Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Sonnet 61: What Can You Really Do But Laugh

By Matthew Paul Olmos

What can you really do but laugh
At the ridiculous of some people’s minds.
The way their mind lets the time pass,
Burrowing themselves into the land of denying.

When they speak you can hardly hold inside a grin
At how incredibly stupid they’ve allowed their thoughts to go
And you want so terribly to just say somethin’
But they are troubled and they will never ever know.

Their days are spent in the shadow of the population
Only seeing so many colors, sights, and sound
Wanting only to bury further into capitulation
They are forever happy to be left unfound.

And so they wander the underside of the Earth just like that,
Never realizing that with just the slightest effort they would see where they’re at.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Sonnet 60: I Can Tell You About Crazy

By Matthew Paul Olmos

So finally I can tell you about crazy

I had ever only heard.

She seems from afar unique an amazing

But no, that is just plainly absurd.


And this poem has no chance but to turn to shit,

Personally I blame this to her.

She let her head overrun by jealous thoughts lit

Personally I blame this to her.


And writing about crazy is hardly worth the time

Words cannot capture the misguided’ness.

Only in my shuddering thoughts can I replay the signs

And hope they will fade into less and less.


As for the moment, they remain fresh,

And maybe this is all some crazy rite of passage test.

Monday, April 26, 2010

Sonnet 59: Oh, What a Disaster!

By Matthew Paul Olmos


Oh what a disaster we can so quickly recognize

It takes not hours, nor minutes, nor moments

Like some unfamiliar scent in the air you can see with your eyes

And you know this is a wrong choice you’ve chosen


There is a twisting up in the clog of your throat

And crumpling down of the hope you had

There is a panic over your body whole

And your heart begins to grow a coldish gray over sad


And you wonder how your heart could have been so open wide

So blind and singsong

Off an on its own solitary lie

Singing some ridiculous song that goes on an on and on


And yes we should be so thankful for the lessons learned,

But really, what I want, is to set backwards my clock, turn and turn and turn.

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Sonnet 58: He Got So Angry They Had To Tie Him Up

By Tatiana Suarez-Pico

Grandpa is pretty much dead, they said
he got so angry they had to tie him up
his mouth was dry and he had peed on the bed
He looked asleep one morning, granddaughter asked if he needed a touch up?

he gave granddaughter a half smile
maybe it was a grimace, the words wouldn't come
another stroke had put him in exile
and left him completely numb

Grandma soon realized he might be gone
she sat stupefied with watery eyes
She looked like a child who's been punished and she stayed awake 'til dawn
she's gonna be alone and soon will come her demise

I sat down at the table to mourn him and as the tea kettle came to a boil I stood to up to watch it blow steam,
I pretended it was grandpa leaving this earth in a gleam

Saturday, April 24, 2010

Sonnet 57: There Isn't A Crown

By Aurin Squire

There isn't a crown that hasn't been worn
No amount of wealth I haven't amassed.
Fame and good name; some times earned, some times born
Since time beginningless all goals surpassed.

Except there's one dream still unattained.
I have not stopped my mind from harming myself
The me that could never 'be' ignites pains
that smash my body, all the wealth and health.

This dream. This one thing I never achieved
Is the only treasure worth its wearing
May the One Dream grow and be conceived
with the instantaneous, highest pairing.

May the diamond way shine in these versed vows
Ask for the blessings, the Angels Allow.

Friday, April 23, 2010

Sonnet 56: Election Night 2008

By Aurin Squire

Pulled car over and wept till my chest hurt
Ohio's starless night covered my face
His voice poetic majestic asserts
The darkest night set us off into a new place.

In the Hilton Ballroom covered with screens
Screams, fists, backslaps, election beers, and tears
Ecstasy overwhelmed, slipped out unseen
Drove alone gone to emote without fears.

Fist pounding the wheel as news kept rolling
then talking to myself, coaching my smile
Cut to Hyde Park and tears started flowing
and didn't stop, didn't stop for miles.

Returned to party nonplussed by surprise
Only betrayed by my swollen red eyes.

Thursday, April 22, 2010

Sonnet 55: Hlundruk

By Aurin Squire

Care for the worlds gone mad,
One Song who holds pure bliss.
No goodness good, no evil bad
Dance with the Angel of Emptiness.

Heart filled with love and a heart that loves no one
Your Blazing eyes pure stench and stagnation
From a single drop explodes the white sun
Highest Heavens erupts celebration.

Bend back rainbow arcs immensity
clouds pour the red and white flowers scatter.
Touched by crystal lips serendipity
Atoms reverse, time stops, undoing matter.

Wheeling crown of knives un-heads the sever.
Please stay close by in this realm forever.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Sonnet 54: Nine Days Straight

By Tatiana Suarez-Pico
I don't know what to write about 
I've been working nine days straight
Living half the dream fully, all in what a day may spout
My mind is full of thoughts and walls feels like a lot of weight

Iron lids doing a lenghthy to do list
trying to keep up with the rest and not let anyone down
taking care of words that drip like slow rain from awnings 
through the mist 
And stretching dollars with a frown

I haven't had a break or the break
But I can pretend this is preparation for the event
Living life, is that what they call it? I'm not sure I'm doing it great
Just running as fast as I can attemping not to miss a beat, 
I suppose that's what they meant

when they said that I gotta keep going, no time to relay 
only exchange looks with eyes that hook onto intentions, 
theirs and mine, and link like chains with zero delay

Monday, April 19, 2010

Sonnet 53: How Easy

By Aurin Squire

How easy it is to get thrown off-track
w/ sex, food, free internet, and cable
filling relapse gaps of the things I lack
needing to want more but incapable.

Staying up late hours for dumb nothings
surfing away the time with google links
waiting for that empty chat bell ring
another night fades to cyber unthink.

Taken vows to be a warrior saint
And do countless acts of angelic peace.
The cruddy black tar of this life paints
my wings to the ruddy snout of the beast.

Tired of repeating the same silly mistakes
Wondering what it takes for me to break.

Saturday, April 17, 2010

Sonnet 52: Why Don't I Give To Those That Are Hungry?

By Aurin Squire

Why don't I give to those that are hungry?
All it takes is a second to reach in.
But in that inched moment, a mystery
that decides the factors of yang and yin.

Could be using it for liquor or drugs.
Could be a meal for a stomach tight fist.
Children and dog homeless, make hearts tug
Pleading cries that cut through headphones, insist.

Caring up to the point of convenience
They smell or do appearances repulse?
How far back in pockets are a few cents
Eyes blazing, neck twitching or, chests convulse.

It's a difficult defrost into the new
Every time wonder if there's more to do.

Friday, April 16, 2010

Sonnet 51: Silver Dangling From My Wrist

By Tatiana Suarez-Pico

silver dangling from my wrist
reminded me of her and me
how far we've come and so i went down the list
a simple kiss, a clasp of hands, and quick to sex inventive as can be

Now im here on this bed surrounded by beauty i can't grasp
i dont believe how good it is i have to tell myself to breathe
the weigh of a lithe chest and the warm embrace of hips make me gasp
energy concentrated around me- a wreath

i want to unclasp the silver around my wrist and set myself free
release our memories to bury 'em in the threading of the quilt
make them disappear by rubbing hard in the space between our faults til we can decree
there is little left but air and perhaps a little bit of guilt.

I wanna put those bags down and breathe, a release til i feel my lungs are just flesh and membrane
ready to fill with the smell of roses and the exquisite delirium of no restrain.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Sonnet 50: Morning Primordial

By Aurin Squire

Me popsicl'ed under green flower spread
Turning over, even my blue freeze tan
Pipes mute choked by dead finger lead
Basement boiler coughed winter in a can.

Cracked ribs xylophoned cross wood crucifix
Head twist like a red devilsans green soup
Me lay holy hands on pipes still unfix,
Hibernate metal bears jumbled in group.

Spread cheeks and winny a high-pitched sharp gas
mumble, stutter, shuffle to the water.
Mirrored down me face and gave it a pass
Dark shroud on city, 6 pass a quarter.

Open mouth and let out a growly sing.
Good Morning primordial functioning.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Sonnet 49: Emailing this morning to say 'I like you.'

By Aurin Squire

Emailed this morning to say, 'I like you.'
Long time since said without sarcasm.
Then I listed reasons we both knew
hoping to bridge our widening casym (sp?)

It feels so good to say it and submit
And not be all bottled up in my lock,
Waiting response over phone or in writ
sweet honey flowing from the hardest rock (i.e.)

Even if he runs, backs away, says 'no,'
Even if he un-friends me in cyberspace
I put it out there and gave it a-go.
Spoke myself into this flourishing place (e.g.)

Now, I'm in a lurch and left to worst-guess:
what if he runs, arms flung wide, and says yes!!!

Monday, April 12, 2010

Sonnet 48: Fancy Meeting You Here

By Aurin Squire

Fancy meeting you here, a place like this.
The drinks flowing freely, and please don't tip.
Plastic cups crushed underfoot, stale beer kiss
The fumes hit the noise resting on my lip.

A bartender's work is philanthropy,
Cupid arrows thrown in a mixer.
Buzzing hums massage the worker bee
Unpleasant drudge needs weekend elixir.

Won't you come home with me and stroke my feet?
In exchange I'll give you a skull massage.
And we'll cuddle/cry. Wouldn't that be neat?
In my illegal studio garage.

I'll pour the drinks and smile down the resent.
The sullen task, bartender's lament.

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Sonnet 47: Apology

By Aurin Squire

I think about times when Dad was mean,
Only child syndrome of first-and-last served
Two men conflicted when I was a teen
A better son, he needed and deserved

Our cold car drives and the bone-deep gashes
of the silence we shared staring through windshields.
Blunt peculiar conversations lashes
our tongues into mute plastic shields.

Protect yourself from the alien son
who hates girls and brings over no school friends,
we're not going to bond on victories won,
I'm sorry it's too late to make amends.

Frequently wept when I thought about us,
Never much your son, not much to trust.

Friday, April 9, 2010

Sonnet 46: The Mix of Pot and Alcohol Makes Her Mind Go White

By Tatiana Suarez-Pico

The mix of pot and alcohol makes her mind go white
Her pupils are two orbits floating in the sockets
She dances thick-waisted, ass shaking- all contrite
A drink in her hand, she’s not there, her genius quiets.

She wants amor- something to let her know she’s alright
Man or woman, she promises to give unconditionally
But approval is needed quickly, she’s starting to look like nephrite
She’s having a good time, she smiles to her friends wryly

I see her glide to the bar, her hair straight and black
Her smile fading grimly
I want her to be healthy and to give her all that has been cutback
She glides back with another drink in hand- deadly

A woman falling apart but keeping it all together feebly
I want to help her so much but don’t know to do it deftly.

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Sonnet 45: In his 90s he tries to pick up women with bovine...

By Tatiana Suarez-Pico

In his 90s he tries to pick up women with bovine
70 heads of cattle, “you want a picture?”
Alzheimer’s better than being drunk on wine
His memories- a second away from rupture.

He looks at those kids- “they ugly,” he says
What’s her name again? “Oh, right,” he pretends.
Sometimes he thinks he is in the Suez
The children think time has caught up and it’s time for him to make amends.

He wasn’t the best father
Liked to come home to beat up grandma
Showed up every few months and either
demanded sex or food to feed his maw.

But now everything has gone blank, he doesn’t say much and a granddaughter shaves him every three days
It mutes my thoughts that his last days are spent in a daze

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Sonnet 44: Saturday Sinner

By Aurin Squire

Refreshing scrub of a brillo pad'ed truth.
Contagious honesty like trendy flu,
takes quicker if you're long in the tooth
skipping over those blissed w/o a clue.

Black spiders unweaving the tangled snares
sucking the web back into the guts.
Dishonesty carpets pleasant affairs,
but mires the dancers in muddy ruts.

Now it's time for a splash of kerosene
guzzling waves perfume the fecal rug.
The match shoots up w/ angelic red glean
de-licing the floor from shit-eating bugs

Night brite'ed by apocalyptic fire
Liars burn up like a neck-laced tire.

Monday, April 5, 2010

Sonnet 43: My Phone Doesn't Ring As Much These Days

By Aurin Squire

My phone doesn't ring as much these days.
I could cancel my facebook account.
And I don't jump quick to jobs that just pay.
Time dead-ended outweighs the cash amount.

There is a wonderful arising grace,
seeing faces change on page and screen.
My own self-invented off-kiltered pace
before bowing and wiping the slate clean.

Seasons dates scrapped, scrubbed, rubbed the text out,
How you or I could even worry and cry?
Toggling music on the train, releasing doubt
in the season we watch everything die.

No one can sum total the busy-ness,
self-inflicted tasks of a pointless quest.

Sunday, April 4, 2010

Sonnet 42: Green Light

By Aurin Squire

My body began to tremble.
I shot up in my bed around 4.
A phenomenon scarcely resemble
Spectacle witnessed by just 1, no more.

What it was I just don't know.
A rustling in the cool of the night.
Was it electricity I felt flow?
Transfixed emergence: a green globe of light,

From my chest, then spun in front of my nose
Emerald vessel, up came this green ark.
Unsunk ship wobbled a bit when it rose
Out the barred window, sailing into dark.

The light ship left a'waking waves of peace.
Three years later, my wonderings don't cease.

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Sonnet 41: Grandparents with their souls almost at rest

By Tatiana Suarez-Pico

Grandparents with their souls almost at rest
while their bodies decompose, limbs die while their minds are still alive
"Trombosis," skin cancer, and dementia all put us to the test
We give money and some time cuz we want them to survive.

He shits his pants and her hands resemble stale, curly fries
A nurse needed to clean them up
She will let us believe they're alright even through their cries
Or a Cuban doctor with island medicine that makes her feel agile again, she won't require help to stand up.

Powerless we are to the pass of time
Doesn't matter how hard we try to make 'em right, it will still leave us marred
We see the path, what happens after their prime
A baby blue sky with a sun that's been barred.

We dig deep in our coats for a fistful of dollars that in a third world country will turn into a thousand remedies
Even smiles may come out of an envelope from the bank, but la verdad is that we're stuck in life with these maladies.

Friday, April 2, 2010

Sonnet 40: Canada's Ex-Boyfriend

By Aurin Squire

Quick to flash anger and slow to give love.
Whine and keep lists of all my friend's failings
Rarely will credit anyone above
unless medaled or when family is ailing.

My one shining trait: humility
You've probably heard me mention that before
Once I saved an ant from drowning in my tea
On Sundays I help grandma through the door.

On occasion, I murder and rape.
But not to worry: it's never in rage.
Youtube it. I'm vain about keeping tape.
Geography comes to life from the page.

Let's grab a burger, I'll slaughter some beef.
Did I mention I have ultra white teeth?

Thursday, April 1, 2010

Sonnet 39: Exit Player

By Aurin Squire

When I was younger I worried all eyes on me
Grimaced over steps and regressed
Feared scrutiny and what the world could see
Paranoid fevers overly obsessed.

Entering my prime, rejoiced in my place
Laughter booming and shine like a sun
I took all the oxygen and space
Center of the universe, the spring of fun.

Start the exit, slow from the bright lit room.
My face falls more into dusk and shadow.
No longer swallowing air, but subsumed,
by the eeking way things of this world flow.

When I am old, will anybody look?
At old men hiding in memory' book.