13. The Fate of Delilah was Never Writ: Write It, J.Harper

By the way, that's a very powerful 

title, _________ . The pain, inert,

and the inertia (and pain) of authoring

this book will be eased through it, revolver

of knowledge, who suffers for her worth,

and walked the path of injury's abuse,

perceived the profound depths of the ingrate's

degrees!  How enormous is the truth girth

of women who propel the spinning globe,

who calculate the orbit of our Earth...

When Samson's hair was severed,

and rubble the only remnants, how explain 

Delilah, and by what sheer interventions

speak your rationale and modus operandi?

12. And I am simply here to Translate her: a good person, a child, a mother, mi Madre.

It is not I, Edith, who says it. --Don’t you see?

I am listening to the Ears speak. They do!

They too have a language, la langue du Verso

that Sings when it’s bid and answers on its knees

and whispers to the scarlet leaves plashed

along the face of Mother Earth. Only she knows

this verse. The Wanderer, Ovid, and Sor Juana,

her humblest servants and her devoutest.

Mother surpassed them all for what she gained

through the ravages of poverty. She earned

her freedom from greed's passions, mi Madre

who with harshest deprivations was pained.

She has so much to say, she murmurs,

and I am simply here to Translate her.

11. NeleveN: Hidden in the Seams of One

I'm Madame of Verso je suis la langue:
you two get yourselves Ready, Let's Go turn
aRound lemme get a handle on my Rhyme,
I taste your Crown of Flesh. My lovebites
in Pentametrical desiRe. Come, Love,
we are One and One, parallel dipthong:
you from the Top and me from Behind, Mine
everFaithful Poetic citeoP,
my Treasure of Subject Verb and Object
de amor roma ed. What sense is this,
Romance? My Knight of Adornment, Beloved
Andres  andas por las malas, Celos--
go away once and for all. I'm a Poet
of Great Lenghths and you're my Measuring Stick.

10: Decannet tennaceD : Tenacious Gorgeousness

Verse, I am not Vain to sing of glory
I see your Face of Mercy and Beauty,
your heart is in your Brow and balances
love of thought with love of humility.
In such a disappearance of Pride, what
tell you of Service to the Unworthy,
those who Raped your innocence filthily
and in poor measure? What of the haughty
whose sins are a Perpetration of Sloth
of spirit? Of vacant sense and grossil-
oquence? Verse, you are my Refuge and Saint.
I, your child, your false copy, who is certain
that in these lines, your meek splendor and worth
is preserved and extended by its Truth.

9.How do I drop you without Gravity: I will land the Line in Time

Elegant poem of adamantine grace,
the platinum sheen of celestial lace
adorned for the few who value its gains.
I am taking this sonnet by surprise
and gaining high altitude. Hear my Sighs

How do I drop you without gravity,

how make you an Iamb of red and gold?

Housecleaning the memory of dust and mold,

I ask and in reply, a bleak bird squeeks.

Go! airborne inertia of slavish design!

I am in flight and my feathers are singed,

once and twice and five times. Rhythmic Rhymes

sounds that cross, pass, and entwine in my verbs,

I will I will I will land this line in good Time.

8. I'm hostility averse. I prefer freedom of verse

I'm hostility averse. I prefer freedom of verse,
rhyme, meter, prosody, figure, ABC beads!
They create so much happiness for B D full
friendship and purity of purpose. I'm Spinning.
The beat is so Fertile, abundant Creative
engine of Plusses and Surplus and Extras, Yesssss!
Ay les va. Soy princesa de Flor y Versos.
No peleo mi territorio que soy la
Unica que sabe este Ritmo, es el Propio del dolor
convertido en Alas de Horizontes y Lunas.
Que si a éste me lo mataron, I will build
a New One, Universe of Poetry, I Will.

7. Beautiful Foresight:You've Returned Promethea

Beautiful Foresight:You've Returned Promethea,
you are wearing your Crown of Instinct, Antennae
for sound. Eres Poeta y ateoP serE,
a Pre-Relative of Time Past and the Present 
Hour. I wonder at your Desire to turn 
the Line Now. Yes, my father is a Balladeer,
now he has a Bad Ear and gestures his Private 
Langue, Tata. You've brought us all along verse's veins,
we gather around the same parts of sentences,
inside these Enclosure, blooming from inside, ink,
Incubus, Eggshell and silk lining, the Yolk kloY
of Freedom to see Tomorrow and be in Today.

6. Improvisational Verses sesreV: Hypellage Reversal

I'm a doctor of poetry, sound, and the vice of Pan,

poetically speaking, I'm going to try a new line,

a cuarentona of fourteen sounds. Alight mis musas,

let's get Rhyming then neht gnimyhR. It seems

that I am misunderstanding the Form. Ayúdenos,

almas, sueños, Oyes! Realidad que ya estufas. Done

with misery, injustice, mistakes that cost millions of lives.

What are we learning from such Rituals of Rhyme and Parlance?

Let’s ponder the Theory and Worship of Prose, WTF?

Let’s invent a Cure for Metrophilia. Sí se Puede.

We can. We are the Women who devised Songs of Muses.

We sing in Harmonic Convergence and have our Woes Survived.

5. your star que gran estrella es la Suya, Imaginacion

Thank you Sueno for all the work you have
done for Arts of Dreaming. We know better
our visions. We are certain and have seen
a dream star. We heard it was there. Vale
la historia y la historia vale. Keep peeK
let your Eyes always find the lines of sight
that crisscross crosscriss our Palettes and Hearts,
our sense of Internal and Eternal serenidad,
la Belleza balanceada con las Verdades
Justicia y el Amor la Paz y el Arte,
beautiful Mercy with deep-set Eyes, Touch
of light lightly shimmering Tear, a Spark
from the brilliant rays that shine from your star
que gran estrella es la Suya Imaginacion!

4. Orpheus to Calliope: It's like when you are born you are born in a Factory.

--"It's like when you are born you are born in
a Factory that keeps building around you.
The only thing to be is to be rich
like they Remove all your Hair and then sell
it back to You. And it's not Racism,
it's the Super Affluent who have no
Business wanting that much Money. The only
way to change is to be Self-Aware." Know
your self son? "Yes, mom, we're either going
to be this way, or be on the Brink of --
something, (a comprehension? I wondered)
And it wouldn't be Harmful." Okay, Son,
Thank you for talking to me about this.
"I read an article about the most
powerful few people who run everything.
They will go on to buy up the planets,
and the whole universe too. We need change,
socially, we need uniqueness valued.
Mom, it's like you are making a Basket
and have all the pieces to complete it.
Technology was crude and people were
badly treated.  We need social..." Freedom?
I asked but he kept on and spoke a long
time then settled into bed. I poured him
a spoonful of Honey, glass of water.
Son, you've said so much. Let's see what comes next.
Are you warm? Here is another blanket.
It's morning now and will start to get cold.

3. Personal Pronoun, CE(I)OU

Sincerity of my verses is known far
and wide through the Auspices of bygone
times of Sheer Future Sense. There are fearful
men of Power who lack a sincere bone
and Practice malfeasance, Suppress
poetic Force by Gun, Germs, and Steel known
as the Free Enterprise Style of Fibrous
inanity. To love Unbeknownst
to Love, a Wonderous slander on Feeling.
The cyanide Cynicism of self Lust
and Narcissist Hoes of Freedom of violence
to Discourse it Gluts its Hot blood Gusto
for Lies and Misappropriated I's,
Personal Pronoun, CE(I)OU.

2.Freedom of language that we Invented and used to Beautify.

I'm the Plaintiff of Poetry, a cursed
legal set of Theories and evidence.
I address myself to you Gentlemen
and Gentilewomen, restore to me the
Alphabet you sorely Abuse and waste
in Redtape bundles of burdens you bore.
You won't notice the Absence and would be
better served since its taking up space on
your Hard Drive in a File not opened
since 1055, a Millennium
of dust and Mold. We'd like access to the
Storage unit. We pay for privileges
to use what is Ours. Freedom of language
that we Invented and used, to Beautify.

1. TwentyFive-Decembered Lines

Celebrity News:Stalactite Dust Glitter in the Window Pane 

I gazed at you Radiant Dust Sparkle

in the wedge of a Curtain, magnifique

elegance, je n'e se quois, Palabrita,

que tal? Perfume de mi Memoria.

I'm innocent, the Imagination.   

Poetic Papparazzi, Red Carpet

of my Fascination, HollyWorded  

Media Espectaculo Sensacion Glitz;

I wanna say Something important, Yes, 

it's Celebrity news, Doctor Williams....

Imported Hotbed Tropical Flowers,  

Lindsey Lohan, a Disastrous Idol,

Glamour so Grand, metaphor 911.

Poesia Palabra de PolvoluZ.

Series on Poets: Giaconda and Claribel, Poets who Fights for her Verses

Giaconda Belli rode on a Tank

in the Nicaraguan Revolution;
flowers that grow under the Volcanos

scent the poems of Claribel Alegria--

How Sandy loved her over at Curbstone.

Cordially, as Poets toward love grow.

The Critics...what good comes when they're around?

They search and don't find their way in the Night

and make of their Subjects, Objects Carnate

and Erotic. I AM! (Love of Selves they Lack)

and with Reason for it; they are Self-Wrought

narcissists who hate Rhyme. And worse,

they work as does a Flyswatter for Thoughts.

A Poet is wise who fights for her Verses.

En contra de la delincuencia del ritmo: Soy Macha

Soy Macha dedicada al arte de la Poeta Ser,

soy Idealista poeta Guerrillera en Palabra

mis Papas fueron Nezahuaycoyotl, Burns

(Roberto), Chaucer WTF, he was a Pilgrim

like me, an Immigrant, Anglo Saxon, Mexican.

I sing the songs about financiers, CEO-es

güeyes sin Frijol de Moral y sin Conciencias

la mato y aparece una Mayor (oye tú Orisha,

Silvio Elegua Rodríguez CancionEros

Cubanos....ya tienen un Idea? Oigan poesistas,

HaY signos grámaticos y ritmos que valen en el Mundo.

EL MUNDO también es de Nosotros Los Poetas

sin Miedo y sin Corrupción, Poetas Maestras,

soy una de Ellas. Y me Nombro una Macha

que por Ciertas Razones se ha levantado

en Guerra de Palabra para Rescatarle

la Inocencia a la Niña Primavera hija soberana,

Musa de America, La Señora de Juquila,

que nos ha Creado nuestra VidaadiV VozzoV,

La vida no vale nada Renunciamos El

Apestoso estético Racial y de la Delincuencia

del RItmo.  Cállenme a ver si Podrán Políticos

Ustedes sin Valor y sin Dedicación. En este 

poem los pinto como los títeros sin corazón,
que son y que les enseñan a La Nación MUY MAL
EJEMPLO de lo que es lo que le llaman un Sueño,

Fascistas de Dinero! Fuerzas Ajenas. En Fin

son Anti-Americanas los Medios de

Comunicación. Y lo grito con orgullo que

a mi Abuelo le dió algo el hijo de un Hacendado.

No fue Peon como Nostoros, el General Villa.

I cultivate a White Rose, Mi Don ser Poeta asi Como el tuyo ser Lector igual que Yo

I cultivate a White Rose, Mi Jose,

and I'm a Woman who knows her Don,

her Unwanted Inheritance: name,

thinking skin, propensities. La flor

de mi Abuela blanca, Edith, que

la guardo en su Libro de Poesia

que fue mi Primer Motivo, aullar

por mi Propio genero, la Mujer del

Poesia, cancion, Enflorecer y

besuquechetiando--just a Fleurish--

old American English unbritished,

colonials from all Four directions,

is what we Appear to Be, Holy

Vowelers, emPoderadas Poetas

I might sing a WiriLeaks Tune. hablo does idiomas uno mejor

hablo dos idiomas uno mejor

que el otro, No it's not Spanglish.

Estaban alla en el Wiriwiri.

My Bowler's hat fits me so Far.

It is useful for spinnnnnning my Say, yo Soy

persona, valgo Igual por ser Indigena

del Poesia, a Platicatadora

con la Injusticia y la Indiferencia

del Planeto.  Oyes, gueyes, I am,

I am I am I am a Poet shamed

by Authority without Rhythmic Sense:

I begin with two and can learn Many

others. I might sing a WiriLeaks Tune.

As the Rooster crows, Why not I I I?

El PoemeoP del Aullo Humano: Pestana Pachuca Palabra: Revolucion de Morfologia y de Sintacta

Pesta PoemeoP del Aullo Humano: Pestana Pachuca Palabra: Revolucion de Morfologia y de Sintactica

Pestana palabra, empiezo contigo,

Amor de parpados sedosos aluzan

azules. Esta es la Revolucion del ritmo.

Quien quiera la podra nombrar, ay que si!

Como fue? asi son las de AlasalA

y quales se asocian con las Aguas,

Abecedarias Coronelas de la Guerra

del enGenero, un Conflicto del Odio a el

Verbbo Construido por Vocales,

y odio a sus Sonidos  .   Coloniales en

VIvo son asquEllos miserables sin Alma

gueyes inalfabetos (y con estudio), mire

que si y al fin del acabo la vida no vale nada

mas vale el PoemeoP del Aullo Humano

A Night in Mixtepec : Legs, against cold, Warm Air.

Y qué? Quintero Sintético?
Okay You've come into Being I know.
I went to the Oaxacan zócalo
and was taught Respect by her Seños
who Chided the common tourist looking
for quick drug deals in the Pueblo's Markets.
I was young and felt insulted, wondered
why my honor was challenged by Women
who questioned my purpose in their country 
and City. And yet later, my Reasons
proved Poetic as the Spiders reclined
entwined in one another's Legs for Warmth.
In the Mixtec Sierra, from the Cold Air 
was formed a bottle of Wine filled with Time.

Tongue on Fire:Cinders of Infernal Bards

Tongue on Fire, wings of Freedom. Poets,
here are your tools, Hurry, take them away
before they are Revoked and you're Quoted
off key. Listen, this is the AullolluA
Ear, it's an Imperfect Pitch that Rhythm's
made For, the EveryyrevE Day Note
of our Humanity. Yes, there are Schisms
galore, they hunt near the Forests of Rote
Melody--a Trifling peDantic, you
ask me. I have spoken this much on Themes
of Fanatical lacitanaF fo.
My saliva inspires and with it, Flames
can be Tended with Metallurgic Words,
forged from the Cinders of Infernal Bards.

Pillow of Paper, my Intimate Comfort

Pillowed-paper, my intimate Comfort,
for a Heavy Head as large as a large
honey-Dew melon of fragrant Flesh,
Essence of heaven, my Teacher once paused
to contemplate my Durability
for dramatic Verses. Oh boy, was he
Wrong, poor Dude! Though I'd hoped to avoid you,
Heart of a Poet, I nursed you on Milked
SorrowsworroS of Inhumane Treatment.
Prisons of thought, objectification...
The ruses have multiplied themselves, Clones.
Whereas the Muses compose by Rhythms
embossed with the Inkstains by these Letters.

El Jaguar que Cruza el Mundo Sagrado this one's for Naui from tenOChtitlan

El jaguar que cruza el mundo sagrado
y el mundo profano donde persisten
unos Seres que se llaman Minutemen
y que tienen muy mala fama amaf alam
son Jodones sin sentido y sin conocimiento.
Somos ancianos, reyes y Poblanos,
pinTores en Palabra. Nezahualcoyotl,
duro de cabeza que sufre decir que somos
Flores que desaperecerian en el tiempo.
Jaguar azul Viejo caminante y de Unas
enormes y la Cara como un Melon
tan Grande como la Tierra. Jaguar de
los Medios Hablantes y Viventes!
Gracias por defender a nuestra Gente

Thank you My Critics and de Tractors: I sing without Confusion I became a Cinder.

Thank you my Critics and deTracTors, Je vous amez

that is I love you All Together and as One Force.

I'm a Poetic Gargantuan Orangutan,

una Changita.  Déjame hacer mi Declaración

Words are Power are Words are Power. Soy poeta

fregada.  La Vida no Vale Nada,

mi Tinta está para ensayar. Según tendré

a mi propio plátano, arbolito del Pensar--

Yo soy la que Compongo con Plumas en Llamas,

Bombero Santo y Capaz, Look, I am not 

the One making your Life more Dangerous. I'm confined

to my Letters. I return to the Topic of my First

Poemita, Wildfires, Llamas, Quemazones, Fire
I sing very clearly since I've become a Cinder.