IF I TELL, poem by Carlos Mijares Poyer, new edited version.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Prof. Carlos E. Mijares Poyer, born in 1966, is a Venezuelan-American author, journalist, poet, educator, translator, and marketer trained in the United States of America in schools and colleges in English and American literature and marketing at ISUM, the number-one ranked marketing college in Venezuela. He has participated in various literary workshops at Guilford College, North Carolina, U.S.A., where he studied, and in the Caribbean selected among 30 participants out of 10,000 writers to participate in the “Onelio Jorge Cardoso” writing workshop in Havana, Cuba, for his fiction. Editor of the Piper literature and arts magazine at Guilford College, where he published the poem “Overland: A Midwestern Postcard,” in the winter of 1987 praised by Pulitzer Prize winner Henry Taylor of American University in Washington, D.C., also, a literary journalist for the Ultimas Noticias Daily newspaper in its Cultural Supplement in Caracas, Venezuela, read and awarded internationally, publishing: philosophy, poetry, film essays, bio essays, feature articles, and short story. He is also a literary, commercial, and technical translator. A great admirer of the writings of Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, Gregory Corso, Hunter S. Thompson, William S. Burroughs, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, and British and American literature, Prof. Mijares Poyer  has published two poems in English in the prestigious online literary site of Silver Birch Press, in Los Angeles, C, USA, the poems AMERICAN SOLSTICE and VENEZUELA THE HARBINGER OF SOUTH AMERICA. He has published in the Texas, USA the Yellow Chair Review edited by Sarah Frances Moran the poem THE ARRIVAL in English and three poems in English in the National University of Ireland The Galway Review, the poems OVERLAND A MIDWESTERN POSTCARD, THE DIGITAL CATWALK OF CHARACTERS AND THE AMERICAN SMILE with the writer unique and polished style. Mijares is an alumni of Pine Crest School in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, U.S.A., where he was star football player and honorable-mention lacrosse all-American MVP (1984), later to play at Guilford College.



IF I TELL

If die day

by night by day

I will not forget you

If day die

the flowers will outlast you

like a lonely river

bay of love in lost equinox

yonder sun and bays in the horizon

If not by day what is the night

Two tin cups of water for those dead, rising

Arid sun, moxie morning

Traversed a shed a light

To the other Kingdom

And disappeared wisdom

Like no other

The other brother

Hand to hand

Dust to dust

Ashes cremated the style of rust

Light by day Light by Night

Life is long lasting STANDING

no petal saw lipstick smeared

upon the sky

no dolphin danced...

and the dark moon periled

like a tear over the roses

Come to my knowledge

weeping cat and chat latino roofs

see night away   dance

the iris like a utensil

will color the spectrum

over your heart

and I will say hello

in the unending walk

thru the desert of big data

the steppe of imminent reality

and wonder of daffodils like

eyeing a sinking paper boat

in the puddles of history

your barrio like river

and a dilapidated concrete jungle

of effaced buildings with broken eye windows

and unlocked doors...

the dogs will welcome YOU!

I didn't say blue cobalt EYES

trekking your spine

humid with dew and love juice

I beckon you

to supersede desire, index finger sang

to promote vision before your "Id"

and to install digital formulas

for your gait at night's

ball room dance regalia

of an aging ALTER EGO,

you are the chosen princess.

And, because to demean

stick men robotic blurs as profiles

crowding the streets

searching for food, shelter and water

so, I told you to dance and dance

also the title of a story in your head

like a pink orchid mantis

on the edge of the last skyscraper:

your last dying life...

the burning black origami flower

as it falls from your

heart's window

that black and obscure orgimae petal

suede shades of nocturne

flower-your black eyes

Slideshow of luminesce

the last memory of a people

wetlands... the sky

the oceanic panorama

the gaze galloping onslaught

over the last bear mountain

and you preferred hysteria 

the immaculate lustrous emotion of peace

those eyelets, Chinese mysteries

you have forsaken as truths

as your pilgrimage

to your globalized homes of

soiled white portico columns

in humid verandas

the last computer in front of the window

you are no banister of the future

your intervals of sanity

deranged you and you dreamt

your dream of heaven

waiting wired to see an apostle

that looks just like you

and you cry...

Cobalt eyes in the afternoon

wine Spanish leather bags

in the hands of the meek

with red berets drunken

fainted specters in the streets

and the cars sit still,

like a tin memorabilia

of the last millennium that crossed

that crossed before our eyes

Yes, the intimate rosary

dappled over pearl breasts,

the odour of the Iluminatti

in the corners of the forgotten city,

where social minstrels enact

pillage of dreams also forgotten

trying to learn how to remember

(And, so the drum roll...)

Check the box you prefer

you are nothing more than

a fetichist item in boudoir

of oceanic existence:

so the actor gesticulating

and swimming like acquarium figures

fish and fight the bully fight, the good fight

you forgot to lose

OF THE MEEK LIKE PARANOID STAR GAZERS

in the honing spectacle of SOCIAL MEDIA

(And, so the drum roll...)

"Say your prayers young man, it's bedtime."

And the torn flag flapped wings upon your face

an intimate applause for the azure horizon

"Beware of subliminal text messages!", said the little four year old girl

those sms with your name

we are no longer in the year of Cat

we are and will always be and always

have been in the year of the $ sign

traversing art for the sake of art,

social compromise "zoocializt" poetics

and the remnants of Greek rap

Contain, contain

your are no bridled horse

stomping cobblestone streets

the equine ecstasy is for the rich?

You are the devil you, you Tiger

your sins derived by software from an email address

which does not exist

off-line your way is more English

that emotion you sublime

is your latin passion

you only see in the mirror

keep an eye on your life

that thermostat on the fridge door

like a memo hung like pin magnet

reminding you to brush your teeth

and make love

sparked, the frozen gaze

of your ancestors over your biopic

and you mentioned astray as yours

and askance the pink kites in the sky

philosophy as a mentality

and genre beckoning to remembrance

and lost SPACE...

Do not revolt, rebellious are already

your intimate emotions as reason, like many nano-butterflies

and bit-some seahorses in your eyes like diamonds

Of course my dear princess

reconcile awakening

with death

the black hollow eyes

and the inert rock in the river

the firefly shines dim and dims

death is your preface and prologue

to enter

light that shines like a ray from your thorn crowned heart

Death by day

death by night

If I tell by day

to die the last

the last breath in the evening.

FIRST DRAFT
If die day
by night by day
I will not forget you

If day die
the flowers will outlast you
like a lonely river
bay of love in lost equinox
yonder sun and bays in the horizon
If not by day what is the night

Light by day Light by Night
Life is long lasting STANDING
no petal saw lipstick smeared
upon the sky
no dolphin danced...
and the dark moon periled
like a tear over the roses

Come to my knowledge
weeping cat and chat latino roofs
see night away   dance
the iris like a utensil
will color the spectrum
over your heart
and I will say hello
in the unending walk
thru the desert of big data
the steppe of imminent reality
and wonder of daffodils like
eyeing a sinking paper boat
in the puddles of history
your barrio like river
and a dilapidated concrete jungle
of effaced buildings with broken eye windows
and unlocked doors...
the dogs will welcome YOU!

I didn't say blue cobalt EYES
trekking your spine
humid with dew and love juice
I beckon you
to supersede desire, index finger sang
to promote vision before your "Id"
and to install digital formulas
for your gait at night's
ball room dance regalia
of an aging ALTER EGO,
you are the chosen princess.

And, because to demean
stick men robotic blurs as profiles
crowding the streets
searching for food, shelter and water
so, I told you to dance and dance
also the title of a story in your head
like a pink orchid mantis
on the edge of the last skyscraper:
your last dying life...
the burning black origami flower
as it falls from your
heart's window
that black and obscure orgimae petal
suede shades of nocturne
flower-your black eyes

Slideshow of luminesce
the last memory of a people
wetlands... the sky
the oceanic panorama
the gaze galloping onslaught
over the last bear mountain
and you preferred hysteria 
the immaculate lustrous emotion of peace

those eyelets, Chinese mysteries
you have forsaken as truths
as your pilgrimage
to your globalized homes of
soiled white portico columns
in humid verandas
the last computer in front of the window

you are no banister of the future
your intervals of sanity
deranged you and you dreamt
your dream of heaven
waiting wired to see an apostle
that looks just like you
and you cry...

Cobalt eyes in the afternoon
wine Spanish leather bags
in the hands of the meek
with red berets drunken
fainted specters in the streets
and the cars sit still,
like a tin memorabilia
of the last millennium that crossed
that crossed before our eyes

Yes, the intimate rosary
dappled over pearl breasts,
the odour of the Iluminatti
in the corners of the forgotten city,
where social minstrels enact
pillage of dreams also forgotten
trying to learn how to remember
(And, so the drum roll...)

Check the box you prefer
you are nothing more than
a fetichist item in boudoir
of oceanic existence:
so the actor gesticulating
and swimming like acquarium figures
fish and fight the bully fight, the good fight
you forgot to lose
OF THE MEEK LIKE PARANOID STAR GAZERS
in the honing spectacle of SOCIAL MEDIA

(And, so the drum roll...)

"Say your prayers young man, it's bedtime."

And the torn flag flapped wings upon your face
an intimate applause for the azure horizon

"Beware of subliminal text messages!", said the little four year old girl
those sms with your name
we are no longer in the year of Cat
we are and will always be and always
have been in the year of the $ sign
traversing art for the sake of art,
social compromise "zoocializt" poetics
and the remnants of Greek rap

Contain, contain
your are no bridled horse
stomping cobblestone streets
the equine ecstasy is for the rich?
You are the devil you, you Tiger
your sins derived by software from an email address
which does not exist
off-line your way is more English
that emotion you sublime
is your latin passion
you only see in the mirror

keep an eye on your life
that thermostat on the fridge door
like a memo hung like pin magnet
reminding you to brush your teeth
and make love

sparked, the frozen gaze
of your ancestors over your biopic
and you mentioned astray as yours
and askance the pink kites in the sky

philosophy as a mentality
and genre beckoning to remembrance
and lost SPACE...

Do not revolt, rebellious are already
your intimate emotions as reason, like many nano-butterflies
and bit-some seahorses in your eyes like diamonds

Of course my dear princess
reconcile awakening
with death
the black hollow eyes
and the inert rock in the river
the firefly shines dim and dims
death is your preface and prologue
to enter
light that shines like a ray from your thorn crowned heart

Death by day
death by night
If I tell by day
to die the last
the last breath in the evening.


written april 2018 in caracas, venezuela (c)copyright 2018 by carlos e. mijares poyer, all rights reserved.