my love.
folded behind dog-eared pages
you're a book I've yet to finish
yet before I've reached the ******—
I shelf you with a bookmark
that will never be revisited.

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

I really dont know
How i feel at all, but i
Want to feel loved please.

Even when
All is said and done,
And I have become
A guardian angel
Over my past self,
Even then,
I have failed.

There used to be a bottle on the wall.
It was very green.
I'm sure it was the loneliest green bottle
that I had ever seen
It used to sit on the wall
all day and all night
And every day, when I looked out of the window,
it was always in my line of sight
Then one day, a cat came along.
Something was going to happen; I could tell
The cat then accidentally nudged it
and off the wall, it fell
When it had fallen off the wall
it had dropped with a very loud sound.
There were all these little pieces of the green bottle
all over the ground
Then the cat yelped
and I knew it had gotten hurt
I could quite obviously see its paws were caked in
blood and dirt
The bottle wasn't harmful in the beginning
it did not look the slightest bit treacherous
but after a nudge in the wrong direction
it became very dangerous
Now I look back at you smiling
next to me on the big armchair
Your fingers running through your soft locks of hair.
You remind me a lot
of that green bottle.
In the beginning, you were harmless
you were all sorts of fun.
Now you hurt me.
Could you tell me why
as I don't quite know what I've done

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

Un cielo de oro y de brasas
Un río de plata fina
Y Fray Bentos de esperanza,
Crece que crece en la orilla.

La paz jovial es su rosa
De Jericó, en la cintura.
Cantan antiguos bambúes
Bajo sus claros de luna.

Y canta el viento costeño
Coplas de islas y peces
Mientras el río jocundo
Deshila azules y verdes.

En la fragua de su ocaso
La noche se purifica
Tan leve y tan silenciosa
Como un racimo de lilas.

Fray Bentos lleno de duende
¡Qué buena para mi alma
Tu dulce vida perfecta!
¡Qué buena que en tí ha de ser
La riqueza de una casa
Y de un jardín de rosales
Hasta la orilla del agua!

Un crepúsculo me diste
En añiles y agapantos
Como yo nunca había visto
Si no en gladiolos y cardos.
Quizá Blanes lo soñaba
Y Cúneo tal vez un día,
Lo vea y ponga en sus cielos
De lunas y Tres Marías.

Guárdame, ciudad de gracia.
Un hueco para mi sueño,
En tu playa de bambúes
En tu placita de encuentros.

Un día yo iré a pedirte
Un vaso de agua una tarde
de magnolias y duraznos
De cielo en oro y jades.

¡No tengo más que un romance
Para tu arcángel del aire!
¡Fray Bentos: tómamelo
Como si fuera un diamante!

I think the sun has grown jealous
Of my friendship with the moon
I prefer dusk to dawn
And midnight instead of noon

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

I walk more slowly now.
The miles are longer than they used to be.
I know where I want to go,
but now I forget to turn left and turn right.
Here comes a pretty woman.
I say hello as she passes,
but I hear nothing.
I saw her, but I guess she didn't see me.
I walk by trees and flowers
that used to be green and red
and yellow, but now are gray.
I need to get my glasses fixed,
but I cannot find them.
I miss Shep, my dearest friend ever.
I hear him barking,
but he died a year ago.
I walk more slowly now.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

Press me against you
Like flowers in a book

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

They said,
"The most beautiful art is
looking into someone's eyes
when they talk about the
things they love."
And I said,
"Or looking at someone you love.
Or maybe, just maybe,
by looking at the mirror
is the most beautiful art
anyone should appreciate."

Twenty twenty-two
That little girl got me woe
I became inferior as I was in a hurry
I wish she'd cooked our curry
So I said sorry and went with the flow
If at all she thinks I would have bowed
Now I'm free and I'm flying
That little girl, I tell you
Would have me dying
No matter what!
Was my call,
I was the only one
Who every time falls
I made up my mind
And breakthrough the walls
Everyone judges me and I know what crawls..

my feelings are the splattered inks
bold, italics
threatening to spill
weighing on every meaning
words could carry
scrambled up, juggled
those who’ve yet to feel
shall not speak
and pray tell, words
do you realize what you amount to?
what’s behind was for a reason, a person
clear as day, solid reverie
what lies beneath shan’t remain between the lines
and if it reaches you, we’re alike

"I'm not a poet. I don't feel like one.
I like writting. That's all."

keep your eyes closed love.

           e     t      
       m           i
    o                 m
s                        e  
                            s     all you have to
                                                                ­
                                                                ­ l                  is to what the sound
                                                           ­      i            n
                                                  ­                s           e
                                                               ­          t

                                                              ­                               v
                                                               ­                         a        e
                             ­                                          of the  w               s
                                                               ­                                       
                         ­                                                                 ­            tells  you
                                                                ­                                        to do.

He was smooth but not understanding
He was charming but not loyal
He was beautiful but a manipulator    
I knew this would come to and end
I knew I was a fool
He was secure but brought my insecurity
He was strong inside but not loving
He was my first but never mine

Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.

Sometimes, the words don’t come.

The consistent stream of consciousness, ceases.

I am left with nothing to say.

There is a beauty in the broken mind.

Like an abandoned building taken by nature.

It is not that my mind does not work.

It is that it works too fast,

And I am left behind,

Scrabbling in the dust,

Desperately seeking a connection,

In the discarded fragments of thought.

I am fighting a losing battle.

I fear the white flag will soon arise.

And signal the end.

Bird,
you don’t have wings
to sit in a cage all day.
Fly high, explore
As you were meant to do.


Shell ✨🐚

i never intended
to take apart
all the pieces
you glued back
together

I’m sick of all these love songs
Written about another
Sonnets and odysseys
Desperate for a Lover

I want to enjoy the silence
Nihility subdue
Equally alone
As I am with you

I try to reflect Compassion
A metric of good health
Psuedo-neo Truism
Learn to “Love Thy Self”

Dear death,

I have met life,
He wants me to fight,
But I'm so weak-
So can we meet?