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Thursday, December 13, 2012

in the city



in the city
oh the city!
to feel pretty,
you’re so pretty
in the city,
oh the city
dirty
to be oh so dirty
in the city
dizzy
so damn dizzy,
in the city,
oh the city
you’re so pretty
but so dirty,
oh so dirty
and so dizzy
in the city
oh the city!
 
Like this poem?  Buy my poetry/photography eBooks at:
https://www.amazon.com/author/writeracuna
 
and share this poem and link with friends and family.

Gracias!
Ricardo

miracle




I thought you didn't want to come into this world
I don't blame you
I'm still trying to like it myself

Against the bloody torrent
Inside your mother's vessel you held fast
While we older, wiser guardians
In our hurry and worry thought you dead

You have many miles and years to travel yet
And as many dangers pose still a threat
Have no doubt that life is precious
And that you're a miracle from the beginning


Like this poem?  Buy my poetry/photography eBooks at:
https://www.amazon.com/author/writeracuna
 
and share this poem and link with friends and family.

Gracias!
Ricardo

blank



please do come in out of the global warming cold
and enjoy a frozen smoke and a hot-piping beer
happy _____ holidays!
i sing under cozy roof and rub fat pork belly
thank my lucky stars and the face of my merciful ________
for American me happy home happy family happy friends and happy life

but then i couldn’t help myself could i
and ate me some nuked buttery slightly burned popcorn
and had me watch me some late night news porn
about an Afghan woman who had 39 of her family and friends killed
since World War ____ began
including her husband, brother and 11-year-old son
and i didn’t know if i should change the channel or cry or die or ________

where is her merciful ________
and what the _____ can i do about it?
when all i want is my new year i have a dream presidential memorial independence laboring columbus veteran turkey of a christmas wish God bless the U.S. of A.!

to be happy
like we all want to be happy, right?
but what the ___ is happy
if there’s just one ______________
who is
not
__________


If you like this poem, please buy my eBooks at:
https://www.amazon.com/author/writeracuna
 
and/or share this poem with friends and family who would be interested.

Gracias!
Ricardo

sorry





i’m sorry
i beg you
on my knees
with my hands in the air
tears flooding down my face
beating my chest with my fists
mea culpa mea culpa
I take everything back
I regret everything
i’ve ever said and done
on all fours, look
bashing my head on the rocks
blood running hot
I wish myself dead
I question why
i was even born
I’m crying out  to never exist again
please
because that’s what it is to be sorry
and never want to be sorry again

Like this poem?  Buy my poetry/photography eBooks at:
https://www.amazon.com/author/writeracuna
 
and share this poem and link with friends and family.

Gracias!
Ricardo

Wednesday, August 22, 2012



las manos de mi padre
father's hands
caked with dirt,
maps with tiny roads of blood
from splinters and metal edges,
burned in the sun,
frozen in the warehouse,
scented with:
tomates,
calabazas (squash),
pepinos (cucumbers),
sandías (watermelons),
mangos,
jalapeños,
aguacates (avocados),
berenjenas (eggplant),
melones,
cerezas (cherries),
limones,
uvas (grapes),
 
and other produce you and I have eaten without knowing by whose hand we have been fed

If you like this poem, please buy my eBooks at:
https://www.amazon.com/author/writeracuna
 
and/or share this poem with friends and family who would be interested.

Gracias!
Ricardo

Monday, May 28, 2012

the wheel grinds on



the wheel grinds on,
humanity advances,
and the skyscrapers scrape
deeper into space
and those who plummet to their death,
plummet to their death,
their last yells go unheard,
unremembered,
but i am young,
and the time is now,
and there is no time,
and yet my heart is sick
because i want to make the music
i hear on the radio,
the lingering lyrics,
the driving beat,
the sea for others to swim in
 
From my ebook under the influence.
https://www.amazon.com/author/writeracuna

Sunday, May 20, 2012

these roses i wrote you/estas rosas te escribi



These roses I wrote for you,
Hope you like them

They are motley-colored
And pure like love itself
But thorny
Like the heart itself

Hope these roses you’ll caress with your care
Their thirst satiate with your tears
And your singing make them grow

Hope these roses console you
During the sunny day and stormy night
Even when you’re old and tired
And I’m dead and not longer by your side
May they speak of our love)

These roses I wrote for you



Estas rosas te escribi
Ojala y te gusten

Son de todos colores y puras
Como el amor
Pero espinosas
Como el corazon

Ojala estas rosas acarisiez con tu querer
Con tus lagrimas les quites la sed
Y con tu cantar las hagas crecer

Ojala estas rosas te consuelen
Durante el dia asoleado y la noche tormentosa
Aun cuando seas viejita y cansada
Y muerto yo a tu lado no este
Que hablen de nuestro amor

Estas rosas que te escribi

https://www.amazon.com/author/writeracuna


Sunday, May 13, 2012

woman/mujer



desert flower
root
earth
are you
woman
aguave water
cloud, bird of hope
my guiding star
along the dark road
through the mad city
may they never take away
your light, your fervor, your splendor
you are all heavenly bodies
the universe itself
and i
a mere moon
but with an iron heart
ready for battle
my queen
you are salvation
and i your Lazarus
still deaf, mute, blind, senseless
only you can make me believe
in the beyond
springtime to all winters
life to death
are you
woman

 
flor del desierto
raíz
tierra
eres tú
mujer
agua del aguave
nube, ave esperanza
mi estrella guía
por la carretera obscura
a través la cuidad lunática
que nunca te quiten tu luz, tu ardor, tu fulgor
eres todos los cuerpos celestiales
el universo mismo
y yo
un simple satelite
pero con el corazón de hierro
dispuesto a toda batalla
mi reina
eres salvación
y yo tu Lázaro
aún sordo, mudo, ciego, inconsiente
solo tu me haces creer
en el mas allá
primavera a todo invierno
vida a la muerte
eres tú
mujer

From my ebook Greetings from Heaven & Hell:
https://www.amazon.com/author/writeracuna

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

may day



fuck the politicians, ceos, bankers, celebrities
false idols
let us instead drink, sing, celebrate
our parents, our teachers, the working class
the people we see on the bus
and in the streets everyday

fuck the civics book trivia
of useless dates and names
of people and places and events
that are self-important
let us instead learn about
a day in the life of
every man, woman and child
who make up humanity
not illusion or insanity

the real heroes
the true history

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Office is


office is pettiness
over who comes in at what time and takes what breaks and leaves at what time and does or doesn’t do what work or uses whose desk and eats what food and talks or doesn’t talk to whom


office is boredom
same hours, same desks, same tired uninspired faces, same tired soggy asses down the same trodden paths down the same endless hallways with endless doors keeping people in or out, same lunch spots, same complaints about the same people and when’s the next holiday or vacation


office is fear
of having somewhere to go to and being told what to do because they’ll pay you, of forcing yourself out of much-needed sleep, swallowing your breakfast, not smelling the roses, bitching in traffic, but upon arrival, putting on a face that life is just fine, that the weekend was enough time to live, that your life is in order, that you’re emotionally healthy and sane, that your clothes are clean and pressed, that your hair is coiffed and your teeth are brushed, that your underwear is clean and that there is nowhere else in all of God’s Green Earth you’d rather be


office is humiliation
the modern-day equivalent of the fields our fathers and mothers slaved in, all education, worldly experience, and soul sacrificed to the continuously humming machine spitting out profit, where superiors are superiors not by brute or intellect or any intrinsic quality but by arbitrariness, connection or wealth


office is death
where you spend time with people you don’t want to or even like, where your mind and body atrophy, where your dreams of being a writer turn to dust, where day after day after day you rot, and life evaporates before your very eyes

From my ebook Greetings from Heaven & Hell.
https://www.amazon.com/author/writeracuna

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

How Broken-Hearted Found Love


Bloom © 2011 Ricardo Lira Acuña
            
            Broken-hearted for two years after my arrival to LA and several bad dates later, I had already given up on finding someone, that is, until I met Love.  She ignored me for about a month after I first met her.  Then one night at the Bigfoot Lodge we just clicked, and she wrote her number on the back of a Food 4 Less receipt.  We started going out and seeing each other every chance we got. 
            A few months into our courtship, she called me up with tickets to a Ricky Martin concert in San Jose.  I really wasn’t interested in going, but for the love of her, we drove up to San Francisco, stayed for the weekend, and caught the concert on Sunday evening.  Driving back to LA after midnight, I was speeding over 90 on the I-5 to get us back as soon as I could because we both had to work the next day.  It had been the perfect weekend. 
            But it only took a split second, when I thought the car wheels had hit dirt in the island between lanes, for everything to go wrong.  I swerved, slammed the brakes, and we spun out and flipped over several times.  Time slowed down as glass and dirt flew everywhere, and I put my arm out to protect Love fearing the worst ending.  We landed in a ditch by the side of the freeway.  My scalp was badly cut, making me look like Stephen King’s bloody Carrie.  Miraculously though, Love was unharmed and able to run up to the freeway, inbetween checking up on me to make sure I didn’t go into shock, until she was finally able to flag down a trucker who called 911.  I was sewn up at the nearest ER, and we had to spend the night in some hotel in Los Banos because my car was totaled.  I told Love right there and then that she could leave me, and there wouldn’t be any hard feelings.  We took a Greyhound bus back to LA, and she stuck it out with me.  I proposed to her on Valentine’s Day 12 years ago. 
            Poor Love, don’t know how she puts up with me, but I’m glad she does.  I’m still a kid at heart who doesn’t want to grow up.  I’m also struggling as a writer, my mind always preoccupied with what I’m writing and not necessarily the daily obligations, responsibilities and chores.  But I do know this, my Love brings out the best in me and teaches me to be a better husband, father and person.  She inspired many of the poems in my second book of poetry and photography, Greetings from Heaven & Hell, about falling in love and the realities of marriage and growing up.  I owe my beautiful children, my life, everything to Love.  I love you. Marvilla.

Now on sale as an ebook for only $2.99, Greetings from Heaven & Hell:

Now on sale as an ebook for only $2.99, under the influence:  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0066AA2Z6

Please share with anyone you know who enjoys poetry and photography.  And thank you for your support!