I recall the whispers of a dying voice;
The forthcoming shadow of who she once was;
The soft laments from a withered, wearied frame,
Enervated by the concoction of bottles and morphine---
Alternating between states of repose and reality, often electing the former.
Tears were eschewed by those around her,
Seeking not to meditate on the inevitable,
But to celebrate a life of felicity and accomplishment.
The hours ceased not in their transit.
Spring dawned and left;
Summer arrived and departed;
The showers came and abated;
The flowers bloomed and decayed.

I recall the silence that morning.
The silence that rendered mute the laughter;
The silence that brought the dolorous realization;
The silence that spoke of her departure.

hemos gritado,
mas nadie escucha
nuestra voz.

hemos luchado,
mas no bastan
nuestros puños
y pertrechos.  

hemos muerto,
mas nos quedamos
años en los yermos,
por muchos, olvidados.

empero, adelante seguimos
porque ¿quién lo hará
si no lo hacemos nostros?

I hearken the air,
This splendid air
That issues of thy lute.

How thy gossamer touch
Betokens thy love
Hast thou for this
Beauteous tune.

Come weal or woe,
Selene or Sol,
These notes are
My physic—
Ay, ‘tis true.

Thusly, cease not,
And continue to pluck
The strings of thy
Delicate lute.

How shall I to thee confess my love?
Gift thee divers roses and doves?
Regale thee ‘til cometh dawn?
Enchant thee with amorous song?
Thou art my physic
That heals the wounds of Cupid’s absence;
That remedies the soul anguished
Sans joy and passion.
E’en in fate withered
Thy beauty shall remain unblemished.
Yet doth the beauteous rose e’en perish.
Its petals ere burning red,
Ravagéd by eternal earth.
So too wilt thou be spoiled by Death.
So too will the agéd hands of Chronos
Pluck the tresses of thy head, ere burning red,
Just as the leaves of the flower.
Though in *****, e’erlasting thou liv’st,
Untouched by time’s misfortunes.
Nor present nor future
Shall o’ertake thy features
As within mine heart, thou art fore’er.
Now cease I, for at hindmost of writ we come,
And again, as regards my question, I bid thy tongue
O bearer of my fancy, how shall I to thee confess my love?
May ‘t start with th’ three above.

Spent not are the voices of the by-gone poets.
Interred not by earth profound.
Transgressed not by time’s incessant passage.
The verse ere marked by the plume of the pensive;
The ludic; the bereavéd,
All sustenance for the spirit creative.
Muses of the writers of modern age.
O art unassailable, tongue primordial, light of radiance eternal,
Bulwark ‘fore the chaos of a decadent world.
So transcends the poet’s writ the maxims of the kosmos;
Our ephemeral existence molded by stricture.
That which comes of the pen—
Embodiment of the amiable, and the embittered;
The opaque, and the transparent;
The leaden, and the gossamer;
The facile, and the onerous.
Oh Maestro del Verso, with thy ink and thy pinion
Art thou edifier of universes, of languages, of conscience;
Porter of tidings; bearer of wisdom and welter;
The stones that impede the tumultuous seas;
The safeguard mid the tempest coming.
Thy hands, they bid the wan and wax of Luna and Sol;
Thy mind, the river’s very ebbs and flows;
Thy song, the harvests’ bountiful growth.
Thy *****, the rains' arrival and repose.

Yea, poet, go on!
Progenitor of worlds,
Master of thy creation.

it doesn't matter how you dress,
or the music you listen to,
or the movies you watch,
or what your dreams are...

as long as you are happy,
and healthy
and your
actions don't harm others,

keep dressing how you dress,
keep listening to the music you listen to,
keep watching the movies you watch,
keep dreaming...

do what you do
never stop being you...

o the wingéd nyx!
thou heed’st thy mind fatigued,
and slumber seek’st.

phoebus doth await,
soon to arise, lucent form!
such is destiny.

and will i wake then,
to hail his or-coated rays,
to greet day's creatures.

lark, thy song sweet come!
diurnal clarity, come!
when day alas dawns.

Still sky of ebony,
So silent are the streets,
Town’s quiet but I
Can't sleep at all

I hurt the most come eve,
Jealous thoughts and scary dreams,
Why can't I just turn
My mind off?

I've not her gilded wings,
I've not his beauty,
Why do I lie and say I’m not
Another one of envy’s victims?

I tell myself sweet things,
But I still focus on this pain,
And I, I wish that I could shake you
From my thoughts

But like snow in Summer’s heat,
It just doesn’t happen,
It just doesn’t happen
I wish we would never meet
But here we are again,
Here we are again

I heard you left last Spring,
May came, you turned twenty-three,
Moved back in with your ma and pa,

But Ma hurt, and Pa would drink,
I know it wasn't easy,
But you stayed ‘cause you were
All they got

You told them you would never leave,
Tired of the city,
You would start a new life
Far from it

Mom passed next morning,
Did Dad cry or say anything?
Or comfort you
As you wept?

I know you want him to be
There for you when knocks misery
You just want him
To care enough

But like snow in Summer heat
It just won’t happen,
It just won’t happen
When I close my eyes it's you I see,
And I’m scared you’ll find someone else,
I’m scared you’ve found someone else.

No more’s the sky ebony,
Cold dawn over Autumn streets,
Another night where I
Didn't sleep at all

Three years, we still don't speak,
I wonder how you're doing
This city life's become too much

Been thinking of moving,
Maybe settle down, find somebody,
Build something I can call my own,

Well I hope fate's good to me,
I've been down on my luck lately,
I just hope things start looking up,

And if cross our paths, then we
Can share fond memories,
And what we think the future holds,

And like snow after Summer heat,
It could always happen,
It could always happen,
No one knows what time will bring,
We'll just have to wait and,
We'll just have to wait and...

Wish for the best.