Darkening Window
by Luis Gonzales
Like my heart and my expectations
Today the window darken. More each
Day, its light is lost. Gone to rest
In hopelessness.
No longer the options come
Through the light hues. Now
The greys carry all, good and bad.
Tasty. And tasteless is all a jumble
Of disgust of all that got away.
From past to present, the dark
Moves. And un-ending chain of senseless acts.
And willful loss of all that was, or
Could have been. And in the process
The loss is flesh and light.
My life in balance stands,
Sinking further. Pick a side
If you want; the wings of hope
Gone with every flight not flown,
Or crashing stop.
Until one day the window’ l
Shine for those that are left
Behind, and those will mourn
And grieve in endless pain in
The memories of who I was, or
Maybe you was.
But then who care. Not I, the
Window is closed the lights is
Dead and all that’s left is
Dark.
Every day a window gives someone
A sense and measure of what
His/her life may be, and where
It’s going, and whether he/she
Got there. Mostly the average
Individual never gets there,
Or the true success which is
Complete, a called happiness.
.
Equation of Life
By Luis Gonzales
I, an equation of life
Defined by my ignorance,
As well as my knowledge
Motivated by the most private thoughts
And guided by the rules in my heart.
Independent of all within myself, I
And alone in all my human essence
I less than an atom in the cosmos
And yet, unique in my action and reactions
Within my weaknesses, strength is risen
Out of desperation and kindness
Trying to be more than I will ever be
Imperfect like the mountains and the skies
Out of balance with my own nature.
Still, perfection lurks within the shell
Consciously known, but unable to grasp it
Restricted. I, by my own flesh and blood
Born of the same: as billions
But one of a kind, a winter flake of snow.
Growing with the earliest dawn,
Becoming more than day, always beaten by time
Immortal with the rank and file, I
A star, a soul, an equation of dying
Too complex to be solved
By mine, or thine hand.
.
How Long a Time
By Luis Gonzales
How long a time to see you go?
Eons, eras, decades?
The blinking of an eye,
The trillionth time of a picture stuck
Within the past recollection of the mind.
And how long does the hurt last?
Forever! And how do you measure that?
When the hurt is larger than the bearer.
Tears are not enough
To console the pain of sorrow.
Who like purple sore
Lets you know is there
When leaning within its sphere.
Whenever a jet plane byes
Your image is dawning flare
And your beauty magnified
By the absence of your presence
I hate the day you left me,
Like I praise the shortness of your stay,
Embroiled in sweetness
Of blue satin darkness
And the bursting of red climactic rage.
.
In The Council of The Written Words
By Luis Gonzales
In the council of the written words, and
Thoughts, they flail, they dance, they sing,
They scream, they wiggles all around, and
Beat the master of the dance with the tempo
That provides a rational abstract of the
Whole self. A painting of my soul.
In the council of the written words, the
Thoughts provoke a rhythm that seems a
Runaway, a train. Sometimes slow, the verses
Come, other times they are missiles sprouts,
That take lives of their own. Bullets with
The same psychic impact of a tri-dimensional
Emotion that’s borne in a one dimensional
Piece of white paper.
Daily lives and daily thoughts of every
Conceivable kind, and dreams, goals, political
Thoughts, reflected by the mutes of heart,
Brought to bear fruit if only in a molecular,
Chemical theater that tries to comprehend,
And make sense of them; to live or die
According to the ear that listens.
Red, Green, Blue, Black, Brown and White
The sparks or micro-energetic thoughts are
Displayed in audio-mode, in the belief that
They will impart a change, or maybe just
Make another listen hard, to whatever is
Been said.
All these words in the council of thoughts
And words, providing a small-large opening
Into the secret’s un-tapped, of Alice or
Alex’s living plane. Disclosed in very small’
Spurts for the consideration of one, or many,
What the hell, let them know something of
Ourself, the charge is nil, the listening
Of it pays more than enough to decipher
Of the thoughts the writer of the words.
.
Naked in the Park
By Luis Gonzales
Naked in the park,
Looking for a hand,
Not to help me out,
But to pull me up.
Naked in the park
With all that I love
That lived in the urban rotten
Hole with the perverts
And the dopes,
With the fiends
And dogs
The fleas long time abandoned us
Naked in the park,
With hunger in my eyes
And the man walks around like
I’m a surprise.
I’m a burden to his conscience
A threat to his pockets,
To his political career
And status quo
I am the ultimate endangered
Species
That lives in his sphere.
Naked in the park,
The man averts his eyes
He may see the future of his
Own demise.
Naked in the park with the
Days stretch out,
Like a hungry cobra
Readying to strike out,
And with the years coming to
Term
He sees life and wishes it to end
His suffering not enough but
Just begun.
Naked in the park,
Invisible to most,
To those in power he is just
A mole,
Living his life in utter fear
In underground
In subway stairs,
Trampled down
Day and night
Never knowing a happy time,
Living naked in the past
He has nothing but what he
Was,
And in the dawning of a new world
He’ll always be there to scold
At us
From another face,
Another battered body, perhaps
In death.
And for those who care about
His problem
He will have the same old
Question,
…if I am not ‘cain why am
I cursed,
Why do you not do the very
Best…
…go to the papers, go to
The church,
Go seek someone that he may
Help,
And when you think
You’ve done enough
Look down again,
Do you see God?
Then start to pray and ask
His mercy
For your own breed,
That sooner or later you may
Have peach.
.
Prisoner of Wrath
By Luis Gonzales
The men’s that lived behind the rock,
Not under!
Their day are endless night
That shines, and kills the spirit of the weak
That there reside.
And like the walking dead
They’re labelled,
By the ones, they left behind!!!
And through their lives
Their theme is FREEDOM,
A bell, that never rang.
And all the slimy dirt of hell, to them
A featherweight!
Their burden measure
In tears of heaven’s wrath.
Their souls leaden by their past sins
Through their veins runs the river Styx
That never let’s
Regardless the pain,
Or the eternal sting that preys their mind.
.
Stuck
By Luis Gonzales
I got up one day: Hey! Here I am!
As great as the sun, and cool as the rain
Smooth as the darkest night
And surer than the day to come.
And on this theme of my life, I lived.
Like primrose on summer days
And willing Hemlock on winter nights
Always wanting, coveting the wrong dreams.
One day, longer than eons, in my mind today
The bubble burst, POW! spilling bitter herbs,
Reality, like bile bit my dreams asunder
Under the blaze of powder, one slept, one fled.
After a trek of hurt and suspicion
My hand was cuffed to eternal blight
To pay for my wasted youth
And years filled with mistaken cues
Reflection now on that long day
I see the hours, the seconds, of my follies
The dalliance of prime bloom, and the malefic guide
That brought the stain of Cain into my life.
Today under the rocks I awake
The shadows, forever mine to be
And my life lest than a seconds is
And in every moment, remorse my only pride
My constant companion, loneliness , and pain
I carry them with love, although not well,
And every slamming look I get, reminds me of my past
Therefore, I pray, to keep a while my mind.
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| Aqua-Viva |
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| Dream Girls |
 |
| Faces of Juveniles |
 |
| FACT Mural |
 |
| Hard Work |
 |
| Hate Park |
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| Home |
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| Kids For Cash |
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| Life In America |
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| Love Park |
 |
| My Girl |
 |
| The Big House |
 |
| The Future |
 |
| The Price of Life |
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| Luis S. Gonzales |
No Comments
Anonym
March 19, 2018 at 6:51 pmWOW – I LOVE your art work !!! Especially the collages and the wall paintings really get to me; They are dark, but still full of hope. Also beautifully made. In general it is a pretty impressive collection! Thank you so much for sharing!
Sending my greetings from Oslo, Norway