La Guelaguetza Popular

besides the color
and a certain informality
it is all very familiar

the sound of horns and whistles
the band heaving between chords
breathing like a giant animal

weary but persistent
esperando (hoping and waiting)
for the celebration to begin

the dancers with the sweat on their brows
and los penachos weighing upon their heads
feathery crowns of red, green and white

they dance as if in slow motion
tucking their heels behind their knees
almost bowing to the pleased spectators
as they pass

they are delicate warriors
answering to the rhythm of long-rehearsed stories

they lift smoothly off the ground
tired in the sun
and from the noise

but content
obviously content
to continue

a note

perhaps i will see you today in the evening

don´t worry i will wear my green dress with loose seams
that glow in the dark

inside my skin will sing

you will recognize my stride
and the quivering air

Grendel Diary

Can someone please explain how my 16 year-old brother wrote this?

please...



[Blood Stained Pages]

With Death I Part.

The drip, the constant drip!

In this swamp, my home

for timeless hours,

the putrid molasses barriers of slime

recall as if I am unaware, the rotting shell

into which I have been cast.

What being lives in stinking muck?

What creatures spend their hours,

lingering in misty swamp,

locked in a cell of cold, wet oppression?

Mine. My cold shell.

The pain beats in me,

squeezing and drumming my nerves.

Soon I will fail this sinister world,

relinquish my authority

in matters of dark and sin.

I will burn like the others,

smolder in the reliquary

of Satan’s worn out toys.

How my wishes once had been,

to find respite from hatred

in the soft embrace of friendship.

But even now hunger

purges this longing. Hunger for

blood. Flesh and life.

To clench between my jaws

the spark of soul

that lingers in each living creature.

I am a creature of sin,

an advocate of perfidy,

a proponent of joyous murder.

A creature cast black in the world,

smothered in hatred, shadowed in fear.

The world around me wanes,

ebbs as each beat of my heart

drags me closer to death.

I can feel the icy grip of death

place burning fingers on my throat

and cinch my breath.

In this marsh, breaths

are quenched by despair. My own

blood pools at my feet. I die

hated, despised, loathed…

a monster.

God! Demon!

Left me here, on this world an

outcast. Satan and all evil beat within

me and I cried for mercy.

Mercy from myself. I received none.

As I devoured men and shredded

beautiful lives I beseeched Him.

Pain tore me, broke me, bared

my soul to be scorched by

my own desire. Why do I long

for blood and life? Why do I revel and

rejoice in my own infamy? Save me from

my Satanic longing, spare me

from this bitter-sweet execration! No reply.

Only my beating heart and my raging

hunger.

I am a being of Satan, born

as I know of Cain’s own murder.

I am God’s rejection, life’s pain-ridden

shadow. This world was and will never

be my home. I am a cruel joke. A

castaway, only now

returning to his home land.

The world around me fades

like dreams unattainable. The blood

laps at my feet. It is thick and dark.

These are the final words of Grendel, monster

and self afflicting anathema. Beowulf, you too

will rot in hell with me. In pain and agony,

we will be together once more.

Receive me Satan, devour

my being as I have done

so many others, once

and for eternity.