rome and jalapa, but here, you and me never talking anymore in front of garbage smelling to the top of the Latin American craps with an antenna submitting your insides to the cops and the lawyers, credit to the banks for terror and the hand that wipes his forehead, you and only me can replace V with a string of fire and music to tremble a few notes into the ears of this country never to again see mommy or daddy, neverness is your dream but as I said you and I are not talking anymore, give me a line, a cane, a flame, a candle for company, cause if you are there and I here then poetry can move as a lightning rod on an airplane crushing giants with the swift ****** of business class, yes you and I will do a match in the toilette, you read and I spit on the floor to make it more comfortable will invite a few *******, two dry and a few (three) filled with milk and cottage cheese for the magazine model to strangle the last temptation on earth. Mooove on
Darling, death comes our way in the middle of the mass as the greasy mullet under the gutters, yes be content with all that money saved up for a better time, to spend on gas bills and rental hair, hands and hearts. It is coming silently.
The new music-

I never asked for this
But when does anybody get what he asks for
Or knows what he wants
Or what he is chosen for
I only see people
Behaving like circus monkeys
Not even trained tigers have that look
A tiger is a tiger till death
Be careful
It is only your life at stake
Too much tolerance creates blandness
Dust under the rug
And the chatter and gossip
Vomited on the radio, the news
Injecting fear and chocolate blood
Without risk
Spreading only a rotten stench
As if joy meant showing your colgate smile
Just like a giant billboard telling you to let go
Of the fight
Not to resist and become like Mikey Mouse
With four fingers and the grin of death
****** got more style
I’d rather listen to an angry *****
than any anchor woman
Than any senator
Than any businessman
Or lecturer, teacher, parent
I’d rather be depressed
Or with a pain in my stomach
like the one I felt when a
Frustrated love
Told me...
Never change
When I expected something else

There was an empty room
Deserted
With a pack of camels laying next
To the dust
Reminded me of me
Of some other me
And the image of a crowded street
Sunny
Moving silently on a yellow light
There was no crying or laughter
Slowly moving
Nowhere in a slight peaceful coming
There was me
In all and of all
to see no more
To feel no more
Laugh no more
In the light of a soft cushion of the street
There were neither angels nor zephyrs
A plain dream presented
The first seen things returned without form, building and falling
A strange nostalgia for the future
And the lack of time remaining
Traveling further into myself
And the chatter of the job
Unstoppable deformation
With its careless activity
Erased death from the face of the earth
No wide eyed glaring at the mythical sky
Where immortality grew like a child
Crawling out of mud
Death imagined
Death and the levitating power of the dream
Around every object seen

Joel is a doorkeeper
for a rusty warehouse
and has a wife
a very angry spouse
and a son
one day his hip was out
two bodies going
on different directions
his blue uniform T shirt
floating in the powdered air  
barely walking up and down

he fell
while cleaning the murky water
that flooded the region
of cement factories and grey hills
two weeks without his employers
to even pay for the pain killers
or severance pay and no off time
his face had the expression of a struggling
red snapper

together
we would watch a gossip show
on the TV
while he ate spiced dry beef
boiled eggs and rice
the stories on the TV were mostly about
spouses, children, abandonment and
violence and
girls sleeping with their step dad
a psychologist and the skinny loud mouthed
blond moderator
who acted as the defender of society’s
completed the act

Joel could not stand up to open the door
a doorkeeper who couldn’t open the door
finally, after two weeks of silent pain
they gave him an assistant
we packed the last China bound container
bellied up with modems
to be refurbished and resold
to a billion internet hungry
Chinese beings






my job was done
two weeks past and I came back
he was not there anymore
but I found him
200 yards away under his shack
a crammed cardboard cluster of homes
he was in bed
lost 40 pounds and was
piped up, draining blood
from the chest
and a bag of ***** attached to the waist
someone was laying next to him
sleeping the afternoon
he smiled at me
missing two front teeth
skinny as a mummy
had three tumors
one trapped between the kidney
and the spine
one more in the stomach and the last one
next to the liver
he was to be taken to the hospital
with a danger of loosing
the kidney and his life
I gave him a kiss on the forehead
and left
It was the same pink sunny day
the same old trick of a life
but something was not right
it never usually is

oh  so  well  the  frame So delicate my brow
And such delicious branches like an elephant grasping for air
On the sidewalk where
hookers  courage add  with
ferns and accordions
on my hand
like the mist of love or
the fall of a feather
nothing on sight but
hunger
still young
where the tires,
with their beautiful song
Oh my lovely youth
My future
My lasting hate
The deepest agony and then
To become me and
Lovers on forgotten kisses
Where the moon and the cheeseburger
Laugh without time
All for my self
My lovely charming self

my dear little heart walked through the grass and the dessert among tigers of flames and blue mist as if the fire was embracing the moon pulled by the red dispersing clarity of my nose, when the clouds arrived the fire extinguished, the hair became mist and my little heart laughed, it is so small, so very small like a moth trapped inside a seed lamenting with the sun, and walked the river and the mountain soon to disappear, soon to condense the elements and the stones, who were laughing for the last time, and my heart grew even smaller, even fainter, until it stopped laughing and beating, here and there with me as my eyes, clear as the droplets that stained my hat, became silent. fear left with a table full of promises with gifts of fame and gold, my simple soul became dim and dimmer and as dimmer as a floating feather came the weak serpent with a frog inside her belly the frog spat on my face and all the crosses and thorns ripped out of my skin, and all the prayers became fog and smoke, and my tongue received a gift poisoning my belly, and then I saw the three stars from the blind gods; everything became still.