Sunday, May 17, 2009

Soraya

Have you ever noticed the hole in the back of my head?
I remember vividly the day I felt it for the first time
it was the day we met

I thought it would be best to never shower again
the hole could let water in and potentially flood my skull
and drown my brain

It never occurred to me the gap was beneficial or benign
I seriously believed it was responsible for my peculiar state of mind
at the time

I shaved the hair around it and slid in a piece of notebook paper
containing a rhyme I memorized when I was in fourth or fifth grade
written by my old friend Bécquer:

"Today the earth and the heavens smile at me
today the sun shines at the bottom of my soul
today I have seen her and she looked at me ...
today I believe in God!"









Copyright © 2001/2009 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

The Relentless Pursuit of The Impossible

We are nothing but walking contradictions, paradoxes
There is a fatal flaw within ourselves as human kind
Our brains mimic the erratic orbits of runaway planets
and yet, perfection is what drives our faulty lives

But it is within this seemingly bizarre and flawed behavior
where virtue, truth and beauty are often found
The secret of life is whispered exclusively in deaf ears
and God reveals herself in her true glory to blind eyes

As for me,
I will continue to search for enlightenment in your temple
On the surface of your blemished skin, within your slanted smile
in the asymmetrical perfection of your breasts and shoulders
while climbing up your jutting hips and kissing your uneven mouth







Copyright © 2001/2009 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Loneliness is a Serial Killer

If all else fails
I still have a simple treasure hidden in plain sight
a bag of grace, a slice of dignity from heaven
a twig, a tree, the true essence of life
from a wise and kind old spirit

A book of poems, a fountain pen, a drawing pad
a jar of flies, a can of paint, a wooden easel
a photograph, a birthday wish, a greeting card
a cup, a spoon, the sun, the moon and pencils

If all else fails
I still have two skinny legs and two crooked feet
to bring me closer to her side
two arms to embrace and squeeze her tightly
ten sticky fingers to caress her thousand charms

A mealy mouth to chew the food she feeds me
two eager hands with which to hold both, fork and knife
The strength to show to her my utter weakness,
the will and want to make her happy until the day I die


I'll have a head chock full of her and all she means to me
which I will bring along with me wherever I may roam
to help me cope with my own heart chock full of pains and fears
to make me whole again
I'll have my one true friend, my partner, my companion
my lover, my teacher, my pet
to spoil and grow old with, if all else fails.







Copyright © 2001/2009 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Whether The Weather

Whether you came or went
drove or flew
remained or left
stayed or stood
Whether you earned or dealt
borrowed or stole
claimed or staked
bought or sold
killed or maimed
and so on , and so forth
whether you're lukewarm
or semi-cold
frozen stiff in fear
or scorching to the touch
Whether the vacuum you call life
blows or sucks
drains or exhausts
drips or drops
sweeps or mops
cleans or soils
Whether you're right or wrong
aware or numb
high on drugs, life
or drunk on rum
blood, water or oil
Whether you're stained with shame
or blotched with remorse
dampen or moist
smeared or smudged
straight up
or on the rocks
Whether the wet weather stays
or moves along the coast
whether it rains or pours
chills or roasts
tans or soaks
hails or snows
clear or fog
Fuck!
Enough is enough.

Here we go:

Take it home, Joe!

Whether you're this
or that, or the other
Whether you have seven sisters
from another mother
or twenty two half-brothers
all dressed in clover or whatever
Whether your bad cholesterol is high
or my good cholesterol
is down below the norm
Whether you still cling to the bitter notion
that life has done you wrong
or have ceased to be the victim
letting bygones be bygones
We could rant and rave all night
and still say very little
or have a very serious little talk
and begin to solve the riddle
We could take a yellow cab
from the apartment down to Starbucks™
sit in traffic and get mad
and stress over the pot holes
or we could get up and walk
and find a way to enjoy it
realize we both have everything we need
because we've got each other
We could look into each other's eyes
and avoid telling the truth
or we could gaze into a future together
with nothing ever left to prove
We could kiss ourselves goodnight
or we could hold each other's hands
We could hug each other tight
we could do this, we could do that
We could rock or we could roll
Inny minnie miny moe
catch a tiger by the toe
we could do the best we can
or we could do all of the above






Copyright © 2001/2009 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Love is in The Air Freshener

I love rainy nights
and cloudy skies
I love my lover's cry
and her chest on top of mine
My lover's sweat
and the way she rhymes
'love' with 'rose'
and 'hard' with 'heart'

The way she smiles
when our noses collide
the fat on her belly
 the pimple on her back
 I love turning my thoughts
into swirly, pencil lines
with nowhere else to go
but up and down and left and right

I love crafting my errors
into an imperfect art
and learning the hard way
by doing most things twice
watching valuable time
joyfully crawl by 
I love stating the obvious
and glorifying the bland

I love going off on tangents
and beating a dead horse
swimming on dry land
and picking my nose
I love eating leftovers
from the night before
 drinking from the bottle
and popping the cork

I love 'shooting the bull'
and 'chewing the fat'
going to bed sober
and waking up high

I love fairies and unicorns
leprechauns and talking mice
rainbows and ponies
dragons and butterflies
well . . . not really
I just thought I could distract you
while I think of semi-clever things to write

The End






Copyright © 2001/2009 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Sunday, February 15, 2009

The Sound of One Hand Clapping

Tonight I have no words to confront
no songs playing in my head, to distort
which images should I attach symbols to?
which I should not touch with a ten-foot pole
The main idea, acute as it might be
is about the absence of thoughts
The mind jumps over the line of will
and lands squarely on the necessary
It is a strange night of sorts
tongue-tied and twisted but moving on
forcing energy through a tight crawl space
where dreams get flattened like pancakes
My devices and gimmicks have left me dry
my inner peace has got me by the throat
it has become my worst enemy
But if creating at knife point, proves useful
haven't I found what I've been looking for?






Copyright © 2001/2009 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Friday, January 2, 2009

Caricaturists Smell Funny

I was born at 3;45 on a hot Thursday afternoon
not an ordinary day by reasonable means.
A rattlesnake crawled from under my bed
my mother got scared , she panicked, she flinched
she knocked the crib over, she jumped out of her skin
twist of fate, luck of the draw, roll of the dice, accident
you name it and I will change its name to destiny
my head hit the cold cement but God was present
she spoke in tongues with a heavy accent
I couldn't understand a word but I knew what she meant

She said: "I saved you and now you owe me, so draw me"
blind mice were singing, deaf roaches dancing, clueless
my life was spared for a specific reason unknown to me
and even if I were told what that was I wouldn't have gotten it
more and more commissions and requests were thrown my way
I was another, I was not myself, I was nothing but God's slave
I felt it was in my intrinsic nature to protest and rebel
and perhaps I will one day but in the meantime I listen and obey
because my life depends on it, I don't want to end up six feet under her
or even worse . . .
like most caricaturists do, in theme park hell.






Copyright © 2001/2009 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved