Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Funeral For a One-Sided Friendship

Please, please!

don't believe what you hear

or what you see

the sea lies next to me

and I lie next to it

but we don't speak

we let the clouds, the foam

and the moon

lie in between

I am a mess

the stress of fixing my blank gaze

for hours at a time

in a direct straight line

on that empty space

where your big black eyes

used to stare back at mine

has taken its toll

on my inner peace

It's autumn where I roam

but it's winter deep inside

my old soul

and I'm cold

I've been thinking about you lately

on how the whole thing ended

the way I disappeared

and the way I blended

with the pavement

All along

you were guilty of doing the thing

you falsely accused me of:

I didn't fit your mold and more

I wasn't who you thought I was

I was not afraid

to slam on the brakes

as you, yourself wisely said

and stake my claim

Mistakes were made

you chose a capricious affair

over a BFF

you chose a cheap thrill

over substance and free will

I would feel pain and disappointment

if I weren't so sad and despondent

I love you still

for the reasons I've made clear

I realize and understand now

that I don't have you near

all the things you had expected

the things you needed to say

the things I didn't want to hear

in the end, my dear

"The truth is never sad"

it is just what it is

and nothing more than that

The End.

© Copyright 2001/2010 Alberto Ruiz All Rights Reserved.

Saturday, November 6, 2010


Is not like anybody
or anyone
but similar and familiar
not unlike the dimple
on the dark side
of the moon,
OUR moon!
The one we sat on
when we got drunk
on each other's words
and vertical smiles
of some sort
is bright
like a hundred suns
but half as abrasive
and twice as decisive
and measures
with steely eyes
and anal-retentive
the width and depth
of her open wound,
tosses the dice
in its surroundings
and then arrives
standing on one leg
at the hasty decision
to ignore the matter
and slam-shut the issue
only to slip
a short time later
and fall heart-first
time and time again
on the remaining scar tissue
uttering noises,
loud voices, grunts and hisses
like the fucking rain
in Spain
which dances
on a rusty zinc roof
instead of the plain
like the tongue twister
mistakenly explains
clutches a fistful
of emotions
like dead roses
with live thorns
that bleed and linger,
dead ringers
with knots and horns
for knuckles
and wooden sticks
for fingers
Looks into the emptiness
of my tired eyes
and my crooked smile
and manages to find
a few words
worth climbing into
worth hanging on to
worth stumbling over
Says "I am"
and "forgive me"
too many times
so many, in fact
to make me suspicious,
which I already am
sleeps with the fishes
writes like an angel
cuts like a pair of scissors
drops kick like a ninja
curses like a sailor
looks like a princess
fights like a pitbull
disregards rituals
dreams in full color
with her legs wide open
to a faint notion,
an infatuation,
a capricious desire,
an obsession
so strange and appealing
in her eyes
worth giving
more than
her attention
and a few tears
a few years,
perhaps a few months
perhaps none
Is true-blue
and hell-bent,
and resolute
Hell no!
says She can't be happy
all of the time
I used to think she would
if she only could
but these days
I'm not so sure.

Copyright © 2001/2010 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Low Balance Threshold

I felt weak on my knees

my heart sat defiantly

directly across from me

sipping tea, apparently

not a care in the world

I asked him about her

he took a massive gulp

he hesitated for a while

and said he didn't know

and that he didn't care

and added with a scowl

that if I cared that much

I should find out myself

I called him a big fat liar

he told me he was sorry

that to make her happy

is like walking on a wire

she had dumped him

and spoke among tears

she's the best thing that

ever happened to me!

He said he was down

that it hurt to see her go

he was wearing a frown

because he grew to love

the very ground she walked on

This story has no writer and no end,

we were born to love each other but instead

I'm asking her: Why can't we be just friends?

Copyright © 2001/2010 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

True Romance

What does Love mean to you?
...I asked you first!
You don't know, do you?
Me neither!
This isn't a competition
I get it!
You have brains and genitals
and they work!
So what else is new?
so does everyone else
perhaps not as fast as yours
or as pragmatic or as pretty
You had to show me
didn't you?
But it's not your fault
I wanted just to Love
but you want me to Fuck
your brains out
I wanted to show you
a man's love
for a woman
he doesn't know
because I equate
Love to Love
and Fucking
to Making Love
is what I understand
at my core
Is what I feel
Fuck me
and you'll see
what I mean
I can't explain it
in plain words
I wanted to teach you
I wanted to let you know
What I thought Love was
at the time ...but
I've changed my mind
since then
Now I just want
to Fuck you!
You and what you want
might be correct
so in the end
you win
But then again,
so am I and what I want
Do you still believe
you're the hunter
in this human game?
If so, you're wrong
and so am I
But you lose
only because I know
how the game ends
And if you're as smart
as life has led you
to believe
surrender to Love
and let the idea go
like you say
you would
Either you believe
in Love
or else
you believe
in Fucking
...which is not
a bad thing after all
You just can't have it
both ways
Not with me
because I am
but just
another man
but not 'that' man
The truth doesn't hurt
it just can't be avoided

Copyright © 2001/2010 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Over The Hill And Far Away

If I lived long enough to see your sunlight coming through
the pitch black window of my crazy heart
I would probably fail to fully enjoy its radiance
and appreciate the brilliance of its youth in full splendor
to stop and wonder why me?, why now?, why here? ...or
why didn't this happen to me long ago?
Sad to admit it, sadder still to realize my ill will
I would keep it instead hidden from myself
and from my twisted and cynical ilk
perhaps between the yellow pages of an unread book
flattened and crisp forever, never to be seen
because you are not real
to me and I'm not
what you don't think
you think you need

Copyright © 2001/2010 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

It Could be Magic If It Weren't Tragic

She is a woman child
with a penchant for life
and contradictions
with a curiously strong
desire for experience
and experimentation
with the zeal and the spunk
of an impractical girl
with dilated pupils
and a hunger for Love

But not just any old feeling, no
she wants the kind
that doesn't grow
in her garden
...or in mine
She thinks a practical person
should disregard the magic
of the human heart
but she's sadly mistaken
and she knows that
and so she's just dying
to prove herself wrong
contradicting herself
and declaring herself lost

I can forgive her for not believing
in the mysteries of Love,
or for lying to herself
...I might as well
her experience in this field
is limited to what she hasn't felt
if not for my penchant for a good fight
because exchanging blows with her
brings me out of my old shell,
springs me back to life
and letting her win a bout or two
is half the fun of watching her
become a sharper version
of her 'practical' self
which at best, from where I stand
it's far from empirical, yet cute
and at worst, from where I hide
it's childish behavior
disguised as bravery or boldness
or both
...but charming,
...I hope

Copyright © 2001/2010 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved