Two Poems by Andres Alfaro
Subtlety
by Andres Alfaro
Just once
isn’t it time
that we dropped our subtle acts
and speak to each other plainly?
The words of a poet
The song of the singer
The shapes of the artist often
Speak like echoes
to an empty cave.
Nobody
understands.
The symbols are often
20,000 piece puzzles that
are two pieces shy.
The riddles are often
wrapped around ego
instead of wrapped around
experience and emotion.
Artists lament of misinterpretation
While the masses lament the inability
to grasp meaning at all.
Isn’t it time we drop the act
and recognize that
meaning is nothing outside
the perspective of each individual.
The Difference of a Day
Yesterday. 9:30 A.M.
Breakfast routine. Like an old dog chasing new cars, I’m in an endless battle for my security.
12:30 P.M.
Lunch routine. Like a baker picking apples I’m in search of the magic ingredients that will replace my backbone.
3:30 P.M.
Internet Scrabble. As if words weren’t vague enough, I’m forced into a time delayed, de-contextualized game of wits, like Malcolm X forced into a safety net of buzzing, white bees equipped with the power of mass reasoning for stingers.
7:00 P.M.
Dinner routine. Nothing like stale toast and butter to liven up an already stale existence. I’ll take my monotony on rye, please.
10:00 P.M.
Sparks! My soul erupts from the energy of a distant love and knowledge gained from an epiphany….the melodic dance that snowmen make on springtime lakes is the proof that no two people reach their hands out for the same reason, and no two people can partition out life in equal portions.
I emit blue stars
I spout out June teeth
I radiate magnetic cyclones that target your strength with the accuracy of a hornet.
I now know that these were the missing riddles
you needed to solve your book of mysteries.
by Andres Alfaro
Just once
isn’t it time
that we dropped our subtle acts
and speak to each other plainly?
The words of a poet
The song of the singer
The shapes of the artist often
Speak like echoes
to an empty cave.
Nobody
understands.
The symbols are often
20,000 piece puzzles that
are two pieces shy.
The riddles are often
wrapped around ego
instead of wrapped around
experience and emotion.
Artists lament of misinterpretation
While the masses lament the inability
to grasp meaning at all.
Isn’t it time we drop the act
and recognize that
meaning is nothing outside
the perspective of each individual.
The Difference of a Day
Yesterday. 9:30 A.M.
Breakfast routine. Like an old dog chasing new cars, I’m in an endless battle for my security.
12:30 P.M.
Lunch routine. Like a baker picking apples I’m in search of the magic ingredients that will replace my backbone.
3:30 P.M.
Internet Scrabble. As if words weren’t vague enough, I’m forced into a time delayed, de-contextualized game of wits, like Malcolm X forced into a safety net of buzzing, white bees equipped with the power of mass reasoning for stingers.
7:00 P.M.
Dinner routine. Nothing like stale toast and butter to liven up an already stale existence. I’ll take my monotony on rye, please.
10:00 P.M.
Sparks! My soul erupts from the energy of a distant love and knowledge gained from an epiphany….the melodic dance that snowmen make on springtime lakes is the proof that no two people reach their hands out for the same reason, and no two people can partition out life in equal portions.
I emit blue stars
I spout out June teeth
I radiate magnetic cyclones that target your strength with the accuracy of a hornet.
I now know that these were the missing riddles
you needed to solve your book of mysteries.