My painter friend looked at me and laughed,
"I can't draw, I've told you that," I said.
"What a sad life to not be able to place your emotions on a canvas,"
he grinned.
"I don't paint but I write," I replied, "Want to know the difference?"
Intrigued he awaited for my answer,
"Your art is for the eye, but mine's for the heart."

I see poetry in waking up every day feeling your breath in the back of my neck.

I see poetry in the smell of eggs, bacon and lemonade in the kitchen while I shower.

I see poetry in my wallet where your picture always is.

I see poetry in the morning when I step outside and you wave good bye.

I see poetry in our messages and every little reminder that you love me still.

I see poetry in your body as you slowly undress for me.

I see poetry in you, and me, like pen and paper, we both play our part.

So we make poetry in the sheets,
And we write it in our hearts.

They crowd us in hallways,
arrange us in chairs;
we're sheep for the killing,
brains for the mix.
We're all brainwashed idiots,
slaves for the few.

We're sat in long tables,
and fed tasteless meals;
just as prisoners do,
except theirs is edible.

We're given false hopes,
and stuffed with fake promises;
still we believe them.
We call them professionals,
yet they call us novices.

They're killers of art,
of music and poetry:
Our talents they drown,
to make us all equal,
and our compensation,
is a cap and a gown.

But once in a while,
when a free spirit is born,
they accuse him a rebel,
a free spirited fool,
they abuse him, and use him,
till he's cut up and torn.

Still we smile and bark,
like the sad dogs we are.
But does nobody see this?
What's been done is a crime,
a ******, a sin that took time.
The accused and conviction:
It is the school that killed the nation.

Your heart's a vase,
And I'm the last drop of water.
I'm a ten foot rope,
And you a twenty foot tower.

I'm a candle that's melting,
Burning for you.
You're ice that's melting,
Slowly changing too.

Loving you is like loving a star,
Only at night I see you,
Only at night and from afar.
I can't reach you.

I say I love you.
You say "love me not!"
Why can't you see I'm burning for you?
"Cause it's too hot."

Oh padre mío, ¿Qué ha sido de ti?
Qué te ha hecho la vida,
te miras tan cansado ya,
Con tus ojos tristes llenos de recuerdos.
Veo tus errores marcados en las líneas
de tu frente,
siento en el choque de tu mano
como tiemblan tus huesos,
Tú me abrazas, pero tus brazos ya no tienen fuerza.

Oh padre mío, ¿Qué ha sido de ti?
Te fuiste en un día soleado con tus hombros
amplios y llenos de poder,
-me dejaste sonriendote-,
mientras las lágrimas de mi madre caían sobre mí.
Y ahora has vuelto con tus trapos
empapados con lluvia fría,
tus pies cortados y quemados por los fuegos que has cruzado;
te escucho y me hablas con una voz arrepentida.

Oh padre mío, ¿Qué ha sido de ti?
Mira tus dedos, tu mano izquierda,
donde una vez guardabas ese anillo de aquel amor,
que tanto afirmabas tener por mi madre,
ahora reemplazado por una oración.
El reloj en tu muñeca,
congelado en el tiempo en que te fuiste.
Padre soy tu hijo, mírame padre mío,
que soy tu en el espejo,
te entiendo y siento tu dolor,
Siento tu miseria,
tu tristeza y tu rencor.


Oh padre mío, ¿Qué ha sido de ti?
Han sido diecisiete años,
muchas cosas han pasado desde ayer,
ya no soy el niño que te miraba golpeando a tu propia mujer;
ya no soy el niño que dejaste de querer.
No te odio padre mío,
porque tú y yo somos tan diferentes
y tan iguales a la vez.
Padre yo soy tu hijo,
pero tu no eres mi padre.

Let me be the first to say that I was wrong,
that I'm gonna miss you for so long,
because I know you're not ever coming back,
and yet all I can do is play the same sad track.
I would never beg for you to stay,
so I'll just miss you another day;
the clock keeps moving and I'm running out of time,
sitting here wondering if you were ever mine,
and I'm dying for you to know,
just how much I love you so.
I could measure our romance,
if you just gave me one more chance;
I'd count the pebbles on a courtyard,
or the streetlights on the boulevard,
and you'd know I love you at that amount,
with strength so much more than I can count.
I see you on the reflection of mirrors on the walls,
and on the shadows, galloping down the halls.
Will you stay with me just a little longer?
At least until I can forget,
or until I feel a little stronger,
but not strong enough to regret.

**** me, but don’t end my existence.
****** me, but let me still breathe.
Shoot me, but not with a gun.
You can end me, yet not take my life.

How? By torturing me eternally,
By making my life a living hell,
By turning my pain into misery,
By destroying what’s left of my spirit.

Your words burn through me more than bullets,
Your cruel stare creeps into my skin worse than being pierced,
Your cold hands burn out the fire left in my heart.
Your once so warm voice is now just a demon’s whisper.

The pain in my mind is poisoning what’s left of my sanity,
The ghosts in every corner judge me senselessly,
The shadows are catching up to me no matter how fast I run.
The devil himself has bargained my soul.

You who I loved the most is who hurts me the worst;
I who gave you everything gained nothing at all.
You who swore the heavens and the constellations on our love;
I who like a child believed your deceptions and fell for your trap.

There’s no need for a lethal shot or weapon to destroy me:
Simply the fact that my putrefying heart still beats for you,
That my decaying mind still thinks of you and will till I finally rest,
Is punishment enough for the grotesque crime I committed,
Loving you.

Oh father of mine, what has been of you?
What has life done to you,
you seem so tired already,
with your sorrowful eyes filled with memories.
I see your mistakes marked on the lines
of your forehead,
I feel in the touch of your hand
how much your bones tremble;
you hold me but your arms no longer hold strength.

Oh father of mine, what has been of you?
You left on a sunny day with your shoulders
so broad and filled with power,
-you left me smiling-,
while my mother's tears fell on me.
And now you've returned with your rags
soaked with cold rain,
your feet cut and burned by the fires you have crossed,
I hear you speak to me with a repentant voice.

Oh father of mine, what has been of you?
Look at your fingers, your left hand,
where you once guarded that ring of a love,
a love you so claimed to have for my mother.
Now replaced by a prayer.
The watch on your wrist,
frozen on the time that you left,
father I am your son,
look at me father of mine,
for I am you in the mirror,
I understand and feel your pain;
I feel your misery,
your sadness, and your resentment.


Oh father of mine, what has been of you?
It's been seventeen years,
many things have happened since yesterday,
I'm no longer the child that saw you hitting your own wife;
I am no longer the child you ceased loving.
I don't hate you, father of mine,
because you and I are so different
yet so alike.
Father I am your son,
but you are not my father.

This lethargy is far greater than any I ever had,
Far lengthier,
I feel like a part of me has left.

Might be punishment from a sentient being in the cosmos.

Why does it feel so numb?
How long have I been sleeping?
May be there's nothing more left to say.

I could compare the skies to lets say,
An expansion of thoughts,
Or an endless supply of "what if's"?

Does that make sense?
Not really, not to me.

I could write about love?
No, not that, that's already been done.

Maybe sadness?
But who really feels like weeping?

That's enough question marks for a poem, no?

Maybe some excitement!
Exclamations!
Points!

Ah that's enough of that!
I'm starting to look crazy now!

Maybe switch the point of view?
Why am I still talking to myself?
Are YOU still reading?

Again with the questions?!

Enough!

I got to add some emotion,
And a good cliffhanger...

Let's make it rhyme:
"Love" rhymes with "dove",
"Send" rhymes with "mend? Lend? Bend?"
What else rhymes with "send"?
Oh I know! THE END!

She walked up to him carrying pieces of his heart,
"Please say something, I'm really sorry." She begged.
"What else is there to say? I'm done talking,
what's been done, has been done for the best,
and from now on, you're just one of the rest."

Te amo,
Te amo implacablemente,
Te amo con una fuerza tan fuerte como las mareas oceánicas.
Te amo en muchos lugares,
Te amo en público y en secreto,
En los secretos, que mi corazón esconde.

Te amo sin decir,
Te amo cuando te miro,
Y cuando me miras,
Te amo más.

Te amo cuando te cuento todo,
Y te amo cuando no digo nada en absoluto.

Te amo con las rosas que mueren en unas semanas,
Justo como ellas se marchitan y mueren,
Te amaré hasta que me convierta en tu rosa.

Te amo sin pruebas,
Siendo yo el único testigo,
Testificaré que es cierto,
Y si el veredicto es amarte hasta la muerte,
Hasta entonces, te amaré.

Te he amado,
Te amo,
Y yo te amaré.
Te amo ahora, mañana y ayer.
Cada día más que antes.
Te amo, incluso ahora,
Y entonces,
Y una vez que este verso termine
Todavía te estaré amando,
porque eso es lo que hago
Lo qué haré,
Hasta que amarte
se convierta en lo único que quede por hacer.

Salesman what books do you sell,
if I got the chance to meet you,
salesman what stories could you tell,
salesman if only you knew how much
I need you.

Tell me salesman about your past,
the other loves you might've had,
salesman why does beauty never last,
poor old salesman why are you always
so mad.

Salesman sometimes I need you,
I need your wisdom so bad,
salesman sometimes I miss you,
salesman they say you're my...

And as the curtain comes down,
and my show comes to an end;
as my unstrung ukulele finishes its last vibrato,
and with my eyes closed I can hear the sole spectator applauding.

I walk away covered by the smoke from my cigarette.
I exit the platform as the last candle remaining drowns on its own melted wax,
descending to the open arms of the bartender,
the wisest man one could ever meet, anyone's best friend.
He receives me with a welcoming smile, and without opening my lips he pours me my preferred nectar, awaiting for me to tell him my miseries for the small price of my weekly earnings.

Then it hits me, just as that candle burned out,
so have I, I have picked enough tulips to know that heaven has stood still long enough for me to make my way upstairs.
So I grab my instrument, light up another cigarette, and walk out the door,
to receive my sole spectator with open arms.

What if Planet Earth was blue?
Not only the oceans but also me and you,
what if all the lies we've said became true?
And everything lost its color to a darker shade of blue,
tell me then, what would you do?

What if the mountains became plains?
Or we all shared but one name,
what if excitement became lame?
And we were all the same,
our good vibes would turn to blues,
I'd feel empty and you would too.

What if the rain came from the ground?
And your father was still around,
what if it was you and not a homeless dog going to the pound.
If the cards changed players would you laugh, or would you frown?
What if the dome above us wasn't blue
and this terrestrial choreography came down,
I would notice it, but would you?

They've cut your wings off or so you say,
to keep you trapped in this golden cage.
You've been a hostage day after day,
a prisoner of your fading age.

Oh bird of spring,
one day I'll set you free,
I'll pull that ring off from your feet,
and I'll write a melody for you to sing,
as you soar far above the trees.

Oh my sweet dove,
I promise you one day, but not today,
and some day soon, that I will say.
I'll loosen your string and change your tune,
and you'll fly so high towards the moon.

One day my friend you'll catch your train,
where you will find your love the third,
and Caesar's nephew to you will gird,
"But for the rainbow, first comes the rain",
and on that day you'll be a free bird.

I'll set you free my bird of spring,
it shall be just you and me.
But for now, keep on dreaming with the wind.

She walked into the room almost as quietly as the flies crawling in through the corners of my window, I would've not noticed her if she had not mentioned my name, or at least what they called me. I was sitting on my red recliner pushing back and forth with my legs imagining I was still rocking my old fishing boat at Lake Warren. I simply did not have a single care in the world for where I was, who I was, or why I was, as long as I could remember how to breathe I was fine, at least that's what the old woman that slept next to me always said.
I couldn't tell who the woman facing me was, but she looked a lot like a little girl I once knew, she held my hand almost as if transferring a calmness into me that I could only get from her, "Do you know who I am?", she said. Slowly I stood my neck out trying as hard as my vision would allow me to study her face. Those hazel brown eyes, I could almost make out my reflection in them, as if I were standing infront of a mirror looking into my very own soul, pointing out every single flaw within me.
That smile, that warm loving smile, I felt a small memory rising up in the back of my head, those same big teeth giggling at me many years ago in a now forgotten park, I could not remember who she was, but I could feel love sprouting from within her and into my old ragged heart, I knew she loved me, but still I admitted, "I'm sorry, I don't, you seem familiar, but I don't know you". Water began forming in her eyes but still she held that smile up, "its ok, don't stress yourself, you'll remember me sooner or later".
I hope I would, maybe if I guessed I might get it right and not feel so bad, but she had already began walking out of the room, and still I could not remember who... "I love you Isabel", I heard the door **** hold back for a second, then that same warm voice returned to my ears, "I love you too dad", then she left, and that's all I can remember.

I love you,
I love you relentlessly,
I love you with strength as strong as the ocean tides.
I love you in many places,
I love you in public and in secret,
In the secrets my heart hides.

I love you without saying,
I love you when I look at you,
And when you look at me,
I love you more.

I love you when I tell you everything,
And I love you when I say nothing at all.

I love you with the roses that die in a few weeks,
Just as they wither and die,
I'll love you until I become your rose.

I love you without proof,
As I'm the only witness,
I'll testify I do,
And if the verdict is loving you till death,
Till then, I'll be loving you.

I've loved you,
I love you,
And I will love you.
I love you now, tomorrow and yesterday.
Each day more than before.
I love you, even now,
And then,
And once this verse is over
I'll still be loving you,
because thats what I do,
What I will do,
Until loving you
becomes the only thing left to do.

And how can I say I love you,
how do I put it in words,
when I draw my inspirations from sadness,
and for once I've found happiness,
in you.

I want to express my love for you in a thousand ways:
Claim I'll climb the highest mountain,
swim the deepest sea,
cross the biggest desert.
But that's a problem for me.

Like a god gets his powers from an elixir,
my ambrosia comes from sadness.
I'm not a happy ending kind of guy,
I write to death,
to losing,
to the defeated;
and for once you've changed all that.

But who cares if I can't write any longer,
who cares if I lost my touch.
I rather live happy having you,
than to write a million poems,
wanting so bad to hold you.

I'm happy that I have you,
and I just want you to know,
I love you.

La luna,
La luna llena y redonda,
Esta hueca y vacía.
El viento,
El viento rápido y feroz,
Esta lento y frío.
Las aguas,
El agua deslizante y fresca,
Esta estancada por los metales humanos y el estiércol y la basura la detienen.
La tierra,
La nutrida tierra,
Esta seca y quebrantada.
Los árboles,
Los fuertes y robustos árboles,
Estándares de la vida,
Se inclinan hacia la tierra seca.
La luna hueca se refleja en la tierra vacía y seca;
Y la tierra esta seca porque el agua no corre
Y esta estancada
Y el estiércol
Y la basura
Convierten el agua en lodo,
Y el agua se seca y desvanece
Y la tierra endurece,
Y los árboles, los grandes árboles sé mueren,
Y ya no existe el viento,
Y todo muere.
Muere la tierra,
Porque el agua se a secado,
Por culpa de los metales humanos.
Por culpa de los metales humanos muere el agua que seca la tierra que da muerte a los árboles que callan al viento.
Y la luna,
La luna hueca y desolada desciende,
Y nace el sol caluroso,
Y quema todo,
Y todo muere.

Your name is that of a flower,
but one I cannot mention.
Your surname is that of a mountain,
but one I cannot climb.

You smiled at me with those baby teeth of yours,
almost as if laughing at an old joke only we knew;
and your eyes, by god your eyes,
I could still see us many years ago.

We held hands under a blanket once,
remember that?
We've grown so much my precious flower,
but deep within we're still the same two children,
the ones that ran out and hid from your father.

I still see the obscurity of that armoire,
when we first kissed.
I still sing that Elton John song,
it reminds me of you,
did you know he wrote it?
It was probably about us.

She said to me "Do you want to play races, or hide and seek?"
"Whichever one you want ***", I replied with a smile.
"Heck, let's play both". And she hugged me for a while, "you run and hide first".
So I did, and time passed, and we weren't kids no more, and as most stories end, she moved away, and never said good bye.
So even till this day, I'm still playing her game.
I've been running for so long, that I ran into myself.
I've been hiding long enough, hoping I would find myself.

I tried to make it,
Did you all see that?
I tried to make it!
All I wanted to do,
Was write the most beautiful poem in the world.

You got used to the flowers
You got used to the coffee for breakfast
You got used to the kisses
I gave you in the morning

You got used to my love
My love for you
You got used to the diners
And all our failed dates
You got used to me

You got used to my singing
For you on our road trips
You got used to my body
When we made love

You got used to me
I was used by you.

Love always ends in heartbreak,
be it a month, a year, a decade,
or a lifetime.
Love always ends in heartbreak,
one leaves, one cheats, one dies first,
but it will always end in heartbreak.
The point is how long we can prolong it.

I can't sleep I can't sleep,
while the rain continues to drip;
right outside my window I hear the rain fall,
gliding and bouncing off the wall.

I see it sliding off the wet grass right outside,
I see it slide down the playground slide.
Some finally dies on the pavement,
hitting roughly enough to make its statement.

The clear rain drops fall from the heavens,
so thick and so warm,
almost as if God himself were crying tonight.
But nobody knows why.

I can't sleep I can't sleep,
The murmur of the rain continues to creep;
quietly I let the rain speak,
as it slowly reaches its peak.

I smell the chocolate dirt right outside,
and I let him see me for I've nothing to hide.
The rain finally reaches a standstill,
it has told me that God is ill.

The clear rain drops have fallen from the heavens,
so thick and so warm,
almost as if God himself were crying tonight.
But nobody knows why.

In the Garden of Gethsemane,
alone while the world stood against me.
I was your shield while you cried on my shoulder,
yet to you I was only worth 30 silver.

You came and kissed me on the cheek,
stabbing the last knife on my chest,
Et tu brute? Why? You too?

Dance for me baby,
I'll be your fan;
sing me a poem,
and I'll be your man.

Kiss me once more,
and spin to the jam.
Baby don't worry,
I'll be your man.

We'll gaze at the stars,
from the back of my van;
then I'll say I want you,
and I'll be your man

Come rest on my shoulder,
put your hand on my hand.
I'll be your sweater;
I'll be your man.

And if your parents deny us,
well I've got a plan;
we'll elope in the morning,
and I'll be your man.

Just wish for it darling,
I'll do all that I can.
Just tell me you love me,
I'll be your man.

Because at the end of the chapter,
It wasn't what I did that I regret,
but the things I didn't do.

"Reincarnation is not real" I used to say,
You simply cannot come back from the dead,
I didn't believe it until this day,
seeing her standing there blew open my head.

God knows I loved that girl with all my heart;
I loved her for many centuries and I'll love her forever,
even the angels know that nothing can keep us apart.
I met her today in the park, we're entwined to be together.

I lost her many ages ago to her own hand,
her candle burned out by her own knife,
and I understood this world will never be her land,
so all I can do is wait for her in the next life.

She told me I love you then went away,
I couldn't stop her, I never would,
I simply smiled when I met her today,
and I know that although she's gone far away,
I'll see my love another day.

Lacrimosa have mercy on me,
a kiss on my cheek is my only desire,
oh conspirator cease torturing me.
inside my heart you're stirring a fire.

Lacrimosa bring with you winter rains.
I surrender my silvery heart to your claim,
will you heed my whispers, oh merciless dame?
and with forceful hand erase her name.

Lacrimosa you've made me weak yet strong,
I am but salt in your ocean of fear.
I beg you to mercy this servant for his wrong,
and from my eyes you'll drop a single tear.

Your love is like an island,
and I'm an outcast in troubled waters,
your skin is the color of the sand,
but I don't think that matters.

Your hair is like the palm trees,
that stand tall against the tempest,
each one a warrior gliding between the breeze,
sharing a different story of loss and conquest.

Your eyes just like the ocean moon,
the ones I claimed were mine,
I prayed to see them soon,
sadly I never had the time.

Your hands were like the shore,
dragging me closer to your center,
and believe me you were all that I adored,
still I never dared to enter.

Your voice was like a mermaid's song,
that washed away my tears,
and although I was all alone,
it cleansed me from my fears.

You are the reason why I survived,
you were my ego you were my pride,
the only essence that kept me alive,
was knowing I had you by my side.

But when rescue came at last,
and took me back to bay,
I remained stranded in the past,
hoping to once more, be your castaway.

The poet has put his pencil down;
the musician sat down his guitar.
He will no longer write with melancholy,
he will no longer sing the blues.

For he is too happy to be sad,
he's too free to keep the chains;
he's not sad and lonely anymore.
And she's the reason for his new hope.

He'll sing romance, he'll write sonnets.
He'll love and laugh and sing and cry,
but sadness will no longer meet his eye.
For he's too happy to sing the blues.

The man speaks
And everyone listens
The woman screams
And she is the problem
The man goes quiet
And the room listens
The woman stays silent
And she is the problem
The man does as a man is
And he is not to blame
The woman is just another statistic
Another number
Another victim dead on the street
But she is the problem.