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Alejandro Lalinde

of

San Francisco, CA, US

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alejandro@greystreetfilms.com (Alejandro Lalinde)

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an american [beauty?]

by

Alejandro Lalinde

I kneel to bruised/broken
knees
and dream
an aroma dipped in shadows.

can I survive?
today?
just one second more?

let the night divide the day . . .

[less]
(I’ll possess): all lies®rets
casting me down aside—outcast

a banished/restless soul: thrashing (tangled)
as an animal
shackled beneath a net;
increasing sight becomes
blind.
unknown.

yet, I am born, somewhere

cast aside

elsewhere.

No number.
No street.
No land.
No [real] name that rings—now deaf
within my ears.

look the same? look again.

think again.

Freedom Song

by

Alejandro Lalinde

I

Human to Human
we lay, huddled
between breached steel & rubble
which lay just above
our heads.

gentle weeping
children: killed as orchestrated chaos
begins the News
reporting a sight
I don’t want to watch
again.

on TV
the images break hearts
across the miles of states
united: one more cry for those out there.

resonating
hate
between those who breathe the same air
as we.

how could I live to watch the brave
die amidst the saved;

perished defiant soldiers of the shifted modern age.

to watch the soft sun break across a new land,
in a risen wave of change:

a prayer whispered beside candle vigils
huddled as a mass of mourning people,
together:

we remember
those twin towers topple down as torn
paper cinders burn before our own watered-eyes
and
swiftly
float & fall from a clear blue
autumn sky.

II

yet, alive
between the sea, the rivers, its quiet mountainsides and fruited plains, a country still holds a shout,
a freedom song,
aloud
among these billowing
black clouds.

[bless us GOD each day]

so we can climb together to sift through our blessings
to save:

a mother’s love gone astray from her son’s beating heart,
alone from
hugging his shuttered fearful heart.

a cry we all now
take to live out a burnt-out fading-fate . . .

. . . yet
for freedom we raise our Flag

again
above our enemies
heads this better day,
this sorrow laid,
in Peace to grow
in strength once again,
to Unite
a people
as hand to hand
holdtight,

as Americans we’ll live to fight again, till Freedom
rings
a

new day.

the steps

by

Alejandro Lalinde

it was the late
dying sun that sprung
these vultures’ wings aloud & spread,
thickly
over the thin city haze.

a soft afternoon orange
briefly filters in
& bleeds. slowly
a trickle down
our horizon: as circles of these winged guards
swept-in

blinding.
thrashing.
gawking down—to see—if we moved.

if we breathed.

if we were alive.

they were like the soldiers
at the top
of the steps
with shoulders brazened back, taut-strapped belts—
constricting all chambered blood from clottedveins.
vacanthearts
of
channeled grit
&
purehate.

I stand
between them
& the light,
as long shadows mold,
still fill my gaze
of long rifles cradled in their arms: cold.black.cocked.
molted.steel
at the triggerease of their fingertips, &

I
never
saw their eyes
that shed pureblackpupils
of a gripping
thousand yard stare
of hundreds live
yet
undead.