I Dislike You.

You look so stupid behind that computer screen
With your fake glasses and stupid hair.
Your obnoxious voice
And opinions where no one cares.

Just stop talking you ignorant fool.
Put on some heavy weights and jump in a pool.
Drown like witches in medieval times
where little sound exists.

Put those thoughts of yours into the trash
along with yourself and a crash.
I hope you cry to your mom
who won’t be there because she’s gone.
She’s gone into outer space
to get away from your ugly face.

Cross your heart and hope to die?
Cross MY heart and hope you die.
You could get hit by a car at fare,
day or time, I wouldn’t care.

Father.

Day after day
You come home as the sun goes to sleep.
You’re wondering why the lights are off;
You look at the clock,
It’s pretty damn late.

You walk to the dogs,
And kiss them goodnight.
You walk into your room
To let out a sigh.
You let out a sigh of disbelief.
You’re thinking why,
Why is life so hard on me?

You take off your boots,
Walk into my room.
You call out my name with no response.
I am sleeping, but I can sense your presence.
Wake up, you fool.

He leaves as he lets out a little cry.

I thought to myself,
Sometimes all you need
Is someone to tell you
Three simple words
That everyone struggles to speak
But it’s so easy to take in;
I love you.

I heard the footsteps become louder as he made his way back to my room.
He opened the door and said, “I love you.”
I smiled.

Pieces, Parts, and Open Hearts

My eyes closed tightly,
I’m marching blindly;
Pretending that everything is fine.

With eyes wide open;
Fire and families.
Tell me when, where, and how.

Close my eyes again
And imagine tranquil scenery.
The sirens ring
And shatter my broken dream.

Pieces, parts, and open hearts
Spilled out onto the empty floor.
Ripped open by my broken dreams.

We’ve come to face reality;
Shit happens.
But keep your head held high.
Not today, not yesterday, and not tomorrow.
We were born to lead.

TWO GUITARS

BY VICTOR HERNÁNDEZ CRUZ
Two guitars were left in a room all alone
They sat on different corners of the parlor
In this solitude they started talking to each other
My strings are tight and full of tears
The man who plays me has no heart
I have seen it leave out of his mouth
I have seen it melt out of his eyes
It dives into the pores of the earth
When they squeeze me tight I bring
Down the angels who live off the chorus
The trios singing loosen organs
With melodious screwdrivers
Sentiment comes off the hinges
Because a song is a mountain put into
Words and landscape is the feeling that
Enters something so big in the harmony
We are always in danger of blowing up
With passion
The other guitar:
In 1944 New York
When the Trio Los Panchos started
With Mexican & Puerto Rican birds
I am the one that one of them held
Tight like a woman
Their throats gardenia gardens
An airport for dreams
I've been in theaters and cabarets
I played in an apartment on 102nd street
After a baptism pregnant with women
The men flirted and were offered
Chicken soup
Echoes came out of hallways as if from caves
Someone is opening the door now
The two guitars hushed and there was a
Resonance in the air like what is left by
The last chord of a bolero.



My favorite line is this, “Because a song is a mountain put into Words and landscape is the feeling that Enters something so big in the harmony.” Me, being one who writes music, I believe in this quote. The song is the final piece; the mountain is the final piece. The landscapes make up the mountains; the harmonies make up the entire piece. The small details on the mountain, the trees, the animals, the flowers, and such make up the landscape; the words make up the song.
In this poem, there are two guitars that speak, metaphorically. They speak to one another about the way they are treated by their owners and how they do not like them. I believe the writer takes good care of his guitar if he is able to put himself in an inanimate object’s perspective and be able to make it feel.

Elements.

All four elements exist.
Day and night; all day err day.

Element one; the air.
Swiftly winging through each piece of grass,
Each flower petal on the tree,
Each leaf sprouting from every bud.
The wind moving through our hair, our fingers, our toes,
His toes, her toes, its toes.

Element two: The water.
Moving in and out of pores in the wet mud.
Forming puddles that we are oh-so deathly afraid to step in.
And if we do,
The water climbs upon our feet to take a nap.

Element three: the ground.
The earth.
Which we step on from day to day without a care
Of what we are doing.
Do we inflict pain on this gorgeous mother of ours?

Element four: The fire.
The sun,
It’s what started it all.