City’s carols

City’s carols

A pretty isolated tree

Told me a story

Its thorns biting like teeth

About being too trustful with people

You haven’t even read the CV

A very populated hill

Too far from the sea

Advised me against to talk with people

Even if they don’t bear malice

Against the rest of the human race

Somebody walking a stairs labyrinth

One foggy night

Clouds had vanished the city

Told me that it is really a mistake

Even to say good evening

To someone searching for place to dream

Under the stars and the moon

But outside any ceiling

The contrary of

What is used by common people

And taught me that dry roofs

Are very scarce luxury

When rain is washing

With detailed scrupulosity

The things that makes cities

So please sing with me

This carol of the cities:

Never talk to strangers, if you don’t need to

Be careful with them, as if they would bite you

And ASAP find a roof, to refuge you

But if you fail at it

Don’t worry friend

Maybe we can meet

Under the stars and the moon

Without ceilings and outside roofs

I’m sure you will recognize me

Because my smile invites to talk

But my gun says my words

Those are sharp as a knife

That loves to slice and to slash

VABM June 23, 2010


http://victor-bueno.blogspot.com/2010/06/citys-carols.html

I love victor bueno

I love victor bueno

I’ve asked myself, quite a lot of times: ¿Why do I write?

Because after seven books, I still haven’t earned a dime, and even can´t afford to print one.

The only thing I´ve obtained, is to be phone treated as homosexual, by an anonymous subnormal, who kept phoning me one month, between late night and early morning, to tell me how bad I do write, what I was trying to write, and why I can´t.

So I’ll use an easy start: ¿Why am I writing this? 

Good, I think it’s a good beginning.

Well that’s easy: Because I love victor bueno, that marvelous poet and writer, who writes things, normal people can´t even imagine, much less freezing them for history on paper.

¿So what’s next?

¿It wouldn’t be great if he could be millionaire?

¿If he spends the rest of his life traveling only on first class?

¿Have he made evil to someone?

¿Do you see my point?

That guy is great, he deserves just the best, everybody must to love him, and buy his books, shirts and gifts.

Ok, after all being clear, ¿What’s next?

Good, next step is to fill his bank accounts enough for him to live without worries about anything and let him write, write and write :-) 

VABM June 19, 2010

http://tinyurl.com/34v7kd6

http://victor-bueno.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-love-victor-bueno.html

https://www.createspace.com/pub/community/give.review.do?id=1069438

Pass-Words at amazon y createspace.com

2006-2008 blogposts are in a book called Pass-Words
You can buy or load it on your kindle at:
https://www.createspace.com/3462525

Flushing Time

This year's blogposts are in a book called Flushing Time
the createspace preview is at:
https://www.createspace.com/pub/community/give.review.do?id=1069438


and you can also buy it at amazon or load it at your kindle at
https://www.createspace.com/3461344

A rainy Sunday’s morning

A rainy Sunday’s morning

Time’s coordinates
Are also June and Sunday
For this windy & rainy morning


Sky is dirty white
Between
Heavy water clouds


Alarming studies about the jungle
And the ozone’s layer
Fill up the news

Negotiations continue between the leaders:
The people who represent us before
The leaders of the other ones

Nobody really cares about the other ones
Because everybody knows


They’re really silly, sad & bad

Everybody secretly knows that always something fails
And the talks will be suspended
And when they will be resumed


More powerful negotiators
Will find a nicer place to represent us:
The poor normal ones


So there is really nothing to worry about
Because another cycle of talks
Will be started again immediately, someday


I’m concerned about the paper’s price
Because if it continues rising
I’ll join the ignorant masses

By now I just want to beg God
To please protect me from the dictates
Of my wise representative ones


And from the work
Of the poor normal people
Who try to put them in practice


While taking care of their places
In the “society’s pyramid”
Gladly accomplishing the worst crimes, when they can


Just for the prize of being considered
As partisans and representatives of the powerful ones
By the others below them in the “society’s stairs”

Blindly following orders with a mental laziness
Quite similar to a conviction
I’ve never had about nothing

Except about this:
Truth will prevail and Justice too
But a lot of good ones will never know
When they finally won

This:
Everything, with quite few immaterial exceptions

Follows the less effort’s path
Three of them are: love, truth and justice

And this:
Everybody hates
Sunday’s morning rains

VABM Sunday, June 06, 2010

Black urban bird

Black urban bird

Fortunately or unfortunately

My friend

The jungle wasn’t made

For none of the both

Neither for us is the anesthesia 

Of the hospitals’ clean & easy release

Because for us was made the dirty death

Of sidewalks and streets

Even the pretext of being

Just another step

In the food chain

Isn’t ours, my friend

Because except for some strayed kitties

And repulsive insects

Our meat, nerves and bones

Aren’t appreciated by nobody

Black is the ink in our quills

But if someone pay attention

Will see the rainbow in them

Without necessity of any rain

Anyway, the city

With its multilevel reality

And its intermittent sidewalks

Is our home

But we don’t waste tears on our fate

Because we need all of them

To protect our eyes from the smog

And to sing heartedly, unheard songs

Below the city’s 

Red smoke dyed sunsets

Inside its streets’ labyrinth 

Too far from the jungle’s natural scheme

VABM June 3, 2010

http://victor-bueno.blogspot.com/2010/06/black-urban-bird_04.html

A small bridge across a branch of a small lake

A small bridge across a branch of a small lake

I was happy at ten
Fishing below a small bridge
Across a branch of a small lake
What now seems to me

Quite few of a small fish
But I was not interested in the gain
Because just to fish
Was my real interest

To cast and wait
To catch
To fail and to retry
And again to wait

To keep and to release my prey
To take my booty from the lake
To obtain my fruit of these days:
To learn to always make another intent

Because at ten
Or at ten times that
Nothing is as usual as
To fail and to retry again

VABM June 1, 2010

My dead heart

My dead heart

Where is my heart?
Where it did go?
Because what I hear inside
Is just a blood’s pump

What happened to that boy?
That used to think
His heart belonged to you
And the moon to the both

Where is my heart?
I just don’t know
May be it is as dead as the moon
And I’m using a blood’s pump

VABM June 2, 2010

Unending pain’s scream

Photo by David Rabkin
http://rabkin.co.il

Unending pain’s scream

At the jungle, open sea, and desert
When you detect smoke in the air
Usually is the moment to play
Human brotherhood’s games

To play: “foe and friend”

You know it is time to beg, buy or steal
Drink, food, sex and talk
To be mesmerized by the mirage of love
To be trapped on the nets of hate

But when you detect in the air
The acre & rancid stench of war
You know is poet’s time
So you can hear at war:

The victorious heroes’ songs
And the defeated retaliation cries
The moan of the conquered
And the voice of the conquerors’ secret shame

But if you don’t pay attention
To the background noise
You will be fortunate enough
To hear the human soul’s scream

While giving birth
Its next step in the evolution
In the direction the universe goes
If somewhere, it goes

The people who sing
This unending pain’s scream
Usually is friend of mine
Regardless time & space

To Moshe Shimel:
I said the Kadosh for you
My friend

To Moshe Shimel a.k.a Maurycy Szymel
Poland 1903-1942
In memoriam

VABM May 30, 2010

And yet another rose sunset, again

And yet another rose sunset, again

I’m walking another rose sunset

Under a moon

That just needs hours

To become complete

I’m thinking of you

And how much I miss you

Before putting all of my attention

On my real job’s substitute

I took this picture

Of my cosmos vicinity

During that time, as a probe

If you don’t trust my flexible words

I’m like an old man, with an old hat

Sitting at the sidewalk

Looking the time to pass & fly by

The busy city

As the wind does it between

The nearly unreal green of the mountains here

After a few soft rains

Have resuscitated them

VABM May 26, 2010

The city’s heart

The city’s heart

I use to walk

Usually by night

My favorite sidewalks

Trying to catch

The city’s heart

I want to trap it

In my hands

I don’t want to stop it

Because

It also beats my life

I just want

To feel

Its pulse

Its strength

Its electric rays

Because I expect

To find under the city’s skin

Something more than bones

The city’s seed

What it really needs

So urgently

As an under dosed addict

I think it is not money

Sex, power neither speed

Sometimes I believe

Cities are

Just the lab

To obtain

Artificial life

You know, human’s made life

VABM May 22, 2010

Mangoes’ time

Mangoes’ time

Today

Sun & earth

With a little of human’s help

Have made rain mangoes

At perfect ripening state

All over of my place

A new seed & flesh

Another eternity attempt

Another improvement of life

Has begun to surf

The waves

Of the sea of reality

It has been my privilege

To eat the flesh

To take care of the seeds

Walking barefoot

The warm & soft soil

Of this life’s refuge

VABM May 19, 2010

My blood’s puddle

My blood’s puddle

I’m like a bird without nest

A flagless soldier

A king without reign

Then I can say

The whole planet

Is my residence

And because

I’m a boss to none

I’m everybody’s brother

Is so ephemeral and small

My blood’s puddle

I’m afraid

I can’t invite

People to drink

From it

Neither advice people

The danger

Of to be drawn in it

And since flags

Don’t tell anything

To me

I wouldn’t offer my blood

To stain flags

For any cause

I’m so honest

I can confess:

I do prefer instead:

To have: coffee, beer

Cigarettes and sex

With a beautiful partner

May she be

An already known love

Or somebody to be learned

VABM May 17, 2010

Half past three in the morning

Half past three in the morning

The beauty, the ugly

The love, the hate

The insect, the bird

And almost all

Of the mammals

Are…

Slumbering

Together but not mixed

I walk alone

My favorite sidewalk

Listening to the frog’s song

Remixed with the chants

Of police, ambulance and fireman

Car’s sirens

My city sleeps

What weird things?

Will come from

My word processor

With Greek translator

Online dictionary

Spell check

Grammar correction

And right click

Synonym and antonym suggestions

Please keep yourself

Subscript to this feed

Don’t miss anything

Don’t change of thread

Re-tweet at will

VABM May 15, 2010

Tree’s dreams

Tree’s dreams

All of the things on earth
Except at the poles
Play every day
Phases of light and darkness

To act and to rest
To veil and to sleep
To all of the living things
On earth’s surface

Is an almost round
Twelve hours cycle
More or less
I did say

Animals dream
Insects just slumber
But trees, my friend
What do them in the dark?

What do the city’s trees?
When the lights
Are turned off inside houses
But are shinning on the streets

When except the people
That haven’t found a diurnal job
Or the addicts to something
Everybody is snoozing

Well my friend
What is unknown for everybody
Is free to anyone interpretation
So I think trees by night have visions

What they see? I can’t imagine
But I’m sure they feel
And that they can saturate the air
With their feelings

I’m writing this
With my brand new laptop
With a zillion pixels
Under a mango tree

That is dreaming of planets
Of always shinning stars
Where the days are months
And years are almost nonstop

VABM May 14, 2010

Introduction

Introduction

I would love to say that what follows, is: normal life poetry, written by a quite normal man in his spare time.

Have been said :-)

Any way ¿what are: normal, life, poetry, man and time?

Well:

* If something is like you or your every day environment; it is normal.

* Trust me please, Poetry (Capitalized) is what you say it is, and it is not limited to writing.

* If you are not a clone, ask your parents in reference to the word: “Man”, it is good to know the two versions. If you are and also are male you are at a very special moment of your life if you don’t know the word. If you are a female clone, please don’t hate me.

* If you are not human, I’m glad you’re reading this. I’m sure you know more than me about the before mentioned word.

*And for the different kinds of “Time” and “Life” please ask your friendlier and faster teacher: the web. It is possible that some of the texts below appear, if you search for them in it.

And for the other questions, like:

¿Who am I?

My name is Víctor A. Bueno M. I’m Venezuelan, I was born at Colombia in 1959.

¿Why I have written this?

I want to be a very rich writer, and you know I’ve failed; any way I insist in writing because I’m unemployed and have a lot of spare time.

¿What I want to buy with your money?

A ticket to a south hemisphere city to see if it is true that toilet’s water turns on the contrary down there.

¿What’s in this for me?

I don’t know (IDK).

¿Why I’m reading this?

IDK. Please leave a comment or send me a message about.

¿What means “Flushing Time”?

It is the time an estuary needs to replace its water.

¿Why I’m using it as the title?

It sounded good to me; also I like to think that if life were liquid, my flushing time is equal to my life span.

¿Did you catch it?

I like to waste my unemployment time writing this kind of crap.

And by the way, ¿what is that stuff of the time spin?

Well, the subtitle is all that remains of the things I did try to write about déjà vu,time’s momentum and the things repeating.

Etc.

VABM May 12, 2010