Friday, February 29, 2008

El Principito

(The Tiny Prince)

He was born under a dying star
the product of a hideous act
the first son of his mother's aunt
the last hope of his dying kind
he wasn't sent, he was dropped
he landed flat on his flat head
When he was old enough to wish
he wished he were dead and yet
He wanted to become an artist
and realized some years after
he had already been one, still
not the type who deals in colors
and shapes and lines and form
but rather one who dwells in horror
pain, deceit and neglect
He was left no choice but to dream
because the alternative was to die
nothing to do but to scheme
for he was shaken to the heart
by the urge to become someone
other than what others saw
He wished himself bigger-than-life
with bigger-than-life thoughts
He thought then, he was a royal heir
with a throne of filth and hopelessness,
He acted as if he were a prince
with a crown made of brown wrapping paper
and a kingdom made of human excrement
He ruled his wretched kingdom
with a shaky drawing left hand
and a loose blue tongue
Everyone lied to him since day one
so he learned to invent new words
the only ones who told the truth
had all been led astray
and what they thought was gold
smelled like drunkard's breath
but they blended in anyway
because to go against the grain
involved imagination
and that was the one and only thing
they couldn't buy or fabricate
He had to have been an escape artist
to pretend none of that was happening
he had to have been an artist imagining
something better
something finer
something other
than his sordid surroundings.




Copyright © 2001/2008 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Thursday, February 28, 2008

Tia Remolacha's Recipe for Success

Stop watching the time idly fly by
pick up the pen and draw or write, right now
the first thing that comes to your mind
there's no difference between him and me
between you and him, her and them
they also bleed, cry, fear, love and hate
their molecules and yours are much the same
as are the ones from a rock or a gem, and yet
we're just vibrating at a different rate

The secret is that there' is no sacred secret
the same 3 tools are at your disposal
Vibration, Repetition and Passion
vibrate open the door to infinite possibilities
a meaningful recurrent action is the key to pleasure
back and forth, in and out, up and down
now, just throw in a cup of passion for good measure
you get the general idea, let's do this again
real soon, real soon, real soon.




Copyright © 2001/2008 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Saturday, February 23, 2008

Note To Self

Hey you!
Me?
Yeah, you! Come here, I want to tell you something
it's not you, it's me. I don't belong here
I've tried, you know I have, I just can't cut it
I can't continue acting as if I cared, I don't, I know you know it
I'm kind of in a rough spot, when you and I look closer,
sure you weren't made for this and I wasn't made for either
but you keep holding on to this slim thread of fake hope
even though you clearly see the writing on this improbable wall
I learn hard, that's my worst trait, it takes time, I'm a late bloomer
the teacher said so himself, I'm a loser. I can't go through with this
I worked for years at following my gut and purposely ignoring signs
saying no to others costs me more than I can hide behind this mask
my hero complex took me for a long ride and now it's cold and dark
I'm a spineless romantic fool to a fault but on the other hand
if things don't go my way after a short while, I snap, hard
now, go on, get out of my sight, go find another sap.




Copyright © 2001/2008 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Fairy Tale With An Unhappy Ending

I fell asleep on the job, I dreamt of fires and floods,
sulfur and brimstone, as the heavens screamed and roared
You were scared and alone, helpless and bored, you called.
I sensed the danger and jumped on my white high horse
I ran like the wind, battling good, evil and common sense
(and those nosy neighbors from the floor upstairs)
I traveled across the concrete desert for days,
I swam across the Dodgers-blue sea for years
I stopped in Vegas to rest for a short while,
played cards with the devil
and shot the Sheriff in Reno just to see him cry.
In Lodi I made a mole hill out of a huge mountain,
I peed inside a golden chalice in Rome
and drank yellow wine from a public fountain.
My thoughts were with you and with my lonely loins all along,
the nostalgic poem you wrote kept me up, high strung at dawn
—yawn—
I am a horny man of strong convictions, as you know, so I pressed on,
my aim was true but I was thrown completely off course, of course
with the wind at my back and a hole in the soul of my shoes,
I fought the law but neither one of us won, boo-whoo!
I mocked the judge, he screamed: "Repent, vile sinner!"
I said: I will, Your Honor, right after I pin her
he left me off the hook but with a stern murmur:
"Objects are farther than they appear on your rear view mirror"
But reminiscing is so much fun! how can this be wrong?
I was stunned!!
"No, no, my son. When the past gives you a queasy feeling,
you can bet your blue balls, it's time to move on"

To heck with him, what does he know?
He has never made love to you, has he?
never mind, don't answer that, stay put, I'm coming, lassie!
You undid your hair like Rapunzel, I grabbed it.
Holding on for dear life, I climbed down to hell to meet you, gladly
I fanned the flames and swept you off your feet
but miscalculated and tripped on my own remorse and fell badly
broke my spine, bruised my knees
and knocked out both of your wisdom teeth.

My bad. Oh well! clueless me.
I had the faintest this was not a good idea to begin with

but I couldn't help myself.




Copyright © Alberto Ruiz 2001/2008 All rights reserved.

Monday, February 4, 2008

Joined At The Hip

You said you always have a headache 
whenever my head aches
I laughed at you 'cause I have never
felt that way 

The way you feel for me


You said you can feel my heart beating
deep inside your chest
I called you crazy 'cause I've never
cared for someone else

The way you care for me


You say you know what I will tell you
before I say a word
and I believe you for you've shown me
the meaning of real love

The way you love me



Copyright © Alberto Ruiz 2001/2008 All rights reserved

Saturday, February 2, 2008

And Not A Minute Too Soon

Let me just say something here before the maggots slip
through the cracks in your face and dig into your brain
I know you can listen to my words, don't pretend this hurts,
you're dead.
For the very first time be the man you claimed in life you were
stronger individuals have succumbed to the pleasures of the flesh
but that wasn't enough for you, your drug of choice was causing pain
The bloody stain that gluttony left on your bloated skin
can't be washed off with your delayed display of false regret
How's this for poetic?:
"Forty of the King's horses and forty of the King's best men
couldn't put your pathetic lying soul together again. The End"

I knew you'd like that, you must be pleased.
You're going straight to hell if there is such a place,
three thousand degrees hot and not a single drop of rain
The women and children you purposely hurt, all the lives you managed to wreck,
all the orgasms. kind "thanks" and sincere smiles you faked
all the youth and faith you raped, the collective price they paid
is well worth it now to see you being put to final rest
I have forgiven you but I haven't forgotten your sly demeanor,
the way you came across: profound, heartfelt and genuine
if I only had a clue back then, but then again, I was too young and simple minded
to believe a person could be so defiantly dishonest.

You were so slick, you thought you would get away with all of it by dying,
fat chance! I wasn't fooled, rest in peace, Screw you!
Just though I should let you know I knew.
Roll over and play dead now and not a minute too soon.




Copyright © Alberto Ruiz 2001/2008 All rights reserved