ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Prof. Carlos E. Mijares Poyer, born in 1966, is a Venezuelan-American author, journalist, poet, educator, translator, and marketer trained in the United States of America in schools and colleges in English and American literature and marketing at ISUM, the number-one ranked marketing college in Venezuela. He has participated in various literary workshops at Guilford College, North Carolina, U.S.A., where he studied, and in the Caribbean selected among 30 participants out of 10,000 writers to participate in the “Onelio Jorge Cardoso” writing workshop in Havana, Cuba, for his fiction. Editor of the Piper literature and arts magazine at Guilford College, where he published the poem “Overland: A Midwestern Postcard,” in the winter of 1987 praised by Pulitzer Prize winner Henry Taylor of American University in Washington, D.C., also, a literary journalist for the Ultimas Noticias Daily newspaper in its Cultural Supplement in Caracas, Venezuela, read and awarded internationally, publishing: philosophy, poetry, film essays, bio essays, feature articles, and short story. He is also a literary, commercial, and technical translator. A great admirer of the writings of Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, Gregory Corso, Hunter S. Thompson, William S. Burroughs, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, and British and American literature, Prof. Mijares Poyer is an alumni of Pine Crest School in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, U.S.A., where he was star football player and honorable-mention lacrosse all-American MVP (1984), later to play at Guilford College.
1991- FEBRUARY 2017 incubation creative process. copyright (c)Carlos E. Mijares Poyer. All rights reserved.
EMPORIA (The last verse of an abstract tale)
By Carlos Mijares Poyer
The hyper-bollixed and incandescent humongous mutation of a dream,
Whereas solitary firefly falls to the waters.
The cascade of the brittle rose flowers
Last floating petals forgotten
By mist and demeanor
As in a maze of open reality,
Where no eyes have gone before
To steal the fathomed sigh of
New angst and the breathless
Pleasure of a dark abyss.
I bid you welcome Emporia
Of perched soiled portico columned houses
White wood in arid sun, lost starlight
And poppies in your heart flagellating
Desire as wishes and these as lost hopes.
Articulate tenements NO VACANCY signs buzzing in dying neon light
Of quark infrastructure as tear of mercury
That perils from your retina’s facade
Like a new mask,
Like the gate that holds no return even for the wise
For you or for me, we are one
In the forked road, open
To the new herbicides in the dew
Of crowned ferns and wisterias
Surrounded by more mankind.
I sit in the soft sofa of your legs
Like a crying clown, erased make-up
Of wet eyes blinded by all scientific.
Your star, your onyx rosary,
Your spectacles shaded like a tie-dye shirt
Open at the neck to reveal that pale throat
That will cut from heaven with iconoclastic words
Sung like a bird.
The surgeon will save you,
The amontillado wine will battle you
Like the lucid masculine liquids of the stars,
Flares of eyes with no pupils, stares and circular gazes
And yes, those quiet screams.
I am no white dwarf star; I am just short-lived, shining
In this last moment -immaculate.
This garden, this one drawn
Is Emporia
The inverted pyramid of your tears
As landscape and the desperado’s escapade
The musical on stage of only sound and stage scenery, vacant
For your fastened soul, a voyage to reality and away they say...
To the authentic footprints of mirage in urban laberynths
And eyes on and from a chanting crowd.
Before you spill shadow
Welcome to the Emporium
And gimmick of roses
In this your last stage
Your thought processes as whims
And the circumstance of theorized by the Spanish philosopher
Which names your imagination
At mid-century.
I come now to this rain forest
As a noun and place at your verb’s wants
Hurts feet to menace evil with wild kicks in a back seat
From the platitudes
From the South American Lost World of the immense Tepuys of Canaima;
Hollow plateaus you carry as burden
The quakes of your dignity.
The Sunrise they yelled sore of gargantuan overtones
Not a musical myriad of chess pieces
In the vast heel of the universe
Divided to cry, only to whimper and make no sense
Like a petal
The idiom and nomen inside the ear-drum
Of your own form as content
To say: “EMPORIA”!!!
The open mountain and the entering double-helix helicopters
Your chest unearthed to breathe,
As you relate
As you relate
As you give in to immortality.
Gaze in the french garden
You had desire to be a last child
Given as astronomy of foliage
To your heart’s beat and open wounds digitally scarred
Thus is the healing of the new global shaman
In the oldest of continents unseen
The continent redeemed
Of possible blanche islands and heroism to their history
From the deserts to castles you
You are no hero, just a blast from
The outcome of a secret web maelstrom
Where flowers withering converse, converge to enhance
And the sky dips its lips beyond the waters, ecstasy...
Yes, the waters of gesture upon the kryptonite rocks
Your path to that other garden
Where no one listens
Just prays,
Just like this,
Like this...
And, like this, take the money and hum...
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Bollixed. physically jaded. i was bollixed after the match. Share on Facebook Report Item Back to Homepage · Dont Eat for Winter. Copyright © 2013 UTD WEB ...
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