Synesthesia Specialist

[canales-poe]

Hey, this is canales-poe.

I won’t really go by any other name, and that’s also not my real name. I don’t know, I’d rather keep stuff anonymous.

Search #poetry for all my actual poems and no reposts.

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I enjoy writing a lot, and I welcome you to read all my poetry and share some of your thoughts on it with me, as I love writing sneaky references or ambiguity in my poems that are rewarded by a thorough reading. Though, since I have nothing like a beta reader, I can’t always tell if it will land. Still, please give it a try.

Most of my major influences when I write are the fact I have a very scientifically inclined thought process on most of everything, and wanting it or not, I incorporate physical phenomena or other scientific concepts into my metaphors and writing very often. Perhaps knowing this will make my intent clearer while reading my pieces.

That, and the fact I intend at least partly to have my poetry being read outloud. I intend to one day post myself reciting them as well.

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I also am bilingual, in terms of writing, that is.

I write predominantly in English despite my mother tongue being Spanish, as I think that way my poetry will reach the most people. I mean, everyone speaks English. It’s not like it presents an issue to me, either, though I do feel there’s a slight shift in my tone in every language I attempt to write on.

Isn’t that interesting?

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My goal is to reach as many people as possible.

For that goal, I kindly ask you to help me grow by simply liking and reposting my stuff. That is, as long as you don’t claim my poetry is of your making. Either way, any help is welcome.

I am currently looking to change the presentation of my poetry, too, to be more appealing. Its not my forte, though.

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One more thing:

I have Instagram and a Substack I intend to grow eventually, but until I get a big enough audience, I probably won’t.

Similarly, until I get a big enough audience, I won’t share my most ambitious or, at least self-proclaimed, best works.

I mostly write this account’s poem daily with barely any editing, so their quality is a bit lacking to my standards, compared to more thorough works of mine. I am still happy with them though.

Sometimes bangers come out.

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Anyways, enjoy reading.

Don’t hesitate to share your thoughts with me, and I’ll give you all sorts of easter eggs.

Peace!

-canales-poe

[canales-poe]

Half-closed curtains

I saw myself, picture bare, naked, in the mirror

Those eyes were lost and had a cross over them,

Like someone went missing, like two black puddles

Among the white grass and red bloodshot rivers

Of its little lit off light-bulbs

Half closed curtains, and yet the sun was livid

Laughing when it showed my face so crystal clear

That tidbit or other, of grey micro-expressions,

Yet I told myself no, this isn’t depression

It’s hatred for you, me, and this puddle of tears

I won’t be the same

I swear, I’ll remember this face, mirror

And it will look at me back later,

When the nights cease to please me in silence

And my days are spent in full.

[canales-poe]

I do feel this poem is just a moment in everyones life

[canales-poe]

My favorite pen

Usually, it starts with a building up of ink

That makes a bubble, its signature sheen

All until it fades away comfortable in a sheet

Of paper that melted with it, now clean

All without reflection, just pure black

Then, this needle of creativity scratches

Its surface expertly, with barely any resistance

It slides through, it curves it

The ink swells up

It makes for the gothic landscape

Of little doodles, hearts and plants

It makes for the shadows in the mind

Of the artist

And it signs it with its own unique brand

[canales-poe]

Mind woke up, sudden Then “click”, a noise turns pages, Mind’s asleep again.

[canales-poe]

This is now your name

Sages say you should spend your time wisely

I have a tree to cut, and I should spend my time,

Instead of cutting,

By sharpening a metal axe I bought at discount.

Cluttering up my thoughts, a limestone, I roll the pedal

To shave away deviant atoms, sparking slowly

Heck, to think this axe I thought so lowly

Can turn into wood chopping finest test.

It ended in one single swoop.

Another came in, and I chopped again.

Another morning came, and I chopped again,

But the edge had creases,

so its roll again,

its limestone,

its mornings and nights and dawns,

its doing it faster every time,

Its noticing my arms to widen

Alongside the shape of the tree logs to cut.

My name is now Woodchopper.

I used to be another, but, heck,

Now I am realized, I realized

So whatever the sage meant, though I wonder,

It means very little now, doesn’t it?

[canales-poe]

Un vuelco el corazón

Me he podido imaginar pasar las manos

Por las curvas morenas de tus tatuajes,

Tocar las suaves flores y caracteres tenues,

Delicados,

Pues intuyen un alma, un continente

Aun por descubrir,

Y no es por contentarme, contentarte,

He de contarte que en el arte

Se conocen las almas de lo más bonito

Que, en un baile, en un girito, en tu cintura

Tan cerquita,

La vida se achiquita, y la guita poco importa,

No,

No es ni eso, ni la piel, ni el trago de mas tarde,

No son las noches estrelladas ni la bruma

En madrugada,

No es la luna diciéndonos clichés,

Es el silencio que dejamos frente a frente,

En el periquete después de que te recite mis poemas

En que me mires a los ojos,

Y nos de un vuelco el corazón.

[canales-poe]

Your work is beautiful! Love the way you chose your words 🩶

Thank you!

But what if those words choose me, instead?

[canales-poe]

Pyrite instead of gold

Oh? Don’t you get it?

I’ll say it again, in a way to be understood, to be heard

To be repeated maybe once or thrice so the message sticks

So you don’t need tape to shut your mouth when you listen,

Now,

You were in my little noggin a bit of sluggish rotten apple,

And my mind as the barrel had it ruin the bunch,

You were a shadow that followed me in a journey

All the way from hong kong to rome,

And in my silk road, you were every single pebble

When all of them were pyrite instead of gold,

You were a pirate for a Spanish ship filled with African slaves,

And with your grubby little hands,

You made yours what wasn’t even mine.

You were the first billionaire when currency had no name,

And stole the land from the planet earth,

You were the hottest core of a star of both of us,

And when it blew,

You made for a beautiful cold moon

While I was left adrift in space,

Ready to crash on the planet with the most life.

[canales-poe]

Dancing in the wind

It’s a fleeting feeling, that of the sun

Coming through the white bedsheets, dancing in the wind

As they are hung to dry.

Sometimes, in some people, it’s lick of flame

One shapeless and erratic, dancing in the wind

As the world wants it dead.

The same world that lifts leaves

Around a gust, you can see their colors, dancing in the wind

And after the cold and hot have separated different ways,

Leaves will then stay earth-bound, motionless.

[canales-poe]

Me revienta

Admito que me gana el reventar de vena

Cuando me envenena tal palabra ajena

De lo que coma y mis olores, plena

Es mi vida, y plena es la tuya, pero

Se me escapan las palabras, otras

Ya no de entenderte, que te entiendo

Ya no de perdones, que me enciendo

Ahora es malabares, mal amores

Que mi pensamiento equivoca

Las bondades infinitas

Con las llamas de la boca

¿Quién carajos te crees que eres?

¿Solo un imbécil hablador?

Te faltan dos dedos de frente

Para llegarme a mi talón

Y si la escoria forma tenga

Sería tu cara, una vergüenza

Que deformada en tu fruncir

Parece un truño ya pisado

Caballero, vaya a un lado

Que mi camino no me alteras

Que yo no pico en tu cantera

Ni en tu nivel tan desfasado

[canales-poe]

This is probably my favorite poem to say outloud and its not even close.

[canales-poe]

It isn’t disobedience, see I just got told I’d look good if I cut my hair And then I never did again.

[canales-poe]

Rut

The rut festers in, it trembles in

Like shiny specks of dust by the light

Its heavy, the flesh fresh off of sleeping in

Missheard or missed their alarms ring.

Now the building revolts, its the callers,

They’re running,

They are out most of the day, now several days,

And when they came about again, end of the day,

Every day,

The pungent smell of a body got to worsen it

Knocking, nothing stopping the police to break a door

It read “Chloe” on its sign, now shattered on the floor

And death creeped into their nasal holes,

Once again,

A TV was on, all alone,

Singing to the stone-cold walls of a shut-in lair.

[canales-poe]

Time isn't very smart

The time itself keeps a diary

Where the lines are crooked, and the sentence spree

Doesn’t stop or end, though misery

Rips pages off, admittedly

As time re-reads and doesn’t like remembering

That’s why it stutters the same words

In panic, in its room, walks back and forth

Looking for oblivion little by little

Now, time isn’t very smart, no no

The lows of then will come back to bite it

Forgetting is but opioid, and time’s an addict

A frantic disillusionary, a youngling still in diapers

Though until its own ideas ripen,

I fear,

It will throw away the diary

And then shut itself in silence

[canales-poe]

Water ripples of the sky

Ever see a plane, soaring the sky

And think of how magical it was to first set in flight?

Be it a baby bird, born just yesterday,

Or the brothers that made wings for human life

Now its airbuses, and every one can touch those clouds

Cruising at steady speed to reach somewhere else

They look for a lover, for the first time,

They go for a wedding, in a pack

They escape their country, in looks,

Up high, of new ventures in new lands,

They travel silently, in a tiny arrow

Leaving water ripples of the sky

Behind.

[canales-poe]

Mountain of you

My touch

Just so happens to be tool

And I explore like that, so soon

As I never expected you

To be a new adventure, through

Your mighty plentiful green plains

So soon

Did we decide to turn to nights

To wash out all the perfume

And then stop looking left and right

But too

Remember I’ll remember too

On every walk my fingers did

As every mount and every valley

Made for a precious memory

Of you

[canales-poe]

I struggle writing more explicit poetry, but this is somewhat close to what I can get to in a random day. I find it fascinating some people can simply write sexual scenes without filter, I just always find to come out awkward unless theres lots of abstraction on it...

[canales-poe]

She wears it better

Though I aspire to inspire, I can’t compete

The curves I was blessed with are but bleak,

Amorphous chalk doodles of mother earth,

Of its mighty mountains and valleys.

We sprinkle with our fingers words of “beauty”

And “art”, but given human thought,

And yet the most magical of perfumes,

Or the most dedicated choice of attire,

Will never inspire on the man I love

The same way he is when nature has sunny makeup

In the midst of a sunset,

To create new worlds with words,

To paint our paths intertwined,

Or to graze the subject of its sculpture

With tender fingers, in awe.

[canales-poe]

Blind

Another time, a defeat

Numbers clashed a little wrong,

And though i had a long, long pondering time,

Every sweet little moment too, was consumed

The biggest blind i had to pay,

It was,

If i could trust or not a cold deck of cards,

And ever since an addict was born

Everything had to be by chance, and huge

I had felt kinda torn,

You see,

Because i think theres no other way

The biggest blind would be my life

My dreams,

My time,

My deathbed too,

And then i would be forgotten every single day

They were but a blur,

To me,

You see,

Im blind, i never grew,

I never thought hard was a word

And then i kept playing for heaven

With nothing but a two,

And a miss colored seven

[canales-poe]

I remember I was playing poker the day I wrote this. It uses poker as its driving metaphor, but it mostly wont work unless you know what blind means in poker.

Moreoever, did you know the weakest hand is a two and a seven from different colors? I only learned that recently.