Two sons

I had, had a rough night yet I showed up at Super Super Market. 

Slicing boxes with box cutters and stocking shelves was the drudgery that I sustained, till the stains of my blood stained the waxed terrazzo floor. 

I hushed my pain with a swift right hand over my left forearm and scurried to Palm Springs Hospital across the street, where they emboldened me six stitches. 

Monday I was back.

Bag boy, stock boy, boy was I. 

Mattering not, I was as erect as I strut today, my shadow casting six foot three inches and begging for nothing. 

I was on bag boy duty and husbanding this meritless task. 

I bagged her lady ship's groceries into her station wagon and she tipped me with a view of a tarantula that never bit me but stained my armor. 

Leaving this scene was like the first breath I had the courage to take, the day I sprung like a leak unto this dessert. 

I kept on keeping on and wrangled shopping carts into a fine line of effort and sweat. 

It was there that destiny caught me off guard, she played a trick on me. 

As somber as I was by the sight of a deteriorated female contraption, destiny had recompense on her mind. 

I dulled the fright of this half hazard encounter with work yourself out of this funk intentions. 

Shopping carts became my Moby Dick, I was in a frenzy to forget. 

That golden ticket showed up, I looked at it and said; that's new book wrapping paper kind of shit. 

The closer I got, I saw how crisp the paper was and how purposely the creases were creased around these sharpened for ever knives. 

I placed my right hand over this and surrendered them to it's rightful owner, the Butcher. 

He looked me up and down, forged his eyes on my young flesh and exclaimed "these are my knives." He repeated "these are my knives."

He cursed at me with these words "may God repay you with two sons".

I still had my stitches yet this elegant guy was wishing me a kingdom.

My life narrated...

Goodbye twice

It's been six years now since we moved out of each other's way. 

I couldn't tell you when the serpentine began to unravel, as it did.

It must have been the fog of life that got in our eyes, or the smell of adventure in the wind. 

The pasture hasn't been greener, but stepped in. 

Six years and everyone is still here, but the departed.

Funny how time weighs the baggage of life differently after the meter has expired. 

Your looking great, the season of separation has suffered you well. 

As for me I'm still dreaming waves and filling oceans with tears.

Let's not wait another six years to honor the past.

Ciao...

Los cuatro ventrículos

Esta noche él peso de mis poesías será padecido por el parecido de ella. 

Esta noche estrellada estrenare estrofas que le estrujaran él arpa a ella. 

Esta noche le lameré los cuatro ventrículos y se le acelerará el músculo que le robé. 

Esta noche el manto de mi ausencia la cobijará y mi olor a rufián en sus poros la estremecerá. 

Esta noche mi confianza la clavara a las sabanas y mi descarado la extrañara...

Stab in the heart

You out there that are mystified by romance, it's as simple as, crashing and burning, and liking it. 

Complicate your lives with stifling stuff, that's a mirage of an existence. 

If you don't feel, you won't get full. 

If you don't risk your flesh for romance, then it won't sacrifice itself for you. 

Lonely existence at the drive through of your life you will be fed. 

How could you sell yourself for less then, and not yearn for a stab in the heart. 

This is is a ones around the merry go round. 

And romantics cry a good cry, and love a good storm. 

Have it rain on me...

Give this ink your pores

Have this string of pearls I write, bind the soles of your feet to my shadow. 

Read me, read these lips, that have laid claim to you. 

Come close, feed me your lips, surrender your petals to me.

Listen to the letters get messy, as I write for you to surrender. 

Let them zigzag thought your blouse, and let the buttons fly. 

Give this ink your pores and spell out what isn't me...

Jar of my little poems

I wrote my pen pal a letter, and she received half my heart. I told her that the next half would be on installments. 

She cried her eyes out, while we swam in the pool of her tears. 

She kissed my scar and swore to bleed blue. I kissed the doubt from her lips and swore to strangle tomorrow for her.

Her heart I sunk in the jar of my little poems, wishing her to drown in my arms. 

And she has...

Seduction

Seduction is natures way of evoking. 

It's a peculiar smell that penetrates your pores.

Seduction is the fog that kisses the nape of your neck. 

Seduction is the vine that climbs the trellis of your body one inch at at time. 

Seduction is without purpose but by design. 

Seduction is the unspoken that screams. 

Seduction is hunger feeding on you...