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.

 

Picture 005

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Playa

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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

Cinquera

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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!

 

Nicaragua 6- 2012 036

Mozote

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Walking down to the river, hat on, quiet and foggy morning.

Empty streets, fear is in the air.

Gun powder smell invades senses.

Huey helicopters roam the area.

People staying put, trapped in homes.

Children having breakfast, eggs, fried bananas, black beans and french bread, School canceled.

River trip reverts, rushing  back home, family is goal.

Whispers “come in”, “here”, ” get off the street”, love ones in mind.

Machine gun sounds echo everywhere.

Well geared soldiers, trained at School of Americas, nearby.

An appearance of North American is clear, brown faces, but the look is Yankee.

A flock of northern ducks flies over. The north is upon us.

Death in town is near, cold war at its best.

At the door, eyes on faces lost in anguish.

No where to run, town under siege.

Life, young or old, cut short.

No mercy, No respect, massacre awaiting.

Invading Atlacatl beasts savoring blood of brotherhood.

One more shot, one more rape, one more child.

No turn back, destruction, annihilation, American made.

Run or hide, Torogoz perched on an electric wire above a roof.

No where to go, adults’ lives, children’s lives, life diminishes.

Hawk Mozote in beak takes fly, assassins take over.

Brutal death, 1,000 humans in El Mozote!

Close up Sangre

Simple

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Complexity, a choice.
Imagining diverse scenarios, a challenge.
Comprehension, not complacent.
Audience, simple people.
Humble minds, sharing pure joy.
Can’t give all you seek, expectations.
Sincerity, clear picture, goal to accomplish.
Patient, loving words exploited.
Heart on hand, sharp mind
Tools with no intention if ceasing.
Simplicity not complexity.

 

El Salvador 2008 160

Hard

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Loud fabricating rhythms pattern in my ears.
Morbid daily routine to make a dollar.
Moire continuity is not the norm.
Making use of complex hard metals, the process.
Friction liquids aroma invades the air.
Looking around, the metal against metal, the grinding.
Paying more attention, ears synchronized to the rhythm.
Waking up to real times, a realization to duties.
Hard, another working day.

 

 

C.A.

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Sierra madre lands, exotic, tropical greens.
Fresh coffee fragrance from the Amatepec volcano.
Quetzals gliding above dense cloud forest.
Campesinos embarked on their survival struggle.
Homemaking mothers tending their daily instinct rituals of next meal.
Down the slopes, wild flowers and lush adorn the children in their journey to school.
They carry tortillas and water for lunch.
Mangos picked to add to their later nutrition as they are abundant along the trails.
Water spouts from nearby creek blend with crying monkeys.
The thick clouds ascend to higher altitudes as the heat of the sun plays its role.
The never ending field work for tomorrow’s meal begins and the Tucan’s bright green, red, yellow, and black colors are a reminder of our beautiful Central American land.

 

Nicaragua 6- 2012 063

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