Defense Mechanisms

Horseback riding strife
taking in acrid smoke
you ought to know the smell

Life's a broken road
driven on an iron horse
iron clad, it runs so well

Don't let them whisper into my ear
You know what they'll do
they'll do voodoo

I used to close the drapes
make it all just go away
'till I saw the darnest thing

Red hot tracks
ran a crazy train
unlobotomized brain

Don't let them whisper into my ear
You know what they'll do
they'll do voodoo

Madness undefined
living in an empty box
its amazing what you see

White gloves, white cloves
its all the same to me
gone is my sanity

Don't let them whisper into my ear
You know what they'll do
they'll do witchcraft
they'll do magic
they'll do voodoo

                     -JPA

Bitter Dreams

I must have been dreaming that night you existed,
I must have been sleeping that day you appeared.
But merely a fantasy, a shadow so twisted
a delusion of joy hiding all that I feared.

I wanted a flower, and I got a petal;
I wanted an ocean and I got pond.
So I lie here on this cold, dark metal
washing away with tears that of which I'm fond.

When did our dreams die? When did we stop?
When did I realize I can't see the top?
In case I can't see you, this message I'll send:
"I'll meet you again at the place where dreams end."

~Haruki

Lester William

The are no craftsmen anymore

there are no passionate makers

now the goal is not perfeccion

now the goal is greater income

But with passion comes a greater skill
and with passion it is greater still
Every touch on the wood made a different sound
Every touch of the raw materials had its voice

The creator is no longer emmbedded unto the creation
The creature is left to roam alone
to sound as it pleases as long as it makes money
to sound nothing like they ever did before
when creatures where angels

when men where creators

There will never be a perfect design again

There are no real craftsmen, not anymore

-JPA

The Sacrifice

No eyes have seen them but mine.
Though I put on a mask for the world,
though I dry them and move on,
They know what they've seen; the traced line.

I'll be your sacrifice,
I'll be whole.
I'll hide the hollow within.
You won't know: nothing is whole.

I'll smile a tearful smile for you,
I'll sing a song of sorrow,
I'll write a silent symphony.
You won't know: no one is whole.

A spark of hope deep within my heart,
is to know that I've kept you in the dark.
I will endure this pain for you.
Whether I make through it or not,
I'll be your sacrifice.

You will never know this,
I don't want you to know.
You won't cry, you won't scream,
you won't despair, and you won't know:
Nothing is whole.
No one is whole.
I am not whole.
I fly on broken wings.

~Haruki

...What the fuck did you just say?

Wether you think you know it
or wether you know you think it
doesn't matter
because in the end
if you are what you think
and then think what you are
then you are no more
and if you are
you stop being
because you thought of being
before you were
and you think before you exist
by that logic, we never are
or could never be
because if we thought of being
being being in itself the thought
we would no longer exist
or begin to exist
because we did not exist before

                                      -JPA
I dare you to read this poem outloud ten times as fast as you can

Introducing

The Monday Poet.

Because, let's face it, they were here first and, therefore, most are probably long gone by now. Give them a hand and circle them about, will you? I know I'd love to meet them.

No Quisiera que Lloviera

No quisiera que lloviera
te lo juro
que lloviera en esta ciudad
sin ti
y escuchar los ruidos del agua
al bajar
y pensar que allí donde estás viviendo
sin mí
llueve sobre la misma ciudad
Quizás tengas el cabello mojado
el teléfono a mano
que no usas
para llamarme
para decirme
esta noche te amo
me inundan los recuerdos de ti
discúlpame, la literatura me mató
pero te le parecías tanto.

Diáspora, Barcelona, 1976.

Blasfemo

Profeta de malas palabras
Hijo de Barrabas
Los caminos se te cierran
Las espinas se te entierran
No podrás escapar
Tu pecado te va a encontrar
Por donde te escurras
Por donde te escondas
Profeta, ser vil y rastrero
Terminaras de pordiosero
Maldito ladrón de tumbas
Desgraciado tifón de almas
Sufrirás

                           -JPA