Best Peso Poems
Cinnamon and apple fill the air
Scent of Gram's famous pie
Warm fire roaring in the hall
Music turned up for all to hear
"Vivo per lei da quando sai
La prima volta l’ho incontrata,
Non mi ricordo come ma
Mi è entrata dentro e c’è restata.
Vivo per lei perché mi fa
Vibrare forte l’anima,
Vivo per lei e non è un peso.
Vivo per lei anch’io lo sai
E tu non esserne geloso,
Lei è di tutti quelli che
Hanno un bisogno sempre acceso,
Come uno stereo in camera,
Di chi è da solo e adesso sa,
Che è unico per lui, per questo
Io vivo per lei....."
Thoughts of you ring in my mind
Playing the music in my soul
A burning desire
Making my heart beat strong
Vivo per lei
I live for her
My warmth, my breath, my soul
Taking my lonely
Making it whole
My heartbeat, my strength, my home
From the depths of my heart
to your soul
My vision, my meaning, my know
Even though far, we really are near
Oceans apart but I feel your touch
Sweet music is all that I hear
Whispering I love you so much
*** "Vivo per lei" by Andrea Bocelli ***
Naciste en San Jose, California; eres Americana. Mis padres creados en Guanajuato, son Mexicanos. Me crié hablando espanol con música de mariachi y fue inculcada en mi la cultura y tradiciones de mi México. Estuviste toda tu vida en los estados unidos, creciste comunicándote en inglés y celebrando el cuatro de julio. Yo se que la familia es la cosa más importante del mundo. Tu siempre piensas en tus amigos y los pones delante de ti misma. Yo he sido rodeada por machismo y el doble estándar. Tu aprendiste a sobresalir, y siempre se te a enseñado que en tu país, todo es posible. Mis orígenes son de un país más pobre con menos oportunidad, pero donde somos trabajadores. Tu pais es mas poderoso y demasiado rico, pero donde los más adinerados, estan donde estan por su herencia, no por que tan lejos llegaron ellos mismos. Ustedes tienen a un idiota que se quiere lanzar como presidente. Nosotros tenemos a un idiota como presidente. A mi se me enseñó a respetar a mis mayores. A ti se te enseno a tratar a la gente como ellos te tratan a ti. Yo estaba limpiando la casa a los seis años. Tu duras horas mirando tu celular.La gente mexicana me dice que tengo que subir de peso y nunca me paran de ofrecer comida. Tu gente americana tiene la idea que la más flaca que eres, mejor, y te dicen que te cuides para no engordar. Yo soy mexicana. Tu eres orgullosa de ser americana. Cuando voy a mexico, la gente me critica por venir del “norte.” Me dicen que soy muy americanizada. De acuerdo a lo que mi propia gente me dice, no soy mexicana real. Tu te sientes igual. Los americanos te preguntan de donde eres. Como si no hubieras vivido en américa toda tu vida. Como si ni siquiera fueras Americana. Los mexicanos me consideran más americana que mexicana. A ti los americanos solamente te consideran mexicana. Si yo no soy mexicana, y tu no eres americana, entonces quienes somos? Donde pertenecemos?
It’s thirteen thousand miles from Boston to
San Diego around far Cape Horn’s way.
Ship needs to sail to that distant quay.
The Cape is a hard challenge for the crew
It’s where the Atlantic and Pacific
Oceans meet and the waves are horrific.
The number of ships lost are not a few.
With good sailing San Diego can be
reached in three months from Boston’s fine dock
in hope of returning with rancho stock.
Condition of hides rest upon the sea,
if hold remains ever dry and shipshape,
The wetting of hide they hope to escape.
No fear Brig Pilgrim’s hold is danger free.
Hide house at the Mexican harbor’s berth
cures hides vaqueros bring from distant field
hoping to gain a goodly peso yield.
Their agents bargain for true values worth
Profit will give major-domo much peace
He’ll thank the Virgin for worry’s surcease
At hacienda there will be much mirth.
Y entonces aquí estoy -
y aquí en blanco me veo,
mi piel -la nevada de medianoche
donde ya nadie me atraviesa
con sus huellas, y sus huellas negras.
Y aquí entonces estoy sola,
la madrugada me canta desinhibida.
Ella canta de las caricias del sol en la mañana,
del balanceo suave de las estrellas,
sus bailes, sus matrimonios de fuego,
y entonces me canta en un susurro apacible
y así me deja sin aliento,
el peso de los secretos de siglos
me llena la boca con cenizas,
que saben a sepultura.
Mi lengua se ha convertido
en la voz de los antiguos.
Y estoy sola,
pero no me siento sola.
Sus dedos difunden,
repartidos en mis párpados,
los muertos resucitan como el sol
en mis ojos.
Y su sabiduría en mi rostro es una lápida,
en mi cuerpo un Domingo de Pascua.
Que se doblan en las arrugas de la mendiga.
Que fluyen como lágrimas de la boca abierta del cielo.
Que son chispas en la memoria de los niños.
Que mantienen las piedras de las pirámides
y llenan grietas en los huesos de las montañas.
Y en verdad, nuestros pies
comienzan a desmoronarse,
a unirse con los raíces del mundo.
Y en verdad estamos solos
pero no nos sentimos solos.
Llevamos al conocimiento en marfil,
al misterio, a la nostalgia olvidada.
En nuestras venas corre la sangre
de guerreros,
en los pulmones
las palabras
de Dios.
The young boy was pale,
He walked slowly in the alley
No. 41.His skeleton hand hold a rusted tin can.
He was in business,for him it was.
On his innocent face,
In a modern world,who really forgotten
Kids like him was also human too.His eyes
Pasted on a piece of bread on the dirty pavement.
On his side was tall buildings,on the other was a busy EDSA.
A dove whose feather blacken by the third world metropolis,
Peeped down from the lamp post,
Measuring the distance of the bread on the ground
Look at the child,inclining its head side ward,
Then,their eyes meet,resting on each other stare
Like eternity,
And it flew toward the blinding sun.
The boy saw a man approached,
Polished shoes landed on his lunch
The gold Rolex,tailored clothes,big ring,
A heavy necklace hung loosely on beefy neck.
Surprised on a sudden hand that raised on his way,
"Move out!" bellowed angrily,then scurried quickly on a green traffic
light. "Fool..."the boy sighed.
Business is business,he thought,as he reached out the crushed bread
Uttered a little prayer,ate it religiously with tears on his eyes.
Every bite he remembered his little brother he left this morning
on their cartoon box house
At Smokey Mountain outside Manila,its smoke ascend forever
Till the end of time,because of the corrupt lordship in kings palace
His little brother burned at stake alive waiting for his pancit.
His father was an inmate at Bilibid prison selda katorse (14)
His mother was a girl in the street.
Then an old woman came out at the Binondo Church.
Walked briskly as the wind swept the dusk on summer days.
Stopped,a discolored dirt hand spread for an alms.
Irritated,she rummaged her purse,and gently place the one peso
on the boys hand,made sure to slow her movement,maybe the rest
Were looking at her, she raised her brow and smile
"Of course.", she said sweetly
Father hope will see this act she thought that
Might mention her name in homily,Mrs. Cerbo was kind to the poor.
He spit the coin and swipe it on his dirty torn shirt
And say..."God Blessed Maddame."
Then he ran at the little Sari-sari store
Brought a piece of bread,break it into halves
He hid his share on his pocket
Then tossed the half on the side walk
When the boy had gone, blue wing landed
Ate with pride and thinking, "stupid boy..stupid boy..".
A Penny for your thoughts,
or a Quarter for your rhyme?
A Dollar for your compassion,
for a Dime to go back in time.
A Nickel for your honesty,
or a Ruble to speak your mind.
A Jackson for your patience,
and a Euro to feed the blind.
A Pound for your trouble –
a Dinar for your reprieve,
a Peso to cover the damages,
a Franc if you’d only believe.
In God We Trust authority,
yet not His spoken word –
It takes money, privilege and power,
for the voice of the Lord to be heard.
Our lives are merely a vapor –
don’t wait to be your best,
you may end up like the Pharisees,
in hell with all the rest.
Last night
June 10
Jobs done
Going home
Rode the jeepney
Freaking slow
Driver's texting while driving
Arrived about 7 Pm
Went to the computer shop
It was full
To the second shop
Lots of vacant seats
I logged in
It was a drop coin type
1 peso
Cant login to my game
No can do
Then to the other unit
Another peso
Cant login to my game
No can do
Then to another
Another peso, yes
Cant login to my game
No can do
Then another one again
Cant login to my game
No can do
Shiiiiiiiiiiiit.
I'm just hoping for a first win
A first win for this day
Went to the computer shop
I first went in
Other guys logged out
Vacant seat for me
Happily can login
Yes I do
Played 1st game
Defeat
Stupid team mates
F*ck*ng feeders
(/>__<)/ _|__|_
No 1st win for today
Hopefuly tomorrow maybe.
The sow beauty queen’s
favorite color is money green
The cloven jaw cutie’s
favorite sound is “cha-ching”
Miss Piggy Lips loves how the cash registers
throughout the land constantly rings
That jade oinkment noise
is a pigmentary salve to her greedy soul
She’s got a glut appetite for mo’ and mo’
Her imperial motto is:
“Mo’ money means mo’ toga rest,
and much less queen bee stress”
This regal swine loves to sit
in her towering pleasure palace pigpen,
and peso whine
and ruble dine
Miss Piggy Lips,
with the Pillsbury hips,
enjoys wallowing in the miry green dough
Mudslinging filthy lucre nods covetously so
Miss Piggy Lips,
with the greasy palm grip,
silver tongue yields coin swallowing squeals
Jade oinkment noise forfeits her unpaid bills
This oral apothecary fatty substance
is pocketbook soothing to the queen Midas soul
Gold pursed lip smacking
is how this triple jowl lady low down dirty roll
Those hog heaven eyes
got them snout gobbled green eggs
gulp hasty safely cracking
Her pigmentary belly rub etiquette
is sop share burp lacking
As those rotund royalties
never piggy bank lessen one lil’ bit
Jade oinkment noise
is very spit pernicious green
Pigmentary salve for the thin-skinned cries
of the profiteering unclean
Dyed paper lust has an emerald sheen
Phat bags under dollar sign eyes
be the makeup blush
for the Oval weight sow beauty queen
Miss Piggy Lips,
with the mint green painted toenails,
she loves the excess gossip that dirty tales sell
Flop sweat sleeping
in her palace penthouse pigsty,
she snore ignore the kingdom’s po’ travails
Wrapping herself in a muddy blanket of lies,
surrounding her obese body
with a methane swarm of toady tongue flies
Miss Piggy Lips,
the dung awful smell
coming from that
jade oinkment perfume trail
is just too much nasal pain to inhale
It’s so sickening to brain fart expel
Fat chance the stench makes anyone well
Les C. More back from the vay-cay holidays,
giving my poetry peeps
a look-see at an odd Klondike meet
He ain’t nothing but
small potatoes
Trying to live
big-talk lettuce large
His backsliding snowshoes
walk so holey
That short con grifter grin
spin tall tales —
Green giant beanstalk
talk guacamole-y
Mucho moneybag dreams
full of empty air,
that don’t ever avocado amount to nothing
Small-time schemes
of simple-minded plans,
which never pan out ... sub zero foul headed south
Always bringing in less than nothing
He ain’t never gon bandito be nothing
but a small fry —
Small-time peso, catphish criminal
on an asphalt pond coin hustle
Pennywise pygmy putting on froggy airs,
croaking a tough guy cry ... squirting big croc tear lies
Acting like dollar store muscle
But his big, bad Canadian woofs
be a poodle scare farce,
French barks full of nothing ...
giving him kennel plenty caged time
to have more polarizing, petty cell thoughts —
Little gray matter blowing
big bluster got busted ... Arctic cop caught
Leprechaun brain freeze melting grandiose dreams
into Yukon fools gold, iron bar moonbeams
Solitary mote musings eyeing elephantine endings:
more get-rich angles, poach-the-poor fantasies
Tiny-hearted man with big swindle hands,
always got a large lung bag of con
for holding paper vapors less than nothing
Let me break it down,
ghetto-wise ...
from a penny to a dollar
Intellectual property
is owned by a cosmic entity,
known as God
A heavenly voice from above
has infinity echoed:
Trust not in clay sod
Don’t trespass
the Sol tertiary boundary
This immutable rule
is so blood simple ...
Blue-green rock elementary
From a peso to a yen,
averse to change is gospel foreign
Embrace mental exchange ...
This is so neural net elemental —
co-efficient expansion
is your medulla oblongata obligation
It’s time to examine
your Adam-to-Eve aorta spatial relation
Is the gaseous phase
getting asteroid nebular clear,
or is the galactic haze
expanding your molecular fear?
Don’t let the black hole gutter
be your permanent entropy atmosphere
Devil is in the details,
seems your kinetic effort is in arrears
Co-efficient expansion never takes less,
it don’t do vow contraction
A love quantum algorithm ...
leap of faith
is always a variable decision
Did the upgrade message get thru
the void background noise?
Has the stupid gravity of dark matter
anti-unity been squashed
on the ghetto asphalt?
From a yuan to a pence,
what amount of exponential growth
has your
understanding underwent?
Have the spiritual error compounds
been sufficiently H2O,
tear baptismal broken down?
Growing Up Sub-Zero
looking down at all my childhood hero's
lifeline crossing borderlines we immigrant we gotta make our peso dinero
Im growing up in a hot neighborhood yet it can get cold hearted SUB-ZERO.
Alarm clock screams, it's time to rise,
bye bye sleepy dreams, into the lows from last night's highs,
ready yourself for the line or the cubicle cage,
tell yourself you'll be fine, while you silently rage,
what new rules will come today,
avoiding the fools and the sheep that bray,
newsmen divide and your social feed echoes,
be careful with your pride or you're suffering woes,
reach for the dial and your favorite noise,
mile after mile with a secret weapon of choice,
how much longer can you keep it up,
bosses are getting younger, bereft of common sense in their coffee cup,
peso and the rupee got more value than the dollar,
dwindling value of a college degree, into the streets they scream and holler,
women acting like men and men becoming women,
asinine feelings are destroying the true feminine,
can't afford the things you want to buy,
living on a shoestring brings a heavy sigh,
us and them have increasing identity,
moans from bedlam have become normality,
T.V shows have lost the plot,
anything goes, it's nothing but rot,
advert breaks are just for big Parma,
they've got the pills for your latest drama,
another fresh face in the workplace,
someone's son or daughter sent for the slaughter,
the old are pushed aside and the youth have no pride,
tradition has begun to crumble, careful where you tread, you may tumble,
no respect for the true and too much ego for the false,
skies and seas no longer blue, people too quick to highlight your faults,
isms and phobias are handed out,
while ancient axioms are argued about,
can't help worrying about people,
hurrying and scurrying and running up the big steep hill,
so many fragile egos seeking likes and clicks,
just beggars with an empty bag of tricks,
frettin' and sweatin' what you're not gettin',
no one cares you're not thrivin' or gettin' thin,
for a cheeseburger and fries is a quick and easy meal,
instant gratification is the prize, gotta satiate the current feel,
local store sells things from foreign soil,
globalization has many hells, but who really cares of anothers sweat and cheaper toil,
keep on, keeping on, with no true goal in sight,
you're a king or a queen, not a pawn, deep down you know life isn't right.
'
..
the
sweat
of the man
that plows is
worth a peso
in this fertile
ground
flying around in the attic
crashing into the walls
these dark angels never sleep
circle games and bocce balls
old men on sidewalks
blind canes tapping
faucets dripping iron
ghosts, ghosts
I smell the fear
vipers fangs
antique dogs barking
cluttered rooms
play ground to the dead
I play rummy with them on Saturday night’s
to try and keep the peace
but they don’t like to lose
nothing worse that two timing spirits
they can’t hold their liquor
and soon a fight begins
I’ts a regular cowboy Saturday night with them
peso cigars and tequila
things usually settle down around dawn
and they sleep the day away
But come midnight they’ll be at it again.
I don’t know why I stay here.
I think it’s the cheap rent and transparency of it all
They say life is just death on vacation but I think there’s more to it than that…
But hey I'm still alive…I think
They argued about the ruble, the kyat, the gold cordoba too
More conversation about lira, Swiss franc, and Moldova Leu.
Discussion soon turned to the rupee, new peso and Brazilian real,
Money talk ceased as they lined up for their evening meal.