This Perfect Beach
Happy energy, human energy, lingers in
the air around the Eastern American Coast
a small beach wedding - black folks -
I witnessed today - sunny, partly
cloudy, April 28th,2012.
The fizzy cool splish of ocean waves
on the shore give auditory illusion
of Coca-cola; of leaves blowing on wise
old trees; Stare at the secret,
gray-blue ocean
-Quantum universe Truth is revealed.
I'd like to die peacefully at the beach,
probably around the age 66-67ish
-the perfect death for anyone...high
on opiate; slow, contemplative
breaths; Serene, and surrounded
by loved ones...and with the feeling
that one's mission is over.
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poem by Ray Quesada
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Epsilons In Nail Salons
Go to work, get paid then spend it fast
You need more stuff cuz things don't last
forever. - Hurry! Run to the store!
Corporate slaves and Wal-mart whores
In this world it would be a crime to wait
Impatient infant - - look what you create
A life controlled from start to end
A shopping cart - your new best friend
Alphas; Betas; Deltas too
In 1930, Aldous Huxley knew
'End, don't mend! ' - 'Just buy it new! '
Push a button and it's done for you.
We sit possessed, engulfed in our distractions
Stimulation = Satisfaction
The joint in your mouth; the beer in my hand
American Idol; Brand Names; On Demand (and)
High-tech phones stuck to our heads
The drones; the clones; the walking dead
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poem by Ray Quesada
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The Loft of Time Looms
My pain cries
inside of me - I smother it
with alcohol; laughter; drugs;
orgasms; - the Yin-yang life,
me in the middle
Good and Evil
playing Ping-pong together...
-in a basement- Filthy Losers
'hahahahaha'-ing
squeezing cold beer onto their teeth
Hollow chugging
into their throats - Esophagus Cathedrals
-Laughing, sad men who don't know what
to say exactly - Men who avoid feelings
and Big Books at all cost
To them, touching a big book
is worse than touching
another man's cock
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poem by Ray Quesada
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The Punk, The Monk, And The World
My friends and my family scattered across
the land of America; land of the Lost
there's a shortage of love - a shortage of water
a shortage of food - the temperatures hotter
the strangers i've felt for
have shortage of shelter
a shortage of smiles
-the bodies are piled
These are the bodies the monks have knelt for...
worldwide there's chaos -
a small child, a thief
says 'more they must pay us!
my family's in grief! '
the flaw in this system? it encourages greed-
TV says 'Cash over people! '; 'Wants before needs! '
And the monk in his solitude grips to his prayer beads...
all actions have consequence - there are no private deeds
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poem by Ray Quesada
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As The Rain Hits The Leaves
With no inspiration or passion in heart
O, where is a person ever to start
With hardly a friend in this mysterious land
Is there hope for growth
in the heart of a man?
Is there hope for a Bliss that can make one's soul dance?
Sitting alone with thunder outside
With an open book I sit
Like a monk, and hide
From the smug cops
Cars; people; thieves
Look out at a golden Stray Dog
Scratching his fleas
and out at the trees
as the rain hits the leaves…
Whether a bed, a couch, or a sit in a chair
In front of TV, all one feels is despair
A sip on a beer - it might take that away
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poem by Ray Quesada
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A Homeless Man
Those cold hands sheltered in his lap...
A simple life chosen to live, perhaps?
Could no bed be offered though?
Not even a chair?
In that desolate, gray street of the city
frozen like ice, but still calmly sitting
a cigarette is lit
and- smoking, fretting, spitting -
he makes his retreat from human affairs
And so, another lonely story
without any care
shoots a puffy white cloud
of smoke in the air
and I can't help but stare...
at all of his dreams
briefly lingering there
as he disappears
leaving the cold, winter road seem
so quiet
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poem by Ray Quesada
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The Human Disease
more profound than a man's mind
you find
on blotter LSD
or the sun on the horizon
as it's risin'
from the sea
is a swift and sudden light-speed
burst of mental clarity
thats there to see
and to perceive
for all humanity
We need to abandon the lies that we
so naively and blindly believe
so the earth can finally be free
and have some ease, peace, and relief
only recently i've been compelled
to translate and word this
and communicate to others
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poem by Ray Quesada
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