Desert

Author's Note: I was watching a movie (don't recall the name) of  a man who strives in the desert and forges for food like an animal. Thinking about what that life could like and with the imagination of my mind I started to compare deserts to life in which this piece was born. 

With this last stumble I break

In the middle of the desert

With wind of disdain whipping my eyes

Stinging as the scorpion's tail of others

Milestones become mirages

No longer can I bear the heat of hatred on my back

Nor the cold of people's hearts when the stars seem just in reach

My knees plant in the sand, then my elbows follow

Finally my head comes to a stop on the surprisingly cool sand

The sun seems to have mercy and pulls back its rays

Cactus wave goodbye

No more sand will penetrate my eyes

Which are now forever closed

 

Author's note: While writing a word association I got to my native country of Chile, I then noticed that some nostalgia leaked into my mind and I decided to write my journal entry on it.

Colors flash, as do the smiles of street vendors while they hold their beloved merchandise up to share with the world. Next to them are the tiny shacks of homes and it front a table with food, not just food anymore. The pride of their grubby fingers making something that could become so wanted. Full of unknown history, this country tucked away in between the Andes and the Pacific ocean. Breath taking view of snow on top of mountains and right along side a white beach filled with people,  my people. One of the most famous languages in the world rolls off their tongue with such an ease that it turns into an art of pronunciation. Turn around and the world's best classic flavor is being made from their bare hands, a deep burgundy wine. With the rich taste settling on your dried taste buds. This is what the longest country in the world is, tall spirits of it's people and culture that spans half a globe and brings its people together.

No Longer

Love; 

Fake as the summer is cold

False as the clear sky is dark

Misleading as if it brings happiness

But feels like all

No more of those butterflies

I will miss you dear friends

Queen of Flowers

We are all but a rose

Magnificent creatures

The Queen of Flowers

What about these draw so many?

The mysterious connection to romance?

A symbol of tragedy?

Or the fact that it shows who we are as a whole

Beautiful in the inside

Petals blooming

Petals blooming, red passion burning

When life starts to dwindle

So do our parts

Falling and placing themselves at nature's mercy

Thorns thrust to protect us

But not always do they succeed

We are all delicate, fierce lovers of the world

A Neighborhood

It's fall and the orange leaves are falling with their partners, the golden doused ones. A laugh erupts from the children and I'm throwing myself into the ground as we play tag. Rough, little hands pushing and tugging at one another to see who's won the war and can be crowned King of the Neighborhood. Circling us are our parents, those who take care of us when we get a booboo all the way until we get fired from our job our even our kids get a booboo and we don't know what to do, the saints of your lives. As a dawn starts to arise and the sun starts to set, all of us, a group of random strangers tossed together becoming so close that it seems like family, gather around to start up a dinner. Juicy meat is tossed onto a sizzling grill and the fathers stand there talking about what most do, football, work, manly things. Mothers sit and gossip about the latest fashions and silly things their kids are up to, while we, the adventuress people of the day, go out and explore the world of a twilight setting.