Prayers to a golden star

The beam of light

In a bold and blistering night.

Thorns and rivers and fences,

Guardians of wild walls.

Barriers of crooked colors,

Ice cold blue as the ocean,

Burning brown as the desert

Grey as barbed wire

And as dreams that used to be pink

While laws are black and white,

At least sometimes

At least for them.


Snakes fleeing from sand

Through sand.

Sharks escaping their waters

Through water.

Crawling creatures, 

Climbing chameleons,

And jumping Jaguars.

Are they dangerous?

Are they hazardous?

Are they tremendous

Scavengers or heroes?


Silently invading barred boarders

Quietly invading crowded cattle fields


Rambling with rights to room

Weeping with open wounds

Weeping silently

Rambling quietly

Running, shouting, settling

Building bridges and hauling homes


Wondering when the Father comes.

Tomorrow is on its Way

Soon is sitting on my neck

Choking me with stomach acid

Poking with his needle.

Soon is too soon

And I’m not soon enough..


Today could be green

But tomorrow’s gloomy horizon

Hits me like a bat,

Like a white policeman

Banging a black suspect

Leaving him bleeding

Like all the other

All like him.

Incarcerated by His Holiness

White, modern, civilized.

Exchanging our souls

With the devil of the Heavens.

Masculine like them

Deceiving like the colors

Of the rainbow.

Lying about the treasures of life,

Shaping our neatly curved existence.

Undermining gray shades,

Lurking around the corner

Of rain

Of midnight

Of new year

Of the universe.


There must be another way.

The Russians tried,

Cuba walks the mile,

And China sold its soul.


But the planet keeps eating

Scavenging on its stale bones,

Consuming fresh girl-meat

And throwing young males to the lions.

The Lords of The West

Gods of the best,

Guardians of the present

Of the today, and of the fall.

Will the long gone and broken

Flowers of early spring

Break through the thick and oily canvas

And paint a new tomorrow?