Sleepless Night In Stockton Poem by manny moreno

Sleepless Night In Stockton



1.


After work in America
in traffic
the rush
the noise
the smog
the elements of urbanization
digested as a I drive
and sullen I arrive
slip into my apartment
precision an about-face
and bolt in place
number-Twelve door shut
out the world
a world of worlds
weaving in wrangled
star-spangled waste
whirlin’ and churnin’ in
a self-destructive celebrated way
out the quagmire of
civil-I-zation
rush hour
road-rage
flip-me-off
bullshit
intoxicated and nauseated
by the animated
absurdities of it.

No child smiles flutter lovingly
arms racing ahead of them
to affectionately embrace me home.
Only the split-second entry
vacuum of variable musty
silence’s say: HELLO.
Then all of a sudden
as if by a push of an invisible button
resonates it’s fate once more:
This sorry sigh of resignation,
truly I abhor.

2.
And now
I filter into unwinding
easing these insensitive
ribbon strands
of twitchin’ glands
varieties of mind-blowin’
soul-suckin’
spirit-chompin’
anxieties
plopped out on a couch
in this sublime rhyme
of coagulated time
de-polorized in a hapless
humorless
hermitic pose,
self-imposed by whimsical desire
I suppose.

3.
And now
in the heat of night I articulate
a winding road of prose
paved with deep fried
figments of imagination
drawn from a cauldron
bubblin’ in my stupored sanity
where scattered embers of reality
melodramatically
gyrate
irate
in the echoing forest
of my inquisitiveness.

4.
For now
for the tick-tock being
I whirl
unfurl
in this empirical space
hollowed in grace
for this Is
the way of existencia
the truth my friend
as is should be
as is meant to be
this place
this center
of my world
a spot
a dot
like nowhere else
for the tick-tock being
in this whole vast
unchained universe
my world is here.
So I
unwinding
cherish my soul
so as not to perish from
these incandescent
meticulous
melancholy moments
soothing this bronze mechanism
of my cosmic conscious being
as my translucent thoughts
unravel
travel
across borders of imagination
and journey into thorny
thickets of perennial poetic hours
bloomin’ brilliant
like shades of wild flowers
silences irrevocably
lonely
yet lovely
lovely to their very cores
lovely as waves splash
a lonely islands shores
regions rich and ripe to explore
but only yours-truly there may soar.
5.
And I transfix
void of tricks
and soar-wing
soar-wing,
and nobody talks trash
and no phone rings
shing-a-ling
shing-a-ling
and no amor sings:
Love love me do.

6.
Unamused
but not confused
dedicated I transfuse
into fuses of San Joaquin
cool Delta breezes
bleeding profusely
through kitchen screen
gently on me
and pitter-patter poignantly
plastic blinds
like chimes
and sequestered here
most definitely
but not vividly I see
the years
Fifty:
bounced
cruised
crashed
and in this solitude
with gratitude and fortitude
I remember
my grandparents
father
mother
relations
homies
alive in photos
thumb-tacked
taped
packed-on
DON’T FORGET US walls
Who congregate
celebrate
in heavens hallowed halls
who joyfully converse
in golden silent verse
who dance tiptoe
on rose petal plains
Yaqui angels
swarm like cranes,
Who knew
Them?
Their struggles
their insanities
their dreams
their sorrows?
their lifetime-agos
dreamed-for
labored-for
prayed-for
better-tomorrows
never in their
dimensions fulfilled?
Them
their hopes and phantasms
Them
indigenous rightful
landlords of this soil
Them
exploited
thwarted,
who struggled
celebrated
prisms of tradition
and cried tears of dignity
and died
warriors
revolutionaries
railroad
dishwasher
field
cannery hands
barbers
butchers
artists
musicians
carpenters
tune-up kings
chicken pluckers
agriculture queens
herb runners
locos and locas
juicers and outlaws
farmers
charmers
nickel and dimers?

7.
And now
One- two- three
Yes
I am perplexed
And yes
still I wrestle
a desperate battle
with the spirits to inquire
to inspire
to address this nonsense
and the rest
and my simple thoughts
find themselves
in travail and
pow-wow in circles
in the wombs of their thunder
and meander
twigs down
sacred crimson rivers
flowing with age
searchin’
searchin’
searchin’
always searchin’
and the spirits responses
wade in glitters of shimmerin’
reflections of splendor
and wonder:
Not yet for you to know.

8.
And now
I explore above the heights
a hawk and circle
fields of the variety
the make-up
the essences
Of who I AM
Of what I AM
Of where I AM
Of why I AM

A Yaqui/Tarascan
maneuvering in this
reservation of modern-I-zation
everyday a battle
everyday a struggle
everyday a warrior.
For who I am
has not
can not
shall never
by the world be conquered
for this is inherently
in me
a cosmic impossibility
a dreamer
descendent of a dream
from long windin’
ancestral stream
of all but forgotten
ancient crossings.

9.
In retrospect
I detect
a wee-bit
isolated conflict:
Oh! What a crazy life!
Rollin-rollin-rollin’
keep them fires burnin’ AHO!

10.

And now
the sun rises
bright bold
above a naked flagpole
it’s glow melts the sky
a pretty shade of flame
fingers through
the window pane
caresses my face
swallows the moon
and glittering robe of stars
and the Delta breezes
cease to bleed
and although dawn
spawns tranquil
sweet
invigorating
alive
my eyes
care less
weigh a ton and flutter
like hummingbird wings
and my hued
cosmic conscious being
implores
requires
repose
and this beautiful morning
I’ll nap away
ride a spotted winged pony
across dream world plains.

And now I do
what I do
hold back that
no storm
ravages or savages
introspective
reflective
twin mirrors
of my soul
but in the hollows
of my battered
bruised
betrayed
bronzed heart
RAINS FIRE!
11.
Quiet
subdued
but not unglued
humbly I say
these words to THEE:
I sing
I pray
my pen shall bring
to wing
simple understanding
that the world may know
we may remember
we passed these roads
these codes
these loads
we lived Aho!


12.
So now
I shut the blinds
cozy-up on the couch
turn the FM on low
catch some z’s.

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