Category Archives: Poetry

NON EXISTING FEMALE – Hector Ahumada

The thought, perception, feeling and memory
are the outcome of my choices, beliefs and experiences.
The truth is subjective and sometimes can be tragic.
She dresses in black and her dorsal anatomy is a sensuous enigma.
Her face has an expression of insecure compulsion.
Her voice insinuates a measurable universe somewhere inside her breasts.
My mind creates a conceptual distortion.
There is nothing out there, she is an illusion.
A toy of the mind, a product of my thoughts.
Perhaps, she is consciousness itself, nevertheless she is.
In the garden the Spring moves in inch by inch.
I see her face, mouth, hands and breasts,
not her thoughts and consciousness.
I hear her melodic voice and her memory perfumes
every early flower of the garden.
I see my desires among falling starts.
She is the outcome of my beliefs.

H. A. 3/27/2018 USA.

HIS LAST JOURNAL – J. KRISHNAMURTY

Segments

Intelligence is inherent in compassion and love.

Humanity seems to be in a perpetual movement of destruction and building again – destroy and build; destroy human beings and give birth to a greater population.

How easily man becomes a tool of his own belief, his own fanaticism, committed to some kind of dogma which has no reality.

All religions are based on some conclusion and beliefs, and all beliefs are divisive, whether political beliefs or religious.

The society we have created is the outer, then to that society the inner becomes the slave.
Because we have separated the external and the inner, contradiction begins, the contradiction that breeds conflict and pain.

The outer and the inner are one, a unitary movement, not separated, but whole. One may perhaps intellectually comprehend it, accept it as a theoretical statement or intellectual concept, but when one lives with concepts one never learns.

But to feel, to have the sensitivity of seeing that life is not a movement of two separated activities,
the external and the inward, to see that it is one, to realize that the inter-relationship is this movement, is this ebb and flow of sorrow and pleasure, joy and depression, loneliness and the escape, to perceive non-verbally this life as a whole, no fragmented, not broken up, is to learn.

That which is whole is free from the ebb and flow of life, of action and reaction.
Beauty has no opposite. Hate is not the opposite of love.

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THE GARDEN STORY – Hector Ahumada – To myself

According to a few
this started thousand of years ago.
When a female told to a male:
“Hurry up and eat that fucking fruit
and let’s get the hell out of here.
And do not forget a few big fig leaves
in the way out.”
So you can cover your testicles
and I my pubic hair.
Later, thousand of years later
historian and scholars have not agreed on
what kind of fruit it was.
An apple? A pomegranate? A mango?
It all depends who is repeating the story.
But the issue is what was in that fruit
that created such change in human civilization.
Vitamins? antioxidants? enzymes?
What kind of organic chemicals were in that fruit?
The ancient Babylonian story states
that after eating the fruit some strange phenomenon
took place on their minds.
The original couple could eat from this or from that
but not from that one.
Because that one would enlarge their consciousness
and they would have no need for a spiritual pimp
and they will be totally responsible for themselves.
And in the exodus from the garden on their footprints
garlic and onions grew.
So the choice was Shakespearian, to obey or not to obey.
If they obey they will remain in their original state.
If they disobey there will be human civilization,
wars, misery, exploitation, USA, Germany, Great Britain,
atomic bombs, Jewish Holocaust, United Nations,
out of space exploration and free pornography in the internet.
You are missing the big picture papa.
You are twisting ancient stories with the intellectual will.
None differentiating between the inherent
and the constructive meaning of words.
You are confusing a living G-d with another G-d
who is in coma in an intensive care unit.
In the beginning there was a woman and a man in a garden.

11/02/2016 USA. SLC. Alchemy Cafe

nora tahareinu sagvenu amchah rinat kabel Gvurah 2

A BED TIME STORY – Anti-poem – HECTOR AHUMADA

To the children of the Empire.

In the beginning there was no time,
no universe, no stars, no planets.
There was only the mind.

In the beginning the mind thought,
that it would be rational to have something
rather than nothing.

In the beginning there was a hermaphrodite being.
The being looked to his creator
and saw the image of his/her self.

In the beginning your G-d was present
and gave a price to every created thing.

Later in history the Lydian invented money
and capitalism.
The rest of the story is up to you to understand.

9/26/2017 USA. SLC. Alchemy Cafe.

SOMETIMES – HECTOR AHUMADA

Sometimes I write letters that as migratory birds
carry my words to the other extreme of forgetfulness.
Short paragraphs saturated with periods.
Carefully edited, empty of love,
interconnected as a card castle in the air.

Sometimes I write letters to the rain
that now is remembrances in faded photographs
with unknown sender.

To the window that is open to the Winter.
To the grandmother’ voice that said:
“This is a picture of my brother who left for Argentina
from whom we never received any news;
and this is a picture of one of my lover
who I never had the opportunity to kiss.”

Sometimes I write letters to the earth that now is water,
to the white shirt man who now is soil,
to the wave of foam that kisses the sand of the shore,
to the fisherman who is now a grandfather,
to the grandfather who is now a child.
Sometimes I write letters that I never send.

From Sun and Water Poems – Luna’s Press, San Francisco – 1998

ta’alumot yode’a tza’akateinu ushma kabel shav’atenu – Malchut 7

DOWN AT THE PICKET LINE – JOE HILL

Chorus
You will eat (you will eat) bye and bye (bye and bye).
In that glorious land above the sky (way up high).
Work and pray (work and pray), live on hay (live on hay).
You’ll get pie in the sky when you die (that’s a lie)

t’zrurah tatir y’mincha g’dulat beko’ach ana Chesed 1

CHE GUEVARA

“At the risk of seeming ridiculous, let me say that the true revolutionary is guided by a great feeling of love. It is impossible to think of a genuine revolutionary lacking this quality.”
“Hatred is an element of struggle; relentless hatred of the enemy that impels us over and beyond the natural limitations of man and transform us into effective, violent, selective, and cold killing machines. Our soldiers must be thus; a people without hatred cannot vanquish a brutal enemy.”

“One must endure – become hard, toughen oneself – without losing tenderness.”
“Hay que endurecerse sin perder jamas la ternura”

Orders of George Washington to general John Sullivan – May 31 1779

“The Expedition you are appointed to command is to be directed against the hostile tribes of the Six Nations of Indians, with their associates and adherents. The immediate objects are the total destruction and devastation of their settlements, and the capture of as many prisoners of every age and sex as possible. I will be essential to ruin their crops now in the ground and prevent their planting more.
I would recommend, that some post in the center of the Indian Country, should be occupied with all expedition, with sufficient quantity of provisions whence parties should be detached to lay waste all the settlements around, with instructions to do it in the most effectual manner, that the country may not be merely overrun, but destroyed.
But you will not by any means listen to any overture of peace before the total ruinment of their settlement is effected. Our future security will be in their inability to injure us and in the terror with which the severity of the chastisement they receive will inspire them.”

From In defense of Lost Causes – Slavoj Zizek – page 466

ODE TO THE HOT DOG – – – HECTOR AHUMADA

Delicious, tender, pink,
fresh piece of garbage.

Born of lymph nodes,
fats, ovaries, testicles
and other mammals’ inner.

You go around and around,
waiting for ketchup and mustard.
Food of democracies,
unemployed, doctors
and 7 Elevens.

Your oily flesh,
melted in flour, water and saliva,
activates the sybaritic spirits
of all generations.

“Completo,” “Pancho,” “Salchicha,”
they call you in the Spanish language,
while they feast on you with cabbage,
onion and avocado.

You are the symbol of fast food,
practicality and convenience.
Feeding the dreams of an industrialized
High Tech. Mythology.

Perhaps the Sufis envisioned you and wrote.
“The garbage of one is the treasure of another.”

And after all these years,
with pleasure I eat you,
with nothing else
than mayonnaise and Coca-Cola.

From Bluff Fandango 1999 – Gathering of Poets and Writers.