Wednesday 15 December 2010

In airs of laughter, clove scented candles and orange peel...


photo and poem © Jesús Montero

XMAS TREE

The very essence of your presence,
Brings closure to our year.
Your roots,
Reminding us
Of where we belong.
The bark around your trunk,
Binding past memories together,
In a honeyed bundle of love.
Your needles,
Punctuating your life
With hairs of green, luminous beauty.
The very tip at your top,
Swaying,
Calmly,
In airs of laughter,
Of clove scented candles
And orange peel,
Proclaiming,
Proudly,
That the journey to any top,
Always begins
At the very bottom.

photo and poem © Jesús Montero


Monday 6 December 2010

Mirrors remind me Of the time I’ve wasted...


photo and poem © Jesús Montero


GROUND ZERO + 108

Mirrors remind me
Of the time I’ve wasted.
Mirrors teach me
The present I must confront.
For mirrors tell me
That seeping through the edges,
There’s absolutely a much bigger world.

photo and poem © Jesús Montero

Tuesday 16 November 2010

Three buses away from happiness...

photo and poem © Jesús Montero


There I was,
Somewhere between
Clarity and hope,
Reasoning and belonging.
Three buses away from happiness.

photo and poem © Jesús Montero


Sunday 7 November 2010

Life revisited...


Portobello Road
photo and poem © Jesús Montero

The brief fix of an early coffee.
A short walk down ol’ Portobello.
The immaculate fragrant bloom of rockroses.
The sight of many familiar faces.

Life revisited.

On a morning of gloom
And diluted sorrow.

photo and poem © Jesús Montero

Thursday 7 October 2010

Incessant moments of happiness...

7th October 2010

Happy National Poetry Day - U.K.


photo and poem © Jesús Montero

********

Incessant moments of happiness
Tread the boards of our lifetimes.
They appear,
Reappear.
Breaking through grey clouds
With sunshine.
Incessant moments of happiness
Make the world’s verses
Shift,
Fit.
Rearranging the words
With true rhyme.
Incessant moments of happiness
Are like lullabies
Are to cherubim
Come bedtime.
Incessant moments of happiness
Feel like the scent
Of one
And a thousand pine forests.
Fresh,
Soothing.
Like the pulp
Of the sweetest melon.



********


photo and poem © Jesús Montero

Wednesday 29 September 2010

London, My beloved London...


Trafalgar Square photo and poem © Jesús Montero
Union Jack photo © Dan

On my first day as a British citizen,
it seems most appropriate to publish
a celebratory poem.

To this city, this country that
I love so much.

GROUND ZERO + 36

London,
My beloved London.
You greet me
With a bundle of sunshine.

London,
My beloved London.
You put your magic on display.
Now Big Ben and then Trafalgar.

London,
My beloved London.
Framing happily my heart,
Putting words into this stanza.


Union Jack photo © Dan

Saturday 18 September 2010

The morning sun hits me on my back...


photo and poem © Jesús Montero

GROUND ZERO + 9

The morning sun
Hits me on my back.

Pushing me
Towards my shadow.

The morning sun
Guides me.

East to west.

Helping me retrace my steps.
In one golden embrace of fire.

photo and poem © Jesús Montero

Friday 13 August 2010

The Fall of Mexico almost 500 years ago today.





489 years today.

The fall of Mexico

- 13th. August 1521 -




The fall of the Mexica (Aztec) empire and the mass genocide caused by it, can certainly not be illustrated by a bronze statue of a Spanish conquistador covered in red paint.

An article published by Spanish newspaper El Mundo grabbed my attention just a few days ago.

Or to be quite frank, it was the photograph (see below) published to illustrate the article what first caught my attention.


The photograph showed a bronze statue of Spanish conquistador Hernán Cortés that according to the newspaper had been vandalized by a group called ‘Ciudadanos Anónimos’ (anonimous citizens).

The bronze statue had, in the hands of the protesters, been covered in bright red paint as an illustration of the mass genocide that, in the opinion of the protesters, had been inflicted on the Mexican people by Cortés in XVI century Mexico.

Today, 13th of August and now almost 500 years ago – 489 years to be precise – the city of Tenochtitlan did, in fact, fall into the hands of Cortés.

I am not sure if the proximity of this date fueled the protesters' actions but whether the link between the fall of Mexico and their act of ‘vandalism’ was deliberate or not, it proves that the legacy of the wounds inflicted by Cortés and his party still runs deep; that the fall of the Mexica (Aztec) empire into the hands of the Spaniards is still - almost half a millennium later – controversial. The mass genocide of the Mexicans ‘by the Spaniards’.

The thing is Cortés did not act alone. Not that this justifies any type of genocide. But how could an empire fall into the hands of just a few hundred? This doesn’t just happen. Does it?

Setting aside the military superiority of European weaponry or even the strategic superiority of Cortés’ mind, it is a fact that the Mexica empire fell into the hands of the Spaniard with the help of an intricate and very complex web of political and military alliances between the Spaniards and the Mexicans themselves.

Yes, Mexicans. Hundreds of thousands of them. Unhappy Mexicans who – if I’m allowed to draw a parallel with contemporary history – looked at the tyranny of the Mexican central administration run by Moctezuma with the same terror than Iraqis felt about Saddam Hussein. Were the hundreds of thousands of Mexicans who were sacrificed by the central administration of the Mexica led by Moctezuma simply victims of sacrifice? Wasn’t this also mass-genocide? By the Mexicans themselves.

It is difficult to get into the mindset of someone like Cortés. Someone who lived in the XVI century.

Had Cortés arrived in Mexico and witness what in his über Catholic eyes was truly mass-genocide: ‘sacrifice’ and seen that everyone in Mexico was fine about this type of death, that sacrifice was ‘always’ looked upon by Mexicans as a rite, part of their culture, something that ‘all’ Mexicans’ were fine about, Cortés would probably have accepted it as such. Something acceptable to what for him was, truly, an alien culture.

But the truth is that many, hundreds of thousands, hundreds of Mexican subgroups that were taxed and lived under the yoke of the central administration of the Mexica, were in fact not happy at all. They were in fact terrified. Terrified to see their own folk captured and brought to a certain death on the sacrificial stone.

For the last few years I have been reading extensively about the fall of Mexico. Eyewitness accounts written by those who, like front-line reporters, lived to tell the tale.

Of course there was mass genocide. History, rather sadly, knows this word so well. But the genocide that occurred during the fall of Mexico was not only inflicted by the Spaniards.

It wasn’t simply genocide of Mexicans by Spaniards. It was also the sacrificial genocide of ‘Mexicans by Mexicans’ and it was also the genocide of Mexicans who died in the hands of hundreds of thousands of Mexicans. Mexicans who allied themselves with the Spaniards in order to liberate themselves from the tyranny of the central administration.

The fall of the Mexica empire and the mass genocide caused by it, can certainly not be illustrated by a bronze statue of a Spanish conquistador covered in red paint.

Saturday 31 July 2010

Macaroons on the beach...


Macaroon vendor, La Barrosa beach near Cadiz, Spain
 photo and poem © Jesús Montero

Life is blooming
Life, so sweet
A million sunsets
Worthwhile living
Feel like eating
Macaroons on the beach
Their vendor, jolly
Just like out of
The Old Man And The Sea
Carrying proudly his wicker basket
His face parched with wrinkles
By the scorching sun
And the caress of the sea
Life is blooming
Life, so sweet
A million sunsets
Worthwhile living
Feel like eating
Macaroons on the beach

photo and poem © Jesús Montero

Saturday 19 June 2010

And we drank from your vineyards...


Photo (Zahara de los Atunes beach, Cadiz, Spain) 

On bus 155, written in 10 minutes.

And we drank from your vineyards
And we swam with your fish.
We bottomed our glasses,
We laughed to then weep.
And we chatted and chatted
Till we fell to our sleep.
And we played to then quarrel,
Then we walked on the beach.
Then we bid our farewells
And realized what we did.
To have met at the crossroads
With new promise to meet.

photo and poem © Jesús Montero

Wednesday 2 June 2010

What makes Men...





What makes Men turn

A white flag into a blindfold?

And take

Rice for vice

A flotilla for an Armada

Pomegranates for hand grenades

Aid for raid?


Or turn the waters

Of our beloved Mare Nostrum

Into a Red Sea?



poem © Jesús Montero


Sunday 30 May 2010

Life Is not all Balloons and rainbows...

Carnaby Street London
poem/song and photo © Jesús Montero


GROUND ZERO + 14

Life 
Is not all
Balloons and rainbows

Life 
is also made
Of blues and raindrops

Days 
Followed by nights
And the sun
Followed by stars

Ever wondered
That life
Is not all
Balloons and rainbows

Listen
Be the maker of your dreams
Be your hero, take the lead
Be the captain of your ship

Because 
Life
Is not all
Balloons and rainbows

Life
Life’s not all
Balloons and rainbows
poem/song and photo © Jesús Montero