deviating the trails

writings registered to the u.s. copyright office
© Gustavo Alvarado 2008

these writings are dedicated to the spirit of yosemite national park

 

yosemite1
photograph by DJ Henry


in this occasion

in this occasion
i’ve encountered life
life as a form of joy
riding my illusions
fabulous
time goes by
smiles continue

in this occasion
we harvest
for future hunger
for new illusions to come
for new lights to be held

in this occasion
we dance
candid
sultry
occasions of spreading wings
of monologs
monopolies
of selfishness
for i am to be criticized

in this occasion
planted plants i am
have become thru my dark earth
occasions delivered without remorse.

 

in the box of tin:

i’ve watched my dreams fall into these conditions
of eternal distances
of not coming back into my blue ocean of vast air
of fragrant harmony of sounds
eternal ocean of blue waving hands
of latent fragrant oceans of dreams
encapsulated in here
in the box of tin painted red

and i’ve followed my path
of mental destruction
of smiles
incomprehensible to reason
of doubts
nor positive terminology
nor positive exiting my path for a matter of water consumption

and i’m timid to see out the window of memories
pacific is the breath of tranquil responses to the cries
necessities and invincible
attributions to the blue altar

of no negotiations permitted here!
embark into the blue sea
of dreams and realities
of joy and smiles

we pray in silence.

 

fisherman

in the clouds we rest today
for tomorrow
as soon as the sun opens his eyes
we shall descend one by one
and we must fish for followers and predictions

of how to
of who we are
of where to go…

and not in our life
shall we implore for our pardon…

for tomorrow we shall be fisherman of life
not fisherman of man.

 

dreaming

and i’ve said it all
for we have founded a belief
that it’s today’s menu

how eloquent we are
of surrounding yesterday’s thoughts
of surrounding voices
acquired sentimental
slowly
patiently eroding wings
uplift to the airs
of the blue colors

i’ve found myself in my eternal dream
of millions of suns seen
seen back and forward
as belief desires
as i predict our path towards the skies
of blue
of white
of never surrender its thoughts
of liberty
for merging as i raise my head

dreaming.

 

the eagle song

can all be quiet please!!

listen…
listen to the wind
howling with a silent voice
carrying the tears surrounded by the collection of sufferings…
a cold breeze announces the escape of the sun’s soul on earth
spread the arms and travel to your limits…

the eyes that look at me from above…

inserted vision thru the eyes
take us where sure no man has gone before
expand our imagination into irrigated skies
where emotions rush and spill thru the flesh

i hear the drums that dance in rhythms with my heart beat
howling winds
carrying me to the bright star’s soul
spreading the wings that take me to the place of birth

depending:
i am
i need
i want
I will be

great eagle in the sky.

 

cry for man of war

the blue sky talks to him
saying nothing but tears
and the green crust appears to his eyes
saying nothing but glamour

“talk to me”
“look at me”

from the unconsciousness impact of the lead:
“no!”
the creature said as the lead ignorantly carved his thorax
painted with the color of love and passion for life
he emptied himself out
of every simple drop before he could close his eyes…

silence conquered his mouth
and at the same time frame
mother nature looked around
and saw his creature being torn apart

she picked him up and carried him into the jungle
the pain frustrated the world as she suffered
and the tears were sucked by the arid earth
the silence of the pain of a mother
so sacred and drastic
the portrait that was supposed to be painted
was never finished and it will never be
not until envy blinds me no more.

 

concert entry scene

it is so sad to see the man who sleeps in the dark caves
where the sunshine arrives for a brief distant visit
it’s warmth neglects his arid vacant cell
where neighbors share the same destiny

it is a place where the children anticipate the thoughts
that once rose from the abyss
they all are neglected and being guided by the warm light
caressing it with visions of wisdom

do not hesitate to follow
for it is only a dream of happiness and joy…
rain that falls gently
illuminate the dark sky with noises of cries and sorrows

mountain silhouettes that climb the zenith overall
it is all combined with gratitude

a scream silenced the crowd
waiting for the sacred one:

who isn’t waiting for the sacred one?!
who isn’t waiting for the sacred one?!!
who isn’t waiting for the sacred one?!!!

‘i am not’

running into the distant desert
for a desperate agony to be encountered
i have encountered a green field of grass
violet blooming flowers decorate the trees surroundings
i walk up to the distant setting sun
for it to caress my flesh
waiting for the performance to commence:

rippers
rippers
rippers

i have not yet convinced myself
therefore i walk alone into the distant brush

get off!!!

you all
just let me pretend that i heard your voices
overall i am just a peasant
rebellion illuminates my notion
therefore i am aware to see your eyes in the summer rain
sultry noises of dropping water
suggests my coming outside
earthly pleasures mixes with my skin

i
lay on the rock like a reptile
and i let you awake me
sacred one

 

yosemite2
photograph by GA-AP

 

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all work shown done by gustavo adolfo alvarado peraza 19721210