Grand Central Station
alas listless and lifeless
Zeno here lays man
the stoicism
in his blood sustained him but
human daemon
did not intervene
still he held on a witness
to nothing but dreams
Logos who do you trust
the mote in his crying eyes
or the beam obscured
by the lies in yours
thus succumbs by the hands of
dogma and doxa
he’s in a little cedar box
with an American flag tied to him
she sighs through the cat hair
and dust in the sunlight of the room
particles dance float and flip
she speaks in tender fondness
sweet pink cotton candy memories
for my ears to receive
now their father is gone too
the remains? they will cremate
him soon
she ponders for 37 seconds
should they share the cedar box
then she changes her mind
the radio music pounds in fog
from somewhere in her bathroom
i don’t think the children would
like that
for my second husband to share
a resting place with my last one
upon arriving to the designated meeting place she saw her there, a slump of pain encased in ancient royal flesh filled with torment and cheap hooch. alas her man had died. she regrets thinking that he was fucking another whore, when in reality he bestowed upon her his last gasping grunts.
face sullen the weight
of loss betwixt her glimmer
lies she tells herself
el portal llama
mala vida acaba
la suerte salva
the
last
day
he
smiled
and
stood
quietly
to
feel
God’s
rainbow
bless
him
Che Guevara / Amal Murkus
https://open.spotify.com/track/7itWreJjHK6oDM66FaG7Vb?utm_source=samsung&utm_medium=keyboard
today they’ll bury the 7
and hell has now imploded
silence in his scream
the noise in between
rage and shame
dissipated away in the fog
there will be no match
in a durge to the bravado
of your life you way your death
today they will not bury
rage pain hate sting fate
helplessness is not charity
dignity is gambled away
your darkness washed away
clearing the way for come what may
larger than life
you taunted the death
which inevitably takes all of us
no more yells pounding beats fueled by broken ideals
with heart in hand
and blunt inhaled
triumphant in your world
yet crying on the dark side
of the moon
hoy enterrarán al 7
y el infierno ahora ha implosionado
silencio en su grito
el ruido en el medio
rabia y vergüenza
disipado en la niebla
no habrá partido
en un duro a la bravuconería
de tu vida tu camino tu muerte
hoy no enterrarán
rabia dolor odio picadura destino
impotencia no es caridad
la dignidad se juega
tu oscuridad se lavó
despejando el camino para lo que pase
mas largo que la vida
te burlaste de la muerte
que inevitablemente nos lleva a todos
no más gritos golpeando ritmos impulsados por ideales rotos.
con el corazón en la mano
y contundentemente inhalado
triunfante en tu mundo
aún llorando en el lado oscuro
de la luna
words less spoken 