Things Could Get Better - NaPoWriMo Day 30

Things Could Get Better
     by Vito del Valle

The world is a terrible place.
I feel hopeless and lost.
No one feels, no one cares.
It's just greed and self-preservation.
The trees are dying.
The skies are gray.
You can't drink the water.
The kids today will never be home owners.
Scientist want to terraform Mars,
     while the capitalists destroy the Earth...

Wait a minute...
     with friends and family,
     the world isn't so bad.

Hold on...
     with therapy and communication,
     we don't have to feel lost.

Think about it...
     with personal action and group activism,
     we can change the world...
     maybe.

You never know, things could get better.

Note: On prompt and final day of NaPoWriMo. It was a good experience. Thank you to anyone who read my poetry and gave me some hits to the blog. Peace and good health to all. Poem #117 for the year.

Breakfast Tacos - NaPoWriMo Day 29

Breakfast Tacos
     by Vito del Valle

1
Breakfast tacos are the reincarnation of Chicanos,
Chosen to be reborn to feed the bellies of other Chicanos.
A never ending recycle of cannibal sacrifice. 
All for $1.99.
Chorizo and egg, bacon and egg, ham and egg, potato and egg, 
Add an extra slice of  bacon, refried beans, or cheese, 
     for and extra 50¢.
Like the blood rituals of the pyramids, they are the nourishment,
     that keep the people alive.

2
"Choose me!" a chorizo an egg taco screams.
"Let me give my life!" a potato and egg taco
     with bacon and cheese demands.
They are all ready to give their short lived existence,
     for the benefit of the people.
Let them fulfill their destiny,
To live and die as a breakfast taco...

Note: On prompt, I guess. This is for La Raza. Poem #117 for the year.

Gutter Punk - NaPoWriMo Day 28

Gutter Punk
     by Vito del Valle

There's a kid asleep in the alley,
They could be an angel, could be a demon.
Smells like they could use a bath,
Spiked leather jacket and a Black Flag tee.
Gripping tightly an empty beer bottle,
Laying next to a puddle of puke.
Nose is dripping with snot,
Missing a combat boot.
Knuckle with a homemade "PUNX" tattoo.
A bruised face covered in piercing,
Can't hide their streetwise virtue.
Both angels and demons have wings.

Note: Off prompt. I saw Decline of Western Civilization 3 lasts night and was inspired to write this. Homeless street punks have it rough. Poem #115 for the year.

The Cockroaches Of Sorrow - NaPoWriMo Day 27

The Cockroaches Of Sorrow
     by Vito del Valle

There's a cockroach in my shoe,
There's a cockroach in my soup,
There's a cockroach in my juice,
There's a cockroach in my poop.

Like the plague of 1346,
Like the German Blitzkrieg,
Like the destitute during the Great Depression,
Like suicides during the Great Recession.

When will the sorrow end?
The sadness of the occupation,
Immune to extermination,
Laughing at elimination.

Note: On prompt, kinda. Just being silly. Poem #114 for the year.

Portrait Of An Old Woman - NaPoWriMo Day 26

Portrait Of An Old Woman
     by Vito del Valle

Her weathered lines are beautiful,
Like sunshine mixed with gold.
Her silver hair is soft as silk.
Subtle voice compared to mother's milk.
Her elder eyes shine through the night,
Like cloudless skies when the stars shine bright.
A loving cool touch to ease the pain,
Refreshing as much as a summer rain.

Note: On prompt. Not about anyone in particular. I like old ladies, at least the nice ones. Tried to use internal rhymes in the exercise, came out ok, could have been better. Poem #113 for the year.

La Buganvilla y El Perdedor - NaPoWriMo Day 25

La Buganvilla y El Perdedor
     by Vito del Valle

The smell,
     of  your kitchen.
The smile, 
     on your face,
     as you cooked us breakfast.
Freshly made tortillas,
     chorizo and eggs,
     with refried beans.
La buganvilla outside the window,
     would sway in the breeze.
(I was not worthy of this scene.)

You brought me into,
     your home.
Shared your,
     love,
     life,
     love of life.
With me.
(I was not worthy of your love.)

You thought of me,
     throughout the day.
And held me in,
     your thighs,
     at night.
You gave me,
     your body,
     your soul.
And I,
     was nothing more,
     than a,
     perdedor.
(I was not worthy of your soul.)

Note; On Prompt. It's hard to find a woman to fall in love with you when you're a loser. Poem #112 for the year.

Where Has The Hunger Gone? - NaPoWriMo Day 24

Where Has The Hunger Gone?
     by Vito del Valle

Where has the hunger gone?
Hiding at the back of her mind,
Empty stomach days drag on,
Her memories are blind.
Begging her to have a bite,
Begging her to eat anything,
Always ending in a fight,
Just want her to eat something.

Where has the hunger gone?
She leaves everything on her plate,
Sad to see dementia has won,
And left my mother in this state.
I visit her everyday,
And everyday we play the game,
But her stubbornness I can not sway,
At least she still remembers my name.

Note: Off prompt. I wrote about the argument I have with my mother everyday at the nursing home. Dementia sucks. Makes me sad, but what can you do. It's just part of life. Poem #111 for the year. 

5 People At A Cover Band Gig - NaPoWriMo Day 23

5 People At A Cover Band Gig
     by Vito del Valle

1
Return to the stage,
Beats getting paid minimum wage.
We do it for the love,
Let's give it a good run.

2
They're playing my favorite song!
Where has the waitress gone?
I need a beer!
I need a beer!

3
Holy crap this band sucks!
The rhythm guitar player is out of tune.
The bass player's vocals are flat.
Did I really pay a cover to get in here?

4
The drummer is freaking hot.
He's really turning me on.

5
It's a great night.
We should have charged more at the door.
We're running out of Bud Light.
I'm paying the band peanuts, hahaha.

Note: On prompt. If you know, you know. Lol, I hate cover bands. Poem #110 for the year. 

Finally Free - NaPoWriMo Day 22

Finally Free
     by Vito del Valle

My nerves are intact.
My brain is relaxed.
Hadn't had a tremor,
     in forever.

Went out twice, 
It was kind of nice,
To see friends,
I hadn't seen,
     in forever.

Had a couple drinks,
Smoked a lil weed,
Lead me to believe,
I think I'm finally free.

Maybe now,
     I'll return calls,
     answer messages,
     leave the house,
     go out.
I think I'm finally free.

Note: Off prompt. I've been feeling good lately. I haven't had an anxiety attack in forever. My therapist thinks I'm doing great. I actually went out this week. I hung out with my old band members, and I went to see the Circle Jerks. Didn't do the prompt, but I read a couple Emily Dickinson poems. I like her work, I'll probably get one of her collections. I'll go to Barnes and Noble, another reason for me to leave the house. Poem #109 for the year.

Deceit - NaPoWriMo Day 21

 Deceit
     by Vito del Valle

You've 
been
lied to.

1000x
in 1
night.

Tucker
misrepresented 
the 
truth.

Sean
concealed 
the
truth.

Laura
distorted
the
truth.

Lies
for
profit,
for
viewership,
for
sheeplydings.

You've
been
lied to.

On prompt. This one goes out to Fox News. Poem #108 for the year.

The Dead Earth - NaPoWriMo Day 20

 The Dead Earth
     by Vito del Valle

100,000 years from now, 
When the earth is a blackened smoldering heap,
The ancient astronauts will return.

Flying pyramids will land on an endless cemetery,
blowing up ash for miles,
The door will open.

The ancients will walk on charred bones and dust,
Through dried riverbeds and broken mountains,
Radiation casting and ethereal glow.

"What has happened here?" an ancient will ask.
"Humanity." another will reply.
"Where are their cities?"
"Gone, destroyed."
"Where are their people?"
"Turned to ash."
"We gave them knowledge."
"They could not escape their humanity. Greed and power ended their civilization."
"What a pity."
"Yes, what a pity."

The ancients will return to their flying pyramid,
Leave the dead earth,
And will never think of humanity again...

Note: On prompt, there was a time I was obsessed with Ancient Aliens. Not so much anymore. Poem #107 for the year.

Alone And Scared - NaPoWriMo Day 19

 Alone And Scared
     by Vito del Valle

Summer 1977.
West Texas.
Hot and dry.
Dirt roads and cottonfields.
Migrant farm workers, 
     working the fields.
6 years old,
     they left me alone.
A creaky empty house,
     in the middle of nowhere.
So scared,
     of the house,
     of the wind,
     of the cottonfields.
I couldn't move.
I'd lie on the floor frozen.
A black and white T.V.,
     was no comfort.
I'd cry and cry,
     but there was no one there,
     to listen.
I could hear my heartbeat,
     in my throat.
6 years old,
alone,
and scared.

Note: On prompt kinda. No monsters, just fear of being left alone as a kid. I never forgave my parents for doing that to me. It's why I choose to be alone most of the time. I talk about it a lot in therapy. Poem #106 for the year.

Jacket Weather - NaPoWriMo Day 18

 Jacket Weather
     by Vito del Valle

Another day
Breaks the window,
Cold and 
Dry.
Every morning
Forgets the night and
Greets the sun,
Hungry for warmth.
I hate 
Jacket weather.
Keep praying for
Lost
Mittens,
Never found.
Old house with
Poor insulation, 
Quick to freeze over.
Remember
Summer
Temperatures
Under
Variable
Winds.
Xanax makes me
Yell and
Zoom.

Note: On prompt, I tried it, just did ok. Started off good, the ending is kinda ehh. Poem #105 for the year.

A Day To Die - NaPoWriMo Day 17

 A Day To Die
     by Vito del Valle

I, 
deny
all of this.
Answers make clear, 
the questions are rigged.
Can't win a broken game.
We were meant to lose the race.
There are no prizes for last place.
Failures make you numb to the hard truth.
Everyday alive is a day to die.
Corporate gods demand devotion.
The dollar demands sacrifice.
Your body is a machine.
Blood is commodity.
We are not masters.
We are all slaves.
Born to lose,
not to
live.

Note: Off prompt. Played a syllable game. Went from 1 to 10 then back to 1. Poem #104 for the year.

Death To The Non - NaPoWriMo Day 16

 Death To The Non
     by Vito del Valle

Tastes the same,
Looks the same,
Packaged the same,
But is not the same.
This bubbling golden lager, 
     is a trickster,
     is a deceiver, 
     a liar.
The heady gifts of heaven, 
     are gone, denied.
Replaced by stagnant abstinence.
Let the squares drink this
     trash water!
The foul liquid will soothe no soul, 
     never steady a nerve, 
     never give you the shakes, 
     never give you a hangover.
What utter garbage!
Smash the bottles to the ground!
Death to the non!

Note: On prompt. My ode to non-alcoholic beer. It's an abomination. Poem #  

Ride The Rails - NaPoWriMo Day 15

 Ride The Rails
     by Vito del Valle

I've never hopped a train.
It's something that I've always wanted to do.
Woody Guthrie had rambling in his veins,
And I believe I do too.
Hopping a moving train looks dangerous, 
But the journey feels so romantic.
The tracks crisscrossing the country serve their purpose,
Connecting dreams from the Pacific to the Atlantic.
Vagrants, hobos, and runaways call it home.
Criminals use it as a means of escape.
I imagine it could fulfill my urge to roam, 
And the want to see this country's landscape.
I'm to old and centered to hop a train, 
But I'm enthralled with all that it entails.
Bitter that I've lived my life in vain,
And I never took the time to ride the rails.

Note: Off prompt. One of my regrets is that I never rode the rails. Poem #102 for the year. 

The Thirst Of Heroes - NaPoWriMo Day 14

 The Thirst Of Heroes
     by Vito del Valle

My heroes have always been lunatics.
Madmen who ran through the city streets drunk and naked, 
     howling at the moon.
Men and women whose poetry and prose moved mountains, 
     all the while wearing their tortured souls, 
     on their sleeves.
I find comfort in the words of whores and cowards, 
     be they fictional or as real as the shimmering moon.
There is a solemn commiseration in a crowded bar.
It's one of the loneliest places on earth and the spot,
     where great stories are made.
My heroes have walked into that bar as regular men, 
     but have walked out kings of...
     the unruly, 
     the forgotten.
Their novels are like a cold case of beer.
Their poems are like a stiff drink.
And me, I'm drunk as hell, 
     and my thirst can not be quenched.

Off prompt. I felt I had been writing crap last couple days. I needed to do something more for me. Poem #101 for the year.

Untitled Joke - NaPoWriMo Day 13

 Untitled Joke
     by Vito del Valle

Three nouns walk into a bar.
The bartender says, "What will you have?"
First noun says, "A Shirly Temple."
Second noun says, "A Manhattan."
Third noun says, "A duck fart."

Note: On prompt. I am freaking hilarious, lol.... Poem #100 for the year.

Paper and Pen - NaPoWriMo Day 12

 Paper and Pen
     by Vito del Valle

I sit at my table and take out a piece of paper and a pen.

"What will you write about today?" the paper asked.

"Will it rhyme or will it be free verse?" the pen added

"I'm not sure yet," my mind replied.

"Make it dark and brooding, make it perverse," the paper said.

"He always writes like that. Let him write something different for once," the pen said to the paper.

"I think I'll write about regret," my mind said.

"Another one of those, huh. Well, let's get to it," the paper said.

"Let's do this!" the pen screamed.

"Ok, ok, but fist I need a drink," my mind said.

Note: On prompt I guess. Short because I got a song on my mind and I feel like working on that today. Holy crap, had to edit. I forgot how to write dialogue, lol... Poem #99 for the year.

An Elderly Couple At A Walmart Self-Checkout - NaPoWriMo Day 11

 An Elderly Couple At A Walmart Self-Checkout
     by Vito del Valle

An overheard conversation at a Walmart.
An elderly couple are at the self-checkout.

Old man: Can you believe this shit?

Old woman: Yes dear, just go ahead and scan it.

Old man: When did I become a Walmart employee?

Old woman: There's no registers open, can't you see.

Old man: Why do your pull ups cost so much?

Old woman: I like how they fit, not too tight in the crotch.

Old man: Why can't you just try to hold your piss?

Old woman: How about when you go, you try not to miss.

Old man: You know, it's been ten years since we've had sex.

Old woman: You need to learn to complain a little less.

Old man: The world has really gone to hell.

Old woman: No, just you and me as far as I can tell.

Note: On prompt. I'm sure this conversation really happened. Poem #98 for the year.

Pretend I'm Dead - NaPoWriMo Day 10

 Pretend I'm Dead
     by Vito del Valle

Today my head feels like a wrecking ball.
Damn, did I throw myself against the wall?
     I can not remember all that I drank, 
     I try to recall but my mind goes blank.
Too dizzy to stand, so I guess I'll crawl.

My pen is moving, it knows what to write.
All the stories and lies I told last night.
     There was no one here to pour me a drink,
     I drink alone because it helps me think.
Everyone is wrong, I know that I'm right.

My only friend is the pain in my head, 
He tells me to hide and pretend I'm dead.
     I've trained myself to survive through the day,
     With a drink here and there, it all goes my way.
To face the world sober fills me with dread.

Note: Off prompt. I'm hungover, so I wrote about being an alcoholic. I embellished a lot. Poem #97 for the year.

I Can't Write A Love Song - NaPoWriMo Day 9

 I Can't Write A Love Song
     by Vito del Valle

There was a time I could write a love song,
A woman could always capture my heart.
Now the words escape me, don't come along,
Melodies are gone, lost hold of the art.

I haven't know love in so many years,
There are no women for my obsessions.
Today I fill my songs with fears and beers,
Play sparkling chords of my dark depression.

Still, I dream of the one to break my chains.
Love, to take me back to when I was young.
A tender woman to help ease the pain.
A woman to help me write songs unsung.

I can't write a love song to save my life.
I can't find a woman to call my wife.

Note: Back in the 90s, during the skate punk years, I was a songwriter, had a band. All I did was write love songs for all the girls I was obsessed with. Those were the best years of my life. Now, I find it hard to meet someone. I haven't been in love in 25 years. I've written about this theme before. I've written sonnets before, this one was easy... I need to get out more, meet people. Poem #96 for the year.

Existence Is Futile -NaPoWriMo Day 8

 Existence Is Futile
     by Vito del Valle

Existence is an infinite void.
Every second of life is an eternity of absolute death.
View the sadness in a starving child's eyes, 
     while savoring the spoils of pointless war.
Listen to the lamentation of the people without hope.
The scent of rotting corpses on the battlefield,
     compels you to feel the ichor of life in your hands.
When death calls your name, you see the darkness for what it is,
     a black eternal emptiness, 
     where the light fears to go.
When an newborn cries, a hundred enemies ready their weapons,
     eager to battle against the radiance.
Adolf Hitler committed suicide at the Fuhrerbunker in Berlin.
The cunning devil of hatred said his last "Sieg Hiel!"
And still, existence did not flinch.
The sun continued to rise on men and continued to set on 
     their shadows.
Death's scythe continued to dance, mowing down
     the flowing fields of humanity.
But people must be brave and have hope.
Exist in light to escape the void.
Carpe Diem!
Puro pinche 956, a la verga!
We'll be dancing on the graves of our fears, and
     singing praises to our resolution.

The ghost of Vito's mother will look at him and say, 
     "Vente mijito, no seas pendejo."
He'll try to grasp her ethereal hand, but it will disappear.
And Vito del Valle will drift hopeless and helpless, 
     in the infinite void...

Note: On prompts, I think I got 18 or 19 of them in. It was a challenge. I went dark, real dark. Not my best but I had to write something. Poem #95 for the year.

How To Kill Yourself and Take As Many People With You - NaPoWriMo Day 7

 How To Kill Yourself and Take As Many People With You
     by Vito del Valle

There are options:

A. Write Bad Poetry - This takes years of practice. Every word written of bad poetry is like a growing cancerous tumor on your soul. If you want a slow agonizing self-inflicted death this is the go to method. Every person reading your bad poetry will also experience the same lethargic death created by your words.

B. Draw/Paint A Terrible Picture - A pencil or brush is as deadly a weapon as a scalpel. Every stroke of your hand is like a knife stabbing your body. The more terrible the picture, the faster you will bleed out. Anyone who views your picture will gouge their eyes out and flail themselves gloriously.

C. Sculpt A Hideous Piece - Clay, Stone, Wood, whatever the medium, create the most unimaginable maddening sculpture possible. So rude and offensive to the moral fiber of humanity, God would have no choice but to strike you down. Everyone who saw your piece would be driven insane and suffer instantly from a heart attack or stroke.

D. Write and Perform The Worst Song Ever Written - Whatever your instrument be: guitar, piano, trombone, banjo, etc. Use it to create the most cacophonous noise of horrible melody and structure. Chords and choruses inconvincible to the minds of man. Perform the song with passion and ferocity, and you will open a portal to oblivion which will swallow you whole. People hearing your song will spontaneously combust into flames leaving a pile of ash.

E. Bring An Acoustic Guitar To A Party - self-explanatory.

Note: On Prompt. Sometimes, it's just fun to be weird, lol... Poem #94 for the year.

Words To Be Said - NaPoWriMo Day 6

 Words To Be Said
     by Vito del Valle

When I used to live in the big city
There were nights when I couldn't sleep
I'd go out for a coffee and a pack of cigarettes
Walk around telling myself promises I'd never keep
Like one day I'd write a novel as good as The Stand
Or a book of poetry like Love Is a Dog from Hell
But I moved back home to my boring little town
Back to the empty streets I knew too well
Years later, I sit alone in my broken home
Smoking too much, drinking too much, thinking too much
Of the times I was too close to the flame
Remembering, I could have been a such and such
Now, I'm a lonely man sending out submissions
The rejections make me numb, make me stubborn and drunk
Till the final day comes, I'll keep writing
Because there's still words to be said from this old punk.

Note: Off prompt. I was feeling broody today after going to therapy, after visiting my mom at the nursing home. I've been writing a poem a day since the beginning of the year, sometimes it turns into journaling. Poem #93 for the year.

Echoes Of Laughter - NaPoWriMo Day 5

 Echoes Of Laughter
     by Vito del Valle

Beautiful children murdered by malevolent school shooters
Hard working families displaced by chemical disasters
Corrupt police officers harass and kill people of color
Christian Nationalists congregations lead by hateful pastors
This is our America, ruled by elected leaders
Congressmen, Governors, Senators, the Supreme Court
They shed no tears for
     the children
     the families
     the people of color
     the victims of hate
Money, greed, and power fills their blackened hearts
As their maniacal laughter echoes through
     the halls of Congress
     the halls of our capitals
     the halls of the White House
The so-called elites are howling their way to the bank
The people lose faith in a system that was never broken, 
     and is running just the way it was meant to be.

Note: On prompt, kinda. This poem is more in the style that I usually write. I don't really understand why people write about forests, butterflies, and flowers when there's so much evil in the world that needs to be confronted and destroyed. I don't know, I'm just an anarchist, anti-fascist, weirdo... it's what happens when you grow up punk rock. Poem #92 for the year.

Return To Dirt - NaPoWriMo Day 4

 Return To Dirt
     by Vito del Valle

The time has come to speak the truth
No matter who the truth may hurt
Slaughter the old to save the youth
The time has come to say the truth
Ancient mores die in the sooth
The frigid past returns to dirt
The time has come to speak the truth
No matter who the truth may hurt

Note: The prompt was to write a triolet. I had never heard of it, but it was easy. I wrote about how the old way of thinking needs to die already. Kids of today shouldn't have to follow old rules because the times are way different. Poem #91 for the year. 

I'm Quite The Opposite - NaPoWriMo Day 3

 I'm Quite The Opposite
     by Vito del Valle

When people say "yes", I say "no"
When people say "stay", I say "go"
When people eat greens, I eat meat
When people attack, I retreat
When people watch TV, I read a book
When people stare, I don't look
When people stand together, I stand alone
When people go to work, I go home
When people own a dog, I own a cat
When people believe lies, I believe fact
When people choose conformity, I choose self
When people go to heaven, I go to hell

Note: Couldn't get with the prompt today so I just wrote about being opposite. Poem #90 for the year.

When The Kite String Pops - NaPoWriMo Day 2

 When The Kite String Pops
     by Vito del Valle

The horse drips honey from its eyes,

     as the woman sings corridos with her thighs.

The egotist sleeps on a burning cross,

     as the soldier weeps for his loss.

The tortured sun races against the fading moon,

     as the poppy fields argue and refuse to bloom.

The guilty monkey laughs at his broken arm,

     as the Indian in the corner sells his charms. 

The murderous crow wipes clean his blade,

     as the starving barber cuts the tarantula’s fade.

The trembling white man eats a plate of ash,

     as the slippery weasel counts his cash.

The crust-eyed kitten carries a severed finger,

     as the stench of death continues to linger.

The black man works the forge, he's covered in sweat,

     as the old mangy donkey screams about his debt.

The shriveled businessman hangs from a lonely tree,

     as the angry lawyer demands his hard earned fee.

The feathered Mexicans harvest the world’s last crop,

     as the petulant child cries when the kite string pops.

Note: Day 2, for the prompt I just tried to write something surreal. I "borrowed" the title for the poem from an album title by a sludge metal band from Louisiana, Acid Bath. Poem #89 for the year.

My Name On The Cover - NaPoWriMo Day 1

 My Name On The Cover
     by Vito del Valle

I've always dreamt of my name on a book
Hardback or paperback, filled with my words
     Forty years later, I write in my nook
     Obsessed with adjectives, verbs I mistook
Forming ideas, the feelings they stirred

Maybe someday my dream will come true
Life passes by and the bills are all due
     Just one book with my name on the cover
     One of many, for someone to discover
I'm writing to create something brand new

Fifty-two years old and living a daydream
Putting down words and deriving a theme
     For the moment to have my name in print
     I'll never be famous, wont make a mint
I hunger for the world to hear me scream

Note: First day participating in NaPoWriMo 2023, I'm excited. Not really used to using prompts, I can always come up with something to write about, but I thought I'd give it a try. Poem #88 for the year.