The door of the apartment opens,
A girl enters,
Lisa her name,
Sixteen, her age.
She throws her bag on the couch,
Another day was coming to an end,
Her shirt has a stain
From Herbert spilling orange juice on her.
She switches on the TV.
Oh, her favourite soap.
Will Jessie marry Carla?
the phone rings.
It's Shanece.
She wants to talk about her boyfriend,
As usual,
Lisa told her she had homework.
It's four o'clock,
Got to fix dinner,
Macaroni and cheese with grilled chicken,
Maybe a salad.
It's now nine o'clock.
Her dad comes home.
Drunk.
Angry.
He does not like the dinner.
He slaps her
And punches her.
He turns to go to the den
To drink some more.
Things were different,
Her father was different
When her mother was alive.
Now the blows reign.
Things would have been
Different
If mom was here.
Her skin is chocolate brown,
Her hair is short,
Her style is eccentric.
She was born in a world
Of two people,
The wannabes
And the worldlies.
The wannabes,
People who want to be.
They want to be hip,
They want to be chic,
But have never succeeded.
The worldlies,
People who have seen more
Than the wannabes,
Experienced more
But that was all they did.
She is not a part of these people.
She is of a different race,
The other people do not understand her,
Her clothes,
Her taste,
Her moods,
So they put her down.
One day,
She left her world
To visit another
There she found people
Of different races.
There she found a part of her race
This is her world
In this world,
There are the worldlies
But they were just in the background.
Now she cares not for these people
In her world
Because she will always be part
Of a world
Greater than her own.
Her hair is short,
Her style is eccentric.
She was born in a world
Of two people,
The wannabes
And the worldlies.
The wannabes,
People who want to be.
They want to be hip,
They want to be chic,
But have never succeeded.
The worldlies,
People who have seen more
Than the wannabes,
Experienced more
But that was all they did.
She is not a part of these people.
She is of a different race,
The other people do not understand her,
Her clothes,
Her taste,
Her moods,
So they put her down.
One day,
She left her world
To visit another
There she found people
Of different races.
There she found a part of her race
This is her world
In this world,
There are the worldlies
But they were just in the background.
Now she cares not for these people
In her world
Because she will always be part
Of a world
Greater than her own.
Don't you wish Friday would come
Instead of Monday.
Before the weekend,
The end of the school week.
Don't you wish when you woke up
It was Friday,
Instead of Tuesday
With three days still to come.
Don't you wish that yesterday
And tomorrow
Were Fridays
Instead of Wednesday
Surrounded by Tuesday and Thursday.
Don't you wish
That Friday would be here
In minutes instead of hours,
So that Thursday would end
Taking with it my misery.
Aren't you glad Friday is here,
The week has ended
And it's just hours
Before the end of school.
All I have to say is
Thank God It's Friday!
Instead of Monday.
Before the weekend,
The end of the school week.
Don't you wish when you woke up
It was Friday,
Instead of Tuesday
With three days still to come.
Don't you wish that yesterday
And tomorrow
Were Fridays
Instead of Wednesday
Surrounded by Tuesday and Thursday.
Don't you wish
That Friday would be here
In minutes instead of hours,
So that Thursday would end
Taking with it my misery.
Aren't you glad Friday is here,
The week has ended
And it's just hours
Before the end of school.
All I have to say is
Thank God It's Friday!
Eric Aguilar Poetry Reading
Originally uploaded by paulinebalba
This morning, while I was at work I got a call on my cell. I didn't recognize the number and as I was preoccupied I didn't catch the lady's name who was speaking to me. A request was made to have me read a poem at an opening ceremony. Although the timing was dodgy, I said yes I would do it. So on Monday I will be reading or reciting a poem I still have to write. Holy crap I have to write a poem!! The topic should be about culture or unity. I'm picking unity, I have the bones of the poem in my head but I have to flesh it out and memorize it and practice it. Thank God I took that public speaking class.
The organizer of Poetry in Motion is performing as well so hopefully I can get the video from one of the poetry nights. Wish me luck, I've got a lot of work to do.
Desperation, Frustration, Confusion.
Three feelings that sends the human being looney.
Twisting their judgment of the world
Into a little scrap of paper,
Thrown into the waste paper basket of never never land.
Desperation when all things
Look hopeless
And the only way out
Is to do something
You would never do.
Frustration breaks you
When the chips are down.
Nothing will ever go right
In the once thought to be perfect life
Which only exist in the mind.
Confusion is confusing
So we try to understand
Something we do not understand
And soon we are lost
In an ocean of confusion.
Then we can not take it anymore,
We slowly do things that seem so different.
Talk to people
Our minds only see.
The long walks on the sides of highways.
Then the name crazy is tagged.
Every move made is analyzed
To death.
No longer human,
But crazy.
(pic: vi.sualize.us)
Spit the words
Out of my mouth
Like venom
From a snake bite.
Never caring
Of the consequences
That may ensue.
I wait.
I wait
To hear the response.
I wait
To see the reaction.
Hoping.
Praying to God
That it is what I want
To hear,
To see.
You come close,
You look deep
Into the abyss
Of my dark eyes
And you respond.
God has smiled at me,
My hopes have become reality.
I am happy
And the world
Doesn't feel so lonely.
Out of my mouth
Like venom
From a snake bite.
Never caring
Of the consequences
That may ensue.
I wait.
I wait
To hear the response.
I wait
To see the reaction.
Hoping.
Praying to God
That it is what I want
To hear,
To see.
You come close,
You look deep
Into the abyss
Of my dark eyes
And you respond.
God has smiled at me,
My hopes have become reality.
I am happy
And the world
Doesn't feel so lonely.
What is love?
If I looked it up in a dictionary,
I would get something
Like "a sincere feeling towards someone,"
But to be honest
I have never experience
The thing called love.
What is this thing?
Is it the feeling
Of eternal happiness?
That someone cares deeply for you.
Is it when you call that person
Just to say the words,
I love you?
Well,
I guess
I haven't felt it,
But when I do
I will love that person
With all my heart,
With all my soul
And he would be my love.
Sitting under
My palm tree
Of serenity,
I would look
Onto the sea
Of the unknown.
Next to my palm tree
Are others
Sitting under
Their trees
Of serenity.
The elders,
The told me
Not to swim in this sea,
I will be swept under
By the currents
And become overwhelmed
Like others before me.
One night,
While the others slept,
I went to the sea
And began to swim.
The under currents held me
And took me under,
But I did not feel overwhelmed
And soon I swam up to the surface.
I understood the unknown.
I walked out of the sea
And sat under my palm tree
And slept.
The next day,
I longed to swim.
The next,
I yearned.
The next,
I went crazy,
And I went to swim
And I never came back.
My palm tree
Of serenity,
I would look
Onto the sea
Of the unknown.
Next to my palm tree
Are others
Sitting under
Their trees
Of serenity.
The elders,
The told me
Not to swim in this sea,
I will be swept under
By the currents
And become overwhelmed
Like others before me.
One night,
While the others slept,
I went to the sea
And began to swim.
The under currents held me
And took me under,
But I did not feel overwhelmed
And soon I swam up to the surface.
I understood the unknown.
I walked out of the sea
And sat under my palm tree
And slept.
The next day,
I longed to swim.
The next,
I yearned.
The next,
I went crazy,
And I went to swim
And I never came back.
Bones jotting out,
Skin wrapped
Tightly around
The small amount
Of muscle
And bone.
Hoards of makeup
brushed and applied
To the face.
Hair placed in
Awkward styles
As smoke
Drifts up
And twists and coils
From the perfect lips
Of the perfect person.
Is that what you want
Me to be?
Afraid to enjoy
Having an ounce
Of fat?
Am I suppose to look
Like that perfect person
Who spends forever
To look like that?
Well, honey,
If you want me
To look like that,
You don't expect me
To be able to do calculus
And generally me.
I'm human
And proud of it.
* At the time I was very good at calculus.
Skin wrapped
Tightly around
The small amount
Of muscle
And bone.
Hoards of makeup
brushed and applied
To the face.
Hair placed in
Awkward styles
As smoke
Drifts up
And twists and coils
From the perfect lips
Of the perfect person.
Is that what you want
Me to be?
Afraid to enjoy
Having an ounce
Of fat?
Am I suppose to look
Like that perfect person
Who spends forever
To look like that?
Well, honey,
If you want me
To look like that,
You don't expect me
To be able to do calculus
And generally me.
I'm human
And proud of it.
* At the time I was very good at calculus.
Sitting in a coffee shop,
Alone,
Rain falling outside,
A sip of espresso,
Warms my shivering body.
In walks a stranger,
Wet and cold,
He takes a seat
At the table next to mine
And orders a cappuccino.
I take out my books,
And start my work,
Deep in my study
Of psychology,
I sip my espresso now and then.
A stir before me
Forces me to look up,
Eyes of an angel
Look into mine,
An angel who drinks cappuccino.
He apologizes
For pulling me from my studies,
But to talk to this angel,
I could miss an exam.
So I converse with the angel.
An hour later,
I'm studying again,
I'm sipping my espresso now and then,
Alone,
Until Friday night.
Perpetual motion,
Spinning,
Twirling
Through clouds
Which were emitted
Through the outlets
Of humongous,
Metallic beasts
Who contain
No hearts,
No souls.
Coughing,
Hacking
As the clouds
Enter the lungs,
Stinging,
Burning,
Till death
Overcomes,
Life departs.
Falling
Into the abyss
Of darkness
Known as the other side.
Then nothing.
No longer
Does the heart beat,
Nor the body move.
Dead.
Dead.
Dead as the corpses
Sleeping in cemeteries.
Goodnight,
Goodnight, cruel world.
Goodnight.
Life has been sweet.
Life has been cruel,
But now I say
Goodnight to all.
Spinning,
Twirling
Through clouds
Which were emitted
Through the outlets
Of humongous,
Metallic beasts
Who contain
No hearts,
No souls.
Coughing,
Hacking
As the clouds
Enter the lungs,
Stinging,
Burning,
Till death
Overcomes,
Life departs.
Falling
Into the abyss
Of darkness
Known as the other side.
Then nothing.
No longer
Does the heart beat,
Nor the body move.
Dead.
Dead.
Dead as the corpses
Sleeping in cemeteries.
Goodnight,
Goodnight, cruel world.
Goodnight.
Life has been sweet.
Life has been cruel,
But now I say
Goodnight to all.
Mediocre aspirations
Lead to
Mediocre life.
Mediocre,
The colour of ochre,
A distasteful vegetable,
Indeed.
Mediocre,
Like the well worn path,
One I try not
To follow.
Yet as I sit,
Under the mediocre tree,
And look out into it's garden,
I have want for
Such distasteful vegetable,
But not one
Shall pass these lips,
Nor shall I inhale
Robustly,
The scent of
The mediocre flowers.
I shall never be
Mediocre.
*I believe in reality I have fallen into mediocrity, but the first step is to acknowledge it and the next is to decide how to extract myself from it.
Lead to
Mediocre life.
Mediocre,
The colour of ochre,
A distasteful vegetable,
Indeed.
Mediocre,
Like the well worn path,
One I try not
To follow.
Yet as I sit,
Under the mediocre tree,
And look out into it's garden,
I have want for
Such distasteful vegetable,
But not one
Shall pass these lips,
Nor shall I inhale
Robustly,
The scent of
The mediocre flowers.
I shall never be
Mediocre.
*I believe in reality I have fallen into mediocrity, but the first step is to acknowledge it and the next is to decide how to extract myself from it.
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