|Transference In The Epic Present Tense
soils my hand
which molds the mud
into realities shaped
malleably in thought
concrete as clay karts,
the national hero’s bust,
i love riding that beast,
an albino breed that feeds
off Sabas’ calloused half-Spanish palm
of the backhand that meets
foreheads wont to wrinkle
like his –
like the coco sap’s supposed to
age to perfection prior to wetting mine
and my siblings’ juvenile palettes.
Dolores is the one
with reddish brown teeth and gums
with a structure petit and dominant
in math-wiz mother Violeta
and the subsequent generations.
it’s summer again:
family friends wait in line for their portraits
in ballpoint ink; [i need no pencil nor cheers
nor payment but their stuporic indulgence
at a distance…]
we all get our manes trimmed by
Felix Sr.’s shears
as his better half, Matilde, stands
by his side
cautioning us through her
well-tended teeth against
any jerky movement that leads to
a bloody coiffure.
[i say i’m hardheaded but the scar
on my scalp disagrees
and Capt. Felix Jr. gets to pin my medals
if he gets a chance away from the bridge…]
Flame used to be Baby Flame,
used to be without an "hubby-Nikko"**
and a "Craig-baby"***;
medaled through history, used to
now plays the guitar and has songs to
Ken is still Ken but now with an Aura Aurora
tending to Keanu and KC,
no time to be lazy
just like me; artistic juices brew well
and rapidly –
ping-pong, pencil, tribal, techno,
roots, rock, reggae, et cetera.
Felix III is, of course, the third
commencing eight Ken years after,
GameBoy master, slave to the music,
always has a crush on her,
almost ready to impart parts
of the genetic helix…
at summer’s end we head back out to
the busy streets bloating with memories –
dearly stored in the mind’s belly –
of golden days etched in our skin, runnin'
on hills carefree, chasin' chickens n' kins
lyin' on grass at night listenin' to crickets
or folklores or ghost or war stories…
at home now, with figurines, thinking of an
immediate offspring to the previous utopia –
in the city only to fill my 60-liter pack
and rush to the outskirts where
Juan's-A-Cave's majestic limerock
stands prouder than ever
somewhere in her pale façade, a 5.10 route
awaits my fragile sweaty hands and Elvis
Presley feet, determined to defy the odds
and rise beyond the crux to gain
the right to never let her be lonely again
with a name to her given
rightfully, so verily:
* written a few hours ago
in honor of my next of kin:
my maternal grannies
Dolores and Sabas
my paternal grannies
Matilde and Felix Sr.
Violeta and Felix Jr.
my sister [Baby] Flame, brother-in-law Nikko,
and nephew Craig Johann
my brother Ken, sister-in-law Aura Aurora,
nephew Keanu, and niece KC
my brother Felix III
and the one that
Love you all Eternally,
i'd also like to express my love for and
appreciation of our two schizophrenic
cousins who, for quite a time, had their
turns in babysitting us first three kids,
with our married/spinster aunts and
** to be pronounced alternately as "abanico"
(Spanish for "fan")
*** to be pronounced alternately as "cry baby"
6 Apr 08
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it's got the parts of an epic, the humor is delicious, within the ink portraits (detail that I love), i like how l8-12 make up the concrete bridge to the part where the figures with their humor and tragedy announce the tragedy and pathetic condition of humans in general, and i sense you disapprove, the follies, bellies, babies, Felix III being the most hilarious, in my opinion, and then how recalling summer dreams in lines 68-71 make up the passing towards the portrait of your own life, with your thoughts and your loved one, the dispute over what is young-old.. i like the dedication.. and how the starting lines say i was and am a child that played in mud, and with thoughts, but also can be interpreted as we are all of the ground, transient, nature's course is the same for all.
love the poem, maybe more than the before ones, but i've felt that for each poem i read of yours :)
thank you so much, nisetru.
i view and write this from a lighthearted perspective.
it is much lengthier than my usual so i call it an epic
of the past, present, and future written in the present
tense. some parts are meant to be read literally but
i'm glad it works on other levels as well.
very, very nice work.
worth reading through quite a few times .. agreed that this is good work, good thoughts, good weave...
like it :)
hi, DeformedLion. thanks for your appreciation.
that unit of measure is "liter" in our tongue, "litre"
in yours...but i might try to sound British/Aussie
hi, Mongrol. you're very kind.
i struggle so hard in every attempt i make here
and it's just so good that the effort has attained
some level of significance for poets like you.
thanks for your poetry.
added a little "P.S." there if someone cares to read, hehe.
Is there really a need for poets to struggle just to attain some level of significance for other poets? Thought poetry is an effortless and spontaneous organization of thoughts presented through words with meaning beyond it's surface. Didn't mean to be offensive...just a bit shaken by your revelation, lord fractalcore.
Anyway, it's a 10...not for the effort but for the poem itself. :)
the poem is the poet, really. and the artist can't be that
creative all the time and it's a struggle everytime he
writes/creates as if it were the very first time he ever
had -- which is verily the case.
thank you for reading and your kindness.
thanks for dropping by and for faving, rask.
wow what a big family affair and quite an interesting share fractalcore -- I can see where u get ur genyous for words that care
this is so ridiculously well done. i love it.
the only thing is the italics in the title. the title just reads smoother without it. but, that's just me.
the writing is most excellent. it is so creative and, has much to offer.
good work. a ten.
though, if the title wasn't italicized, surprisingly that would make a difference. shouldn't but would. however, i see how it makes the poem seem final, and if that is the argument, leave it be, for certain.
Tried to re-read your poem now with a clearer thought...umm...If only every breathing and rational entity in this world would value their significant other the way you have prepared yourself for the conquering of the majestic limerock summit...tsk! tsk! tsk!
...then I guess nobody would shed a tear for anybody
you're very kind, AlchemiA.
always a pleasure to have you here.
thank you so much for your appreciation.
i write all my tributes in italics.
and thank you for your poetry.
the tributes' titles in italics, that is.
happymole, thank you for the comeback.
you amaze me with your realizations...
and you got it right.
ptriumvirate, thank you so much for reading this
piece and for your appreciation.
hope you'll drop by more often.
thank you, too, markfellician.
saw my 2-year old nephew Craig Johann 2 days ago.
a really amazing kid he is.
first time i met him since he was born and i'm proud to the
uncle of very smart kids.
it is, after all, my mother and youngest brother's
birthmonth, so i'm bumping this up.
also, i think it was the month when i first met my
I am courting Diana, and I live in Bulgaria.
who, do you suppose, has the advantage?
I am a wealthy, bisexual polyglot.
that's a good one, unk.
i'm poor as a rat and straight and have
nothing to offer her but poetry; that's the
only language i know to respond to her buzz.
she'll always be my poem, so...
do you want her home address and phone number?
i'm proud of you, i miss you,
and i love you, mother...
happy mother's day.