Hate

I hate to wake up so early in the morning to go to work, and just thinking “well, that’s the way of the world,” or “that’s just the way things are,” is not enough to justify to myself the waking up of so early in the morning.

I hate to wake up early in the morning, and the though, “I’m not lazy,” doesn’t quite give me the satisfaction to make up for the fact that I hate to wake up so early in the morning.

I hate to wake up early in the morning because I do it for something I don’t really care much about, and for people I don't know, and the thought, “I’m a productive member of society,” doesn’t quite give me the incentive to do it so early every morning.

I hate waking up early in the morning. I don’t mind working, but I hate it that I have no choice and can’t do it when I want to; I have to do it everyday for five days a week because I have to buy food, pay for my roof, and buy clothes (they got me by the balls).

While we can

Let’s not rush to decadence where we have to explain our opulence

Let’s stay hungry—not starving

Let’s shake and agitate

Let’s not drown from too much and let’s not perish from severe lack

In the meantime

Let’s express ourselves while we have coherence

The time may come when we’ll be too close to our source and we will make sense no more

Let’s spend our energy now that we have it

The time may come when once it disperses, it does not return again

Laugh now as often and as loud as we can

Because later the funny will elude us

Cry and be emotional now that we can

Because later the numbness won’t let us

Be foolish now while we can because later we’ll have to explain ourselves

Clipped-winged wonder

It is like looking at you through a window

You are like us, a

And how we dance

We, the clipped-winged wonders

Sometimes awkwardly

Sometimes in tune

Sometimes out of whack

Sometimes even sublimely

But always touched by a hint of the grotesque

We are what we are

So I look at you as if through a window

Sometimes you seem close

Sometimes hopelessly out of reach

But there you are      there you are

Dream

I dream of the day when people will realize the pointlessness of their oppressive ways, a day when people will realize that even though their bodies mature (because no body wins the fight against time), their selves remain spiritually childish (and some of us even remain mentally so).

I dream of the day when people will finally break their boundaries and zip past this artificial delay. We want the most toys and we want to dominate. We are children in a playground un-sophisticatedly going through life.

Planet wanderer

I’m a street writer

I get inspired outdoors

You probably saw me somewhere with a backpack on

and a beer in my hand

You probably saw me taking a notepad and a pen out and putting words down on paper

You saw me rolling a cigarette and you probably thought nothing of me

But you did not see me for long because I go places: I’m a street writer and a planet wanderer

Of course we feel bad

Of course we feel bad sometimes

We haven't always made the right choices

But it is not something the lights reflecting on the tiny ripples of the water cannot handle and make feel better

It isn't anything that the greenery of the spring season cannot deal with

The wild flowers cannot soothe

The overflowing green leaves – along rivers and parks – cannot alleviate

The drinking of a beer – or two or three – in the afternoon cannot ameliorate

Or the smoking of the occasional cigarette cannot lessen

Of course we feel bad sometimes, but it's nothing the lonely stars of the city of Berlin cannot identify with

Yes we feel bad, but the weeping willow understands

Desperation

This is written with the spirit of desperation coming from Detroit’s battered neighborhoods

This is for the ones at the brink of homelessness

It speaks for the already homeless

Sleeping in front of stores in Montevideo and in the parks of Berlin

It speaks to the confused who can’t “get with the program”

To whoever needs a push to follow their paths

And to the traveler running out of funds and growing old

If this is not for you, put it down

Line up to see what everybody else  is looking at

Be one of the crowd – yeah, and still think that you’re unique

Who cares?

It’s OK, you’ll probably never get what a drag, what a bore, you were

Of course you’ll never get what a pathetic life you lived

Your life meant nothing

You were one of the million-junk-food-costumers

Another drone

Your brain was paper weight

You could’ve wasted away on drugs and it wouldn’t have mattered—but perhaps you would’ve had more fun

You sat on the passenger seat and ate ice cream—you looked bored

You repeated what you were told to repeat

You wore what you were told to wear

You went to work when indicated

And you went to war when ordered

You wasted precious life in front of television screens

You were only a line in the tally, a dot in the statistical curve

Moooooo! Mooooo! Moooooo! Goes the cow

Baaaaah! Baaaaaaah! Baaaaaah! Goes the sheep

Be happy chasing after body parts that self-lubricate

Go play with a herd of male organs

Go on

This is only for those who haven’t made up their mind whether to live or to leave

For the ones inconvenienced by the pesky game of survival and the efforts to mask its grotesqueness

(To package it, and to present it as something decent)

This is for the one that sits alone at midnight staring at the water

If it’s not for you, go on, read Walt Disney

This is for the one awake at 3 am thinking WTF?

The one looking around in frustration and puzzlement

Not fort the followers of celebrities. (Oh no, I too poop says the celebrity surprised and disappointed)

This is for the desperate on the verge of suicide, for the disgruntled with no way out

—It won’t make sense to anybody else—

This is for the ones who understand the passion and pain of the penitent

This is for “smart” people

The system destroys whoever doesn’t “get with the program”

But why keep quiet about it

We insist in belonging to a corral, and if we don’t, we make one for ourselves

I may not be a wolf but to me one sheep is as good as a cow

This is for anybody in the system

These are combative writings, the writings of an underdog, not bedtime stories

We are what we are and do what we do because we refused to give in to the cookie cutter

Now we suffer the pressure meant to break us