DEAR YOU

It has come
To my attention
That the sun is dying
Because of
Caustic emotions
Therefore mystical steps
Must be taken
To neutralize the problem
Amen

AFFECTION

Listen up
Love is magic
And it’s also flesh
It’s friendship
And offspring
Sacrifice & justice
My pistol
Spits words
Of hope
Of resurrection
Of truth
Of sex
Of angels
And their
Lethal swords

1 CRAMP WITH NO MUSIC

I strived for goodness
Risking love
Life & money
As I struggled
Industriously in bed

I wanted
To be 20
Once more
And right when
My girl said
“I love you”
A dolorous grin
Was born
In my flesh

Like a clown
On stage
Scaring children
At the concert

RAIN

I was inside of you
And the rain
Made music
With the rooftops
It was better
Than electronica
Natural melodies
Like the touch
Of your lips
On my body
Subtle drumming
Of dreams
That evening
Nothing else mattered

JUSTINA

Next time
You want
To modify
My future
Do it
Before the
Tequila shots
Because a dream
Is like
1000 glances

BORDER INSPECTION

“It’s your lucky day”
He said
“Why?”
I asked

“The computer randomly
Selected you for inspection”

He said it with such grace
A nice old timer
A good gentle—man
About my father’s age
Nearing retirement
He had dark skin
Like I do
He smiled
Like I sometimes do

“Open the trunk”
He asked
I got out of my car

He did not
Got uptight
Nor placed his hand
On his pistol
Like others do

I inserted the key
I pressed right
I heard that
Familiar click
He just smiled
And kept smiling

Maybe he was thinking
About his retirement
Maybe he was thinking
With his heart
And not with his mind
So happy and relaxed
This was no Prozac

This was wisdom amongst the smog
A pearl in the middle
Of contaminated clusters
Of metal, oil, and plastic

“Maybe the computer likes to pick on
good—looking fellows like you”
He said with his enduring
Fraternal smile

For the first time
After 35 years
Of crossing the borders
Of my two countries
I happily drove
To secondary inspection

A piece from "Flashback" my forthcoming collection of poems.


NEW MOON

¿Why do you lean on me
Rubbing your breasts
On my right shoulder?

Planets of life
Mystical dunes

¿What do you want to do?
¿Will it be tonight
Or another day?

When there’s not
A full moon

And we can hide
Under a sky
Of darkness

FACES

Her face
Splattered with disenchantment
Another beautiful face
That I have
Never seen before
I can’t tell anymore
Which faces are more splendorous
Sad faces or happy faces
Sometimes the satisfied
Faces of the world
Are the most ugly
I found sad faces
Full of wonder
Those who get
Everything they want
Have stained faces
Those who lack
The frugal ones
Have faces that shine
With suffering

CAPITAL LETTERS
HAVE PUNCH
LIKE A KO
THEY’RE SHARPER
THAN A STILETTO
BIG LETTERS
HAVE BIG MEANING
AND IT MAKES FOR
FOR BIG TEARS

AMOR

Love can’t
Be contained by borders
It is sometimes sweet
Like diabetics
You can’t contain love
Inside the walls
Of commercial exploitation
Of strategic defamation
Hypnotic indoctrination
In the death of a nation
In secret relocations
Sinister intimidation
Attempts of assassination
Threats of incarceration
Destruction of evidence
With avarice and incineration
Ambushes of desperation
Wishes of annihilation
Souls of exportation
And the poison of importation
And all the ions
That appear on my path
Like lost dogs
Looking for leftovers
Licking my dusty shoes
As I watch
Unfamiliar faces

BURNING BRIGHT

I was working
On her poems
Typing away
On my portable Olivetti
Her first book
Sensual poems
Love poems
Poems of desire
Poems of hope
Of pain
And redemption
Of death
And something
Called life
Loving her
Amongst all
That poetry
Seemed like
The natural
Next step
There is something
In the poetic
That works
Like an aphrodisiac
There is always
An element
Of seduction
That lives
Between the lines
Of most poems
It’s like the sun
That shines on my face
As I write
Sitting in this car
A raft at the center
Of this sea of traffic
And the weatherman
Called for rain
But the sun
Is burning bright

SOMETHING LIKE THAT

So poetry
It’s just like that
A paradox of
Existential ingredients
The art of life
The formula of breathing
And when everything
Is consumed by the
Inability of our flight
When I stand
Naked before you
With a ravaged soul
And devastated emotions
Know that my heart
Is intact
Pulsating your memory
Pronouncing
With each beat
Your name

A POEM FOR RON COHN
MY EMPLOYER

“I will be fair with you”
Ron paused and then continued
“you, be fair with me”

I was helping one
of Mr. Cohn patrons
an award winning novelist
who likes to shop at
Henry’s Marketplace Chula Vista

I replied
“I’m helping a customer”
Ron barked
“you’ve been talking for awhile”
then he amplified his demeanor
“it’s time to go back to work”

I wonder if Martin will ever
come back to Ron’s store
I wonder what he will write
on his next
newspaper column

I looked at the pasta bags
they looked like
lost stars
in a galaxy of greed

IN THE DARK

I like making
Love to you
When you have
Fallen asleep
When the lights
Are out
Except for the lampada
Next to the icon
We don’t need
Electricity radiating
In the light bulbs
Your perfect body is
Illumination to my life
A light house
For my hurricanes

WRITE UP

Talked to Juan about his
Attendance problems on 2/27/06
Juan must realize he needs to
Be to work on time, any further problem
With attendance could result
In suspension and or termination

“Sign the paper” the manager said
“I will, but first I need to write about it”
I answered and then
I wrote on his piece of paper:

Any alleged attendance problem is a
Direct result of the stress, pain, discomfort and
Depression caused by my injury which I suffered
While doing my work duties for my employer
At Henry’s Marketplace Chula Vista

Then I signed
My very Mexican
Spanish sounding name

Juan José Martínez

BEAUTIFUL SLEEP

Your face
So close to me
In perfect symmetry
I watch you sleep
Forgive me
I know poets
Have an obligation
To love
But we also
Are bound
To move justice
So as you rest
Away in a happier place
I will write something
About fairness & freedom
And when you wake up
My dear miracle
I will be there

poetry

a poem
is an act of love
of desperation
of hope
and betrayal
poetry places the truth
in the mind of the planet
in the hearts
of those who listen
in the souls
of those who read it
poetry is
an intermission
of understanding
a knowledge of fire
a birth of reality
a way of light
poetry is survival

my dear estranger

okay, last call
like the barkeeps like to say
one last test run before i let this baby
know what i made of
let’s try to use the punctuations marks
of the life i never knew
i know how to love
in different languages
in glances and smiles
i can write without ink
and without words
that’s right darling
i can make little children
with no touch whatsoever
So you decide
if you want to meet me
in the corner of
your curious mind
i only have sweet warnings for you
because pain is something enchanting
if you are one of those creatures
please stay away
because the road of addiction
always ends in heartbreak
and i know you heart
is not made of glass
it is more like pottery
or should i say poetry?
whatever the case may be
this is not a playground
the art of death
is not frivolous
so then my dear estranger
think it over
real hard and deep
because tomorrow might become
like a laughing monster
by your luxurious bedside
maybe you should go home
and be with your family
broken as it is
but non the less
something very special to you
i will give you a kiss
with my eyes
before i grow weary
from any kind of defense

THE SOUND OF THE CANDLE LIGHT

The beauty
Of the dim light
Shines in the memories
In the essence of our souls
Like floating petals
In the water of our youth
Playing for hours
In the fountains of love
The melting candles
Still alive
In our hearts


ONCE AGAIN

I played my guitar
The bathtub
Embraced your precious body
The flames on the candles
Danced in the dark
And I sang your song

Queen of my heart
I love you so much
Your are like the
Open sky
Where angels fly
Your smile is
Brighter than the sun
Better than any star
Your beauty has no equal
You’re better than a miracle

Then you wrote me
The most beautiful poem ever
I knew then
I should take a bath

NO CUT
NO KNIFE
NO SCISSORS

I decided to go
Like the
Owners of this continent
Or like the biblical prophets
Like Sampson
Like Geronimo
Like a Starets
Like Sitting Bull
Like the guys
With the guitars
Under the spot lights
Like Jesus Christ
And His cousin
John the Baptist
And the HR rep
Said he would give me
A job
But the problem was
This was not
A model agency
So I walked away
On the beach
And wrote songs
And poems
Wrote the
Story of
My own life