| Crack His Head Push him down. Crack his head like an egg, blood yolk on the cement. Push the old man down on the pavement. Dominate, so shameful. Was that worth it? Really? Is that your training? Push old men down. Protester down, peaceful protester down, his blood on your hands. A slap on the wrist, paid leave, is that punishment for assault? Captive Wind You cannot hold the wind captive. If it dies, it will kick back up later. It will pick up the pace in a hill, gently at first. When going downward, pity to those who stand in its path. Do not take it lightly. You cannot hold the wind captive for too long. Its ghostly breeze will topple you. Its memory will be imprinted in your thoughts. If you fear the wind, you better bundle up to the neck. It will leave you in misery. It is a sea wave on land, and it could strike softly or with immense cruelty. It will slap your forehead like a backhand. The wind does not play. You cannot hold the wind captive. It will make a great escape and bring silence a world of sounds. Drowning in Fire As if drowning in fire, burning through and through, it is clear that passion and desire are running through my veins. No amount of water can slow down this inferno. Night cannot cool me off. The water in the moon is not cold enough. Like a burnt stone under ashes I remain. I am a shadow of flames burning like stars. My passion and desire are burning for her. I throw myself into a lake of fire and I go down to the deepest depths. I come up still burning from head to foot. I take my agony to the frozen lake, halfway from the frozen mountain. A flaming shadow follows. I close my eyes and she is still there, the woman that I burn for. She is there when I am fast asleep in my sub-conscience, in my dreams, she is the burning woman, and I am the burning man, burning in splendor. |
excellent work as always Luis. hope you are doing well my friend.