Peligro Escolar

Pobre niño,
Que ya sufre,
Bajo la mano opresiva del maestro.

Pobre chica,
Que ya perdió,
La imaginación,
Por los deberes del maestro.

Pobre juventud,
Matado entre los brazos,
Rígidos y secos,
De la educación moderna.

Pobre pasión,
Pobre ardor,
Pobre imaginación,
Pobre sueño,
Todos matados,
Por la enseñanza.

Persecution and Salvation

We waded through the murky sea,
Its waters lapping at our legs.
The moon, it glimmered happily,
Drinking down the bitter dregs.

Snatching at our sullied shirts,
The wind, it laughed with wretched mirth.
We trudged on despite our hurts,
Seeking refuge from day’s birth.

We the fugitives of the war,
The only rebels bleeding still.
Our brothers’ bodies line the shore,
And yet our enemies long to kill.

Through the water we will tread,
To hide our footsteps from the men,
Who search for us and strip our dead,
And with one sight would shoot us then.

In the night we may be safe,
Lost in the shadow of the shroud,
Which cloaks us from the hateful waif,
The gun well-primed, loaded, proud.

Stay, hot sun, your rapid step,
Your light would put us in the grave,
With the men for whom we wept,
During search for copse or cave.

And yet that light on yonder hill,
Shows no mercy, love, or care,
But proceeds on with iron will,
And keeps us from our hidden lair.

There! A shot, from the trees!
Lost are we upon the beach.
We are all the pistol sees,
Trapped within his leaden reach.

The pain which tears at heart and soul,
Runs from shining steel fist,
Our lives they end, while waves still roll,
These cheeks are cold which once were kissed.

O! My captain, there we lie,
Blood mixing there with surf and sand.
Now look to Him who did too die,
Who gives to us His loving hand.

So our race and pain are done,
The earthly battle is there lost,
But celestial war we have won,
By grace which paid the sinner’s cost.

Freedom

Freedom is beautiful,
It is wild,
It is the stars,
Over a mountain,
Water spilling,
Through the jungle.
I saw freedom once.
It was a bare foot,
Pressed against,
A mossy stone.
I felt freedom once.
It was rough,
And left dirt on my palm.
I heard freedom once.
It was a howl,
Tangled in the wind.
I smelled freedom once.
It was hot like spices,
And sweat,
On callused skin.
I tasted freedom once.
It was salt water,
And jalapeño peppers.
I was free once.

Hermanito mío

Dame la mano,
Bonito bebé,
Dame la vista,
Esperanza de fe.

Soy la que te querré,
Soy la que sigue ya.
Entre la calle,
Y las olas del mar,
Soy la hermana que te vi,
Pasar.

Semana nos deja,
Sin saber,
El mes nos dejó,
Sin hablar.

Óyeme, chico,
Hermanito mío,
Óyeme, hombre,
Que vive pa’llá.

Déjanos ver

Mira, mamá,
Como vuelen.
Mira, papá,
Como van.

Mira la nube,
Y el pájaro de Él.
Mira el mar,
Y sus olas de fe.

White Chalk

Chalk shatters,
On the marble floor,
With a beautiful noise,
Like a bell,
Struck,
And muffled,
A chirp-like chime,
Silenced as it’s struck,
Shattered on the tile,
Shards and dust,
With a sound like glass,
Small,
And sharp,
The stick of chalk lies,
Broken.

Laborer's Dirge

Here we fall before the sky,
The sky,
The sky,
Before we die.

There we toiled in the fields,
The fields,
The fields,
The power he wields.

Again we wash blood from the hands,
The hands,
The hands,
Which formed these lands.

Never again before the whip,
The whip,
The whip,
Shall we slip.

Below the earth we worked so long,
So long,
So long,
Lie bodies strong.

With our Lord we finally rest,
We rest,
We rest,
Far from the pest.

Want Not

I want not,
To be great,
To be grand,
To have power,
To have wealth.
I want only,
To have peace,
To have faith,
To have joy,
To have hope,
To have love,
And to give these gifts:
Peace,
Faith,
Joy,
Hope,
And love;
With an open heart.

Lighted Lanterns

Fill me with lighted lanterns,
Whose painted petals,
Flutter in a soft sea breeze.
Shut out the darkness,
With roses reaching,
Towards a sun of golden pearls.
We are the children of the waves,
Running before the moon,
Ever chasing the sweet kiss,
Of summer’s sunny sighs.
You are the rebellion,
Against the shadow,
The idea which I would follow.
You are the philosophy,
And I the philosopher.
Take away the chains I wear,
Make of me a free woman.
Grasses dance before the breeze,
And I before all he sees.
Rain that falls from sunny skies,
Washes,
Weary,
Watered eyes.
Lights that dance,
Upon the waves,
Fill the heart with greater joy.
Turn my eyes from the sand,
To the orb upon the mount,
Shaking shattered fears away,
Building hope a better home.
Be the hand which holds me up,
The sustaining strength which I lack.
Against the shadow shall we stand,
To battle beasts of fattened lands.
Hold me up as I slip,
My fettered feet falter step.
Fill me now with candlelight,
Touched by neither breath nor breeze,
Chasing shadows from my soul,
Warming corners cold as stone.
Fill me with lighted lanterns,
Shutting out the winter’s woe.

All that is Hidden

Winter is cold.
Can I fly?
On all that is hidden?
Am I lost,
In fountains
Of emerald leaves,
Toppling over glass
Gleaming cliffs?
All I am is summer,
Changing,
Passing,
And fickle.
I fall
Upon sand like
A frost under the sea.
And all I am
Is hidden
Under snow and cloud.
Winter is cold.
Can I be
A sun clouded over
For a while?
And shine again
With the summer?
Winter is cold.

Regret

(It’s cliché, but not so much when it’s yours.)
How to live
When you know
You could have been
Who you want to be,
You could have
Loved where you were,
You could have
Done what you enjoyed,
You could have been
Happy,
You could have
Lived,
You could have
Loved.
How to live knowing
All you lost,
All that could have been yours.
Never fear,
Hurt,
Nor Pain.
For the pain of fighting for what you love,
Is far less,
Than the pain of living,
Knowing what you could have had.

Thoughts on Nature

I find it difficult to believe that it rains or snows in big cities. I have seen it, but it still shocks. It seems that these places are too civilized for something as wild as weather. There is nothing, no nature, for rain or snow to fall for. What trace of nature can be found in a city is planned and orderly. It exists in parks and boulevards, and these do not need the watering nature gives for we have sprinklers, gardeners, fertilizer. Why then does it rain in cities? Perhaps, for nature to show that she survives and is free in spite of us.
How beautiful it would be to see walls torn down by vine and tree. How beautiful to see a city skyline turned to a mountain range and a street to a river bed. We are not as strong as we think. We are not so civilized that nature holds no power over us. She, His creation, still holds sway.

Comfortable Suffering

Hear the chatter of the voice,
Of the parrot in the cage.
See the lady’s pet of choice,
With plumes the color of bloody rage.

The cage of iron beautifully wrought,
Stands against a white-washed wall.
Against the heat the wall had fought,
And yet the sun feigned not to fall.

The women sat within the gate,
Of the courtyard of their home.
There they would eternally wait,
In silence as if they were alone.

An ant crawls across the place,
Red-hot tiles which make the floor.
It marches across a strip of lace,
A gown stitched by hands quite poor.

Listen now to their fans,
Chasing sweat from the face,
Which will age despite their plans.
Now even here can time keep pace.

Against the wall grows a vine,
Whose fingers stretch and widen cracks,
And for its freedom it does pine,
Growing despite all it lacks.

The sun beats down upon the scene.
There is no breeze to chase away,
The sighs behind their veils’ screen,
Passions, by corsets, kept at bay.

Within these walls lives Despair,
And her sisters all in chains,
Of flowing gowns and scented hair,
A palace prison where beauty wanes.

Timeless Wanderer

I wish I could move
And travel
Wherever
I could wish.
Tumbling waters in an emerald jungle,
I’d see
Light dancing past
The horizon of the moon,
Comets’ tails,
Dancing stars,
A gruesome eye
Blinking in the eternal night
Of some great sea.
All this I’d see,
And hold within.
A cloud’s caverns,
And rivers of the underground,
Pass with tumultuous joy
Through the cracks,
Between my fingers,
But never from my mind.
All this would be mine,
For I saw it
Dance,
Shimmer,
Splash,
And sink
Into oblivion,
As I traveled.
I’d wander among the stars,
Upon a simple breeze,
On the crest of a wave.
Timeless Wanderer
Would I be,
And all this beauty
Would I see.

Our Storm

Rain upon an old tin roof,
Dust and Dirt
In torrents swirl.
Gleaming steel
Glistens still,
In dusky light,
And fire’s will.
Clouds like rumbling buffalo hooves
Stomp out light,
With white-hot sound.
Leaves and rattling graveyard bones,
Clashing cymbals
Throwing stones.
Wailing banshee
Clawing sky,
Smoke and fire tumble down.
Flashes of waves
Shred the windy shrouds,
Of modern wraiths.
Grey and black fall from under
Shattered mirrors,
Of our fear.

For the Love of Cuba

It is impossible to describe,
The love I carry,
Within my Heart,
Upon my shoulders,
It is impossible to make you understand,
How my soul can yearn,
After a place,
I have never Seen.
I spend hours buscando,
Fotos, pictures,
SONGS,
Of that place I long to touch,
And have never seen,
But through,
The glass portal
Of a LENSE,
Or the brush strokes
Of an Artist’s hand.
Lord, that someday,
I may touch the sands of her playas,
But for the Love of Cuba,
I will wait through eternity.
Until she sees
Dios
Patria
Y
Libertad.
I will not even touch a grain of
Sand upon the white beaches,
Stroked lovingly by the waves.
Come now,
Gusanos Mios,
And embrace the beauty,
Of a free land,
A land to be ours,
Forever More,
Por Siempre.
It could be a land,
Blessed by God,
Besado por el sol,
And cradled by the moon.
For the love of Cuba,
I will wait.
And with the eternal hope and vivacity
Of the Cuban,
I will love Her,
Forever more,
For the Love of Cuba.

Why We Listen

And if the sun did cease to shine,
This world, this world would still be mine!
They cannot see the path below,
When lamp in hand has ceased to glow.
The failing of the bird’s sweet voice,
Will signal loss of right and choice.
And if they now should choose to stray,
This world, this world would turn away.

A Little Rebelion

There is no freedom in this world.
There is no joy in banners unfurled.
We are all trapped within the guise,
Of this society and its lies.

Forget the petty little fools.
There is no truth in their rules.
Tear down the judge and his laws.
Better yet, tear down their flaws.

Money is a chain for men,
Shattering pencil, shattering pen.
It casts away this joy of ours,
The joy of life’s simple hours.

Do not stamp out the child’s dreams.
Do not cast out moonlight beams.
Give us joy and give us might.
We’ll drive out shadows with our light.

Strive

I want calluses on my hands,
Sweat on my brow,
Blood on my feet,
The sun on my back,
Dust in my eyes.
I want to fall beneath my burden,
And know all the while,
That I am strong,
And I am free,
And with God’s help,
One day,
I’ll sing.

Vegas Wedding

(Something silly I threw together.)

Together upon a drunken sea,
Together forever, joined are we,
Upon this rich and luscious dream,
Jauntily sailing by the beam.

To never part we have sworn,
Until death shrouds we have worn.
Make a toast to true love’s life,
And drink it down, make me your wife.

None more happy were ever seen,
And in this state upon you I lean,
Until the world should cease to spin,
And my head quit this awful din.

Morning comes with terrific pain,
I wish to drink never again.
What is this upon my hand?
What could this be, this ghastly band?

World of Dreams

How strange is the world of dreams,
Where nothing has definite shape,
Where all is in flux.
Change is infinite,
Constant.
And time infinitely inconstant.
In this place where faces,
Bodies,
Places change,
Pain,
Fear,
Joy,
And peace,
Dance and bend upon one another.
How strange is this world of dreams,
Where voices move,
And lips,
Are still.
Where fire flows like water,
And a tree becomes the sea.
A grand ship with masts tall as mountains,
Becomes a toy in my hand.
A friend so kind,
Turns upon me with gnashing teeth.
How strange the world of dreams,
Where colors are colorless,
And sounds,
Are silent.
Gravity chains body immobile,
Then suddenly relaxes,
And we soar into flight.
All is fluid,
And solid still.
A road once straight,
Begins to twist.
And a house’s walls turn into trees.
How strange is the world of dreams,
And stranger still,
Reality.

The Most Beautiful

A nearsighted man and a farsighted man sat staring over a valley. They argued endlessly over which was the most beautiful thing in the world. The nearsighted man claimed that it was the rose bush, and the farsighted man maintained that it was the mountains. Which was correct?

Freedom's Paradox

I try to free myself.
I try to break the chains,
But I realize…
That in this effort I remain
A slave,
That to be truly free
One must be free
To be a slave.

Anniversary Poem

Their love like sun upon the earth,
Their love like wind upon the sea,
Steady and constant,
Ever present,
Wonderful how it comforts me.

Fill the air with daylight’s joy,
A laugh and smile to be seen,
From afar,
A shining star,
Love’s great mirth in it gleam.

Though the night may now descend,
Though a storm may threaten here,
Their love undaunted,
Never flaunted,
Keeps safe all that they hold dear.

Strength and wisdom do embrace,
In two souls by God’s hand made,
To be paired,
In life shared,
To follow Him as He bade.

Mother, Father, in your love,
Was made a home for the dreams,
Like lofty clouds,
In golden shrouds,
Of the ones who upon you lean.

Their love like whispers of a song,
Their love like stars in heaven set,
Cast out dark,
Like heav’nly spark.
God’s love in these, united, met.

Victim

Along this dark and windy road,
I carried my light and heavy load.
Beyond the reach of any light,
Far from mind when lost from sight.

I am the gypsy’s lonely queen,
Forever and ever wandering.
Call me earth or call me sky,
There is life’s fire in my eye.

The moon is lost behind a cloud,
My face behind my mourning shroud.
Douse the fire, douse the flame.
Forgot forever is my name.

I am the gypsy’s lonely wife,
Forever under their bloody knife.
Call me shadow or call me night,
In their eyes I was blight.

Alone I walk this hidden path,
The eternal victim of their wrath.
Dust upon the road I tread,
Like the ashes of our dead.

I am the child’s lonely home,
Forever am meant to walk alone.
Call me gypsy or call me Jew,
It was my name that you slew.