To meet in Halloween night
what a witchy spell that was

to dance and feel the music
resonate in our hearts,
It's too feel the rhymth of friendship
tap our senses,
pulling us closer apart.

a woman at church
with rosary in hands lights the room
like votive candles

He pedal till the petals fell...
Everyday, he'd pedal to his yard
To water the plants and make the greens stand out
But ever time he came to his yard
He watered the plants
But he never saw behind his back.

Thus he pedal till the petals fell
And until then
While looking at the road,
He saw the petals and realized
that I was the flower on his back.

His life.

To know the truth
it's as if not knowing it at all,
it only hurts,
it aches
but at least we know
what's going on

because the truth is
Like a knot around our necks,
meant to be unknotted,
to allow us to breathe

You do not love me
I know you do not
For love is a fire that does not burn

Here I am cold
freezing in agony
freezing
and getting burnt

I’m just charcoal
completely gone

Bright, bright, stars,
that visit the sky with lights,
without you, my nights,
would be nothing but dark

And full, full, moon,
that comes every once,
without you, I'd be soon,
a lonely lagoon

I'm a plant, aren't I God?
I always seem to extend my faith
towards the light

As if my faith were branches,
trying to reach you
wherever you are,

It's just growing and growing,
Becoming greener and greener,
But too green
to fully understand
that the drier One gets, the easier
One burns with the fire of hell

From arrows
hangs my heart;
feeding crows

I'm feeling it, is coming,
Is near... My dear,
The year of fear...
But I won't shed a tear.
Courage would be the gear,
I'll wear.
it'll protect me from the spear
that fear may throw at me.

There are times
When she feels like trash;
Like some big fat container
that holds
waste inside

Or that it's empty
To then once again
be thrown
A little bit at a time
More and more
Waste

Until she cannot longer hold it inside
And everything starts to pile up
coming all to the surface
And the ground

You know when you do the right thing
And the thing turns to be wrong
But then it would have been wrong
If you had not done the right thing, anyways!

Well, I really don't know what went wrong.

thank you my God,
in you I trust with my heart, with my soul, and with my mind.

The clear sky
clouds the mind
with daydreams

life is an ice cube
floating and melting each day
in this hellish Earth

What if in our brains lays the answers to our every question?
And poetry... is the method that we can use to Find them?

Let's say our brain is a big maze in which our answers are scattered throughout.
And the only way to get them, it's to find the path that leads to them.

Let's say that every activity that each of us does, creates a new path within the maze...
Then poetry is the activity that could open and create different paths in our brains that could trigger the finding of new answers.


April 30. Ramblings.

Somewhere in white pages, I lost you.
I call it your letters - boxes in the attic:
unread, unwritten.
Empty envelopes with a recipient,
And a sender, but with no content,
with no story, with no reminder
of us ever being together.

Ah to hell with this,
Some loves are born dead
They are meant to not live

Though they would still make you bleed
To experience pain
Through a c section
That'll scarred you forever

And it'll hurt twice as ever

Because you'll never experience the joy
of seeing Love grow

L.L.

Having faith does not mean to not question or to not have doubt

Having faith is questioning and doubting but still remain certain that despite the odds everything will turn alright

Having faith is like having a pillar by your side in which you can recline to watch how things will turn out after you have done whatever best you could.

Having faith is trusting God will help you but also trusting in your own self to help yourself for God said "help yourself that I will help you."

a fish, a dish so delish I relish to eat
with chips with chips
so salty so rich

So now, a fish I wish to fish
To eat demolish in bliss

the number of infected people keep on rising
like waves trying to drown us
with anxiety

no one truly knows where these waves are coming from

One moment people bump into each other,
splash! the wave comes. People tumble down
with fever, coughing, grasping for air
trying to come to the surface of those
who are still surfing these oceans with health

suddenly the waves from all over the world come together
a tsunami is formed

many are dead

Would you be THE one
My star, so bright, so far
Up high, above the sky,
Just shining through the dark
For me to see at night?

Would you be the one,
The guide I yearned to have
The one that lights the path
towards Jesus Christ?

Jan 2016.

Sweet nothing, there's nobody,
Just a hollow vague and vast void
An eternal wound opening up
Bleeding out pain,
And not leaving a time to form a scar
Right here, in this chest

Sweet nothing, that's how my eyes look,
Like staring into oblivion,
lost, gazing into a wall, a concrete block,
That blocks the streets where people pass by,
Brick by brick, building up dreams,
Blocking out reality,
Forming a facade of fantasies,
where light is visible only by climbing these dreams,
And I lost the strenght,
I feel tired, gazing into a wall,
like staring into oblivion, forgetting how it feels to see,
beyind this wall

Love, love, love.
You see...
It's a bird flying and flying,
landing then flying
just flying then landing
this bird of love.
It spreads its wings,
It soars.
It flies.
This bird of love.

It's free to come and go,
And goes and comes,
But it never leaves
the skies it soars.

Oh This bird of love,
it soars and soars,
And lands, and flies,
in the skies and grounds,
of this earth
that is my home.

Oh yes, this bird of love
It loves this earth
That is my home.
With no condition
It flies and soars,
Whether warm or cold,
Regardless of the weather
This bird of love
Just loves
This earth
That is my home.

I’m tired of empathizing
It only gets you hurt

Empathizing turns you into a balance
where you carry everyone’s weight
including your own

So if you are not strong
everyone’s weight pulls you
down

six feet under

if you are not careful enough

Are you a thorn or are you not?
You sting my stress away with just a touch,
But also make my head to bleed a thought
that you and I belong as such...

as if we were some kind of rose.

Not long ago you said I was the stem,
the one from whom you fed and grew to show
that you and I belong as such....
as if we were some kind of rose





the one who feeds then grows and shows
The two of us ....

In progress..

Quizas mi lengua se acostumbro
a el silencio,
que ha dejado de formular palabras,
tal vez,
mis labios se acostumbraron a los tuyos,
Pero en cuanto el silence se quedo callado
Fue cuando mas hablamos

Oh Jesus Christ,
I follow you day and night,
I know you are righteous and just
And that in good people, you are found

Oh Jesus Christ,
I love you with all my heart.
In you, I find the strength
And the courage to go on in life

I know it's not easy to do what is right
And that often we deviate from our paths
But oh Jesus christ,
I met a man,
Who makes me feel energize, and alive,
Who gives me the joy, that I needed to continue following your path.

Let’s try something different today.
Let’s see
Something...

Some things never change.

But wait, that’s a lie
Everything changes

People change
at least physically
Skin wrinkles as time passes by
It’s as if Time itself was water
and people submerge themselves
in it for a long... well...
a long time...

everyone swims in this water
some float naturally
others drown themselves in it
some suffocate with it
others just enjoy it

But no matter what
Water changes
at least its composition
some water have more minerals or vitamins in it
Other waters are more salty
Some are sweeter
there’s also polluted water
Yup, water changes

and we know in which water to swim
And we can choose from which Water to drink
But as Time changes
do we get that choice?

I thought about the waves
And how they rose -up -down -forth- and -back
And then they were known as tides

those waves
those waves
those waves

Just known with different names

Those waves
Those waves

everything seems to come from the same source

In this case

Those waves

Life is an ice cube
floating in this glass of Earth
trying to cool it

Can I tell you something?

I dislike planning.

Whenever I plan, things don't go accordingly.
Plus, with the whole concept of planning,
I immediately force myself to expect
an outcome. And as many of you know,
expectations, if don't met, can hurt.
Does this phrase sound familiar:

"Never expect anything in return".

But why are we so afraid of getting hurt?

As far as me goes, I am not afraid of getting hurt and experiencing
disappointment because disappointment (if handled correctly, with a positive view) can help an individual grow.
It can make a human become down-to-earth because it constantly remind us that all of us are humans and thus are perfectly imperfect.

Then why is it that I dislike planning?

fireflies in the sky
as night time falls with a kiss
lovers in the park

Poetry is not about how well you rhyme
or how good your rhythm is.
It's somehow similar to life,
in the sense that you just live like this:

           Not knowing what it is.
           Yet searching for bliss,
            we live just to live
           With or without a motive

The same goes with poetry
We don't know what truly is.
Yet searching for bliss,
We write just to write
With our without a motive

a white cat
purrs and kneads
on his bed

like an earring in your earlobe,
my thoughts hung,
Pendulating back and forth,
Trying to whisper in your ears
"Come-hither my love"

but ah too fierce was your walk,
And my thoughts,
Pendulated back and forth timidly,,
That I just hung
Like that earring in your earlobe.

somewhere
there is a voice dictating what I should write
One that is loud when emotions
wrestle in my chest
but turns soft or almost non-existent
when I feel null

for all the years I wasted living in fear
I try to find the courage in those I hold dear
So I no longer waste anymore years

I cry! Oh cry on arms so warm
on limbs that pull me up but also
push me down
I cry! Oh cry on eyes so blind
on ears so deaf
on lips so mute
to me
to me

tomorrow a flower grows
in fields of sorrow, like an anchor that goes
where the wind blows

Wander wander lost
without a place to go
always searching,
never finding
what you are looking for

at midnight
a blanket
full of stars
cover sky
while the sun
takes a break

I try to stretch my thoughts
like mozzarella in a grill
but all I end up with
is with a burnt cheese

I dreamt of you in white
Wearing a dress like the sun
bright
Distilling sunshine rays
Throughout the day
But at night

I dreamt of you
Like I always done
But I forgot about your face
I forgot about our conversations
And I meant to remember them

But I just can't

The dreams in which you are
Are memories I lived before
And some days it feel
As if my present days are memories
Like Dejavu
That I have lived before

I smiled and awake
Shaking my head
No

No

This is the only life I have

I have not lived before

I wish to sleep
In the petals of a rose
And never again open this eyes of mine,
I wish to smell the fragrance
and sleep, forever,
forever more

But everytime
I close this eyes of mine
I awake somewhere
And I do not know where i am at,

Though it isn't a rose
Where I sleep
Nor the petals that I feel,
It just my bed,
The bed sheets,
And me,
awake again

Trying to find some rest

In my dreams

Oh COVID,
You made me mask my shyness
And forced me to raise my voice
Now every so often I have a sore throat

This makes me feel like you have made
a home out in my body

It’s seems that that’s effect you have on people
You are so contagious, that even those
who do not have you, think
That they may have you as an unwanted guest
Wrecking havoc in their lungs,

Throat

*cough

At the end of the days,
that’s all my poems will be

Clever

cleverly creative

And I,

I can’t help but feel

discourage

The verses of eloquence
Are ladies well taught
They wear elegance
But simplicity is their gown

Two cents in pockets,
a cell, some cigarettes,
I was walking my way.

It was two a.m. in my dreams.
The boulevards where covered by dusk
and dust,
plus a scent of lust
perfumed
my skin

I kept walking,
head held high towards the moon,
Stepping the streets to the rhythm
of a peculiar tune,
Well known,
It was a Christmas carol,
the jingles and Bells,

"Where is santa Clause?"

Arrived soon at home.
To awake,

When the storms cease to be
When the rain comes to greet the ground
by halting without a warning from the sun
When the wind becomes a breeze
and not a tornado in flames
You’ll come to meet us lord

While walking for a long time, I saw a field with roses,
All sort of roses,
Colorful, whites and pinks,
And reds,
And all sort of roses,
With and without thorns,
And I, mesmerized by their beauty, stopped my walked

Right into the garden of roses,
To meet love,
To meet the love that'll inspire me to live
To meet the love that'll be the fuel to help me keep walking.