Archivo de la categoría: Poesía

Poesía

“Cada vez me parezco más a mi hermano Germán”

Cada vez me parezco más a mi hermano Germán

Cada vez me parezco más a mi hermano Germán

Posted by TALLER-ON DE PEDRO GRANADOS on Sunday, July 23, 2017

–Hola Amálio [Pinheiro], este viejo video-poema me percata que siempre “milité” en el multinaturalismo.  Abrazo, Pedro

-Sí, Pedro [Granados], tu voz, al decir, va mucho más allá de la oralidad, y
capta, con la garganta y los pulmones, algo mayor y mejor que los
signos verbales. No se llega al paisaje multinatural sin ir para fuera
de los signos, a pesar de ellos. Por eso, creo, en esta voz, Germán
sigue cerca.

Gran abrazo. Amálio.

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Blase Reviews Vagabond’s “EXTREME: An Anthology for Social and Environmental Justice”/ MARK LIPMAN

We live in a time of EXTREME and most of the extreme is negative. This negativity is a dark reflection on wrong answers. To ignore this raging truth is to live in a state of denial. Fear and hate are the long standing blanket over the aching truth. Artists and risk walk together. Dante could have been executed for his “comoedia” (Latin). Ecclesiastical mores did not permit games to be played with heaven, hell or purgatory. He made his point with great risk, Michelangelo could have been eliminated for his painting of eminent church people in hell.

What mass media primarily offers is not “fake news”, but rather an absence of critically important news. News editors have the power to ignore the rape of Yemen or thirty million mostly non-combatants who have died in unnecessary, illegal and morally repugnant wars since the end of World War II. I have actually heard “expert pundits” refer to this as a long period of peace since the greatest of all wars.

The artists are still with us. Their risk taking is still with us. Thanks to Mark Lipman for pulling together such people. As political psychotics play with biocide to maintain a failed economic system together with 19th century nationalism, we can be grateful for the poetry of truth tellers. War is the ugliest sin on earth.

Watching the planet rot out as if we can do nothing to save it will not be solved by, “have a nice day.”

Thanks to Henry Howard for SEA OF OIL, SHIP OF FOOLS. Ignoring a million people sleeping on the streets of the richest nation in history makes Aristotle turn many times in his grave. Distributive justice has been in the plans of intelligent minds for centuries and our pathetic Ivy League Universities still speak of maximizing profit rather than maximizing humanity. No, the Bantustans of Israel will not be ignored by anyone whose mind is in gear. Immigrants are roving the earth looking for a home. The Universal Declaration of Human Rights offers help for these people. International law is ignored by the world’s greatest war machine.

And in this bouquet of truth-telling we do not find cynicism or despair, we find what Antonio Gramsci did as he lived in the hell of Italian Fascism. His intellect made it clear that he was living in such a time and he had “a pessimism of the intellect” which was honesty. HOWEVER, both Gramsci and Mark Lipman are entirely hopeful. As Gramsci, Lipman pulls together those who admit the negativity in observing the world with their intellects AND they are comforted by an optimism of the will. Together we can change it.

I highly recommend, EXTREME; an anthology for social and environmental justice.

We shall overcome!

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“Volcán abajo” en el CCBP

Media palabra basta

Media quijada para ti

La otra

Para la muerte

Medio tono

Entre el amor

Y el mayor amor hacia ti todavía

Que no ha sucumbido

Que no se ha agotado

Tiemblan las hojas

De mi cuerpo

Tiembla mi entendimiento

Agazapado entre mi lengua

Y contra  mi paladar

Tiemblo yo todo

Y tiemblas tú

Niña eterna de veinte años

Niña en el jardín

Niña y niño nosotros

Y en  la misma habitación

Que no ha cesado

JUEVES 13 de septiembre, 7: 30 PM

CENTRO CULTURAL BRASIL-PERÚ

CALLE ATAHUALPA 390, MIRAFLORES

Poemario bilingüe. Traducido al portugués por el poeta y profesor de la PUC-São Paulo, Amálio Pinheiro.

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“Ante o pesado do mundo/ Por dentro”/ Leonardo Vieira de Almeida (trad.)

POEMA EM PAMPA

Tudo quieto e findo

E pura sensação de paz

Como agora

Um cubo desabitado,

Sóbrio

E com aroma de madeiras

Porém fruto das sombras

E das luzes dos dias

A descoberto

Em flagrante

A viagem, o regresso

E a espera de esperar

Ave metálica no interior

 

Desse cubo bendito

Alvoroço estridente

E não menos invisível

Entre aroma de madeiras

Hei de morrer, hei de despedir-me

Ou ao menos hei de empreender

Algum tipo de viagem

Vagabundear um átimo

Pelo que somos

Assim me olha Germán

E me contempla

Minha amorosa mãe já

 

Desaparecida

Ave de asas no topo

Entre os ângulos de meu cubo

Ânsias de amor, desassossego

Ante a ausência de janelas

Você é minha janela, a paz,

A bem-aventurada alegria

Neste mundo

E a roda, a aspa,

O salto no vazio

 

Que somos

No interior de seu corpo

Também tênue gaze

E o leve

Apenas se resiste

Fui um poeta entretido

Pela pele e seu sabor

E suas morenas e cálidas mãos

Que tentam todavia

As polegadas de meu ser tornadiço

Às suas carícias

Sensível a aura de sua espera

Flor de mirada aberta e fecunda

Talvez não saiba morrer

Talvez decepcione no

Último minuto

Metálica ave incômoda

 

De bico e garras

Contra superfície tão brunida

 

Do cubo

 

De ombros e esplêndida cabeça

Ante o pesado do mundo

Por dentro

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EXTREME: An anthology for social and environmental justice

Mark Lipman, Vagabond (ed.)

[La belleza existe]

I

La belleza existe

Viene y te destruye

Y sólo la reconoces

Entre el estrago

Y las apiladas ruinas

Entre la noche

Que te parió

El día en que fuiste

Entre tu corazón de niño

O aún muy joven

Y lo que has venido a ser

Una suerte de autómata

De viento entre más viento

II

La belleza existe

En miles de lenguas

Y es políglota

Y es fiel

Y desde los pies a la cabeza

Te ve

Y a veces muere

Pero a menudo

Resucita

Y te rescata de lo que

Nos entendemos

(Escribo para entendedores)

Y para transidos de belleza

Y dolor

Y soledad

Y dudas

Y menosprecio

Y anonimato

Y frustración

Y sinsentido

Pero ella viene y va

Pero ha venido

Pedro Granados, Roxosol (2018)

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True Friend/ Indran Amirthanayagam

You are an agent provocateur,

a brat on the wrestling mat

who wants me to react, to fall

in your trap, to rhyme in time,

to give up all pretence of writing

modern poetry, to turn instead

to ancient rhythms of lyres

strumming and licks of fire

from the angry mouth

through which Hades roars.

You damn post-socratic,

fiend of language, cur

of the neo baroque,

what happened to simple

affirmation, to saying,

good job, Man,

welcome to my language,

write and fornicate

and make new

American Hispanics?

What happened

to those halcyon days

when we drank green tea

and rode to Saltillo

planning to seize

the Academy? Why give

me reason constantly

to write poetry useful

only to critics of the school

of friendships among poets?

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Dichos de Mique

Lo que tenemos en común con mi perro es apenas la cola y el apellido los dos la tenemos colorada y nos reconocemos mulatos fray martines de porras arriba y porras abajo con espinas gemelas y almas puestas a batirse al aire del universo que a veces entrevemos visitarnos en nuestra habitación compartida hasta el extremo que uno de los dos queda mudo hasta el extremo que ninguno de los dos va fuera sin el otro hasta el extremo de que les abro las fauces y les hundo las uñas y les mal digo como perro y no menos lo estropeo todo como humano

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