Gabriel Serrano

Crucifixion

I have got a crown and a halo of thorns and splinters that I am wearing.
I have it bearded and endured on my head.
I start to bleed with blood running and flowing all over my face and dripping off my jaw.
I have blots and nails that are screwed and hammered on me.
I have it punctured and stabbed on my palms and on my wrists.
I start to bleed with blood as it bursts and splurges all over my hands and dropping off my fingers.
I bleed these scars and wounds that are painful and hurtful, towards me.
I have sharp objects and instruments that are drilled and driven right into me.
It is nailed and bolted to my ankles and into my knees.
I bleed these scars and wounds that are anguishing and torturing.
It gushes and spreads all over my feet, as it drips off my toes.
Shall I be forgiven for my sin, until my next resurrection?
 

                                   Revenge
 
 

I can turn your smile into a frown.
I can turn your laughs into tears.
I can make your best friend into your worst enemy.
Why?
It is the intentions of embarrassment to you from me.
It is the intentions of humiliation to you from me.
It is the intentions of degrading to you from me.
I will turn your smile into a frown.
I will turn your laughs into tears.
I will make your loved ones into your hated ones.
Why?
It is the intentions of discrimination to you from me.
It is the intentions of prejudice to you from me.
It is the intentions of segregation to you from me.
I can and I will commit your suicide.
I can and I will submit your homicide.
I can and I will destroy your family, friends and lovers.
Why?
It is the intentions of damage to you from me.
It is the intentions of harm to you from me.
It is the intentions of resentment to you from me.
 

Leave and don’t ever come back, again.
Don’t you know there is nothing to go back to, my friend.
Like a poet who lost all his inspiration.
Like a painter who has lost all her imagination.
Like a writer who writes in elementary words.
It is easy to regret than it is to forget.
Will you stand up so I can show you the way to the door?
You always wanted less, so why do you always want more
Like the poor man who wants to be rich.
Like the innocent girl who wants to walk the block with her whip.
Like the lonely maiden who wants to be hitched.
It is easy to want something than accept what you have.
Why is it that you always insist to stay?
I don’t need you, why won’t you just get away.
Like the fire burning from the water at the bay.
Like the faithful wife who leaves her deceptive husband.
Like the play that closed because it was not in demand.
It is hard to live for yourself when you have to please everybody else.
Now I’m glad that you are gone.
If you have nothing else to do now, then go whistle your swan song.
Like the loner who just sits and stares.
Like the lover who’s alone, but doesn’t care.
Like the delinquent who is bored because life is unfair.
Like the civilian who can’t wait to go back home.
It is over, so I am going to live my own life.
 

                                           Day Dreaming
 

Rummaging and scavenging through these lost thoughts and through these
broke memories of how a beautiful thief stoled my desiring eyes.
how a yearning muscle bleeds it’s desperation around its core.
 How passive attitudes and behavior led to lonely situations of             compromising positions?
How a hermit lives in it’s wicked environment of its disgusting termination.
Oh, where are you?
Grabbing and holding these past achievements and these events of
yesterday of how introverted battles are led by outcasted armies of a
depressing outcome.
 How Paternal shouts of selfish argument disease an innocent and a fragile
 life?
How confrontational words construct demeaning altercations?
How selfish actions result of apathetic outcomes for no reason at all?
How nothing seems to got the way it was planned to be.
Oh, who are you?
Beating and striking these ugly nightmares and these beautiful dreams of a
private fantasy turns into a public affair of ecstasy.
How a brief unconsciousness turns into s passing of useful time.
How dreamy eyes makes the body weary o activity that could ruin or gain
a life.
How familiar monsters have not the awakening as people?
Oh, what are you?
Oh, how am I?
I don’t know.

              Previously published at http://www.freespeech.org/innervoices/