Gira Mundo Gira Mundo

This poem was inspired by a song by Manu Chao. It is about the phase of globalization we are in, and how culture is evolving.

Under us,

tectonic plate writhe.

Bad blood clumps among some.

Relationships shatter.

Old friends never speak again.


Overhead is a new day.

As the last had its heralds

so too today may.


Surface-side

jotting on his phone as he skates

around the shaft of the Americas,

a handsome son-of-Adam

writes some modern poetry 💪:


Eye muscle clenches🧐

What to say about times as these?

I guess, in a word:

Synthesis.


What was once magic—

now science, now creed.

What was once creed—

now magic,

and as always the preachers spew heavy:


🗣📢 “this, to me, is blasphemy.”


Peer away dude,

from your boring microscope.


Analysis is different. Just different.

Today we come together

all of the people

in our Babel of Ideas.

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A Money Motivation for this Poet

The plan: Build a name. Earn a place in the right tribe.

This poem is about one of my goals—$33 million USD— and one of the standout reasons for wanting this

I do not want a conspicuous amount of it —

sucks I even felt I had to begin defensively 🥱.

It would be nice to be heard anywhere

in any language.

Is a fat walletfold a universal translator?

It’s important to stop

at some point—

that goes for anything—

$33 million dollars should do it for me.

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Critique of Self-Help Writers in Poem Form

This poem is about the (necessary?) narcissism of self-help authors

Cringey arrogance:
Our curse,
us self-help writers.
We get a special kind of hell.


It is a boisterous pit,
like the tower of Babel,
but obviously inverted.

It’s below-ground,
this metaphor ☝🙄

In self-help hell
no one listens to each other.


No one can even speak, really
over all the tongues
flipping and fluttering.

But I believe in cures and redemption.
I Iove human change.

Plus I’m arrogant too.

Behold Juan’s two cents 🌟🤏
check out my poultice of words.
River meet rudder:

You are not much
pero también eres alguito.