Las máscaras no se distinguen
a mi vista.
Yo veo detrás,
adentro,
alrededor,
aparte
de la tapa
que te pones
encima de tu esencia.
Las apariencias engañan
pero yo no sé de ese juego.
Sólo sé de la verdad,
que se me expone
desde el interior
de ti
y de cada ser.
Y en tu ser
hay una luz que brilla,
una bondad sencilla,
que no me ha dejado
desde el momento en que lo vi.
Y si tu quieres ocultar
tu pura belleza
de mi…
pues, mala suerte.
Que ya conozco
la divinidad
en ti.
Without glasses
to correct my vision
there is a halo
around my lights.
Without drugs
to correct my chemistry
there is a fire
inside my mind.
Without society
to correct my beliefs
there is uncertainty
throughout my soul.
Without correction
life is pure.
The only chaos
is control.
It’s red-orange-yellow time!
Passion, come burn me.
Take me high,
higher,
high as you can,
so I have something to dream to
in my next blue slumber.
There is a miniature man
inside my skull
tap-dancing
on my corpus callosum
to the beat of blood vessels
wrapped tight around my temples.
He is tempting my brain
to split
and let each hemisphere fend for itself.
They’re always arguing anyway.
Feel this!
No, do that!
I can’t bear to hear them bicker anymore.
So maybe the man is right.
I will compartmentalize
each reality I realize
and access only one axiom at a time.
Contradictory beliefs,
you are no longer allowed to cross paths
or even approach the bridge
to leave change
for our resident street-artist tap-dancer in-training.
He will starve to death eventually,
without your handouts
and propaganda.
It sounds cruel,
but it’s just self-defense.
I can’t find peace
in pieces.
I’m an open book
written in an ancient language
that few men understand.
But all I’m trying to say is,
“Please come take my hand.”
Keep a muzzle on your mind
and a leash around your limbs
unless you dare to die
in a battle you can’t win.
Principles have perished
with virtue on their side.
But life cannot be understood.
Greater men have tried.
It’s best you take it lightly
and silence all the sounds.
The best that you can hope for
is just to stick around.
You’ll just know.
You’ll just…
know.
I finally know.
Intuition
like a lightning bolt,
like a realization
at the tip of my tongue
yet light-years away
and not composed of any words at all.
Reaching out to touch it,
my chest caves in
as I cross over dimensions
and break through magnetic fields.
Crushing. Imploding. Recoiling. Resounding.
The universe aligns
and I catch a glimpse
of a worm-hole
black-hole
holy grail of light.
If you open up the sun,
life as we know it
will end.
I catch my breath.
Yes.
This is it.
In the restless battle
between silence
and expression
the latter always wins me over.
Relentless attacks
break down my resolve
and the heart concedes
while my lips betray me.
If love is what we’re fighting for,
then I’m screaming
bloody
murder.
Our shields.
Our shells.
Our egocentric shelters,
protect us from
swords
predators
and storms.
But love is none of these,
so let down your guard.
For my part,
the armor is thrown to the ground.
I wield no weapons.
No poison,
no pistols,
no swords.
I am a harmless herbivore
just chasing after sunshine.
And I thought I caught a glimpse
of a sparkle in you
that was more than the shimmer
of your shining armor.
Let me see the man
behind the mask.
Let me love the heart
inside your haven.
But if I am not the one,
stab me quick,
while my armor’s down,
and let me bleed it out.
Otherwise I’ll always wonder
why my knight just walked away.
Definitions are circular
and at the end of the day
a word means nothing.
A smile could say more.
A kiss,
for that matter,
could shatter the dictionary
and take us back
to Adam and Eve.
Look, I’m a wordsmith.
I love me some words.
But words are not free.
My gaze could roam
and graze the Earth
a hundred times
from shore to shore
before a word could even reach the door.
So you see,
on this page
I’m playing catch-up
in a rhythmical race
I’ll never win.
But then again,
how do you define
a win?
