Three Poems by Fernando Bonilla

Images of Power
 
Images of power
Are banging at my door.
I woke up smelling
The bitterness of the old
Puppeteer getting tired, getting angry
At me and the rest of the world.
They are resented, they despite us,
They fear us and yet,
They devour us alive.
Images of power are all I see
Walking on this sad and lonely street.
Images of power:
There is an old king dying
And I intend to stab him
Not blindside him,
A straight hit in the face.
No more images of power,
No more control of the poor,
No more tits from tired prostitutes,
No more milk from old dying cows.
Images of power,
I warn you, I am still right here;
I still close my fist against you and defy you.
Your pictures are fading,
Your babies are dying from the same disease,
They die rotten and corrupted, they die, they die…
I was born under your command,
But now
I am free and I will get the vengeance I was looking for
Since I know you were the cause.
This is madness and this is talent
Writing to make you fall.
You better run, run, old man,
Send your armies and send the guns,
I have answers:
The answer is
NO
You can’t take this from me,
You’re going to fall.
 


 
My Generation
 
I have seen the best souls of my generation dying
But I have also seen the worst of my generation overcoming,
Stepping on the spirits of the best.
Some people died under the arms of a crazy god
Vengeful, asking for a sacrifice.
Some of the best died of starvation
Believing in angels they could only see by the night,
Getting stoned or drunk, trying to avoid the feelings
Trying to generate enough heat to survive the night.
I have seen people dying covered in rags, asking for some coins
To buy booze, drugs or something that gives them hope or makes them numb
To the madness of this fucking world.
I have seen people crying on the streets, trying to find their way home,
I have seen people falling from buildings trying to get saved from flames,
I have seen people getting insulted and beaten because they’re foreigners,
I have seen people hiding from policemen because what they sell is not legal,
Because the way they got into the country wasn’t legal.
I have seen disfigured faces crawling on the streets by the night, asking for some salvation,
Asking for somebody to look at them in their faces.
I have seen people dying trying to get respect from their parents,
I have seen them studying hard in schools, drinking red bull to stay awake,
Proofreading their papers, saving their money not to waste it on bad girls,
I have seen girls selling their bodies to pay for their freedom,
I have seen them walking the streets after midnight, tempting their customers,
I have seen them entering old buildings to see their babies sick and stunted.
I have seen old ladies losing their minds on the streets, picking up garbage to find treasures,
I have seen old winos coming out of bars, puking what they drank,
I have seen them shouting at girls walking by,
I have seen girls in fancy dresses trying to flirt with old guys,
I have seen old men looking for young girls to scam, to steal everything from them
Leaving them nothing.
I have seen corrupt public officers asking for a bribe, I have seen politicians telling lies
To the people, face to face, without blinking, I have seen them saving even the rubber bands
From a suitcase full of money.
I have seen drug dealers in magazines, smiling, like Bill Gates or Ted Turner,
I have seen prostitutes running away from them, afraid for their lives and
I have seen young people killed by them, slaughtered between the drug wars,
I have seen mothers crying for their children, opening a micro business,
Asking for a loan, asking for permits to sell products on the street.
I have seen them all, I have seen underdogs rise, I have seen antiheroes die.
I have seen beautiful girls getting sad because antiheroes died.
I have seen the tears of a woman ina battlefield,
I have seen tanks entering a city,
I have seen my flag hanging upside down,
I have seen foreigners all over my country,
I have seen flags burning in the middle of protests,
I have seen immigrants marching for their rights,
I have seen them waving other country’s flag,
I have seen a gay parade, I have seen a transgender bus driver,
I have seen a transvestite with a sad face while taking the sub in Paris.
I have seen old people talking in parks, with sad faces, waiting for death to come.
I have waited outside a bar because I wanted a girl’s number
Which I got by the way. And I have called her just to know
She is not who I was looking for.
I have dated girls with boyfriends, and that didn’t feel right.
I have run away to Arezzo with the most beautiful girl from EE.
I have had drinks with people I hate even though I smiled.
I have heard people asking why I laugh after midnight while I’m in front of my computer.
I have seen porn stars trying to break a record in a gangbang.
I have seen pimps slapping tarts, I never saw the opposite.
I have seen union workers fighting for their rights; I have seen their leader taking money,
I have seen their foundations collapse.
I have read the Communist Manifesto and some of The Capital,
I have visited Marx in a graveyard in London and yes, I’ve cried.
I have read Che’s biography and some of his poems, I liked them.
I think he was a good man, good intentions and a soft heart.
I have read the messages from her on a Saturday night, and yes, I wanted to hug her.
I have heard steps above my flat, noisy neighbours and drunk men singing outside.
I have heard a rugby team singing, entirely drunk on a bus to Brighton.
I have seen my best friends dancing to the rhythm of a pub’s band and I treasure that moment.
I have tasted lips I shouldn’t have kissed, but I did it anyway.
I have seen people touching their elbows during a Robert Chambers’ workshop.
I have written a paper about pro-poor political reform and I got a D.
I have seen my best friend running away from me, and it hurts like you have no idea.
I have written poems for the women I love and for some of them I never wrote.
I have seen my own death and felt no fear; I have woken up sweating and shivering.
I have run to the mini mart to get condoms, some of those nights I drank too much
And some of those nights were fake ’cause she never really liked sex.
I have bought a chocolate bar for seeing a girl’s smile.
I have read books I didn’t want because I had to learn more.
I have run until it got dark in Stanmer Park…yes I got lost trying to get back home.
I have opened my arms when the rain came when I was climbing a hill.
I have stepped on cow shit and then I started to run like a crazy man.
 
I have written this poem without knowing for sure how to end it…
 
 
 
 
Wanting to Write
 
Is the worst thing to do.
Once you think about it
Nothing comes up.
The emptiness
Is such that you can hear
The clock ticking.
Writer’s block
Is a bitch.
And the reasons to write
Seem to be lost in a nightmare.
The legion of doubts
Walk faster.
You can even see
The old man at a train station
Waiting
For somebody to arrive.
The hands are still,
Waiting.
No music for them to
Dance.
A hummingbird
Dies slowly,
His reflection in the lake
Is disappearing slowly.
Nothing seem to make sense
And every word hurts.
There is a reason why writers
Don’t think
While punching  those keys,
Either it comes out of your guts
Or it doesn’t come out.
Trying to write doesn’t work.
It just happens,
Like the rain, and the thunders, and leafs falling
In the forest.
Sometimes there are not even people
Watching.
It is a fire that
Suddenly starts
Because
It just needs a spark
And some air.
Just let the cage open
And leave it.
The beast will find
Our way
Back home.
 
Born in Mexico City in 1982, Fernando is an Economist for social reasons and a writer because of vocational reasons. He lives in Mexico City but has spent some time living and studying in Italy, Washington D.C. and U.K. His poems have been published online and in fanzines.