Tag: death

Death (A Love Story)

DEATH (A LOVE STORY)

Cascading musically against jagged peaks of rocks and stones, I fall, fall, fall.
Down I tumble like rubble like flotsam discarded from overhead by the almost dead.
My dreams circle around my head as each new crash opens me up and stains the peaks and walls red.
I am so near death, her arms waiting down below, readying to catch me and take me away from it all.
When I finally reach her she smiles at me, her callous up against me, rubbing deep into me.
Her hair smells of sewer relics and scum, but I take it in, I think I’m in love.
Her breathe’s stench so sweet I can taste it on my tongue, and I see now what she sees in me.
She loves me for my ending, for my blood falling, for the stains I had done, a true love.
Together we will always be, together a happy never ending family, her for me, me for her. The death of me.
Holding hands we stroll down the infinite road, gathering flowers long dead and gray and brown.
I try to kiss her with my blue lips, she reacts to this, and pressing tightly we meet together.
She catches a blade of sunlight and plunges it deep into my eyes, she makes me blind to all around.
I love all this darkness; if she’s with me, it makes it ever more greater.
And new dreams stem, like roses that we had picked up from the ground, dreams so profound:
Of our new death together, I’m in her forever, and ever.

ARTURO HERNANDEZ 10-1-1991

My photo

I Spoke with Death the Other Day(According to his expression, it appeared he wished not to talk; and it was a long ass conversation).

We spoke so much about life
About love
Hate
And friendship
The how and why
The here and now
The end and beginning
The insides
And outsides
The way yeast works
The why the sun shines
The smoke and how it rises
The planets and how they spin
The rain and how it sins
The pain and how it hurts
It was an endless conversation 
And I feel no need to convey the rest of it.

A Hernandez  11 22 2023

“4 Poems of Morbid Origin” by A. Hernandez / 1989

(I wrote this a long time ago. Not sure (as usual in present time) what was going through my mind. But I felt it needed to be put on paper. Warning Very Dark Stuff.)

1. A Massacre Artist I am

This is one way to get back in the big

Picture. One way to introduce hardship tales. My gun breaks

Tiny tots into flesh explosions, an artist using blood as my

Paint. My masterpiece, I am a killing machine with my

Big war gun I dismember behead and cut into shreds,

Oh I am so proud I am going to die. I shoot myself

To death, my pain, my signature is implanted forever.

Sadness overcomes my art, I am never regretful for

What I do. I just sign my name I be on my way.

God has a way to deal with my misfortune. I’ll meet

The evil devil today.

2 27 1989 A. Hernandez

2. Sick Jokes

I give you my hand so tenderly and then

So suddenly your hand burns. It’s just a

Joke but no one’s laughing loud. It’s just a sickness that corrodes my deep hidden

Soul.

I throw tiny bombs into friendly crowds

Full of youngsters, and parents are seen

Flying in pieces in all directions. It was

Just a joke. But I can notice no one grinning. I

See my sickness in my full length mirror

Picking at my broken heart. I am a joke.

I am so funny, like refried Easter

Bunnies. I am so sick of a dry joke.

And so is folk, I joke.

A. Hernandez 2 27 1989

3. Death in a Swamp

I am about to see the tree never ever again

And I am so very afraid. My life is but a short

Time, a few seconds. My life is no more than

A few seconds. I am afraid I am so scared.

What is left of me is above the quick sand, my

Head. I am sinking so miserably, my lungs are

Under extreme pressure. In front of my eyes I see cute

Black spots appearing and disappearing.

I should have never have taken my life into my own

Hands.

I am so crazy. All this time. I make pictures

Of myself being ripped apart by a giant shark. Why

Do I let this happen? I see blood surrounding my

Thin neck, my eyes are watching all this sickness.

Please forgive me if I make you sick.

2-27 1989 a. Hernandez

4. Mad Mad and Crazy

I am a very weird person

You do understand my son?

Your dad is a very stranger.

Your very life in danger,

So run run away do not return

I might go wild and you’ll burn!

Please forgive me do not cry,

Maybe someday I will fry.

a. Hernandez 2 27 1989

4 Poems of Morbid Origin – A Massacre Artist I am – Sick Jokes – Death In A Swamp – Mad Mad And Crazy 2-27-1989 / The original paper and inks

Carting

Creepy poetry for today. You know because it Halloween. I wrote this one a long time ago before the twin towers attack in 2000.

Bomb blasted eyes like falling red stars
Showering down from the filthy sky,
Landing near their toes, not too far from where they lie
Holding heavy guns and handy bombs and waiting to die.
Foreign creatures from afar
Appearing from behind iron curtains,
Shrieking war cries, trampling, galloping towards war,
With sharpened spears certain
To slice head and open guts
Certain to spill blood in lots.
On both sides now, reaching for peace are warriors rising towards God.
The end has been started,
Thus then the dead be carted.

Carting By Arturo Hernandez 9-15-2000

Digital Art by A. Hernandez