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San Francisco and other poetic dreams














Home | Jose Barroeta | Leo Zelada | Juan Carlos Galván Vela | Daniel Rafalovich | Jorge Etcheverry Arcaya | Jorge Carrasco | Andrea Victoria Álvarez | Monica Matchornicova | La Mujer en la obra de Borges y Neruda (Jorge Carrasco) | Visceral | Ambrose Bierce | San Francisco and other poetic dreams | Jesus Rafael Soto | Parte II | Quienes Somos | Libro de visita | Galeria de autores | Ediciones anteriores | Enlaces | Contactanos





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 Walk the violent Sun

by

Don Brennan

 

Walk in the violent sun,

Dangerous traveler.Scribble your name

Into the database, kick up some dust.

 

Work your toes into wet sand, lie down for a while ants

and biting insects under cover. Let the dark night bring you peace.

Star will sing you to sleep.

 

Keep yourself safe for now, until your predatory history

Curled in the high grass begins stretching at drawn, until you

hear it coughing like a jaguar after restless sleep; a big cat coughing

gunshots.

Soon enough you will learn

To drop down at the sound.

 

With approaching menace your eyes will wire themselves

to the forces pounding inside your ribcage.

 

Fear is your truth, traveler, the sun your enraged but generous

Mother who keeps her distance for you sake,

 

That you might discover

 

courage

knowledge

 

and. oh yes, love on the path twisting

towards our survival

 

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Dali

by

Rennon

 

Fell asleep,..........Dreamed.......

Imagined I was dreaming!

Awoke.........Startled,..... a deeply disturbed self;

Drifted back to sleep, Fantacized

on being.......awake

 

Dali had a nightmare;

Went through an enclosure

A suffocating, .........

asfixiating entrapment

With no squiggle space

 

Was it a .....meat grinding clockwork?

 

Had liquid time .....forgotten

Dali existed? Fell from a height From

 

aborted divinity.trascendence laid waste. This was

 

SURREAL

 

He stumbled down, not from above but from

 

within,

Into a picture he could not recognize;

 

Had that spirit he had captured

In turn .........strangled him?

 

Dali had a fall; was this absinthian?

 

                                                   Perhaps just Absent

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Rennon nace  en La Ciudad de Los Angeles (California) Estudio teatro en la UCLA. Participo en las peliculas Chance of Habit (Elvis Presley) y  Red Sky at morning (Clair Bleon) entre otras.  Desde hace 10 años reside en el particular barrio de Tenderloin, San Francisco. Sus escritos aparecen en la Antologias Poéticas POEMS FROM THE LAND OF THE DEAD, an Anthology of Creative Writing and Visual Arts, en 5 MINUTES IN THE TENDERLOIN, an Anthology of Words and Art from the Tenderloin y en TRACKS, Leavenworth Street anthology, Central City Writers’ workshop. E-mail: Rennon@myway.com

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Mysticism

by

O D Ludyeh

 

 

in

no

sound

neither

any

light

 

in

no

space

nor

any

time

 

in

but

all-awing

all-writhing

all-being

 

which

manifest

only

as

silence

and

stillness

 

 

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Summer Scene’06

by

Carlos Ramirez

 

 

kid artists mark up

Fairmount School’s playground

 

With chalk  sticks, rainbow spectrum

Hola Leonardo, Jesus,  Sandra

 

Earth,Mars Neptune, Pluto

Building on stilts, wears red shoes

 

Hop scotch diagram sealed to the asphalt

Jungle gym playhouse bright and new

 

Arena for rollicking shrieks,agitated sounds

Teachers in turn attend to their work beat watch.

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Carlos Ramirez Poeta del area de la Bahia de San Francisco....

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On turk street

by

Charles Curtis Balckwell

 

So we ran up Turk Street, and so serious

past 5th Avenue where the Ancient Aztec ghost roam

Just before arriving with aspirins

 

Mental anxiety had become home, tension

in my temples of worship

 

The ocean waved at us

I could hear it sloshing for miles away, his trumpet to love

became full of spite

 

The long bus ride down Geary street caused sequins

to exit the city the same as Cousin Henry

Over on Skid Row, where shopping carts

stay greased and ready for travel

 

Being clean in anticipation of coins

falling, we begged hard

 

Alone, an ex-boxer sent a query letter suggesting

revenge, in the ring of course,

 

Now in the shadows of love

We embrace

 

Coins falling from holes in my pockets

 

She left me weeping at the moon

instead of our monful regrets

of not enough money to sleep.

 

 

 

 

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Third floor

by

Juan Carlos Vasquez

 

 

I Tie and Untie myself
and count to three,
it is incomplete,
and an empty longing,
full of symbols that mean nothing
and I create heavenly memories
that soon demand of me,
cutting my time in half.

A heavy sleep arrives before midnight
and I wake up tired in the morning
between visions,
and no one answers me to start again
as though it had a meaning,
I wake up, and do things routinely done
by those living,
just a pulse with no name
it looks like we are laid out
there are sounds that frighten.

While in the streets with my brothers,
when in the shadows of the night,
just looking at numbers
I feel sick and hurt all over.

Going up and going down
as children play in a slide
below there is death
pushing and shoving,
foaming at the mouth
they all cheer
below they are all gray,
then purple,
there is no sun.

As I descend from the third floor,
it begins my coming together
to solid ground.

 

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Tenderloin (San Francisco)

by

Juan Carlos Vasquez

 

 

Dead walking,
nude crawling in a love parade,
the return of the ambulances
without roads,
when I am close to a blissful high  
I long a lot for
caresses,
to help me fall asleep
it is night,
six months have gone by
between incenses over graves,
and a celestial restlessness,
visions of jupiter compacted into pipes.

This face cannot be mine
the face of Sunday
at noon.
If it wasn't noon
and had I something to do
these damn ambulance sirens
would not torment me
with their regrets.

How do I recover with punches
the street's quietness,
how do I destroy with an axe
the remembrances from my veins
without diving in a tub
to masturbate.

there is a horrible smell of beer,
so romantic yet so pathetic,
There are ideas of escape, and
lasting words.

if I had a dog his barking
would convince me but I have no dog,
only nights find I joy in contempt,
and instead of I protest
everything induce me
into a terrible and sorrowful laughter.

 

 

fotografia-arte digital: Juan Carlos Vasquez

 

 

 

 

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Juan Carlos Vásquez was born in Valencia, Venezuela 
on December 20, 1972. He studied Publicity  and Customs Administration. As a narrator, Vasquez has published a short stories book entitled Pedazos de Familia (2000)published by Estival Editions Maracay-Venezuela. Vasquez other works
were published in Ciclos Valencia Association for the Bipolar Affliction in Valencia, Spain, in the Poetic Anthologies  While Vivir Soñando (2004)  published by Poetic Studies Center of Madrid, Paseo en Versos (2005) published for passages in the roof Df Mexico, Hemiparesias  published by Viceralia Ediciones, Santiago de Chile (2006)
Currently, Vásquez is finishing a book of poems entitled Sangre and a story book La Caida which deals with the contradictions which ends in the human experiential perspective. Vasquez has lived in St. Petersburg, Tampa, Miami, FL, and New York. Since 2002, he lives in San Francisco, CA.
 
ONLINE WORKS
Vásquez has been a prominent contributor to the following
leading Poetry sites:
 
Verso Que Viene Siglo XXI.
El Rincon De La Poesia Y La Literatura.
Othlo Zine.
Almiar (Margen Cero)
Notisur USA.
Al Margen Net.
Bordelines Writers.
Mundo Cultural Hispano.
 
AWARDS & HONORABLE MENTIONS
 
Lauded International Writer (2005) by Notisur USA
for Vásquez stories Ataques de Lucidez Y El Tejado (Desde la
Perspectiva de un Gato).
Recognitions in El Premio Nosside(2005) in  Calabria Italy.

 
ASSOCIATIONS
Member El Hueco Cultural Association (2001) in Miami.
Member Spanic Attack Cultural Organitation (2004) in New York.
 
















San Francisco and other poetic dreams is made possible by  Writers workshop 146 Leavenworth St. San Francisco CA. Edited by Don Brennan. Contact 415-285-2951.

Program Director   at jennywileysf@hotmail.com, 415-749-2132.or drop by the Community Arts Studio

 
















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Herederos del Caos Jose Barroeta Leo Zelada Juan Carlos Galván Vela Daniel Rafalovich Jorge Etcheverry Arcaya Jorge Carrasco Andrea Victoria Álvarez Monica Matchornicova La Mujer en la obra de Borges y Neruda (Jorge Carrasco) Visceral Ambrose Bierce San Francisco and other poetic dreams Jesus Rafael Soto Parte II Quienes Somos Libro de visita Galeria de autores Ediciones anteriores Enlaces Contactanos
 
 
 
 

Los derechos de los trabajos publicados en Herederos del Caos  corresponden a sus respectivos autores y son publicados aquí con el consentimiento de los mismos. Se prohíbe la reproducción múltiple sin la autorización previa.

 

Copyright©Herederos del Caos 2006-07

herederosdelcaos@mail.com

 

 

Heirs of Caos is a noprofit Cultural proyect. Which Promotes a Artistic works with an emphasis on poetry and fiction. Heirs of caos receive no monitary benefit for their publication. All projects remain property of their individual creators

 

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