Thursday, April 17, 2008


No science fiction here, this is a true tale of love and hatred:
Renny, picked up a dozen aerosol paint cans and tied his many belts and loops
he put on the same old leather jacket he wore to his brother's burial the night before
I guess he thought that somehow black would give him an edge
or maybe he was just dressed to attend his own funeral
He strapped the green camo bag full of spray cans to his back, slid his helmet on,
took off his old chucks, tossed them in the bag and put his military boots on
he felt nervous, that was to be expected, this was no ordinary date
The machines were celebrating "Metralla Day" at City Hall
the adjacent streets were empty, everyone was either home or at the event
His brother had climbed the steep hill and infiltrated the bunker 2 days prior
but the machines blew him up before entering the White Room
that was as far as anyone had ever gotten, but not nearly enough
Renny remembers having gone to the station to pick up his brother's remains, which weren't much
he could have picked them up with a spoon, this fact was still fresh, it motivated him
He brought his flying contraption to the edge of the opposite mountain,
the machines had never seen a glider before, not this kind, anyway.
This one resembled a giant hawk, feathers and all, it was cleverly designed
but one could still see a tiny human inside, if one tried, although not from afar
At the fortress the celebration turned ugly, humans and machines divided
into 4 or five small groups, the machines kept together, naturally, the humans disbanded
the eerie tension between the various gangs ignited into a fight
humans and machines went at each other, humans got the worst part
lacerated to the core but still alive, they fled the fortress, though some fell behind
many of them thought better to remain calm and wait until dark
but in the end the machines located them and wiped them out, one by one
While this was occurring, Renny landed on the dome of the White Room
but his bag caught one of the loose screws and ripped open
seven of the twelve cans hit the floor making a racket.
The machines heard the noise and mobilized towards the room in question
Renny had cut a hole in the dome and while hanging from the ceiling,
sprayed the pristine walls with his multicolor madness.
The machines weren't allowed in the room, all they could do is watch in horror
and wait until the deed was done in order to force the intruder out, somehow
Renny knew the consequences full well but he had triumphed over fascism
the machines went blind from the bright colors and started to run into each other
they shot their guns at random rendering themselves useless in the process.
Machine gun stutter filled the air, bullets ricocheted madly all over the place.
One of them stroke Renny in the back of the neck as he stepped outside the dome
RengÄrd Niles Woodrow died from his wounds on his way to "Gray County Hospital".

Copyright © 2001/2008 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Thursday, April 3, 2008


You scramble my pancakes and flatten my scrambled eggs
you let me think I'm in control, you lead me a merry dance
I'm painfully aware I'm not the sharpest in your shed
just smart enough to know who really wears the pants

You think I'm a big deal because you love me
not a compelling thought, but I'll take it 'cause you give it
I was a bum, I didn't have a life before you met me
you gave me one and three reasons to live it

A fleshy work of art with more virtues than flaws
how can I not worship the very ground you walk on?
A breathing algebraic equation keenly clad in women's clothes
I thought I had you figured out, turns out I'm flat-out wrong

A while ago I could have sworn you were your mother's daughter
but you're more like the girl in J. Manuel Serrat's
who doesn't need to bathe each night in holy water
and doesn't know she's pretty but she sort of does

Remember the first time I saw your body in the raw?
you don't, 'cause that is not like you to do, but I do
the heat and the humidity were high, the ceiling low
but none of those things mattered to us but us two

I was born again, that scorching afternoon in January
I'd been a pessimistic boy and nothing more
but even that half-truth would prove just temporary
as your purple satin undies hit the icy bathroom floor

Turning my brain upside down, that wasn't your intention
it's not your doing, nor your fault to be as pretty as you are
which clearly hasn't changed you into a better person
but in your case, I do believe it has

A kind of visual ecstasy engulfed my senses, fully
like when I saw the "Birth Of Venus" full-size poster
(the Botticelli painting, not the planet, silly)
the sort of thing that only admiration fosters

The splendor of your form eclipsed the printed pictures
you were far more attractive than any godly vision
and God should know full well because she made you
and everything God makes is for a reason.

Copyright © 2001/2008 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved