The waiting game.(poem)


                                           You´re the bait.


                                   Getting tired of trying it.


                                   You gotta keep doing so.


                                  I only want to say screwby!


                                  I want to get by.

                                  I want to say by by.

                                  To the hospital so I don´t cry.


                             Don´t know they came and went there.


                             The doctors damn it!

                               What´s up with them?

                               Still waiting for the to give me the freaking papers to sign them.

                               And then what? Yesterday 25 March was told  I was good for them to release me then.

P.S. Is this even considered a poem? It is under the category called “Strange Poems” tough…. I think I actually lived up to my expectations.

Stay Forsty gents and gentesses.

Nap, nap….wake up wild rider!

I´m a wild rider, here I come then I´m gone, easy comes easy goes and I have some foes, fuck it. Going ADD here.

Hold it, now……HIT IT!

You sleep? I happen not to do so, I´m just too cool, had to stay in school. So I return to the basement of my parents house for….34hours. Sleep 5. Want to get back to writing and the blogging world so I try to cram up as much as I can. Then I  get a call from the woman who is taking care of my uncle. She say´s he´d entered into a coma and doctors are saying he´s in a very difficult condition and chances are he won´t make it. Easy comes, easy goes wild rider get the freaking “bullet” train, nobody in the train I might add and it´s christmas time. Government subsidize the project, government didn´t manage to good the money from the tax payers, government is broke. Had to be the socialist government, not that the ones in place are doing that much better, pretty much the same. So get in train, read my cool new Stephen King book, fall asleep, nap nap, “Excuse me sir, whe´re in Malaga” says the stewardess 2 and a half hours later. Me thinking, what the fuck? Malaga, that´s 500 kilometers from my house, how did I end up here? Wake up Charly gotta get to the hospital you idiot.

Make my way to emergency room, patients are screaming in pain, family members are sobbing, some faint, people with blood everywhere in their clothes. I look, I see, I don´t give a shit. Seen worst in my life. The hospital is overwhelmed. My immediate job is to find the uncle. Walk from one nurse to another, finally find the doctor that has taken him in. “How is he doing?” I ask expecting the worst. “He´s stable.” He responds. You kidding me? When is this dude going to die. Put my whole life on hold, easy go wild rider and go to where he is lying down in some make shift screwed up bed. He looks at me and smiles, I smile back and start talking to him about the cool stewardess from the train. He smiles. He´s weak. He looks like one of the holocaust survivors…you know the cool little photo of those poor guy´s that are all bones? At least they could walk, this guy can´t even walk, skiny skiny skiny. I keep talking like nothing is out of the ordinary, while I quickly glance around me at the situation, know which nurses are going to take care of him, what is it they are putting through his veins, be alert when the little bottle runs out so I´ll go call them and let them know. Cause you better be on your toes with these people, not the greatest service. You Americans want universal health care…be my guest. Anyways I just keep talking and he smiles weakly. I should write a post on how to master the abnormal so it seems normal. You project competence and strength and the people around you will react in a positive way to it. On other things in life I just suck, but when it gets to critical situations, I just react, cool headed and get the job done.

Now, life back on hold, just spend the night there. Spend 24 hours in the hospital bed, or next to it sitting or standing. I nap for 30 minutes, wake up! In comes a nurse with some other bottle that contains some strange liquid. Nap nap, wake up! My uncle is shitting himself. He´s ashamed, I look at him and smirk and tell him my shit smells worst. Not that you can run out and scream in panic for someone to come and clean him, to many patients to little nurses and most of them are talking about anything and everything that is not related to their job. So wake up! I go fetch them for the one hundredth time, finally they come. Nap nap. It´s 9 a .m, mom comes in. I go back. 20 minutes bus ride from the hospital to the train station, 20 minutes from the train  station to my uncle´s home. Nap a little in the train, not too much cause I don´t want to miss the stop like happened yesterday. Get to his house,get the groceries my mother had written down on paper, get the wheel chair back to the place we rented it. No nap, go nap now. Wild rider is going to his uncles home for a nap and then this afternoon, hopefully I can read some of your blogs. And guess what, whoever reads this, if someone. I´ll tell you something beforehand. I actually take notes from the blogs I read. So I´m a wild rider-blog thief. Nap Nap I´m out of the grid.

Stay Frosty gents and gentesse.

Wassuuuup!! God.(pictures!!)

I´m going wild here, I´m a wild rider, I´m the lion chasing the gazelle, or the gazelle that needs something outside to motivate it to make it spring into action and run….but to a destination. Found my why long time ago, why, why is it that pushes me. Just saying, my brain is going rapidely and I´m just typing away to get away probably or not just love it that way. I´m just put it on in paper, paper-view! That´s cool. Every time I get a view or a hit I should get paid and then laid. Lately I masturbate too much and usually Frank Sinatra´s voice is playing in the background as I do my thing. It´s strange.

Wasssuuup God, don´t know if you´re up there or not. Sometimes I believe and others don´t. You´re like a woman to me, you´re damn confusing. Why do you let good people die and bad people live? Why not let all the bad people die, you created the earth so fuck it, it´s your job to make it better. People who really believe have told me that you had my path predetermined since before I was born. So I guess it´s your fault I dropped out of college, I went into the armyFoto 84,  I went to two fucked up countries and did your ultimate sin thereimages-5(yep that´s my crazy 24 year old version of me, still crazy though). Your fault I´m a drunk,Foto 28 although I´ve been sober for quite some months now, but have pancreatitis so that´s your fault,Foto 34(yep that´s me when I got out of the hospital after two months stay and 18 of them days in the freaking ICU, that´s as close my body really has been into shock or almost die than even in war zones,tha´s fucked up) why is my uncle dying and I have to sit and watch it day by day by day gettting weaker and weaker, that´s your fault too. You made me a fuck up. Someone had to be, go pic my nexdoor neighbour he pisses me off. So I´m me, and only me, so others are not me which is cool with me. The real me. Hahah, try that one, prompt: write a hole paragraph with as many “me” as you can. Or don´t do it,screw it. I´ll tell on you. To God, my man!


A woman called Clemencia.

The priest came running out of his office sweat pouring from every pour of his thin body starvation was hitting every person of catholic belief. Starvation of liberty. He just received  an unexpected phone call, no matter how much he prayed to his dear God his prayers went unanswered and he was starting to doubt his own faith the world was swirling all around the Catholic Church debris hitting her like a human being hit by a hurricane so frail compared to the outside forces. They would not survive for long. The priest entered the Bishop´s office.

“What´s the matter? Compose your self.”

The priest finally caught his breath, “The archbishop of Boston has been killed.”

“It´s the second fatality we have had in less than a year, are my suspicions correct when I state that they are the same people who killed our bishop in San Francisco.”

“There is no doubt.”

“O.k, you go with the congregation, they are looking up to you and God for support. Reassure them that God will amend all these atrocities, we will survive, the church will survive. Go on and God be with you.” The priest nodded and took off to pas mass for his followers.

The bishop stood for a minute staring at the brown wall ahead of him, so empty of photographs or paintings, just as empty as his thoughts. The thought´s that had also been stolen like the pictures and photographs that had once been on the wall a year ago. They had full power now although it had taken them years to achieve this they where now on top and it seemed that no line was too red to be crossed. Here he was in the twenty first century and his thoughts retrieved to 708 when Islamist invaded and decided to wreak havoc among the christian population of the Iberian peninsula. He reached for the phone and called the Vatican. They gave him the go ahead.

She was sitting on a black chair standing out like an elephant in a room with her white nursing uniform, but she had been in that chair in that office for over two years and people had gotten use to see her. She actually was part of a greater campaign to have the people who didn´t live in the house appreciate even more the owner of the house. She could sense the stares that some of the people working there would throw at her and the nice phony conversations they would share with her thinking she was just another stupid prop they had to use to get the outside people keep on liking the inside man. She was there for a purpose, when God will call on her she would use her skill to do what HE needed her to do. She knew every single room every single closet and what where inside those closets her situation awareness and hearing where amplified. She was the only one who could administer the shot of morphine every day to the inside man. That was the only thing he wanted her to do, she had accepted with the condition she could bring with her her dog a picture perfect beige labrador-retriever,who wasn´t camera shy and very photogenic which suited fine the hole image of the the beautiful white house she was working in.

The dog stood up and started liking her right palm. “I know honey, I know it hurts, but the time has come.”

It had been in the making for years. The Pope had designated her, she had a unique ability that God had given her, compassion and the gift of not being able to see. Being born blind never stopped her from accomplishing when at a very early age she heard the calling from God of what her destiny and purpose in the world would be. She  graduated with honours from Harvard walking out with a nursing degree. Her not being able to see never got in the way of being the best. When the inside man stood in front of the house giving a speech about universal healthcare and the right of a woman to choose, but at the same time proving to the world he was respectful of everyone. He would point out at her, Clemencia. The dark hair hispanic christian nun who had graduated with honours from Harvard like he had he said jokingly except he said she was the precious jewel of the american people. Then jokingly added, “She´s the one who keeps me going every morning, literally.” People could see her disability and at the same time see the heart of the man they had entrusted their country to move in the right direction. It was perfect for him, his numbers at the polls had been declining week after week and scandal after scandal was hitting the house. She was in effect, his precious jewel.

The time had come, the microchip implanted on her labrador-retriever more than three years ago had finally given the signal so she stood up with the dog and walked towards the east wing of the house passing by ten secret agents before she reached the door. She knocked.

“Come in Clemencia.” The deep voice called out.

“How are you feeling today sir?”

“I will be better now, that´s for sure.”

She could smell the the distinct damp odour of the musallah as the president stood up from it after being on his knees for his six minutes of prayer. Since he was in the United States he had to face east-north and that way he would face Mecca. This meant a five minute fast walk from the west wing. But he too was on a mission from another God.

“Well, how was your day Clemencia?”

“It has been fine, the dog seems a little hungry.”

“Ooo, cute dog we´ll get you some stake after my shot, best in the free world.”

She administered the shot into his rear end. “I didn´t even feel it.”

“I´m glad Mr. President, you will feel another thing in a couple of seconds.”


“My name is Clemencia Mr.President and it translate to clemency in english, which is what I´m giving you for your faults.”

The next day the nation mourned.