THE POETIC PILGRIMAGE CONTINUES
“God, strike me so I can ring like a bell"
Jack Kerouac.
5
80 miles per hour is not the speed limit
But we drove fast trying to leave behind
Horrendous billboards
With their message of prosperity and ambition
It is hard not to be hypnotized by images that
Hang from overpasses
We drove away as fast as we could to survive
I kept thinking of the woman
Sweeping the diner’s carpet
With a broom instead of a vacuum cleaner
She was turned into witch against her will
How she moved with despondency
Across the floor
I understood hell is here
Among us in disguise
It can be found in the yellow pages
Under the word employment
I though of her master
As a modern roman emperor
Sucking the soul from her body
We wanted to save her
But we could barely save ourselves.
6
We stopped on the highway to find a cactus
That would heal us
I took my knife and cut a piece from the plant
So we could have it and be cured
From the poison we had just tasted
With they eyes of our souls
And the road defiant and covered with oil leaks
Purchased with human blood
Challenged us to maximum speed
I could smell the devil in this type of dare
With the stench of burnt fuel
The car’s windshield had become
A sepulcher of splattered insects
I wondered if their souls
Where on Hades or Paradise
Despite the darkness
I could see mountains in the horizon
I thought once we reach them
We would discover a black hole.
Friday, December 10, 2004
SANTA CLAUS IS AN IMPOSTOR
The real persona belongs to a saint
Not a salesman
His name is Nicholas
And there’s a story
That goes like this
When a poverty stricken father
Was about to sell
His daughters’ bodies
Saint Nicholas threw some gold
Through their window
Saving that family from
Spiritual bankruptcy
That’s better than a gift bought
At a chain store
Saint Nicholas more formidable
Than the saint of Coca-Cola.
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