Words

[pinerow]

Words
Ramón Piñero
© June 22, 2006



What can I say
when all
has been said.

What new words
can I conjure
so that
this delusion
we live everyday;
this delusion
we use to protect
our small realities
is exposed for
this ugly illusion
that surrounds us.

What new clothes
can I dress them in
so that they may
ease the suffering
so that they may
ease the pain.

I feel helpless
and despair
that no words
I write
no fancy placement
of verbs
and pronouns
of third person
first person
passive voices
no clever rhythmic
devices
no meter
no rhyme
no haikus
no epic poems
no minor odes
or major opus
have sheltered
just one child
or one grandmother
from the
hell that
is the poverty
of this world.


The parts
of this world
that is not
shooting
are arming
themselves and
taking aim.

Fifty-four
children today
eleven mothers
tomorrow.
and the
countless
souls buried
under the
rubble
of our
disconnect.

Under the
rubble
of our
pampered
lives.

They duck
incoming
rockets
and precision
guided
near misses
while we hunt
for gas
at under
three bucks
a gallon.

They walk
a lonely road
north and east
to Damascus
and we look
for the cheapest
route to
ga-ga-
gasolina
and the latest
in the regaetton
hit parade.

What can I say
when the religio-freaks
are clamoring for
the rapture that
they are sure is
certain to
come,
now that
the anointed one
is seated at
the right hand
of the burning
Bush,
and by the way,
when the
rapture comes
can I have
your shit?

I say that
because
if all these
tele-vangelic
two faced
pray for me
and I’ll set
you free
jack-asses
are going
to be in that
heaven
then
I want to
be
elsewhere.

What words
what rhythmic
trickery
can I
possibly
use
to save
just one life.