The Poetry Marathon

“What do you bet?” said my consciesness to me,

like I don’t get the idea of what to do on spare time,

remembering the clay before melted, when it was a bunny,

swan, bat, fox or any other cliché animal portrayed in beauty.

Smokes and haze from times that were eaten by forgetful regrets

are just lurking out from sound of the cartilage within

ages are used as stain and drain out like chalk scraps floating.

Therefore a moment is used to catch all that without a photograph

“Why you’re so sensitive? Could you be much more of a robot?”

replied the man from the past without knowing he’ll kill my core

as I dried something from a human echoes said in the back “Keep it still”,

opening his disregard upon me something seal it,

the eyes wide unlocked and extent by it sight are now lagoons,

don’t worry, behind the lacrimal courtains there is a life

When I was younger than my brain can remember,

I was embraces by walnut trees, they became my ceiling,

so when I was there my breath feel like oil from all that nuts falling,

my head chocked with the creepling and echoing sound of the skull,

they didn’t got squirrels, but smelled like soap and iron,

my blood tasted the same as that tree before me,

someone in the background will tought me not to be there,

at the ground were buried the bodies of revolutionaries, and some witches,

abuelita will said that her dad will visit some relatives near the aisle,

because nobody get flowers to the cemetary away from town,

Ciudad Victoria keep all that rumbling in my soul,

remembering how the sound of locked lions was heard from a furthest place

turn off some of mi biggest fears, but those are the ones that serve as seeds

so when the time pass by become something from growth,

my memory needs to buy that place and save it in this words.

Hapiness is fake if you standarize it, but for our own

could or should or must work, dunno

If coinditionals show posibilities,

then there will be more than

one moon, beest will rise

like locked down rebels,

robots against dehumanizing

will tire the tires of▄▄▄ 

talking through the hat,

some of them knot their ties

so children voices understand

the end and sick of it all,

but beasts will crackle from plants and skeleton logs

they and us will not know.

Asleep, awake, shaken dream

           by no side

It is known that you want something in return,

like the microscopical crawling waves over the skin,

but when the strange bottle with fireflies arrive from dreams

the fade in the light like something masked

flies and mosquitos go around, breaking calm

guide to chicken broth, arise the table and damnation,

this is a large silence, poisoning the enviroment,

If you zoom to a treeline lethargy will get there

At the end there is still the heat of it.

I’m 🗣↗🦜✍

then 😥🔃🐣

so 🏃‍♀️⏳☯, 🎵🎶

🏍🦼🎡 alas 🧶🧸

🧿⚔👄 voice 🎗🎗
🤠⏭🐔🐎🦌

I’ve just unscramble and open the skin of my soul,

and for the way of being you and me and some of it,

not being part of nothing, feeling part of walls,

trapped in between as a chanting of the stones,

new ones build up from wires and mixtures of nails,

trying to forget what was allready inside,

ghost snails slime through the plates,

at the blue buddle, hinding in soapy water.

There’s nopal spikes and chile inside my feelings

I got soulache

Lightshine moisture rock, air full with petricor,

a linked birdsong which reminds of Thra and any tepetl,

the softly tune of tiring tires going from the road,

grateful tears about leaves in trees, dried out for summer

pending love in a tangling knot not embrace to life,

leaving cardenche inside this soul, spike that gets in heart,

a gutter going throun my nerves and veins shaking it all inside

another pea from the floor stays quiet in the earth.

Then, breaking the silence, you heard something intruding

¡Oí nomás ese cumbión bien perrolocochón!

Gahtering forces around languages trying to not lock but inleash,

so nature is into it and something will get their rythm by Saturn Day

A chance to be alive and breathing, this is the perfect day, it is today

With coloured fabric the sky is full with surprises

against odds time flies briefly in a subject,

spining while falling ideas into hair from hare above,

roaring cascabel matters and it starts to shake

when it rains everything sound like tingling,

sand and dusty cement cloud rattles everything,

but frantic umbrellas go around to protect,

something tries to unapollagetically be

a healing of fireflies and dirt from striped cat,

a heinus way of stay, but they protect.

Sombrillas paraguas umbrellas shadow keepers

let me go from all af the above with a whisper song

Its been a while, like three years since you wen out of this world to the unknown,
I’m not sure what that must be like, allways think about you as some unreachable being,
you live most plagues from the beginnig of twnty century, and you get to the beginning of twenty one,
I don’t know what to tell you, solo sabías español y eso es lo que importaba, but you knew how to ask how was I,
“¿Cómo estás, santa m’ija?” you told me many times.

I have asked mom, your daughter who still misses you out, what would have you do at this pandemic state, she told me that you would tell us to survive, and just enjoy each day like the last one, I’m still taking that advice.

Lockdown is a thing here, but at least you can tell me to wash my chones para que no esté toda chamagosa.

We’re okay now, just let you know we could not go out, there’s still an emergency, but we keep it up with a smile.

Loves and highs ’til the unknown, miss you a lot

Waking with fuzzy hair, I just met Bop today
as nobody expected, shamely invited it on a date,
this somebody or someone got awkwardly silent,
I was its reflection on mirror that couldn’t watch.
We both heard the golondrina morning sound,
Mind something in the roof, or in my mind.

Beyond of all, locked people are still feeling fine

How I’ll get there with noise in my head and fuzzinez inside?
maybe Bop and I just met today so we got an insight,
I’m myself a trash can of idead, but Bop is there being balm,
playing or saying that everything is about to somehow be okay
remind me of how life is a struggle or how things gone to far,
Its somehow comforting about madness or apocalypse, calm,
do I must give it coffee, tea, some kind of liquid dight?
or again it’s maybe that we got to know eachother right?

Beyond of all, locked people are still feeling fine

I got instead an idea of cutting the bad things around,
listening the bugbie or dogs by the chaos in their bark,
or watching the rampage passings of a group of cars,
they look chill, making a delay smoke like no one cares about,
Chalco and Ixtapaluca are here, breathing earth and warm,
Bop is still trying to tell me to not be affraid of earthquake sound.

Beyond of all, locked people are still feeling fine.