Where the park ends
After the border fence
!Ouch! side
Begins my park
The real one
That contains cities
And paved mountains
Where I know of a girl
That fails arithmetic
By a constant ten percent
Since motherhood
Just to pay the pediatric's rent
Almost as do some boys
For a man of Panama
That imports the medicine
That sends you
Outside of thyself
To a beautiful state of mind
Where is normal to find
That 8 by 4 equals nine
Or whatever you imagine
That operation could yield
In emergency
In normal
In slow
In very slow
Even on Sunday early evening time
Sometimes, I confess
I have been at the park
Yoga meditating to achieve control
As a politician in the search
Of a stable job
But I know isn’t inside
Where I must search
It’s outside of the park
Where my truth lies
Buried in a trash can
VABM April 14, 2009
The real place to find one's conscience is to look into your souls and you will find it, never compare yourself to a piece of a garbage in trash can.
ResponderEliminarThank you Vinay for being the first person who comments my blog, the first was my brother, but I did not want to publish his comment because his good reviews seemed biased to me. Namaste :-)
ResponderEliminargreat blog and nice poetry
ResponderEliminarnice poetry but is there any way you can convert your other posts into english so i can understand
ResponderEliminarThank you Zach and Shayan, some of my writings are thought in english and others son pensados en español :-)
ResponderEliminarGreat blog.
ResponderEliminarHola Victor, es un placer para mi haber visitado tu Blog, y dejame decirte que tu poema aun me tiene pensando y yo creo que por un buen rato, siento la sensacion de auscultarme interiormente, vere que encuentro. Yo vivo en Australia hace ya un buen rato, te invito a visitar mi blog
ResponderEliminarhttp://kika-dreamscometrue.blogspot.com
I try not to think
ResponderEliminartoo much
to be able to commit
the errors
I commit when think
without blame ;-)