In the near future,
One global hyper-network,
No choice to opt out

Can our dreams **** us?
One man finds they can and leaves
A warning and proof.

When you find true love,
Seize it, no matter the source,
For love conquers all.

Asteroid strike nears
Earth mobilizes to save
Humanity's seed

Alien's promise,
Rare gifts for two weeks' service,
Too good to resist?

What would dolphins do,
If they could know and judge us,
With superior minds?

What is modern art?
Meaning contrived by critics?
Empty subterfuge?

Listen to me read,
Full chapters from my novel,
At the links below.

Young, naïve lawyer,
For-profit business school dean,
A Quixotic quest.

Idealism,
Despite the odds,
May yet win the day.

Or will it be crushed?
Humor, angst, triumph, heartbreak,
All par for the course.

Love found and love lost,
Trial by fire tempers or breaks,
Steel in life's hot forge.

You will find free podcast links to full-chapter readings from my novel at
https://victordlopez.wordpress.com/sample-chapter-readings-from-my-new-novel/

Do writers who cry,
Unread in the wilderness,
Ever make a sound?

Why do we persist,
Writing words that go unread?
A form of madness?

when did we forget,
the guiltless joy of reading,
comic books in bed?

Saturday cartoons,
breakfast--Oreos and milk,
while mom and dad slept.

the past comes to life,
in minds that can still recall,
simple joys of youth.

reading poetry
and hearing poetry read
are two worlds apart

the mind processes
words differently when read
than when they are heard

just as with a song
each reader transforms a poem
reading it out loud

texture, color, voice
cadence, evoke emotion
through another's voice

Like my poetry?
Would you read my first novel?
Download it for free.

Only on 12/5
The Kindle version is free
At the link below

A protagonist
Who needs to make a difference
Swims against the tide

Love found and love lost,
Triumph through simple hard work,
Great personal loss

Lessons learned too late
Agony of revealed truth
That can't be unlearned

If you like SF
My short stories book is free
Through 11/30

The Things for Which I am Most Grateful

- A God who loves me despite the many faults that make me unworthy of His love;

- A wife who has been my best friend for more than three fourths of my life, even when I have been so much less of a friend to her than she deserves;

- Parents who have given up everything that I may have a life better than they enjoyed and never made me feel the weight of their sacrifice and who now watch over me from heaven;

- Grandparents who imparted unforgettable lessons through their example that include: prize your good name above all other things; there is no shame in poverty but for poverty of spirit; hard work will see us through any adversity; and there are many things far more precious than our own lives;

- Friends who have helped me get through the most difficult times of my life;

- The opportunity to serve others through meaningful work;

- Exceptional colleagues with whose help anything is possible;

- Teachers in public and private institutions that instilled in me a love of learning through high school and beyond;

- The men and women who put on a uniform every day and voluntarily undertake the dangerous work of policing our streets, putting out our fires, rescuing us from harm and ensuring our freedom through their selfless sacrifice in places far from home;

- The privilege to live in an adopted country that has welcomed, accepted and nurtured me, bestowed upon me the honor of its citizenship and to which I am most proud to pledge my allegiance above all others, grateful beyond words for the opportunity to live in the greatest country that the world has ever known.

Happy Thanksgiving to all!

I’m not woke
won't buy a pig in a poke
'cause my common sense ain't broke
won't slip my head in your yoke
no joke

CRT? That’s not for me
of mind manacles I'm free
so go climb or hug a tree
and let rational people be
your Marxist-inspired lies even a blind man can see

if all you see is racism
I suggest you change your prism
try a little optimism
it will free you from the prison
of binary thinking derision

racism, alas, exists
but by no means just in whites
the antidote is to resist
polarizing angry fights
that shed smoke, heat but no light

there is but one human race:
**** sapiens sapiens--all precursors have expired
it comes in wondrous diverse colors, sizes and is wired
to experience humane grace
there's just one known race in known space

let's stop making false excuses
for success or failure of individuals in a group
and address the real abuses
that make some fail to bear fruit
or may even cause some good people to loot

but keep it real if you please
stand for anything and you’ll stand for naught
no one is entitled to success with ease
it requires hard work, sacrifice, and doing what one ought
failure by not following the rules deserves not a second thought

spreading lies as truth
is propaganda, not woke
nor is poisoning our youth
fanning smoke where there's no fire
false loyalties to acquire

Happy Birthday, mom
You and dad now in heaven
I miss you so much

You can see me now
Remember me once again
I hope not my pain

Miss our daily chats
More so our time together
And your warm embrace

Time passed so quickly
Joy a bright flash in the night
Now dark grief remains

May God rest your soul,
And dad's, always by your side
Nestled in God's love

Hear their approaching hoofbeats,
See the destruction in their wake,
Know it is we who summoned them.

The poison of our hatred draws them,
As does the indifference in our hearts,
And the darkness in our souls.

As we've sown, so now we reap,
Division, acrimony, and ill will,
Harvests that nourish our inner demons.

War, famine, pestilence, and death
now march,
Trampling freedom, hope, and truth,
Co-opting and mocking God's grace.

The tipping point is visible on the horizon.
Soon there will be no turning back,
If we succumb to our collective madness..

Young, naïve lawyer,
For-profit business school dean,
A Quixotic quest.

Idealism,
Despite the odds,
May yet win the day.

Or will it be crushed?
Humor, angst, triumph, heartbreak,
All par for the course.

Love found and love lost,
Trial by fire tempers or breaks,
Steel in life's hot forge.

Which for our young dean?
Will he too tilt at windmills,
Thinking them cruel knights?

Or will he prevail,
Stay true to his quest until,
He succeeds or fails?

You can hear me read the complete first nine chapters from my new novel referenced in this "teaser poem" in my podcasts at https://open.spotify.com/show/1zgnkuAIVJaQ0Gb6pOfQOH

Celebrate Christmas
Not with presents under trees
But with grateful hearts

The birth of Jesus
The path to eternal life
This is our true gift

Gift most dearly bought
His life to redeem our sins
Let us not forget

My first book of poems
Published nearly ten years now
My second just out

Like leaves in autumn
Both glide unnoticed to ground
And are blown away

Words written in blood
Die like echoes of footsteps
In lonely alleys

Of all I publish
What matters least is prized most--
My "serious works"

None of them are weaved
From threads of a shredded soul
Like my simple poems

There is more of me
In any of my sonnets
Than all my textbooks

One simple haiku
Penned in seventeen heartbeats
Conveys more of me

Articles cited
By courts and other scholars
Feathers in my cap

But just adornments
That will never help me fly
Or help others soar

I'm grateful for them
Grateful to be heard in my
Chosen field of law

Grateful too am I
For the privilege to teach
That others may soar

Alas not on wings
Of poetry that uplifts
Our humanity

I so yearn to sing
Even as an unheard cry
In the wilderness

May they rest in peace,
Innocent victims of hate,
Bless their families.

Gone--not forgotten,
Echoes still reverberate,
Of their too-short lives.

Let's stay vigilant,
Reject those that would excuse,
Monstrous, insane acts.

Let us embrace all,
From all races/religions,
Who show compassion.

For all who were killed,
From all races/religions,
On this fateful day.

Hate the evil men,
Not their innocent neighbors,
Who were victims too.

Leave to all your heirs,
The one priceless legacy,
They can't buy: Honor.

I detest the euphemism "making love"
When people just mean "having ***"
As the latter is too often devoid of the former.

Rabbits do not make love. The copulate.
Dogs in heat do not make love. They copulate.
Roosters do not make love. They **** all hens.

Men in bars at closing time are not looking to make love.
Nor are the women nursing their last drink then.
They are looking to have *** with a stranger.

I do not judge the rabbits, dogs, roosters of barflies.
Humans who sate their urges with any willing partner
Have my best wishes for happy, healthy,  STD-free lives.

I only object when they refer to a physical act that is
Engaged in solely for pleasure and devoid of genuine
Affection for the object of their lust as "making love".

If you use others and allow yourself to be so used
And are of legal age, more power to you (just be safe!)
You will have more pleasure out of this life than I.

But please do not defile, defame, demean the most
Important word and most important feeling humans can share
By making it into just another four-letter word.

By all means say making love and make love often,
As there is no greater gift that human beings can share
But please do not profane the term. Enjoy ***. Just call it that.

Can't choose whom you love,
But can choose whom you marry,
Make sure you choose well.

Working on two books,
In English and in Spanish,
Free previews below

https://www.wattpad.com/user/VictorDLopez

Its five a.m. and still I cannot sleep,
My world’s been shattered and peace will not come,
Turning a light on shadows buried deep,
Awoke the past and now I am undone.

Scars once thought healed have opened up anew,
Pain thought forgotten rises to the fore,
Lies I believed wanting them to be true,
Are now the cause for me of endless war.

What would I give if I could change the past?
Avoid mistakes fatal not just to me,
But to those I love best from first to last,
No price too high for redemption would be.

I’ve done grievous wrong trying to do right,
And now there’s no solution to my plight.

I've lived in 1987 for the past two months
Every waking moment and in my every dream
When sleep would finally come called by exhaustion
As is still the case although the work is now done.

Idealistic young lawyer,
In his first posting as a dean,
In a for-profit business school,
Naive voice crying in the wilderness.

Worked very long hours,
To change what was wrong,
Achieved great success,
Which all came to naught.

Made friends while tilting at windmills,
Stubbornly refusing to accept,
That which could be changed through simple hard work
That I believed would make real difference in others' lives.

A classic clash of missions and visions:
Provides the factual drama--theirs, to maximize profits,
And deliver an education at the lowest possible cost,
Mine to be in the business of changing lives for the better.

I implemented meaningful changes,
That brought unintended consequences
I found unacceptable, and personal conflicts
That caused me to resign while still on good terms.

And I learned critical lessons,
Not just about an industry I did not know,
But about myself, my strengths and my weaknesses,
And about love that brought joy and pain that I can still feel.

As I wrote my novel, composing at the keyboard,
I wrote through the night, sleeping only when my vision blurred,
And I could not focus around 8:00, 9:00, 10:00 a.m.
For a few hours, then back to my keyboard and my previous life.

Ghosts long thought buried rose in warm flesh and blood,
Old battles fought anew, old brown paths grew verdant,
Cold cinders rekindled, closed doors opened wide,
Beckoned me to live for a time in what might have been.

Scars long ago faded opened up anew,
The heart cried tears of blood as fiction
Too close to truth flowed onto the page,
Chasing sleep away long after the writing was done.

After two decades of gestation,
I've now given birth to my first child,
The afterbirth has been cleaned,
She is all pink, warm, and oh so cuddly.

I fell in love with her the moment,
I stared into her huge, bright, old-soul eyes,
Her strong, tiny hand is now wrapped,
Around all of my heart strings and will be for life.

Now I'm searching for a literary agent,
Sending tiny snapshots of my little girl,
Hoping they will love her too,
But knowing they may not.

If I can't send her off to finishing school,
I will home school her, teach her all I know,
And ready her as best I can to be seen by the world,
Where she may not thrive but will always have my love.

If all goes well, I will give her a sister to play with,
In a year or so if life will allow it,
My heart is large and still has room,
For more wounds to open that only they can heal.

Hear me read this poem here: https://youtu.be/iOJt4ySlhXQ

Islands of wonder
Like a broken string of pearls
Scattered in velvet

Glorious artwork
These worlds that are not our own
Sculpted by nature

Interstellar space,
Nebulas coalescing
That will form new stars

Stars die, are reborn,
The Phoenix rising always
From its own ashes

The cycle of life,
Played out on a macro scale,
To the end of time

Every one of us,
Individual artworks,
From those selfsame stars

No matter which pearl
Of our endless universe
Has given us life

We are all but one
In communion with stardust
Why can’t we see that?

You can hear me read this and three other new poems at https://youtu.be/Fy5UfJJ8vOI

I love sonnets best,
The ones I've written contain,
Pieces of my soul.

NOTE: If you'd like to hear me read samples of my poetry (sonnets included), you can check my YouTube channel https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCBa7s2xkrUrn-

I tried so hard to share my love with you,
To make you see the dream I saw so clear,
Yet you could not believe my words were true,
Could not let go of your consuming fear.

I waited hoping for some subtle change,
Ignoring every sign it would not come,
Until the dream was clearly out of range,
And hope, an evanescent shadow, gone.

The emptiness I feel knows no regret,
So do not weep for me, sweetest of friends,
Each fleeting moment shared I'll not forget,
I know what love is now, and how it ends.

The love I felt will live while I take breath,
The dream I'll carry with me to my death.


I posted this sonnet today along with 15 others in my latest poetry reading at  https://youtu.be/umgmhtxrtVE

When did she lose touch with my inner heart?          
Was it so long ago she held it near?                  
It was so easy from the very start,
To share it all with one I love so dear.              

How can she thumb the pages of my life,
And find fault with the words at every turn?          
So easily she crosses out a line,
Ignoring all that from it she could learn.            

I smile, she smiles, but does not understand,
And she goes on, perusing through my soul;            
In just a moment I will take her hand,
And we may both yet smile as we grow old.            

Our love is strong, its long-fueled flame still burns,
But what is gone will never more return.


NOTE: You can access my YouTube poetry reading of this previously unpublished sonnet and 15 others at https://youtu.be/umgmhtxrtVE

The heart sculpts us
From within
With neither chisel nor hammer
But with fire
That burns away
The weak facades
We build
Hoping for
Shelter from the
Storm

It melts away
Reason
Logic
Sense
Leaving behind ashes
From which a Phoenix
May yet rise again
Revealing the
True nature
Of our
souls

We are not what we
Seem
Nor are we what we
Say
Not even what we
Do
We are only what we
Feel
And how we
Love

In the darkness
And the cold
And the loneliness
That is our life
It is our only true source
Of
Light
Heat
Comfort
And our only
Refuge

Spent three nights this week
Living in 1987
Immersed in both joy and sorrow
Long suppressed

Writing a novel
Of fact made fiction
Relived a critical year
Writing of my former self

Three nights spent towards the end
At my keyboard
Not my bed
Until 8:00 a.m. and 10:00 a.m.

Then two or three hours of sleep
And back to weaving again
A renewed tapestry
From frayed and broken threads

The heart remembers
What the mind would hide
Old wounds thought healed
Begin to bleed again

What is broken Is yet mended
Forged in the white-hot fire
Of sweet remembrance
Tempered by tears that can still flow

The novel's done
Reopened cuts begin to heal
And scabs reform anew
Leaving new scars to fade in time

The editing process begins
The mind takes over from the heart
The ghosts return to their cold graves
Their temporary lives expired

Closed doors pried open
Now shut once more
And green paths not taken
Once again turn brown

But oh the sweet ephemeral joy
And deepest sorrow
Of the dead past come alive again
If only for a time to ponder what might have been

I need a reset button for my life,
A chance to chart a course on a blank slate,
Unplant the seeds that blossomed pain and strife,
And brought a bitter harvest to my plate.

I walked by open doors that closed behind,
With eyes fixed only forward on my course,
Trying to do what’s right, I’ve been unkind,
Attempts to avoid pain just made it worse.

I should have explored many other paths,
That led to orchards that would bear sweet fruit,
My solitary one has led to wrath,
The seeds I planted would themselves uproot.

What use is wisdom when it comes too late?
There is no reset button to cheat fate

Cherish today the woman you call mom,
Who sacrificed her body and herself for you,
Your fearless champion your entire life,
Her pure love always unconditional.

She who first taught you what it means to love,
And also to distinguish right from wrong,
Taught you to care for other than yourself,
By her example always, not her words.

Your joy her joy for triumphs great and small,
Her anguish hidden for your every fall,
Your first and your most ardent fan in life,
In times you walked in darkness and in light.

Make sure you tell her what she longs to hear,
As often as you can while she still lives,
Not just on Mother's day, but every day,
Some day it will be your only comfort.

There's none so lucky as one whose mom lives,
Love her with all your heart for all she gives.

An endless screeching tone, now in both ears,
You cannot know the solace of silence,
Until it is taken away from you.

A billion cicadas that will not die,
Along with high-pitched sirens ever near,
Symphonies translated by a kazoo.

Inoperable tumor in my ear,
Genetic hearing loss on my dad's side,
The joy of music fading, singing too.

Like the vibrant colors of a rainbow,
Stretching over all the oceans on Earth,
Fading to gray, dissolving into black.

My world is dissolving to a shrill hum,
The babbling of a brook, a child's sweet laugh,
A canary's joyful song of courtship.

A gentle autumn breeze rustling dry leaves,
A clock ticking away remaining time,
All but drowned out save for their memory.

If you'd like to hear,
A reading of my new poems,
Click the link below

Cut and paste to your browser:  https://youtu.be/CacB8e-UT_4

Beautiful small castle on a tranquil bay,
Of beauty seldom seen on any shore,
Museum now of artifacts of old,
From Roman digs and our Celtic ancestors.

Treasures displayed from my Galician soil,
The lost kingdom's uncovered still,
Yet nary a manacle, or bar seen,
Of a fascist makeshift prison once here.

My grandfather tortured, condemned to death,
But set free by a jailor/patriot.

In hour fifty-five,
"Houston, we have a problem",
200K miles.

No rescue to come,
So easy to accept fate,
Say their last good-byes.

But not for these men,
Surrender not an option,
Theirs is the right stuff.

Just work the problem,
MacGyver a solution,
Use what is at hand.

Squares fit into rounds?
No problems for NASA's best,
Duct tape and a sock.

Make spare scrubbers work,
Remove CO2 before,
Death comes to all three.

The workaround works,
Freezing heroes fly back home,
Glorious splash down.

Ingenuity,
And the hearts of true heroes,
Disasters avert.

Started writing it two decades ago,
Using a pseudonym for first/last time,
To protect the guilty and innocent,
In this autobiographical work.

Life got in the way of reliving it,
Work, wife, parents with health issues, now gone,
Back burners full of overflowing pots,
The sands of time quickly sifting through my fingers.

Serious writing projects completed,
A dozen plus books published,
Others yet to come, new lectures to plan,
New courses to develop and to teach.

My story untold, lessons learned unfurled,
But not not written down to pass down my truth,
About things I know much more than I'd like,
And others should learn, in old age and youth.

Place bound for now on an imposed lockdown,
Chained to my desk like galley slaves to oars,
Taping lectures, attending Zoom meetings,
Depression abounds, if not joy or sleep.

So I'm back again, reliving the past,
In memory still green, though browning in parts,
Taking poetic license where I must,
But gently as a child's butterfly kiss.

Nearly nine thousand words today for just,
One day's events that sowed a thousand seeds,
That sprouted, flourished and died or were pecked,
By hungry vultures out of existence.

Remembering a day in my career,
When I still viewed the world with bright, clear eyes,
And had not opened doors I could not close,
Or walked by closed doors I should have opened.

My world and heart were then innocent, pure,
Full of good intentions waiting to burst,
From a chest that could hardly hold them back,
Foolishly thinking they could change the world.

The painful memories I now drown in,
I will not disclose. The pain I've given,
The pain I've received, I'll whitewash away,
To protect myself and those I have loved.

I'll limit my journey to work alone,
Describe what I've learned that others should know,
Weave the personal with transparent thread,
The professional with thickest red yarn.

I'll search for an agent when it is done,
As I'd like it read, unlike indie books,
And I believe it will find a market,
For it will reveal some essential truths.

It will teach much more that all need to know,
Than my life's work: Lectures, books, articles,
Poetry, fiction, blogs, presentations,
Hope I can write it before my life ends.

My sand's running out, tick tock cries the clock,
Hope lockdown provides, end to writer's block.