Nothing but Crippling Doubt

Nothing but Crippling Doubt

I vote for PEACE

called the divided tribes.

But in this land stability

equals submission.

These villagers pose as

wide eyed citizens.

Posing

because their private ballots stalls

carry public holes on their walls.

I refuse to vote

whisper none united voices.

Fear is braided with doubt

Here, only the "Fou" shouts

And here we live,

in the land of giant shrimps.

Carlos Jesus Fernandez-Torres

Para mi abuelo

I have so many faults.

Like the earth I tremble.

I break and separate.

I get over heated and explode.

I flood my static with tears.

I self destruct and

and

rebuild. And

I know you did too. And

you planted seeds. And

started from itch

to teach your kids how to truly be

rich.

You are half of your son

and a quarter of me.

And. You came to my sister for her wedding day.

I was too young to see clearly.

When will you come see me?

Too young to know what you built after the

scratch. But you sculpted it through your son.

And your son became your sun.

And he became mine.

And I still want to speak to you,

Even though I have no idea what’d I say.

To your statue I’ll continue to pray

in my times of earthquakes, hurricanes and decay.

With only the few memories of you,

hoy is not today,

Carlos J. Fernandez-Torres

Left to Right

When I watched I stared.

When I heard I listened.

After staring I painted,

After listening I sang.

The portrait contains what keeps me

restrained,

I cautiously combined the colors to convey the

pain.

But my sacrifices are not all cold

rain.

For the song that I sing,

expresses absolutely no

sting.

Because even though you can’t see it

it is brighter than yellow.

This song is my left.

It is me not leaving.

My painting is my right.

It is not always correct.

Right to Left.

Carlos Jesus Fernandez-Torres