De que sirve querer con todo el corazón

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Quieres querer para siempre y el amor se doblega.

Quieres estar con ese amor y la oportunidad es lucha.

Quieres dar todo y la solución es otra.

Quieres amar y los cuerpos se limitan.

Quieres ser amado y amando es singular.

Quieres dar tu vida por amor y no es suficiente.

Quieres dar el alma y no hay reflejo.

Quieres hacer el amor todos los días y hay excusas.

Quieres decir te amo!, te amo! y te ahogas.

Así es querer amar y entender que amas!



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The power is on, Great!

Is that it? My power is on!

I’m back alive, are you back?

Silence…What’s next? wait, wait…

Abruptly, I want you here, no, no no…

Power tools cleaning wind’s mess.

Less shading trees, City accepts.

Do I accept? Wow! isn’t that a bitch?

Back on chair, bright white reflection on my face.

My writing entertains, my disdain  welcomes me!

I’m your buffoon! I need to arise!

Mano a mano must be the game.

No retreat! It’s time to show beauty and stamina.

No Mas!! Duran’s history.

My history continues, power or no power!

El Arbol


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When heart lightens, you lit a soul.
Eyes brighten, you open harmony.
Heart opens, you are in.
You are within, life is best.
Living is better, We are natural.
You are you, love is real.
Real is love, We exist.
We are, We live.
Life is eternal.

You and I, Luz always!



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Heart is pounding.
Mouth is drying.
Head explodes.
Soul saddens.
Spirit breaks.
Stupidity blinds.
Anger endangers passion.
Crystal surviving water disappears.
Pacification is  lost.
Heavens, a remote plateau.



Your Blog Mirrors You

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Very real!

Soul Healing Art

You write yourself across the page. The words arrange themselves into surprises, despite your sense of control over them. The writing becomes mirror of the soul, until, yes, even you, begin to see yourself clearly.

They are reflective, these words, showing soul and heart unhidden by physical appearance.

Look at your soul splayed across the page in letters aligned, marching to your heart, longing for you to see how lovely you are.

Words reflecting the self in ways a mirror never could.

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#Native Border Children

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Before our time, harvesting,  migrating was a way of life.

Earth people traveling and cultivating.

From the Inupiag ,Yupig in Alaska, Dakotas, Navajos, and  Apaches  in North America,

to the Aztecs, Mayas in Central America and to the Incas in  South America.

Brown faces, legitimate Americans, digesting ownership of their land.


Border lines across their paths, the annihilation dawns.

An unexpected insurrection of brutality, their paradigm.

Lives sacrificed in the name of illegality and marker lines.

Elimination and death, abysmal of their tomorrow.

True Americans viewed as pathogens of  society.

Secured borders, systematic identification robs their hopes and equalities.

Segregated and ignored, their lives’ abolition is no one’s interest.

Many work  fields for pennies.

You eat their harvest for breakfast, lunch or dinner.

But, their brown faces ignored as your vegetables keep you alive.

Millions have died and few prospered.

1492 – and beyond, years of hell.

How many more to the eternal black hole of fire?

Today or yesterday, their humanity exploited.

Abused and discriminated.

Their brothers’ land is no welcome land.

Their fathers’ land is not available.

Their soil is their forgotten grave.

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Cuando no estás

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Cuando no estás, siento y escucho tus suspiros

en la brisa enclavada bajo la verde luz de la aurora.

Cuando no estás, tu perfume reverdece mi juventud en inquietudes insólitas.

Cuando no estás, tu alma es mi alma en angustia.

Cuando no estás, mi cuerpo vibra por tu fisiología.

Cuando no estás, mi corazón se pierde en su palpitar.

Cuando no estás, la luna es mi brújula.

Cuando no estás, la oscuridad es mi manantial eterno.

Cuando no estás, yo no vivo en este planeta.

Cuando no estás, el universo es enjambre de locura.

Cuando no estás, mi llantos son mares amargos.

Cuando no estás, yo no estoy, está el tiempo que no tuvimos.

To be

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Planning a day, chemically frustrated..
Pouring rain dissolving momentum.
Pleasing everything to satisfy soul.
Expectations running high for passionate love.
Extra activities put aside.
Concentration is you and nothing more.
Rituals followed, nothing accomplished.
My desolated heart bleeds in anguish.
Journey to your heart and body sunken.
Comprehensive result, irrationality our dirty stage.
To be in love passionately  means nothing.


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Sunzal’s surf is high, a southern warm breeze makes it in, a sunny and radiant day awaits .

Diverse multitude gets ready, rides on warm blue waters are the impartiality.

The waves’ sounds are music to our ears.

Rainbow colors reflected on boards, slim and cut bodies are great blending.

Black volcanic beach is our turf. Palm trees adorn our background.

The sun shines at a stage set on the south side of  today’s paradise.

Sun protecting lotion in hand, I get ready and eager to jump in the water.

Musicians wearing, white, pink, and blue guayaveras warm up their sounds.

The surfing begins, waves transformed.

Maracas sound invades our ear, feast displays.

Drinks, cold watermelon juice is heaven, but coconut milk and rum delicious!

Cold beer ignites.

The fiesta, beginning of another day in Cuscatlan land.

El Salvador 2008 194



Basket in hand, company with me, walking down cobble stone streets.

I feel I’m being watched, stared, telling me USA tourist.

The smell of fresh tortillas is everywhere, I can taste them.

No, I’m belong here,  I look American, we are all Americans.

The local mercado is my destiny.

Children playing soccer, an enjoyable scene brings back memories.

Sounds of ladies offering fresh cheese, tamales, and chuco soup satisfies my mind.

My trip to the mercado become pleasant with colors of people, children, flowers and plants..

My return home, my heart pounding, my mouth salivating, I’m  ready, I’m home!

Neighbors open doors to say “Buenos dias”.

My goal, a good breakfast.

Dogs’ barking intensifies,  I’m near.

My choices are a sea of different tastes, and of course people.

No hesitation, I’m diving in, I’m eating my first tortilla, avocado, cheese, and curtido.

What a feast, I’m blending in, I’m mixing back to my chemical foundation.

There is no alternative, I need to be back, I must die within.

I was built here, it’s time to give back.

Basket in hand, let’s take the low dropping fruits and teach  new communal principles.

I’m an American in Cinquera!


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