Original Poem: Divided We Fall

After a bit of a hiatus, I bring you a recent poem centered on a conversation I had with a friend about the greatness of Pink Floyd and how their message and lyrics transcend generations. This poem talks about Roger Water's dream or visions and what might be inside his head. I hope you enjoy the poem, thank you for reading and being patient blog readers.

Divided We Fall

I bet Roger Waters
fantastic dreams at night
final cuts
pigs in the sky
creating a world at peace
and piecing together bridges of youth
taking apart the animal inside
is no easy task
quiet desperation is the English way
wars are socialized marketing schemes
and carefully placed drones fall
on the cruel and innocent alike
We all rather be walking in the war
than playing lead roles in cages
But we are all entangled in comfortable battles
in which we are meant to fight in the company of strangers
grouped affairs or solitary flares in the abandoned sky
Whatever words between them
momentary lapses of reason
Bliss such sweet treason
Waters has a repeating dream
that Syd, David, Nick and Richard
are washed ashore
prisms hit the beach
 while the red tide is coming
and Syd grabs the last rainbow by its neck
David serenades the moon to light her stars
Richard plays a melody stirring the currents
Nick strikes a balance in the right light
such sweet sound
their possible pasts drowned
for a minute all was alright
until their walls came up
Who's in command?
David hopes
Roger responds,
We should be closer.

(C) Rafael Andrade Garza, May 20, 2014.

Original Poem: Vanquished City (Tele-graph Poem Series)

It's been a good while, since I've posted on my blog. Time to give it some love. It doesn't mean I haven't been busy working on my writing and other endeavors. I've been working on a new poetry book, centered around the idea of poems written in telegraph style, with the "stop" at intermittent points or pauses and usually around the themes of love, protest and even historical moments in world and U.S. History. This is an example of such a poem, hope you enjoy it.


tempered lights don't produce as much clarity, love.STOP. red sheen in the bedroom window. STOP. invites passion. STOP. Swells with seasons.STOP. and the leaves only turn color when they want to.STOP.  I have stopped stepping over cracks on sidewalks. because, the world is broken.STOP. I no longer point at falling stars.STOP. love has failed us too many times.STOP. we're all just a little broken.STOP.