Highways and Roads: Quasi Poem and Sketch

Highways and Roads: Quasi Poem and Sketch

by Armando Ortiz

He was a desperado bumping gangster rap

down a deserted road.

Playing it loud, smoking sacred tobacco,

he rode waves of heavens old.

Coasting at 80 miles per hour

the dribble of the tom drums

became an acoustic ba-boom.

Wagner melodies spoke

through the synthesizers,

telling of Percival’s epic journey.

He stepped on the pedal

trying to outrace the sun,

sweat beads gathered on skin.

Houston screw overtook the beating

Of his heart and became

one with the blue.

Driving faster,

as the sun set

and the car neared

the evening orange.

He was a desperado driving fast down a deserted Sonoran road. Tobacco smoke and gangster rap dissipated with the desert air. The dried up leaves being handed to him by an old Navajo shaman. The car rolled fast on the petrified ancient road that once was a Paiute path. A landscape of jagged, sun weathered mountains that resembled dried up pumpkin pie could be seen at a distance.

The gas pedal held the humming motor at 80 miles per hour, the dribble of the tom drums blasting from the speakers immediately became a single boom at the distance. To the lizards and snakes on the ground, the Cadillac was an object that was hard to detect. For the vulture and black crow the quick moving creature was an alien on the ground that traced the earth’s contours. In an instant the car was there, and was gone, only the wind that shook everything was evidence of the chariot of fire that seemed to be blasting some otherworldly music.

Antonio, while driving these long distances put on Wagner’s epic symphony, Parsifal and his journey through life. He wondered if he could outpace the sun. How fast did he have to drive to momentarily beat the sun, and see time paused for an instant was a question he always wondered about while lying on his cot, and looking out at the horizon.

The heat was unavoidable, and that is what he preferred. He carried a cooler on the passenger’s side, and there he kept ice water, and some juicy oranges that refreshed his body, and crispy apples that were crushed with every pressing bite. Cool snacks made the sun bearable at times. Nonetheless, sweat beads gathered on his skin. The shimmer made his brown skin look like polished bronze. His was usually like an old weathered penny, but at times like these, it seemed that it had been born that day, fresh off the metal press.

Symphonies of the old German composer became beats from Houston, the slow and half asleep bass gave him a nauseous feeling, but also blended well with the dry oven heat of these areas. At times it felt that he was becoming one with the wind and the emptiness of the blue.

He drove faster, adding a few digits to the steady speed he had kept the last few hours. He felt he was nearing the cool brown mountains of the north, and slowly merging with the evening orange. Night was fast approaching and this is where he would make a bee line to next city. In the darkness is where he felt the car pulled the fastest, and the chill of midnight helped it hum without a problem. At night only he was alive and his flicker gave life to everything from music and to all the thoughts and desires that came to his mind.

Freddie Gibbs and Tech N9ne in Los Angeles

Freddie Gibbs and Tech N9ne in Los Angeles: With Some Distractions

by Armando Ortiz

I came across Freddie Gibbs while looking at something related to Madlib. I am not sure what it was but it was a track from their new album Pinata that opened the doors to Gibbs’ other work. I soon found other albums that were pretty good, Cold Day in Hell and ESGN- Evil Seeds Grow Naturally.  I found myself listening to his albums and mix tapes over and over again for the next few weeks. I missed a chance to check him out at the Echoplex where both Madlib and Gibbs would be performing, so when I saw that he would be touring with Tech N9ne's Independent Grind Tour, and that he would be passing through again in June the ticket was bought no questions asked. The day finally arrived and I had arranged with a buddy from work to park my car in a place I thought was safe, but on second thought the area is quite safe and it’s better to just pay for parking.

 

I parked the car in a private residential building thinking it was the most convenient thing to do. The security guard claimed to not know the person who was letting me park inside, but then he remembered that my friend had mentioned to him that a friend would be stopping bye. I parked the car and began to prepare some things. I ended up spending too much time in the car and spilled water and other contents onto my legs and on the floor of the car to make matters worse the security guard came knocked on my window and hurried me up.

After talking on the phone with my brother, I walked to the venue down Holloway, but I saw a 7-11, so after crossing La Cienega Blvd went inside to get some snacks- a Big Bite dog, a bag of kettle chips, and soda water. I walked out and headed to the venue, but at a distance there was a tattoo shop, The Honorable Society, where I once sold art books to its artists and whose owner, Marco Cerretelli, I knew. I once again took a detour and headed towards the shop. After entering, and asking to talk to Marco, I got to see the lay out of the shop which was akin to a Victorian Era living room/ bazaar. He was not there, so small talk with the guy that was working there ensued, but didn’t last more than five minutes.

I stepped out of the shop and continued on my way to the show, crossing the street and climbing Olive Dr., which leads you up a hill and to The House of Blues. But by the time I got there, I’d already spent an hour walking and talking with people. Nearing the venue about 5 guys walked past bye in a row exiting the theater, walking to the parking lot, where after some seconds a fight began. Freddie Gibbs was already half way through his show by the time I was inside, and managed to hear three songs one of which was from his recent collaboration album with Madlib, Pinata. After his performance Tech N9ne began his set. The gathering was amazing, and the fans for Tech N9ne were decked out in red. He definitively has a loyal following and getting to watch him perform was a very unique and memorable experience, though not as long lasting as missing more than half of Freddie Gibbs’ performance.

Sacred Bird: A Journey

Sacred Bird

by Armando Ortiz

The sound of god

engulfs everything;

it's a humming pulse

that flows inside veins.

It becomes

a smoky cloud

of buzzing wasps

found in the middle

of oriental deserts,

where a million red robed monks

blow the horns of heaven,

announcing the induction

to the ceremony of time.

Liquid mirages as real

As Himalayan rocks-

cleaver strikes flesh-

starving vultures

passing judgment

on one’s life.

Flying creatures-

devouring carrion

that die randomly

and violently

like a pair of dice,

-salivate for those

on fields of grey grass.

  

With penetrating eyes

they see through smoky clouds,

and find secrets kept from others,

while soaring, and searching

for the last goodbye,

waiting for the first cry.

Listening for the bullet

of the first shot,

and finding the first

who got got.

Perched

on that aged branch-

Ancient vulture,

sacred thunderbird-

reveal yourself

to us tonight.

How do you really look?

What face do you put

when you read our misdeeds?

Do you saver to eat

or cry a goodnight

-for this lost soul

wandering the night?

Are you the peregrine falcon,

searching for its prey,

to take back

to the holy house of prayer?

To the place

where tired pilgrims

cast their wares onto

the burning incense.

Do you sit

on a throne of ivory,

inside a building

that symbolizes love?

Are the melodies

coming from within

of women laughing of joy

or are they wailing goodbye?

Do you lift your hand and welcome-

in the towers of Heaven Mountains

where all souls enter-

or point to that dreaded direction?

Is it just decomposition

and regeneration?

a cycle that is

born when one dies?

Or a figment of imagination

With downcast eyes?

Angelique: Short Piece

Angelique

by Armando Ortiz

Onyx and diamonds in the sky,

and we see each other with frozen eyes.

An immense distance separates us from our smiles,

but with each paused breath we shorten those miles.

You are like a porcelain doll surrounded by crystal glass,

and I am a weathered bronze marker listing events of times passed.

We are timeless pieces suspended

in the eroding moment of now.

Nothing more than traveling amulets

to the gods who cross caravan orbits,

and worship oracles given by the marble fountains.

Glass melts with time,

and metal oxidizes,

and we get lost in the labyrinth

of our smiles.

Our gaze lasts a lifetime

and we get lost

in the desires of ourselves.

Your eyes

become a collection of stares,

and an exchanged thank you.

They become

the pupils of a traveled

Tibetan guide,

and of the foreign student

who wanted to look

into these coffee eyes.

We wander this earth searching

but we might have already found

what is before our eyes.

Date with her

Date with her

by Armando Ortiz

Let me take you on a date,

where you wear your shortest and lightest dress,

so the sun may caress those legs,

and make people look our way.

Let me take you to Thai town,

where the food is fresh and authentic.

There we can stroll down Hollywood Blvd,

so foreign crowds may see

me walking with a queen bee.

Let my mind experience this wish,

to fulfill its waiting desire

of words from within that showers you

with honey drops of bliss.

Let’s float above the stars,

and walk on clouds in heaven,

tracing the sun’s trajectory,

while driving west on Sunset’s way.

  

Let’s reach that place

where everything enters

a whirlpool of rays and ocean waves,

that make us sink onto the sand

to a night of ever expanding dreams.

Words of Desire: Prose

Words of Desire

by Armando Ortiz

The same words of desire that make us aware of colors torture our minds.

Descriptions of beauty carry messages of blemish.

Brutality brings with it tenderness of love.

Salvation is for the perfect, and meek.

The great deed is in sin, and redemption is found inside inequity.

With art there is perfection, and with peace there is destruction.

With sounds I explain this world.

In a frenzy you stamp your feet,

like the old days when our grandmothers danced for rain.

You undress yourself with the naked night and disappear into the air.

Shape shifting sunset fox is your spirit.

The rattlesnake of your breath and that heavenly rhythm touches what I see.

Words don’t penetrate closed minds,

but you painted these memories with colors.

Hallucinations of the words that paint my mind with your image drive me crazy.

Sleep: Short Piece

Sleep

By Armando Ortiz

She is a seductive traitor,

who covers you with her dark veil-

many have succumbed

to the tiredness that she brings.

But the needs of life launch us toward

that direction of mindless labor,

trying to make an extra buck, punch in the extra hour

to pay the bill that landed on the mailbox yesterday.

Sometimes we are convinced that she is with us,

fighting daylight and fighting tiredness-

our tag team partner when we want to make that extra buck

to build something better on the limited options available.

She whispers lies into your ear,

saying, “we are almost there.”

Needing money, we become deaf and blind

only to hit the concrete curve or a brick wall .

But her bite is worse than the viper’s

and more dangerous than the boa constrictor,

before you know it, you blink and snooze,

and betrayed- you lose