A Bag Of Kittens

just In Case

2011-04-10T14:46:00.000-07:00

I believe in Love
and I believe in Art
people are either worth it
or they are not
just as simple as that
I don't believe in religion
I don't believe in money
I don't believe in contests
I don't believe in gimmicks
('less I can pull them off)
I don't believe in sports
I don't believe in lottery
I don't believe in luck
you write your own damn story
life is not a competition
Art is not a fucking game
love is not a fucking joke
I believe in pain
I believe in sex
I believe in choice
I believe in work
I believe in sacrifice
I don't live for the future
I don't worship the past
I believe in the present
I believe in today
I believe in the now
I believe in myself
Self-pity is a waste of effort
drama is waste of time
unless you manipulate it,
make fun of it, twist it
burn it, transform it
and turn it into an Art
..or into Love

Copyright © 2001/2010 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Funeral For a One-Sided Friendship

2010-11-23T22:38:00.001-08:00

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.

Elle

2010-11-06T00:52:00.000-07:00

She
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
She
is bright
like a hundred suns
but half as abrasive
and twice as decisive
She
contemplates,
calculates
and measures
with steely eyes
and anal-retentive
precision
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
mainly
on a rusty zinc roof
instead of the plain
like the tongue twister
mistakenly explains
She
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
She
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
She
Says "I am"
and "forgive me"
too many times
so many, in fact
to make me suspicious,
which I already am
She
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
perhaps
a few years,
perhaps a few months
perhaps none
She
Is true-blue
and hell-bent,
determined
and resolute
Content?
Hell no!

She

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

Low Balance Threshold

2010-11-04T00:12:00.000-07:00

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?

True Romance

2010-11-03T00:40:00.000-07:00

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
again!
and so am I
But you lose
only because I know
already
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
anyways
because I am
nothing
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

Over The Hill And Far Away

2010-11-02T22:28:00.000-07:00

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

2010-11-02T21:57:00.000-07:00

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,
nonetheless
...I hope

Copyright © 2001/2010 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

The Sweetest Mistake I've Never Made

2010-09-28T04:50:00.000-07:00

You breathed your open soul into a a see-thru plastic bag
and I dove hopelessly and willfully into your throbbing mouth
before you said a word edgewise to me, in fact
before you shot your wet dream to the center of my south

Me and my old beating friend had a "face to face"
then I went ahead and broke it into itty, bitty little pieces
to save you the trouble of doing it yourself, I guess
before the temperature of this sweet mistake increases

I set my washing machine to "spin", my ray-gun to "stun"
I limited our potential to "maybe", our possibilities to none
before your eyes spoke to me through poems and songs
before my big mouth opened, I told her she was done and gone

Not an easy decision to implement by any means, 'you know?
and I hope to dear old God (if there's such a thing as heaven)
that you may get to enjoy a long and blissful life and more
and that mine gets shorter than short if I must live it only to regret it

Copyright © 2001/2010 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

She Said, He Said

2010-09-07T03:34:00.000-07:00

She said I said:
"Follow me, and I will lead you"
I actually said: "I'll follow you to the end of this world"

She said I said:
"I will love you forever and beyond"
I actually said: "I'm in such a dire need of some form of love"

She said I said:
"Nothing will change the way I feel"
I actually said: " No one can possibly know what the future holds"

She said I said:
"Love is more than enough to get us through life"
I actually said that but I was dead wrong,
we also needed, sex, money, food, patience, and art

In that particular order.

Copyright © 2001/2010 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Who Are You and What Have You Done with My Wife?

2010-07-04T02:02:00.000-07:00

I want so badly to live in your world
for a day or two at most
I want to watch your moonlight
I want to see the sun rise
from your vantage point
I want to know what it feels like
I want to experience your mood swings
I want to see the things you see
the premonitions you envision
and the silly thoughts you think
I want to crack open your mind
I want to take a look inside
I want to dream your dreams at night
as soon as you close your loving eyes
for just a little while

It seems crazy from this end
to fight like cats and dogs
such a waste of time and energy
when we should be making love
the choices you don't make
the risks you don't take
the cash you won't spend
I can't understand any of it
I say I do but I don't
but what I really want to know
is how you function in this planet
I want to wear your dress
to do my hair the way you do yours
and to walk in your shoes
for a block or two, and no more

I love you but I don't know you
which I guess is all fine
'cause you don't know me either
and as far as I know
when it comes to the law
ignorance is not a crime

Copyright © 2001/2010 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Strange Rhyme

2010-06-14T19:12:00.000-07:00

It is a very strange time
I must agree with the man
who said life is fast
but love has many legs
I don't know from right
to left, to center, to me
and all I do is think
what a strange time it is
for I can't name this joy
i feel

Copyright © 2001/2010 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Letter To A Dear Friend or Close Relative

2010-06-10T00:13:00.001-07:00

The things you do to convince yourself you are still alive
are standing in the way of living
At this point you have nothing to prove to anyone, anymore
not even to you, yourself. You're stuck and bleeding
There's no way you don't know
How is it that I can see this for what it is and you're oblivious to it?
This did not start as poetry, let me assure you
nor am I that dense to call it so and yet,
your life is imitating art and stinks of tragedy
I might as well call this a sad song and call it a day

Copyright © 2001/2010 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Soraya

2009-05-17T23:03:00.000-07:00

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

The Relentless Pursuit of The Impossible

2009-03-24T20:58:00.000-07:00

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

Loneliness is a Serial Killer

2009-03-17T08:46:00.000-07:00

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

Whether The Weather

2009-03-11T05:59:00.000-07:00

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

Love is in The Air Freshener

2009-02-17T17:22:00.000-08:00

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

The Sound of One Hand Clapping

2009-02-15T23:04:00.000-08:00

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

Caricaturists Smell Funny

2009-01-02T03:48:00.000-08:00

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

Love At First Zeit or How I Met Your Mother

2008-10-26T01:21:00.001-07:00

We nervously shook hands and smiled profusely
—neither of us were any good at making small talk—
I must have uttered an inappropriate comment
or a ridiculously useless observation (perhaps both)
After the compulsory display of etiquette
we let go of each other's palms, real slow
careful not to send erroneous signals
however, the main damage had been done
I don't think I could ever had imagined
we'd get married, raise two kids and own a dog
I did sense the significance of the encounter
but I'm often wrong about this sort of stuff
My brain began the chemical skirmish
firing at will, bombing away mercilessly
hormones drenched in undiluted teenage spirits
butterflies with ten foot wings inside my gut
the residuals of your tiny hand in my hand
echoes of my tiny mind stuck in your "Hello".

The arrant stench of adolescent awkwardness
permeated the already dense atmosphere
your cheerful black eyes, your curly black hair
the way you mispronounced my christian-given name
the way the broad striped blue & white tee shirt
tightly hugged your hourglass frame
the way your bony and slender elbows
kept on puncturing your plushy thighs
the way you ran the tips of your forefingers
across the stubborn creases of your denim pants
Details and yet more exquisite details
cramming the minute space between my ears
dancing like greek drunks at a greek wedding
until I came back down to planet earth
Your open smile bulldozed my sky-high fences
it split the world as I knew it then, in two halves
you said goodbye, stood up and left the premises
my heart of glass broke into a million shards.

Copyright © 2001/2008 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Autumn

2008-10-19T01:50:00.000-07:00

In autumn
You are an open wound shifting colors
The time you give to me is my own time
times fourteen Augusts

In autumn
You're more than the sum of my thoughts
You are everything and all I want to become
if I could ever belong

In autumn
The candor of your soul pierces the purple sky
Forty one rainy days and seven moonless nights
Forty one wishes realized

Copyright © 2001/2008 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

A Shaggy Dog

2008-09-27T01:24:00.000-07:00

I once had a shaggy dog, his name was 'Sergeant Neutrino'

A taxi ran him over

Before the doggie died, he said —and I quote: "Life is short

but love is shorter"

For many years I thought this to be true and I embraced it

In fact, I lived it

Which brings me to this point and to the moral of this poem

Indulge me for a minute

I must confess I'm yours in body and soul, in flesh and blood

and other sticky fluids

In terms that can't be measured and ways we can't imagine

Let alone understand

You have humbled me to smithereens and spoiled me rotten

Both at once

You tweaked my ways and made a man out of my inner child

This is a well-known fact

You've taught me how to love completely by loving me to bits

(and pieces)

My love is longer than the Mississippi, harder than diamonds

and stronger than steel

I've changed the structure of this song because you told me to

Because you took a chance

and believed in me

from day one

For if I did not have you by my side, I would not be one half

the man I am

And I am myself

to a larger extent

because you are

who you are.

The End

_____

I Love You

_____

P.S. The dog was wrong

God bless his stupid soul

Mutual of Omaha

2008-09-10T01:28:00.000-07:00

Being things as they currently are and given the objective facts, blah, blah, blah. . .
One would assume, presume and make no mistake, etc, etc., etc, dot, point, period, dash. . .
that I, the undersigned, due to extenuating circumstances, despite all that funky jazz,
and meeting the required criteria over under, out and about, point, click, hulk smash . . .
Hereby, and by the power invested in me by the state of drunkenness, file, foil, fold, stamp. . .
By unanimous decree and semi-divine right, I officially declare today, the fifth day of March
as the first ever day of the rest of my natural life. Please don't laugh.

You, the oversigned, having read some, but not all of the fine print, wink, wink, splish, splash. . .
Hereunder agree to put up with my swinging moods, rocky starts and aimless, useless rants
And therefore, having been made fully aware of the consequence at hand, feet, teeth and otherwise
do solemnly swear to abide by the law of the land we call love and disregard all that flutters by
To pledge allegiance to my heart and the parts of my anatomy which names begin with the letter "R"
wrong or right, until the end of time, furthermore and ever last or at least until God tears us apart
Please sign on the dotted line; 'X' marks the spot, you may kiss the bride's sweaty underpants.

Copyright © 2001/2008 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Pompolli

2008-08-14T12:26:00.000-07:00

I have read your entire body with the tip of my finger
what I couldn't touch I have imagined
the parts I memorized, I can recite by heart, line by line
at a moment's notice

I've drawn your silhouette with the tip of my tongue
the joys I've never felt before, I have experienced
the shapes I recognized, I've kept inside a heart-shaped box
under my soul-shaped pillow

Copyright © 2001/2008 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Ode To Social Networking

2008-07-21T00:11:00.000-07:00

The throat shuts closed
in the midst of crying
one eye winking at him
one eye spying
The 'friend' weeps
with heartfelt sincerity
in the act of lying
The vinyl rose forever blooms
as it remains forever dying
Trying as you might
to justly justify your deeds
you can't bring yourself
to deny them

Her tear dries
before dropping
one hand upon your shoulder
one deep inside your pocket
The brain knows
The heart ignores
The body craves
The ego lets go
accepts, surrenders
you're nothing but a human puppet
ding-dong, strings strung
one leg in the grave
one leg on the floor.

Copyright © 2001/2008 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Time Strikes Again

2008-07-12T23:52:00.000-07:00

Dear Mother:

I write this to tell you that I've always loved you
even though I stopped saying it years ago
you were my hero, I looked up to you
bigger than life and fearless, you roamed
among the strongest, you stood strong
you never erred and when you did I turned
my head in disbelief and chose to ignore it all
because your rights, by far outnumbered your wrongs
I reckon my path and yours were not in line
my soul and yours . . .? . . .Well . .
that's another rhyme, for another time
still, I want you to know that I am
thankful for being your son and that I stood under your light
which once was bright and steady and now flickers and dies
who I am I owe to you, warts and all
you were my champion then, and then some
until I lost you to your desire to eclipse the sun with your thumb
I get it now, you were nothing if not all too human at that point
but you learned it couldn't be done, at least not alone
you're back to walk on earth and I admire you for it but I know
there won't be enough time
to make up for loss of mind and so I'm sad that I
didn't write this a longer while ago, and furthermore
sad to have found this lost love I saved for you in my lost soul
because I won't know what to do with it once you're gone, so don't go.

I love you, Mom.
Stay strong!

Copyright © 2001/2008 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Alligator in the Skewer

2008-06-16T00:34:00.000-07:00

Eyes keep fixing on the ceiling but you really don't know why
Mind keeps making the same blunders like it's going out of style
Mighty Dollar's got you kissing your employer's big fat ass
Sold your friends right down the river, still that didn't get you far
Seems you're running out of asses and your lips are running dry
Used to think that 'this' was funny when 'this' happened to "that guy"
Now "that guy" is on your mirror looking at your hollow mask
Try and tell him what you told me when we both were twenty one
Say, your self-respect was priceless. Just how cheap you think it was?
Now you're crawling like a reptile, back to ask me for a hand
I have got no hand to give you, eat your maxed-out credit cards
Bon appétit.

Copyright © 2001/2008 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Simple Like A Rhyme

2008-06-14T23:18:00.000-07:00

Quiet like a flower
a pale yellow rose
strong as a tall tree
a willow of sorts

Sweet like the pulp
from the sugar cane
cool like the waters
of the summer rain

Merry as a songbird
kind as a doe
calm as a blanket
of pure satin snow

Warm as the sun king
simple as dew
bright as a moonbeam
faithful and true

Comfy and cozy
just like an old shoe
your love is my rubber
and I am your glue.

Copyright © 2001/2008 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Questionnaire of The Absurd

2008-06-12T01:02:00.000-07:00

Thinking, I thought this here tonight, finding
a place for neglected promises of the maybe
mixing guilt and probabilities with my index
while drinking from the silver cup of golden opportunities
making sense of the half realized potential
the alone and the lonely long-gone farewell
Ten questions bouncing against the wallpaper
clinging to the ceiling of my life's soundtrack
like flies to the downward spiral sticky resin
Ten full years of self denial and self hypnosis
dancing wild , leading to mental castration
Is it fair to blame oneself for blaming destiny?
or do I get a pass for lack of timely knowledge?
Are there ten levels to every moral precept?
if so, where is it safe to park my negligence?
Is there a string theory justifying self deception?
if true, how many alternate mistakes am I living?
am I a fulfilled individual in another universe?
what portion of the main moral contradiction
is allocated to forgiving years of utter indifference?
Is this healthy or useless? Please don't answer
I'll find out on my own tomorrow morning
it's not that I can even hear you, either.

Copyright © 2001/2008 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Solid Blue

2008-06-07T23:33:00.000-07:00

Our clothes came off but not our inhibitions
we couldn't see beyond our eyes, the room
inside the dark devoured the space around us
and everything it touched turned solid blue
I remember my hands hovering over your hips
and my nose meeting the tip of your nose

The crude attempt at an awkward kiss
our lips barely touching and stopping short
I recall suspending my blue frame in mid air
for fear of crushing you under my weight
you said: "Let yourself go, it's fine", you smiled
I breathed a sight of relief and then I fell

I free fell forever down your unmarred body
my fingers charting pathways on your skin
swimming in the deep side of your blue thighs
gasping for air, suffocated, deaf and blind
I remember wanting to die inside you
fully convinced I was in heaven all the while

The blanket of blue concealed our naked shadows
until the imprudent pink moon filtered in
through a peephole in the only wooden window
and softly sung a sad and jealous chant
something about the fleeting nature
of human flesh, of puppy love and idle hands

Copyright © 2001/2008 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

While I Was Out

2008-05-21T11:46:00.000-07:00

I had a bad dream last night and you were in it
you had disappeared without a trace
it felt so real I had no choice but to confirm it
I desperately flung my arms across the bed
but in your place I felt a folded sheet of paper.

I read the note you wrote me, barely breathing
tears plopped like bombs from a B52, ink bled all over
a big blue hole inside my chest, the size of Texas
in the spot where my heart used to own real estate

I tightly closed my eyes to squeeze out the excess salty water
and drifted slowly into some sort of drunken stupor
when I came to I saw you standing near me
with a grin on your face and on your lips a warning:

"Next time you swing at me in your sleep, I'll hurt you"

Copyright © 2001/2008 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

The Slacker Method

2008-05-07T22:34:00.000-07:00

A sudden single notion ignites a series of reflections
the thought acts like a magnet attracting connections and personal introspection
there is no reason to this behavior nor there is rhyme
if I could explain it to myself, I might, but I can't, which is fine.
Better yet, I would rather not know the logic to it (if there's one)
there is no sense in attempting to understand, this is not divine nor sublime
However, within the apparent haphazardness and inconsistency of action
there lies a clear objective, a straight line, a path, a hidden pattern,
a vision which often doesn't reveal itself until after the consummation
or seconds before but by then it's too late to put together a well thought out reaction.

The whole creative process takes into account all imagined, perceived and known variables
unlike a practical application with a foreseeable result,
the unknown and invisible factors play key roles in the unpredictable outcome
in fact, we must count on their inevitable appearance at random intervals
to inflict mayhem and guide the original thought to its natural conclusion
some involuntary self-sabotage is necessary, of course
but we can't predict to what extent it helps or measure its destructive force
add to all that a carefully orchestrated placement of obstacles, procrastination and detours
to coerce the mind into fabricating sound and viable solutions at a moment's notice
and to will the raw idea into material existence by force of chance, chaos and disorder.

In other words: we wing it.

Copyright © 2001/2008 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

WTF

2008-05-04T22:16:00.000-07:00

I am not the same man I was a week ago
I am not even sure what that means
which means I know but can't put it into words
I'm as confused as ever but things are clearer
can't put my finger on it, I just know it
I know it sounds vague, foggy and hollow
but there's no other way I can explain it
my mind is wide open and overflowing
with nothingness, if there is such a thing
which is not the same as emptiness, I feel
as if I'm moving forward, floating or flying
diving in slo-mo while standing still
The many voices in my head are silent now
they are no longer asking me questions
I can only answer in my dreams.
I have never felt so at ease, at peace
This calm I am not accustomed to but it suits me
it doesn't scare me but it intrigues me
it doesn't consume me but it compels me
Don't know what it is but I think it knows me
it will swallow me whole if I'm not careful
or it already has and I don't know it.

Copyright © 2001/2008 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

LOVE SPRAY MACHINE GUN STUTTER

2008-04-17T01:49:00.000-07:00

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
Rengård Niles Woodrow died from his wounds on his way to "Gray County Hospital".

Copyright © 2001/2008 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Venus

2008-04-03T00:43:00.000-07:00

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

I Close My Eyes To Kiss You

2008-03-30T02:43:00.000-07:00

I close my eyes to kiss you and I can't tell night from day,
leather from suede, December from May, moon from earth
I close my mind to wish your kiss would never end
my lips climb inside your open mouth and melt away
I wave goodbye to what is left of my trouble-ridden self
I shut my eyes wide open to listen to your swollen chest
I'm not aware of where I am, where I will be or where I've been
all I know is I'm not here and I'm not there but somewhere else
my mind reveals the wicked thought of being swallowed whole
You close your eyes to kiss me and let your inhibitions go
I relinquish all remaining futile hopes for self control
Devouring your cotton candy kisses one by one and gulp by gulp
like Pac-Man feasts on helpless dots and evil blinking ghosts
my eyes are shut but I can see the shadows of our souls
embracing in a passionate disorder, lips on skin and push on shove
tears of sugar, sweats of honey, milk and cookies and so forth
our blood boiling, running rampant, speeding to a screeching halt
membranes grinding, veins imploding, two hearts pounding
torch lit bodies colliding, melding seamlessly into one
in a pool of loud desire and quiet tenderness
like two soldiers meeting in an even battlefield
in a slow-churning human blender
two tortured prisoners of love
in a war where both sides win
and both surrender

Copyright © 2001/2008 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Red Eye Flight

2008-03-28T01:25:00.000-07:00

You've been crying ever since you came into this bitter world
a heap of fun that's not
Your coffee-colored eyes have purple clouds and crimson lines
I almost feel the pain they hide
You must have been a serial killer in your twenty previous lives
to justify the current one
Why do the Gods despise you so? what did you ever do or say
to inspire such a wrath?
Or do they even understand you're nothing but a helpless child?
have they gone blind?
Given the chance, I wouldn't for a second hesitate to lunge at them
and rip their souls apart
You're warm and true, you'd never hurt a fly, the fact still stands
you own the kindest heart
I love you more than life, I wish I could do more than what I can
at times I feel my hands are tied
I know the love I offer you is not enough, although I wish it was
it's such a crime
Without the slightest doubt, I'd give my life and everything I've got
to see your big brown eyes
forever smile.

I love you.

Copyright © 2001/2008 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Rabbit Hole, Rabbit Hole

2008-03-21T22:21:00.000-07:00

You say you want your cake and you want to eat it
I say I want my life back but I'm too chicken to admit it
well, this here sounds like an admission, ain't it
I guess I wasn't too much of a chicken to begin with

Save your drama and your good looks for someone else
one is fun for half a minute, for the latter, I couldn't care less
your acting talent is pretty apparent, why lay it all to waste?
when you could be starring in your own 'reality' train wreck

I drank too much and told you the truth for once today
the stories I come up with when I'm sober are insane
they might amuse you but to me, they're gettin' sort of stale
I'm bored to tears with years and years of pretty much the same ol' shit

It takes a 'real man' to turn about and change his stupid ways
but I don't see one in the mirror every time I shave
if I were you, I'd ran as fast and far as I could and stay away
I'll contradict myself and hurt you, you can take that to the grave
. . . I think.

Copyright © 2001/2008 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Phil LeBlanc (Spring)

2008-03-19T00:38:00.000-07:00

What's your name? . .

. . that is a nice one.

I'm Daniel . .

. . I've been called worse.

How old are you? . .

. . I'm bad at guessing . .

. . me too. Well, almost . .

. . I'll be 15 in July.

You look younger . .

. . but you're mature . .

. . for a girl your age . .

. . I like that in a woman . .

. . don't know why

I just do.

What's your sign? . .

. . you are a kind person . .

. . yeah, I think it shows . .

. . Your turn to guess . .

. . Yes, I am a Cancer,

I have my issues.

. . How did you know?

'You have a boyfriend? . .

. . sorry to hear that

I've never had one . .

. . a girlfriend, that is . .

. . no, I mean, I'm serious! . .

. . I'm much too shy.

Where do you live? . .

. . that's pretty far . .

. . the south side. .

. . no, no parents,

Just relatives . .

. . One would think that

but no, it's not good . .

. . it has its benefits.

where do you go to school? . .

. . I've heard of it,

I'm not impressed, though . .

Mercantile School, huh? . .

. . Naval Academy . .

. . not what you think it is . .

. . you're easily impressed!

Can I walk you home? . .

. . I understand . .

. . I'd like that . .

. . I have friends here . .

. . C-5 building,

the orange section . .

. . Yeah, tomorrow

. . OK, better be here! . .

. . trust me, I will! . .

. . Bye. .Uh, wait!

close your eyes,

give me your hand . .

. . just something I drew. .

. . I had the feeling you would . .

. . and I will think of you too . .

. . See you tomorrow.

I'm Watching My Tears Drop

2008-03-18T00:03:00.000-07:00

And hit the floor

splash upwards

in a mushroom

dive down into

a lake of salt

which overflows

and streams along

the narrow hall

and seeps under

the ikea rug

which swells & bloats

into a globe

which rolls upon

the neighbor's wall

and bounces off

and out the door

onto the street

and past the mall

and runs amok

with gaping jaws

flattening all

it runs across

and eating those

with happy thoughts

who hide inside

the phony smiles

and 'thank you' notes.

Words & Numbers

2008-03-16T21:20:00.000-07:00

Drove 5 days from New York to California
All I did was think of you while crunching numbers
longing minus time, times love, divided by the distance
imagining your eyes in mine and vice-versa

I stopped by the side of the road somewhere in Denver
and wrote these words to ease my aching yearning
the compulsion to be near you is just as brutal
as this winter, which is long and getting longer

They say 'Necessity is the mother of invention'
I guess I need to rub my face against your belly
or perhaps it's just a natural reaction
to the love potion I drank before you left me.

Copyright © 2001/2008 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

I See London . . .

2008-03-11T22:29:00.000-07:00

I just love watching you walk upstairs
it is my dirty little secret
your legs, your hips. your waist have got me hooked
I think I could be addicted

Anyway I see it, this seems wrong
but maybe that's the attraction
having lived with you for years I should be strong
what's with this guilty satisfaction?

I should behave like any decent married person
and not a peeping tom
I should be cured with any amount of reason
should have become immune but I am none

Wisdom claims love's nothing but a big wave
it comes and goes at will, you can't predict its pattern
if I'd concede they are one third correct, then
its crest should lift me all the way to Saturn

Copyright © 2001/2008 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Elegía con Lágrima

2008-03-08T21:38:00.000-08:00

Movie Of The Week

She was a poet

I was her pet

she was my riddle

I was her chair

she came in bunches

I hardly slept

I slapped her backside

she quenched my thirst

I crossed the ocean

to fight the war

her heart was broken

my soul was torn

she felt so lonely

a lover's spurned

I found another

'pon my return

My days grew weary

my soul grew blue

until that Sunday

when I met you

You're not a poet

I'm not your pet

you love me more

than I love myself

She saw us kissing

under a tree

the sight was gruesome

it made her sick

she took the blue pills

to help her sleep

she swallowed sixty

she's sleeping still

The End.

Tired & Happy

2008-03-04T01:38:00.000-08:00

Show me

how you do

those crazy things you do

I want to learn

to please you

pretend I'm a small child

teach me

let me see

what hides behind your smile

lift up the corner

of your bashful skirt

guide my hand

let me feel

under your shirt

Show me

Drop your silky gown

half way south

I'm curious now

I need to know

what hides behind your frown

Show me

some of your charms

but not all

I'm patient

I can wait

I want you in my life for life

until death

Show me

torture me

tease me

I want to save the best of you

for a rainy day

Show me

baby me

smother me breathless with your breasts

feed me by the bed

I want to wake up

tired and happy

I want to drown

before dawn

between your legs.

El Principito

2008-02-29T23:30:00.000-08:00

(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

Tia Remolacha's Recipe for Success

2008-02-28T20:21:00.000-08:00

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

Note To Self

2008-02-23T21:56:00.000-08:00

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

Fairy Tale With An Unhappy Ending

2008-02-12T05:43:00.000-08:00

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.

Joined At The Hip

2008-02-04T05:30:00.000-08:00

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

And Not A Minute Too Soon

2008-02-02T04:41:00.000-08:00

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

A.D.D.C.

2008-01-29T03:10:00.000-08:00

Attention Deficit Disorderly Conduct

7:30 PM staring at a blank page
the phone rings,
the cat sings, the dogs are loud
have to clean this mess in my head
but first, let's clean this desk
tonight seems eternal,
dreading the task at hand
C'mon man, concentrate!
distractions abound, calling all cars,
calling all cars, monumental chore
Breath slow, count to ten, exhale,
baby steps, focus!! Fuck us! Where are we?
back in 1961, Jeezus is that you, Peter?
is that you . . . . car 69?. . . .
10:00 PM coffee break
Phew! for a second there I thought I lost you,
but you're back and better than ever,
at least better than them,
you know, the zombies
they took off with your dumb brother,
the pick up game is going to kill him
I'm never going to finish this job, where was I?
There! it just happened again.
1:20 AM walk the dog, clear your head
Can't help but fading in and out of my mind
battle raging, video games playing our song
No! Return to base, I repeat, return to base!
Abort mission!! . . . .Argggggghhhhh!
Oh well!
We lost another good one.
4:30 AM
staring at the ceiling
staring at my bare feet
at a blank page staring back at me
the brain switches, the mind glitches
the hand twitches, hand me the waste basket
Goddamned leeches!
I think I 'm going to be sick
where am I?. . . .
7:30 AM

Copyright © 2001/2008 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

I Will Change My Name

2007-12-12T21:50:00.000-08:00

I will change my name when I grow up

to something less remorseful

it constantly reminds me of myself

—Whenever someone calls me.

Our father broke his promise yet again

to take us to the ball game

I swore last time, this time would be the last time

—I wish I'd never met him!

Let's go, George, back home to Auntie

she cares for us, she says she means it

wipe your eyes, you know big boys don't cry

—Don't be a sissy.

Georgie Boy, isn't this exciting?!

It's just you and me against the entire planet!

I'll let you fly the invisible spaceship

—If you promise to be gutsy.

Stop this useless hunger for affection, George

'cause every day tastes like the next day

but the next day doesn't come for kids like us, today

—Perhaps tomorrow.

Two Things

2007-12-09T06:45:00.000-08:00

Life hasn't taught me a whole lot
I've made the same mistakes I looked to avoid
I only know I know two things
Two things I don't think twice about
Simple but salient, hard and hurtful
measured and overflowing but straightforward
one is to break clean with the past, to move on
and to leave the impossible alone
because the biggest damage we can cause is to love
for the wrong reasons.

Found feelings, people running around me in circles
thirsty for a bittersweet drink, lost souls
but it's not me they are looking for
they're searching for themselves and don't know it
the secret lies within them, not in others
they'll never understand what their brains hide
because it hurts to recognize they've wasted their time
and their youth, and that they've spent their entire lives
thinking other people's thoughts and dreaming
other people's dreams.

Copyright © 2001/2008 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Shrapnel

2007-11-06T01:00:00.000-08:00

There are some things I can't quite contemplate these days
largely because I'm steadily going senile, deaf and dumb
the recurrent faint buzz I've heard since childhood is now a howl,
the floating debris I used to see whenever I closed my eyes has sunk to new lows
my mind is occupied with shapes and words but my ears are blind to bright sound
the colors of the familiar are slowly fading in the far distance
into black, which I've been told is not actually a color
but a mix of all my sorrows.

The Hero
I distinctively remember a particular television episode
the hero chased after the bad guy and eventually caught him
they became friends and drank together at the local watering hole
it turned out both men used the same brand of fabric softener. Who knew?
the hero stabbed the bad guy below the right nipple sixty two times
right after he came back from the laundromat
four times would have been enough to kill him
but he said he liked the sound of the knife going in and coming out.

The Old Man
I met the old man by the yellow dumpster outside Madame Thoreau's
he shook my mind and read my hand without looking at the lines
he had skills, he was a wise war veteran, he saw it coming
he said I had a tight grip and a troubled but promising past
"But your future. . .", he said, "is too foggy to be determined at this time"
"These things take a while, and that is a luxury I can't afford"
"You will die for sure one day after a lengthy and painful illness"
I could have told him that!

The Mother
The mother loved the twins at first sight, they were so precious!
but she was young and pretty, her feet got cold before the baptism
she decided she was too alive to care and too selfish to share
She wrote: "To whom it may concern.." and dumped the caskets on a doorstep
A vicious woman came home after an orgy and found them
she fed them and clothed them and made them her personal slaves
but one fine day they turned against her and they killed her
and then they turned against each other.

The Payback
Once you've tasted her sex in the morning you won't go back to cereal
she will hold you in her womanly charms until you promise her forever
but forever is a mighty, mighty long time and now you wonder:
will she hold you responsible for her own insufferable existence?
a hefty price to pay for her garden of delights, but you're starving
and you sign on the invisible dotted line, reluctant but expecting
a long life full of groans, moans, caresses and fleshy mountains
but instead you'll get what's coming to you.

Copyright © Alberto Ruiz 2001/2008 All rights reserved

Blind Optimism

2007-10-18T05:10:00.000-07:00

Life is not anything
and it won't be much further
nor closer to what it will become
It will do what it will want to accomplish
It will say what its mouth will want to tell you
It will laugh alongside your pity, it will coexist
within the darkness of the world, it will burst apart
from the innards toward the outwards, it will demolish
doors and the windows alike, it will bring enlightenment
to our collective consciousness, to our collective murkiness
It will cook wild roots, medicinal herbs will be boiled into cures
It will masticate on the truth, it will regurgitate it into the mouths
In the faces of those who desecrate all what is beautiful it will spit
It will shove into reason all things which by force and stubbornness
were instituted and declared law, all things anchored in impunity and
from the entrails of the hired assassins it will produced a clenched fist
full of magnolias, hyacinths, sunflowers, lilies, violets and it will give birth
to the forefathers of the grandfathers of the sons of the renaissance.

Copyright © Alberto Ruiz 2001/2008 All rights reserved

Consistency Killed The Cat

2007-07-04T21:29:00.000-07:00

Do me a favor, love another
Better yet, love yourself
The past is a killer, a sin
a knife in search of flesh
a hand grenade
in search of a hand

or a brain

No one can suffer this much
while pointing out
just how much it hurts
No one bleeds this long
and remains alive to count
every single drop of red

except politicians

This is not a war for two
we simply disagree
You are not my enemy
and I'm not the one you need
Pain is whatever
you want it to be

but a reason to believe

You can be your own best friend
or your own worst foe
if you love the way you claim
please leave well enough alone
I am going to kill the lights
and I want you gone

by the time I turn them back on

Copyright © 2001/2008 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Some People

2007-05-12T16:03:00.000-07:00

Stick it out until the very beginning
then turn around and walk backwards
towards the front of the line, that takes courage!
or so I've been told but I beg to differ.

Some people blame and forgive at once, that's normal
for persons suffering from bipolar disorder
society should dictate they must wear bright name tags
so others can avoid them upon visual contact.

Some people lose all common sense and other luggage
awaiting at the claim office for retrieval
my job is to record what I have witnessed
without touching the gun planted as evidence.

Some people dream after they have awakened
that what they have dreamt is true for all eternity
they don't understand that love means 'freedom'
they want to own you and avoid owning their own souls.

I am the cause of all your sufferings, I'm guilty
because that's the way you have decided it must be now
you wouldn't recognize responsibility for your own actions
if it hit you square in the vagina.

Some People think love means to own, to enslave, to burden
to put shackles on thoughts, to hold accountable
to manipulate a person's feelings into promises
so they can later be used for blackmail purposes

I'm tired, I'll retire to my dire existence, begrudgingly
it's all I have, it may not be of much use to you
I want nothing I haven't deserved, pain included
you are sweet but you repeat yourself and I'm tired.

Copyright © Alberto Ruiz 2001/2008 All rights reserved

One New York Summer Night

2006-11-06T02:45:00.000-08:00

I watched you sleep

I let myself be taken

clueless and carefree

at peace at last

reflecting

upon your perfect skin

glowing

upon that perfect road

between your neck

and your shoulder

your body, limp and flawless

reminded me of nothing

and everything I've ever seen

before or after

Naked, motionless, helpless

like a dead bird

a dead puppy

still warm, eyes shut, lips dry

heart pumping

reclining on its right side

as if clinging

to the side of God

the side of calm

of everything and nothing

The curve of your hip projected upward

bent and stretched at full potential

the arrow left the bow

singing and trembling

towards the ceiling light,

towards the eternal

towards the moon, into the night

and disappearing

in the direction of heaven

with its angels

A mess of fine dark lines,

a revolution

in the shape of a crown

expanding black halo

a slow-burning black sun

agonizing

exploding in my head

and on my pillow

your face, serene and calm

framed and surrounded

by the mane of black sun rays,

like a painting

of a renaissance virgin

of a martyr

a long-forgotten saint

inside a chapel

in the town of San Miguel,

San Juan, San Pablo

by Giotto, Raphael

or Caravaggio

I watch you sleep

peacefully, basking

my elbow firmly rooted

in the mattress

in the glory of your presence

stiff arm bearing

the full weight of my skull

and all its contents

the full weight of my sorrows

with their secrets

with the weight of my thoughts

and my tomorrows

my eyes glued to your chest

to your tiny waist

to the rest

to the formidable arch

of your silhouette

in the space

in a trance

mesmerized

at peace

with myself

...at last

New York City, November 2006 (from an idea originally drafted in 1983)

It's Over When It's Over

2006-09-15T03:42:00.000-07:00

A night and a day chasing each other endlessly
a young bird and a feeble imagination closer to the edge
instinct tells me, the odds are against them tonight
neither one can swim or fly but they believe in God
the optical nerve attached to the right side of their faith
couldn't predict the end of their world, nor could the plans they made.

The pains they felt were as bittersweet as the joy they shared
for the injuries they sustained were as self-inflicted as the love they gave
The young lovers trusted their hearts to an old song, big mistake!
they would have noticed their own lives collapsing but they were too busy living
they were careless in the face of oblivion, one could say arrogant even
nothing could have prepared them for the end to their auspicious beginning.

The sky darkened, the soil from underneath them started crumbling
they held each other's hands and it started pouring
one of them fell in the mud, the other one kept on running
realizing the obvious absence, he stopped all of a sudden
two steps short of salvation he looked back and hesitated for a moment
big mistake! the wounded one took notice
She closed her eyes and waved goodbye,
It's over.

Copyright © Alberto Ruiz 2001/2008 All rights reserved

Down We Go Together (Fast)

2006-08-11T13:31:00.000-07:00

This one is for you, Susie
Tootsie, Lucy, Sprucie, Watoosie
or whatever your name is, Missy
This will degenerate, I guarantee you
it will slowly build into a crescendo
which will be hard to stop in regulation
but time has come and gone she's old and fragile
she broke her hippie boyfriend's purple bathrobe
wear, tear, fear, smear, keep the rhyming constant
but remember to do it on your own time!
This is neither the place, nor the swine
across the prairie, Mary dropped her left one
steady at the go but ready to blow
down the chimney she went job searching
stringing these words along and singing
following the path laid down before her
drinking the juice straight from the container
what was your name again? Ah! Laura
I must be at the wrong station, please forgive me
this train reeks of pretension and I'm stinking
Tell me, Dodo, do you do? or don't you?
you know, you do, do you? or won't you?
won't you do the do-run with the scissors
or have you forgotten our appointment?
how much more time before the big one?
is the small one any closer?
why don't you snatch that opportunity?
and tell the world about your father
he says hello, he rots in prison
for a crime he said was not committed
but the judge saw things much different
the money had exchanged hands in his honor
you're free to go wherever they have prisons
three squares a day and seven circles
two quarters make one half of half the total
add them all up at your discretion
make them pay, c'mon, you started it!
I could end this if I want to
but I'm way too selfish to deny it
Stop! OK, I'll say it:
the shoes don't match the hat your mother gave you
there! are you happier since the accident?
I am, I'm super static
I sing along with the TV car commercials
they bring back memories of Lillie
the way she ran across the backyard
and scared the scary italian neighbors
makes me feel inadequate and silly
but life goes on, you know, she's waiting
impatient and decisively reciting
the rules of engagement to a surgeon
can you believe her luck? the bastard!
her mother must be proud, they come from nothing.

Copyright © 2001/2008 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

You Tell Me

2006-06-12T23:38:00.000-07:00

This a tragedy and we should let the healing begin
You say "we must learn to love and tolerate each other"
You asked us to be honest and to do unto others what we wish to have done unto us"
How could we make sense of this tragedy if we can't even feel our hearts beating underneath this heavy armor?
How can we start the healing process if we can't even begin to understand the nature of our wounds or what caused them?
How can we tolerate one another if we fear our differences and hate ourselves for faking kindness?
How can we love each other when we're too busy procuring a brighter future for ourselves and failing at it?
How can we prove our honesty in an empty room?
How can I do unto you what you have done unto me without killing you?

Copyright © Alberto Ruiz 2001/2008 All rights reserved

La Novena de los Santos Rieles

2006-03-23T08:03:00.000-08:00

Bouncing around inside my head you wonder
in my dreams and underneath the full moon, hiding
inside the house you live in with your parents,
your siblings, your regrets and your misfortunes
Under the Tropic of Cancer forced to grow up
grinding to dust your teeth, in constant horror
unbeknownst to you the distant future
would fire her machine in your direction
with bullets made of pleasure and of sorrow

You sneak into my chest and to the far left
a locomotive, abandoned and defeated
left for dead, insane, schizophrenic
talking to itself without an answer
eternally condemned to rewrite stories
of halcyon days and youthful hedonism
of shiny chrome, sweet wine and tender fabrics
at its back the wet wind slowly eroding
its carcass once regarded as impressive

Like the train at the dusk of its existence
I fold in equal parts your yellowed portrait
like the pleats of your skirt, the one you hated
and I place it ever careful in my memory
alongside all the things I have neglected.
The ties are simply stronger than the area
between the two of us, the immediate compass
but never, as persuasive as the blood stream
which seems to rule the bodies with desire

Approaching a tight corner to the far right
a defiant tiny curve would rise to power
the metal wheels screeching, barking orders
to the pistons red with rust from unemployment.
The rails once separated by the humans
will meet at last to make love in the distance
although no one will see them in their bedstead
they will see themselves in one another
and they will love each other everlasting

New York City, March 2006
© Copyright 2006 Alberto Ruiz. All Rights Reserved

His Excellency

2005-10-16T17:32:00.000-07:00

His Excellency Monsignor Tribo stopped in mid-flight and slipped
He fell on his rump, and everybody well-bloody knows
(and if they don't, they should)
Just how difficult it is to stand on the clouds right after a prat fall of such nature.
This material we're made out of is nothing more than a facade
Animals without opposing thumbs and the capability to lie to themselves
are way better equipped to withstand the elements of natural selection
The Monsignor won't endure decompression without his genitals exploding
into millions of bloodstained and asymmetrical fragments. We must reckon, however,
that once his rotting flesh goes off, he will have another huge set of problems in his hands.

Ah! because physical pain is nothing when compared to deep remorse
See if you can touch the devil's nose with your own without burning yourself, no one can
—God knows I've tried —
Go ahead and leave the house at once without being seen by your own destiny.
Good luck!
Play her a prank and hide from her, behind the secrets which have made you paranoid
Sing her a lullaby and whisper softly in her good ear, tell her that everything is going to be alright
tell her not to worry about you because your underwear is clean and you're not lacking food
Monsignor Tribo talked to you and he promised you money, he said you have a great future
ahead of you (and behind you). Those were his words, not mine. He wasn't joking when he said it, either.
Good luck!, you're going to need it.

Copyright © Alberto Ruiz 2001/2008 All rights reserved

From Nothing To Something in 60 Seconds

2005-07-22T08:38:00.000-07:00

Nothing is the perfect word to start this scribble
(when you're bored you'd do almost whatever)
Seldom have I seen good table manners
from a card-carrying member of this species.
The idea is to ignore all they have taught you
to not get too caught up in standard logic
no rhyme and a solid disregard for meter
to use the words as if they were a toilet.

What we do with the language is appalling,
it should shame any teacher of sound grammar
we are limited by our lack of refinement
Oh!, and by our sheer disdain for what is decent.
Still, we open wide and say it,
as it comes out of our arses, without filters
So you think you can do this any better? . .
Well, you might and I'd love to see you try it.

If my memory serves me well, I've been here prior,
I can actually tell you what is coming
Let me see... a bit about the grammar, no, wait, damn it!
. . . I will end this rap for sure with something. . .
I'm not sure just what it is, but trust me
. . .hmmn, nothing comes to mind again, I'm truly sorry!
I guess you were right all along, I'm full of horse shit,
It's true,how can you say that with a straight face?

You hardly even know me, or what drives me.
How can you tell me I suck, with such conviction?
it's clear to me you want out of this poem.
I can see it in your eyes, the look is baffling!
Do come again and leave next time when prompted
don't dare me to explain, I'd rather show you
that if I massage the appropriate information
I may yet turn this nonsense into something.

Copyright © Alberto Ruiz 2001/2008 All rights reserved

Drunk & Sober

2005-05-24T01:24:00.000-07:00

The knife has sunk in
the dirt has piled on
the love has fell off
the rain has toppled over
my gut resembles an empty vault
and you hold the key
but you're a lousy lover

The honey has dripped in
the luck has cried off
the wetness has dried out
the passion tumbled over
my soul resembles a casket
your legs squeezing in
my brain's in the gutter

The moon has crept in
the dark has ran off
the guilt has poured on
the embrace melted over
my mind resembles a black hole
I'm drunk on sadness and regret
you are clean
and sober

Copyright © 2001/2008 Alberto Ruiz. All rights reserved

Deusa Europa

2005-04-12T02:41:00.000-07:00

You, sensuous nymph
voluptuous goddess
of sand of sweat and scents
of silky reds
of massive legs
of cream and kermes
of ancient crimson
fluids rushing
traveling
at modern speeds
from a single thought
to the core of your gender
down the pathway of sins
to the furnace
where anything is possible
and everything is rendered

Cover me in the naked satin
of your milky and fiery skin
malleable red clay blanket
of Mediterranean ilk
forged in blood-stained
salty black water
and medieval steel
made impure in the new land
of milk and honey
Dodgers and Yankees
and cable bills

Quench my thirst
with your left nipple
pink and deformed,
sweet and bitter
at the cusp of giving in
with ancient lust
and modern glitter
motherly in its eagerness
to please
utterly selfless and blind
as only true love can be

Let me rest these dirty curls
on the pillows of your thighs
warm and meaty,
let me play
let me lie along your side
like a motherless child
drawing castles, knights and horses
dragons, damsels in distress
with my reckless, needy fingers
in the sandbox of your sex.

NYC, NY April 2005

© 2005 Alberto Ruiz. All Rights Reserved

Anne Marie's Lover

2005-03-12T02:38:00.000-08:00

I saw Ann Marie standing by the import rack
down at the local record store's basement
a big chunk of her shiny black hair
hiding half of her pockmarked complexion
the dark short spikes concealed her simper
but failed to protect her neck and her back
from the fluorescent lamps and from my prying eyes.
Long, pale and blue as the New York City winter
thick legs curved like silver snakes twirling
towering, wrapping around each other
stout but strong thighs
the child-bearing hips of a young single mother.

An unlit, clumsy cigarette
dangling daringly and dangerously
at the verge of her open mouth
hanging on for dear life, half loose, half stuck
to her round and fleshy left bottom bulb
Long and slender, wet and swollen
branded with the lipstick of its owner
advancing and retreating, in a long passionate kiss
in perfect sync with her heavy breathing
her companion, her lover, her kisser
the thing she loved the most, her victim

Ankle-high black army boots
spray-painted with graffiti and Brooklyn mud
multiple rips in her black fishnets
multiple holes in her rose earlobes
filled with neither gold nor silver
shut closed and empty like dead flowers
like tiny black crosses on the side of a deadly highway
short, thick black hair and short black skirt
black blouse, black eye shadow, black nails
Anne Marie's fingers moved like a thief at night
scanning and searching like military searchlights
in the midst of a pitch-black Brooklyn sky

Someone called her name
her head turned swiftly
her lips shaken with the violent motion
gravity, inertia, and other secretive forces
plotting like grassy knoll lone gunmen,
conspiring like jealous politicians
like most greek gods, like all greek poisons
A sudden sense of sadness overcame me
I pitied her companion, her lover, her kisser
as it shot out like a bullet from her pouty mouth
and landed deadly wounded at my feet.
An innocent bystander, a voyeur
I contemplated for a brief second or two
lost in the curved space of this urban tragedy
but she, abruptly and decisively
put an end to any and all my sympathetic thoughts
by brutally stomping and squashing
and killing the thing she thought she loved the most

Bay Ridge, NY March 1995

© 1995 Alberto Ruiz. All Rights Reserved

I love You Well

2005-01-17T09:08:00.000-08:00

I write to you
expecting nothing
asking for nothing
giving you nothing
I seek nothing more
than to be a shadow
on your wall, a window
to the pleasant past
not to your past anguish

An old coat
a glove
a rosary, the bridge
to the sweet medicine
not to the bitter cure

A point of support
a string, a chair
a joist
a ladder
a kiss on the cheek
the certainty of a dream
the embrace of a child
who remembers you and plays
in your backyard, with you
who remembers you and suffers
what you have endured

A truncated romance
for lack of malice
by cowardice or fate
by adolescence or rush
a heartache
a sadness
a teardrop
the corner of my mouth
a frustrated utopia
an insane hope
a sound, a hush
the remote possibility
which hurts when reminisced
and sweetens when recalled

The sensation of being
by your side and not to see you
of seeing you without you being
by my side and to have you
to hold you
and to lose you
of missing you
of false starts and stops
of cursed tomorrows
a whisper in your ear
and an absolute faith
in what has never been

From you I expect nothing
but I await anxious
to see me in your stare
to chat about our childhood
when I held your hand in mine
as if it were a rose
trembling and smiling
as I gazed into your eyes
and tightening my lips
I said a thousand silent words
the ones I never told you
the ones you knew all too well
hoping that one day
you'd forgive me and realize
that I loved you then and I love you still
and although it doesn't matter anymore
that I miss you now
and that my voice
still calls your name.

© 2005 Alberto Ruiz. All Rights Reserved