i wish to connect with you more often,
but this metro life just doesn’t allow it. it drains the soul of man & makes it hard for one to just escape into the world of peace found in el campo where the breeze can bring you to sleep after listening to the music of the coquí.
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these nightmare come often,
nightmares of continued work in a place i don’t want to be. nightmares of a life wasted working to survive cause real dreams & aspirations had to be put to the side just to exist in a world where those dreams had to be left as nothing but a memento of one’s childhood. they come in all forms & sizes,
these dreams of a beautiful, stress-free life where the economy doesn’t become a worry, where i can just chill & work on what i love. these dreams come in all forms & sizes, but they never come true & don’t become attainable despite the many hours i’ve put into my work. i brush away words
as images of basquiat, pollock, goya & van gogh filter through my thoughts & i dream to be as great as them one day, but in my way, in my style as i’m sure they would’ve advised any pupil they would’ve had. i try to go HAM on every poem that i write,
but i’m sadly not MJ providing a GOAT-like performance every single night. i try my best though & that’s always good, but it could definitely be better. i’ve never really practiced you formally,
the little moves i got seem to be inherited passed down from my abuelo onto me. at least that’s how i can justify those average salsa & merengue dance moves i display in family gatherings or in music-filled nights with my beloved. i miss you,
old friend. i wish i could work with you, old friend. sadly, time doesn’t allow me to work with you, old friend. but don’t worry, old friend. i’m trying to organize myself so we can work again, old friend. memories & all sorts of stories
stored in a piece of photography that hangs on a wall. sometimes
days are a little better when we admire laziness like shikamaru. so many metaphors
of our endless greed found on our newsfeeds, but we fail to grasp them. WE OFTEN MISUNDERSTAND EACH OTHER
& REFUSE TO ACKNOWLEDGE IT CAUSE WE DESIRE TO BELIEVE HYPERBOLES RATHER THAN TRUTH. STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP
ROOOOAAAARRRR BLAAAAAAAAAAAAZE ROOOOAAAARRRR & an entire city goes up in flame as a kaiju slowly claims its kingdom. why not do it more often?
integrate emoji to our poetría as it becomes part of our norm just like any other form of slang we’ve gathered through the net. micropoetría pa’ presentar una pintura
en pocas directas palabras y que el lector y la audiencia se la pueda crear fácilmente, sin problema alguno. practicando la prosa
pa’ expandir la expresión pa’ expandir la documentación pa’ contar diferentes historias de diferentes maneras. el miedo siempre está por el respeto que le tengo, pero eso no me detendrá de meter mano. so many memories we share.
i don’t think we’ll be able to document ‘em all, but we can try through all forms of art, media, entertainment & of course speech. despite all the similes we share,
we still talk in codes with those closest to us in languages, linguistics & dialects we’ve created amongst ourselves for generations. yes, yes,
dejando la mente run free cause that’s all i wanna be when i use these methods of expression without concentration just spitting words on the screen without using green though there is green on the screen though there is not much to say cause my mind is going away as the world of sleep slowly awaits for me using text from “Chainsaw” by Ramones
Sitting here Sitting here nothing to do thinking only of you get out of there get out of there oh-woah SMLCMEDHR
RQPALJAB QLPASYS TEEA PTTCYE se mueven las cabezas mientras el dúo hace ruido, ruido que pone a la juventú a bailar que los pone a sudar y soltar todo el estrés acumulado por tormentas, temblores, corrupción y enfermedades. plant a seed of doubt
& minds will start working, some more than others. disturbed people roam these streets
& they can’t be detained. the power of man has an extent. it cannot possibly monitor every single disturbed individual. dizzy kids
lost in a dizzy world that fails to remedy the constant dizziness. one would think
we would show disgust after reading news of another gruesome death, but no. we’ve grown accustomed to it. across time bloodshed & more have become part of the norm. life seems to get more difficult
with each passing day. this life in la metro, man, so much stress bottled up. you can feel it in the way people drive. you can feel it in the way people do their shopping. it’s a rough way to live, pero se hace porque se debe. |
AuthorFernando E. E. Correa González is the author behind over 30 self-published poetry books. He has been published by literary magazines & journals [Id]entidad, El Vicio del Tintero, Sábanas Magazine, Smaeralit, The Occulum, Tonguas and Hound Magazine. Other than writing, Correa is also the host of FENCast, a podcast dedicated to documenting the Puerto Rican independent art scene. Aside from this, he experiments with filmmaking, photography, drawing, painting, multimedia and transmedia. He currently lives in his native Puerto Rico. Archives
December 2022
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