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J Eduardo Ramos Aug 2014
A Golden Brown Mexican Royal Eagle proudly soaring and gliding on invisible æther:

Human Eyes from the ground: dark, attentive, following the Raptor's deadly arc as it ascends:

The Mexican Brown Royal Eagle spots
A frightened Doe:

The dark eyes from the leveled plain:
a startled double-take,
follow the rapid Eagle's spiraling descent:
The vaporized cloudiness slashed;
A cinematic flash
of hide torn
and shrieking delight
are jumbled,
and echoed
through the void:
The Raptor is
Voluble butcher
As it devours,
Sinewy flesh,
Peeled from broken bone
leathery skin and
curved horn;

The Dark eyes moisten
While the scene
Fills His Eyes;
What Beauty juxtaposed:
Death And Life Are Just
A House
Inhabited by
Swift
Or
Quick
The Fortunes Named
In The Game
Called
Life Or Death.

J Eduardo Ramos©
J Eduardo Ramos Aug 2014
The gardenias' Sweet
fragrance enveloped
the backlit silhouette of You.
Profiled diffusely against the
Aura of the Eclipsed Moon,
Our Gentle Guest.

J Eduardo Ramos©
Jonas Gonçalves May 2014
Hey Eduardo!
Your name won't be forgotten.
It will echo through our heads
as well as screams of despair.
It will invade our hearts
as well as old lovers.

Where are the moments
which stab the chest,
investigate the body
and fill it with sorrow?
Where did they go?
Where are they?

Oh Eduardo!
I can't be courageous;
not after seeing you so cold.
She can't stand upright;
not after having her heart broken.

So much time penetrated the darkness
made you wish one last will;
– almost unreachable, almost in vain...
I hope they know how to be sensitive,
because I really don't know what else I must feel.
Oh too many words dissolved into a simple yearning!
wordvango May 2017
One day, I believe it was a Saturday
before the eve of Mother's day or Father's day I have
forgotten, let's say it was ten years ago,
the sun rose brighter than any day had
on any day I had woken still drunk.
The skies were blue as a bruise from a punch
on the jaw and stark as, shockingly pure , almost .
I awoke remembering a bit of the chaos of last night.
I sort of recalled getting my lights punched out by
Eduardo, Didn't realize he was a black belt,
but I beat the hell out of his fists.
I recall trying to swap girls or something,
young and dumb as a sombrero thrown in the air
on new year's , I was, no purpose, but to see if
they had those feelings too.
And all hell broke loose.
My girl got mad, Eduardo got mad.
His girl smiled at me.
I kind of grabbed her and kissed her
pasionately, she returned it.
Then Eduardo punched her and my sweet
Felicia cold cocked me.
Then he  hit me and Felicia pulled his girl's hair.
It was bad. But good, you only live once ,
I said to Juanita as we limped home.
Woke up next to her, she and I both had black eyes
and hangovers. That Cuervos is crazy ,
dude!
J Eduardo Ramos Aug 2014
When Building the cities, roads, bridges and dams,
Blood, toil, sweat and tears
will never  suffice;

The Romans, Phoenicians, the Hitites and Egyptians,
they all knew the score, they used it for years:
Mortar, water and stone were never enough.

Foundations were crumbling, the bridges fell tumbling, the roads went asunder, the cracked dams' water pouring;

Rulers and Chieftains, Pharaohs and Mighty Heads of the State,
Convened with their Wizards, Druids, Grand Mages and Magicians:
"Solutions", they clamored,
" Solutions at once!".

Bonfires were lit, the goat's blood spilt, the entrails were read, the tea leaves deciphered.

The Oracle rose, in a whispering murmur, She muttered:
"When Building the cities, roads, bridges and dams,
Blood, toil, sweat and tears will never  suffice".

The Gods, in their infinite wisdom, had spoken:
" the elemental truth" they said
"that runs at the core, of all human enterprise
since the days of Gog,
for the formula to be true,
It needs a special glue,
a magical brew,
a mixture of fear, innocence
and tears
that can
only be found,
in the wide-eyed
Son of Man;

An infant is needed,
for Stone, Water and Gravel,
will eventually unravel."

"When Building the cities, roads, bridges and dams,
Blood, toil, sweat and tears
will never  suffice".

So it has been said, it has long been sung, the basis of Civilisation
is Human Sacrifice...

The Romans, Phoenicians, the Hitites and Egyptians;
they all knew the score, they used it for years,
Mortar, water and stone were never enough...

J Eduardo Ramos©
J Eduardo Ramos Aug 2014
Black Flags are flowing
In the news;
inked in
or Not
The pulp slashes
Across my seared consciousness:

What say my heart for those
Who perish?
What Say My Heart
For Those Who Cry?

Peevishly My Heart responds,
in ****** Tears,
As in a nightmare:

Weep all the tears
For the Motherless Children,
Weep All the Tears
For The Buried Child...

Weep For Yourself, And Not Without Shame,
Weep For  Humanity And
Mankind
As it Slowly Dies...

Weep for Those
Whose Vibrant
Life You Adore.

Weep Not For The Cruelly Weak
Who, Knowingly,
inflicts
such
Inordinate pain.

J Eduardo Ramos©
J Eduardo Ramos Aug 2014
A clover green bowler hat on the cars dashboard; mardi gras beads, wildly dangling from the rear-view mirror.
A cigarrete, held by the white knuckles grabbing the wheel. A mop of lush blonde hair, freely flowing in the wind. Aviator sunglasses, sitting astride
A dimpled nose; cherry-red lips whistling a long forgotten Irish
Song of Lust, Death & Fate...

J Eduardo Ramos©
Iraira Cedillo Mar 2014
The African Burial Ground
BY YUSEF KOMUNYAKAA
They came as Congo, Guinea, & Angola,
   feet tuned to rhythms of a thumb piano.
      They came to work fields of barley & flax, . . .

The Red Shoes
BY SHEILA BLACK
Someone buried red slippers under the floorboards
and the mice nested in them. The floors splintered no matter

To Juan Doe #234
BY EDUARDO C. CORRAL
I only recognized your hair: short,
neatly combed. Our mother
. . .
Istanbul 1983
BY SHEILA BLACK
In the frozen square, the student asks me if I will
sell him the books from my backpack. He hides them
under his winter coat. Steam rises from the whole . . .
J Eduardo Ramos Aug 2014
Timidity not my Horse,
Timidity not my Sailboat,
Timidity not my Suave, Fluid
Elevator
thru Life's  many travails.
Timidity
Not
Me.

J Eduardo Ramos©
J Eduardo Ramos Aug 2014
On this eternally present appendix
of our modern life
Called our lifeline,
What is a landline?
Our fingers glide
Our eyes slowly die
We stare, we do not dare
Look away; wait, I gotta take this!
We buy
Sometimes sell
We search:
***
Love
Stuff
Knowledge?
Perhaps.

J Eduardo Ramos ©
J Eduardo Ramos Aug 2014
Frente a el Monolito Esculpido de Coatlicue:

¡Terrible Madre de los Dioses! :

Ese dia domingo en un año cualquiera de el siglo diez y siete, cuando Humboldt conmovio
a los frailes Domínicos a remover
la tierra que cubria tu rúbea y sierpa tez:
La ferocidad que tus hijos, Huitxilopoxtli y Quetxalcóatl, conocieron de ti,
pasmo al santo abate y al pensador alemán.
Cuantos siglos dormida sin beber
Tu merecido y necesitado bermellón
Liquido, aun tibio, del corazón palpitante; ofrenda a ti, ¡Oh, Madre Terrible de los Antiguos dioses Aztecas!

J Eduardo Ramos ©
J Eduardo Ramos Aug 2014
Una noche en la Ciudad de México,
En esa ciudad antigua, espesa de cultura sobre un árido Lago de Texcoco;
primitiva como sus religiones sangrientas, y moderna como afilado
Cuchillo de plata y nácar.
Aunque las piramides de el sol
Y la luna
No fueron testigos,
Y no nos encontramos abrazados, desnudos, sobre la Calzada de Los Muertos,
La nívea sabana se tiño de virginal
Pureza en rojo de entrega,
tu vez primera.

J Eduardo Ramos©
J Eduardo Ramos Aug 2014
My Muse is fickle and thrifty with her Gifts,
She caresses my eyelids with a gentle touch,
And Kisses my forehead with Violet Lips
Suffusing my Dreams in Magical Hues
She visits me Nightly
To show me the trove
Of Her Myriad Treasures
Which I Dare not steal.

J Eduardo Ramos©
J Eduardo Ramos Oct 2014
Honey is english for Miel.
Miel is spanish for Honey.
I want to kiss the Miel from your lips, Honey.
The words taste sweet in my mouth:
M I E L/ H O N E Y
Your lips taste like Honey in my mouth, Miel.
Yo quiero besar tus labios, Honey, full of Miel.
Will you?

J Eduardo Ramos ©
J Eduardo Ramos Aug 2014
Like 
The 
Chrysalis 
My 
words
Blossom
And 
unfold
Their
Wings
H­oping to
Fly
And 
Reach
You.

J Eduardo Ramos©
J Eduardo Ramos Aug 2014
Hay gente que se renta
Para llorar en Funerales;
Hay gente que se renta
Para satisfacer deseos Carnales.

Hay gente que vive y
vive mal en los Arrabales;
Hay gente que vive gozando en sus
Mansiones Estivales.

En esta vida el que entiende
Que no vive mas el que
compra o vende
Ni mejor el que en sus mansiones
La miseria del Arrabal escape.

Vive despierto a lo tuyo y tuyos
Ama mas y no envidies por lo que no trabajes
En la balanza de la Vida
Los Arrabales a veces huelen mejor
Que las mansiones Estivales.

J Eduardo Ramos ©
J Eduardo Ramos Sep 2014
You wanted volcanic
passionate                                  
                    kisses;
And I gave you
supernova
                    love.

J Eduardo Ramos ©
J Eduardo Ramos Aug 2014
My Dog is loyal.
The unabashedly
noisy love it professes,
I'm embarrased to admit,
Is not reciprocated with
The same hallowed and pure innocence
Conveyed.

J Eduardo Ramos©
J Eduardo Ramos Aug 2014
I love, not just to love;
You never understood my Love;
My love was as archaic as the medieval or Sapphic poems found as ruinous scrolls: Old and anachronistic;
***** in its innocence or faithfull as wide eyed babes.

J Eduardo Ramos©
J Eduardo Ramos Oct 2014
There are people who are born
To mend flying wings;

The healing comes easy and tender.

There are people who are born 
To curtail your flight;

And their uncaring ways,
rubs hard and rough on you.

Flying and soaring makes up for the times, we find ourselves dragging our mended wings on the ground;

Flying and soaring, up, high in the sky, 

Makes us feel we are one with the world.

Let us remember the feeling we love,
Living as creatures who are meant to 
Always Soar!

Soaring and Flying 
We live up above,

Loving and Living as 
We 
are meant to 
be:
One with The World!

J. Eduardo Ramos ©
J Eduardo Ramos Oct 2014
Impossible is nothing but a word.
Chance encounters mean more than we know, and yet, like heralds of portent or foretold, unraveled mysteries, we untangle; by following Ariadna's thread:
No Minotaurs of doom to fear; no mazes of walls to get lost in; no legends to survive.
Life is real, and lovingly cinematic, like our dreams.

J Eduardo Ramos ©
J Eduardo Ramos Jul 2015
Of long streets marked by dim lights.

Concrete steps that ran the side,
of your leathern'd shoes worn out,
by the myriad looks that browsed,
through your soul and left you untouched.

Solemn, You, sideways the smile.

Poet Prophet of the Night.
Only you could fathom All:

Broken windows of the Soul;
Nightless smiles, and daytime Owls
Who, in smooth cadence walked,
stepping into voids of
Coin,
selling their skin;
conjuring
The Harlem Dark,
Of their opaque,
blythe...
Lost Dream.

J. Eduardo Ramos©
#LangstonHughes
J Eduardo Ramos Aug 2014
Morning light invites all the sleepy colors to awaken
from their slumber:
Red responds in a bright flash;
Yellow winks as it smiles;
Green unfolds calmly, almost asking for reprieve.
Blue is restless to heed the call ;
The World explodes, alive to the sunlit balm.

J Eduardo Ramos©
J Eduardo Ramos Aug 2014
The morning lark
Visited my window
To tell me that poetry
Is not exclusively, like jazz music,
the domain of the night.

J Eduardo Ramos ©
J Eduardo Ramos Aug 2022
Warriors cry in solitude
Free to let the tears slowly flow
No constraints when no one sees
The shields are now lowered down

Tears for the death of their wasted
youth and dreams
Gone, long gone
Never to come back
The winners and losers
Of the psychic wars
It’s never them, O, never them
They’re left to be
Warriors who cry
In solitude for their
Lost
dreams,
youth and laughter
Long left behind…
©J. Eduardo Ramos
J Eduardo Ramos Aug 2014
The hopeless, brutal love the ocean proposes,
To the immutable, unyielding, stoic cliff;
Manifested, for æons,
as ceaseless
Violent
Caresses;
Has spawned
the gentle and pristine
Beach.

J Eduardo Ramos©
J Eduardo Ramos Oct 2014
In the night, dark as a coffin, we make love.
In the coffin we call night, we come alive.
*** and Death.
Eros and Tanathos.
The inseparable twins of this unwritten story;
Melancholic, true, and ancient, indicating a lost Greek tragedy;
Or a modern play, in its vibrancy and allure...

J Eduardo Ramos©
J Eduardo Ramos Feb 2015
If
I do not claim to be God,
Although You Are my Goddess.
If I am not God,
Then why do my lips fit
perfectly on your
Shapely, tender lips?
If I Am Not God?
Then why, do my hands fit
perfectly on your
Shapely, warm body?
If I Am Not God?
Then why,
When I Rest my face,
on the soft, tender, warm,
Nook
of your neck,
I
Fit
Perfectly?

J. Eduardo Ramos©
J Eduardo Ramos Aug 2014
O, loneliness, my old foe, my relentless companion,
Inseparable nemesis of mine.
We meet again, as if we never parted;
The distant space, the arc of separation, between my
Lovely Celina and I,
Brings you back to walk those steps
I take without Her, to walk them with me.

J Eduardo Ramos ©
J Eduardo Ramos Aug 2014
Go ahead.
You may find yourself or not.
Now, go look at the mirror;
Yes, there's only one of You:
You
Are
Unique.

J Eduardo Ramos©
J Eduardo Ramos Aug 2014
A journey of a thousand kisses,
A journey of a thousand sighs,
Begins, when two lovers, in blessed shadows,
Blighted darkness;
Meet in the desert of their loneliness,
To escape and travel
Thru The Night.

J Eduardo Ramos ©

— The End —