Pariguayo

I wrote this poem for those of us who stare at our cigarettes smoke themselves;
This is for the dreamers.
For those of us who run with our eyes closed,
without fear of regret.
Be mesmerized by the swirling clouds of smoke,
but don't burn away with your cigarettes.

I wrote this poem for those who lock themselves with planted feet behind open doors;
For those who clip their wings,
before the fat lady sings.
Spread them wide!
You have to take a few steps,
before you can fly.

For those, who don't smile whole heartedly,
because they're scared to show the gaps between their teeth.
Stretch you lips!
Wide - from one side, to the other,
know your smile's worth.
Like the rays from the sun, hurrying each morning to touch the earth.
Your smile too can provide warmth.

I sat alone in a hotel,
as I attempted to write this poem.
Nothing in my head, but a self conflicting brain,
that's half analytical, half emotional, and certainly insane,
And at the time empty.
Desolate, like Wyoming.
My mind, addicted to roaming,
afflicted by the stoning of dreams before they start
and ideas left in the dark, for no one to see.
Time rusts and rots - don't let your fruits get sour.
I wrote this for the cowards,
being devoured by the guilt of not doing what's right,
every passing hour.

I wrote this for you.
Cowards and dreamers, be do'ers.
Rise yourself up from the sewers,
and begin to liven your canvass.
Life is a garden, and you're a gardener.
We're all architects.
Build a dome to the metronome of your heart beat,
seek your will and shake it where it sleeps.
Mold your goals into soaring steel structures,
keep working until they reach the skies,
and tickle god's feet.

I wrote this for me,
and my poems. Those streams of consciousness and color.
Aching to acquire my dreams a word at a time.
This is for the rhymes, that orgasm along with my ears,
and this is also for my fears.
For the courage that walked me to this stage,
on which my stomach cramped and my vision swayed.
For the courage that walked me to this stage,
on which my agitated insides started to scream;
No matter how far, you're only steps away from your dreams.

Space Cadet

I wanted go for a walk on the moon,
but got distracted by a three eyed harlot
that whispered through the monsoon.

Her origins I never questioned,
I was hypnotized by her evolving first impression.

She was a foreign blotch of orange,
a heroine splattered on the floor.
She said her name was Lucy,
As she invited me to see,
underneath her dress. There, she said,
a forest hides a fruit, which upon a bite
puts you in a trance, you'll dream of a caress,
through which you could possess,
the orange damsel in distress.

As she spoke I took in a deep breath of life
through the sound of thumping tamboras.
Through snow hands made way, attempting to console her.

But I lost myself in the rapture of her voice,
the light of her glow, her head without a face,
and the warmth of her embrace.
She sung songs in the key of sorrow,
as she moved.

How she moved.
Hips punishing the air,
occupying space with her silk scarlet hair.
Gravity defying breasts, diamond eyes, and lips,
upon which a kiss, this space cadet felt blessed.

Foreign blotch of orange,
let me drink your tears underneath the stars.
Lets dance on water, we can change the tides,
if we barter with sun, space, and skies.
Don't take too long, no one on this rock has time,
and even beauty with time, expires.

Upon my request she began to fade away.
My voice erupted and it called her name
long after she disappeared, whether she was real
or not still remains unclear, but wherever I see orange,
I wish she'd reappear.