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Archive for May, 2009

the news is used

to shape the views

of those who try

to stay in tune

 

by turning to

their favorite

stations

for their bits

of information

 

every shot and word

that’s spewed

is glue renewed

for building nations.

 

Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2009. All rights reserved.

 

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blu boy

Guest artist Gabriel Toromoreno’s, Blu Boy …. acrylic on paper.

Copyright © gabriel toromoreno, 2009. All rights reserved.

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at the parade of angels

held at an undisclosed location,

deep inside a bunker,

far from hell and heaven,

every winged creation

that had manifested in dream

or imagination

arrived to testify before the court of lords

on the state of our affairs

here on earth … 

… and as each word

spilled from their mouths,

like water covering fields

extending to the horizons

in every known direction,

the hunger that the stories told,

of our desires to understand

the plans of those who organized

the whole event,

from every point and line that was attended to,

had broken down and drowned us

in such confusion;

that there was very little hope

the secret meeting place

could remain the same and

undetected too much longer.

Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2009. All rights reserved.

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mural sketch

Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2009. All rights reserved.

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haverhill march

Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2009. All rights reserved.

This poem was written for the May 9th community event in Haverhill, MA. I want to thank Haverhill V.I.P. for inviting me to their 3rd annual march for a safer, more positive Haverhill. It was a wonderful show of solidarity and an example of self empowerment.

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Now that we are all connected

can we declare once and for all

and forever ever that

what works best for me

may not be right for everyone else?

And that the same is true of you (plural)

and all your beliefs (super plural)

 

That maybe you’re part exotic cactus

that grows only on the rocky coasts of Aruba

and I am half moss from a crooked alley in Brooklyn.

 

That maybe looking out at the ocean

terrifies me the same way that you

can’t seem to warm up to chain link fences.

 

What I’m saying is that we should

agree that our own private histories

written on earth as events,

and stored in ourselves as memories,

twisted and told and encoded

as proteins genetically,

have manifested in ways

that affect how we

take shit in.

 

Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2009. All rights reserved.

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