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"sanchez" poems
Preface **When the broad mind has opened, to gaze the stars that shinning in the unfathomable skies and the glittering Nature, its flowers’ fragrances given to taste the wealthy realms of her, as well as Earth's mysteries—that I ever think of to feel and by my thoughts that spread so deep to try to work with things that sounds of ‛creative’. Here I the ‛moody soul’ started his first journey, leaving his home  a few years ago and his up-start was through Literature, Science and Arts and Fiction. Writings and paintings here I believed to be most powerful and that those more often need to convey by the Artist’s conscience and the intensity that gains moral knowledge and appreciation. Here the book has the pictorial paths of Quest and the wanderings, all by imagination’s boat, sails from the western Ideas and its enthusiastic flow. Some finds hope along and also hopelessness, God and Love vagabonding among these ink-stained pages. Dreamt in the wandering world where no chains shall bind, from the dark veiled lands to the daring spark, no atoms that obscure the force calling light, to aim the glad precious moments of life, to embrace me with a silence and its whispering magic, where gate of hope’s always open to bliss, thundering words are always from roam, the nocturnal pleasure that I only know, and when all will run away as time—why I alone in the upward steps of solitude that caressing wild only wings? If I met Life as a strange stage of different senses—and I only say you to enjoy the aggressive fruits of my invention. Here it is for all of you can read and evaluate.** Nithin Purple Acknowledgement                                        **This book is dedicated to my parents of Love and support, from where I got the powers to be inspired—to write and prove. Special Thanks to Parisian Author and poet Roman Payne of ‛cultural book’ for supporting me as a writer of varying tastes.  Also Writer, Wilson B Sanchez of New York, who first gave suggestions   and his valuable sparkling comments of self-improvable topics, which I always bother. Belated friend, poet and writer, Curtis Plaskon from France for his valuable support. Also Poet Timothy & Hilda from Virginia, to them I had good writing memories. And for all the Indians, this book is an open heart to read.**
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Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 3:06 AM UTC
Preface & Acknowledgement For My book 'Halcyon Wings'
Preface **When the broad mind has opened, to gaze the stars that shinning in the unfathomable skies and the glittering Nature, its flowers’ fragrances given to taste the wealthy realms of her, as well as Earth's mysteries—that I ever think of to feel and by my thoughts that spread so deep to try to work with things that sounds of ‛creative’. Here I the ‛moody soul’ started his first journey, leaving his home  a few years ago and his up-start was through Literature, Science and Arts and Fiction. Writings and paintings here I believed to be most powerful and that those more often need to convey by the Artist’s conscience and the intensity that gains moral knowledge and appreciation. Here the book has the pictorial paths of Quest and the wanderings, all by imagination’s boat, sails from the western Ideas and its enthusiastic flow. Some finds hope along and also hopelessness, God and Love vagabonding among these ink-stained pages. Dreamt in the wandering world where no chains shall bind, from the dark veiled lands to the daring spark, no atoms that obscure the force calling light, to aim the glad precious moments of life, to embrace me with a silence and its whispering magic, where gate of hope’s always open to bliss, thundering words are always from roam, the nocturnal pleasure that I only know, and when all will run away as time—why I alone in the upward steps of solitude that caressing wild only wings? If I met Life as a strange stage of different senses—and I only say you to enjoy the aggressive fruits of my invention. Here it is for all of you can read and evaluate.** Nithin Purple Acknowledgement                                        **This book is dedicated to my parents of Love and support, from where I got the powers to be inspired—to write and prove. Special Thanks to Parisian Author and poet Roman Payne of ‛cultural book’ for supporting me as a writer of varying tastes.  Also Writer, Wilson B Sanchez of New York, who first gave suggestions   and his valuable sparkling comments of self-improvable topics, which I always bother. Belated friend, poet and writer, Curtis Plaskon from France for his valuable support. Also Poet Timothy & Hilda from Virginia, to them I had good writing memories. And for all the Indians, this book is an open heart to read.**
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11
you kidding me, right?   nachos? tacos? tortilla wraps?           guacamole molé molé? sombrero(s)...   the revised eastern european moustache?                     tequila! that's it?                well... not if you consider the second tier of soy boys - the ones that drink that... budscheiss that's          "der könig aus bier"... one word... no... actually two: CER-VE(H)-ZA(H) - probably the spanish word, that sounds better than all the other spanish words...      what did mexíxíxíxíco give us?    the orthodox script of a german beer:     yeast, hops, barley, malt, water... fizz: boom!    a fine summer's day...    mexíxíxíxíco beer? MALTED, BARLEY...      don't ask me how the genius figured out a smoothness so subtle,    that you actually had to shove a lime wedge into the neck of the bottle...   or, as i did - buying an almost litre sized bottle,    and a lime -   looking at this ***** goliath at the checkout thinking:    david?        am i david?     did we really enslave such people? david, meet goliath... goliath wanders off like some happy ****** giggling and brings another strawberry milkshake to the checkout...          so the west, enslaved these                            nearing 7ft Baobabs? king david's audacity,            nothing more... so i buy the CO(H)-RHO-NA(H), and a lime (30 pence a piece)... **** no knife... guess teeth will have to do... shove a whole lime in bits and bites and walk on...                    seriously? guacamole molé molé?          that's the best you can do? drinking a beer with lime... compared to the h'american budscheiss?            who... apart from the japanese... extracts alcohol... from: ******* rice!        malted, barley...                    whoever that sergio sanchez was...                hats off to him...      sometimes it's just nice... to take a break from the heavy cavalry, orthodoxy brew of german beers...    americans?      know jackshit about brewing a decent beer...    mexicans?               they put a lime in it! **** you have to drink it!
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Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 6:44 PM UTC
what was it that mexíco gave us
you kidding me, right?   nachos? tacos? tortilla wraps?           guacamole molé molé? sombrero(s)...   the revised eastern european moustache?                     tequila! that's it?                well... not if you consider the second tier of soy boys - the ones that drink that... budscheiss that's          "der könig aus bier"... one word... no... actually two: CER-VE(H)-ZA(H) - probably the spanish word, that sounds better than all the other spanish words...      what did mexíxíxíxíco give us?    the orthodox script of a german beer:     yeast, hops, barley, malt, water... fizz: boom!    a fine summer's day...    mexíxíxíxíco beer? MALTED, BARLEY...      don't ask me how the genius figured out a smoothness so subtle,    that you actually had to shove a lime wedge into the neck of the bottle...   or, as i did - buying an almost litre sized bottle,    and a lime -   looking at this ***** goliath at the checkout thinking:    david?        am i david?     did we really enslave such people? david, meet goliath... goliath wanders off like some happy ****** giggling and brings another strawberry milkshake to the checkout...          so the west, enslaved these                            nearing 7ft Baobabs? king david's audacity,            nothing more... so i buy the CO(H)-RHO-NA(H), and a lime (30 pence a piece)... **** no knife... guess teeth will have to do... shove a whole lime in bits and bites and walk on...                    seriously? guacamole molé molé?          that's the best you can do? drinking a beer with lime... compared to the h'american budscheiss?            who... apart from the japanese... extracts alcohol... from: ******* rice!        malted, barley...                    whoever that sergio sanchez was...                hats off to him...      sometimes it's just nice... to take a break from the heavy cavalry, orthodoxy brew of german beers...    americans?      know jackshit about brewing a decent beer...    mexicans?               they put a lime in it! **** you have to drink it!
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79
Beams directing traffic on Belmont Paintings of St.Mary in each house A blessing is in the home of Sanchez Yelling at the top of my lungs, Alexandria! Her lips the color of a summer rose She might meet my girlfriend Tired of the flat girlfriend I ride the 70 down Belmont In a garden I pluck a rose And wait outside her house Oh how I love the name Alexandria The finest gem from Mrs. Sanchez I love the sound of an Sanchez It brings shame to my girlfriend That fiery accent calls me to Alexandria No matter the distance between me and Belmont She can look in front of her house Im on her sidewalk, holding a rose I will always hand her roses Predjuice eyes from a concern Sanchez Oh if they ever found me in that house So she walks to my girlfriend's Away from the curious eyes on Belmont They've ask where is my Alexandria? Don't worry my Alexandria Soft like the pedal of a rose Let me kiss you outside of Belmont Where nobody is named Sanchez Show you where I lay next to my girlfriend We can make love all over this house Just get comfortable in this house Spray that majestic spirit, Alexandria Maybe I pass this flavor to my girlfriend If willing, she can even get a rose Call it the night she tasted a Sanchez What we can share with the Latina on Belmont, A girlfriend is snow on a dying rose Warm in a house with a gem called Alexandria Kissing the skin of an Sanchez, on Belmont
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Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 3:03 AM UTC
Alexandria Sanchez's sestina
My name is Don Quixote Del La Mancha. I am a knight in coat of arms Give me my lance, give me my sword and give me my steed Where be thy king in all of this I wear the Royal Spanish Crown and Gold Seal of San Fernando Lavante I solemnly swear that ***** and bounty shall rest with the king Even the Catholic Church Christen thee for swift victory I have signed and sealed orders to save the Princess Donselia Del Deboso Then, I shall rescue her from the evil clutches of the windmill dragon My chief architect, Poncho Sanchez is my right arm and canteen He is responsible for fresh food rations, cold drink and support logistics Sustenance sustains an army and sustenance sustains great men A gallant foot soldier is he, and Poncho trails me like a Swiss Guard, With his burro donkey friend, named El Donkey Camino De Blanco As we approach the last horizon of the day, the code of chivalry shall not die
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Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 2:48 AM UTC
The Code of Chivalry
my breakfast of thesaurus and chorus. as to not miss that quick bliss, moment of genius. forcing wit;  i’m done with it. i lay in bed and moan: "mouth was a blue sash of rain raining convocations of flesh." like Sonia Sanchez said in her poem to Nina Simone. “owls coo, only see blue, and through storm windows, they yawn like nothing’s new." what did my words just do to you? i hate all the rhyming all the timing. the whining. all this meditating and levitating. but if you don’t swat the fly, you become the fly.
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Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 8:40 AM UTC
the exhaustion of expression
I was doing it A L L W R O N G Because I thought about it, I thought of David Levithan and his books and I thought of Alex Sanchez and HIS books, and I thought about Julia Anne Peters and HER books. And after I was done thinking I realised I was doing what I hated. Boy meets Boy isn't a gay story. It's a story about love. Keeping You A Secret is not a lesbian love story, it's just a love story. Rainbow Boys Trilogy is not a gay trilogy it's a story about growing up and getting along and being in love and being scared and being stupid and being brave and being a friend. I'm just thinking about them as being about gayness because they are gay, even if you take away everything they are love stories and that's it. Love Is The Higher law-- about 9/11. I Am J-- Being yourself-- a common theme. Wide Awake-- finding courage and finding yourself. All these books, and I've been looking at them W R O N G. I mean, ten years ago Boy Meets Boy and Keeping You A Secret and Rainbow Boys was a H U G E D E A L, but now... not so much. Maybe it's from living in a household where gay didn't exist, Don't get me wrong, I still want a book about a character living in a fantasy world or utopia as a.. clone, maybe. Or a dragon slayer.
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Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 10:37 PM UTC
So That Was When I Realised...
Scary Sanchez On a dusty old road in old mexico I found myself face to face with a beetle He was not so ugly, nor very good looking Just something sort of there in the middle And he hitched a ride in a small metal box That I carry right here in my pocket Not because I want to, but because he complained About being too cramped in my locket He told me his name was Scary Sanchez And “sir” he said “don’t you forget it” “Im headed up north from this desert below” “nothing happens if I do not let it” “ I see that your laughing” he said with a scowl “that tequila will go to your head” “you may tell this story but it wont be believed” “because beetles cant talk when theyre dead”
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Sep 22, 2012
Sep 22, 2012 at 12:25 PM UTC
Scary Sanchez
how don’t know to get the you in: a dis(miss)ing of anchorage, akin to ungrabable, purpled sky, and blackvelvet’s talks to morning sand. to get the you in: a table top of no greed. legs of giveness. to haiku the hell out of. we are in the process of stunned voices praying to pregnant earth: word fruit meets wet tongue. prophet with no pockets up sand up. in a world that is to know what your sun exuding sounds like. sweet loathing, singing cell. undernourished, remembering only two tons of. bites down boldly onto wear. ritualistic sweating betrothed to thecosmos. shake loose my skin. legs of giveness, and something that wouldn’t be about you. or something about you that wouldn’t be. hiding in the corners of language that mask gaping unrelatables. Unrelenting maybeoneday. i’ll decide to hear you (sh)out. the italics of Monday evenings. Black tea, bumps head into mosquito bites on your thighs. oops, sorry, can i hug you? sorry. So from here we can deduce thetruth that oops, can i hug you? sorry its obvious, tied. eyed our lives in one swoop and now i’ll never possess of a series of creeks, primordial. Like when the earth’s virginity was lost to the last respiris of a first dying. you as a plethora of suntan lotion3. but lotion is lotion, like the sea, it cant be quantified or split up into in order to be a “plethora,” and still there’s no one to rub down my back places my black places I can’t reach or see and so can’t mimic like a leglessness, a series of syllables.
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Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 9:35 PM UTC
Letter to Sonia Sanchez from a Lover
how don’t know to get the you in: a dis(miss)ing of anchorage, akin to ungrabable, purpled sky, and blackvelvet’s talks to morning sand. to get the you in: a table top of no greed. legs of giveness. to haiku the hell out of. we are in the process of stunned voices praying to pregnant earth: word fruit meets wet tongue. prophet with no pockets up sand up. in a world that is to know what your sun exuding sounds like. sweet loathing, singing cell. undernourished, remembering only two tons of. bites down boldly onto wear. ritualistic sweating betrothed to thecosmos. shake loose my skin. legs of giveness, and something that wouldn’t be about you. or something about you that wouldn’t be. hiding in the corners of language that mask gaping unrelatables. Unrelenting maybeoneday. i’ll decide to hear you (sh)out. the italics of Monday evenings. Black tea, bumps head into mosquito bites on your thighs. oops, sorry, can i hug you? sorry. So from here we can deduce thetruth that oops, can i hug you? sorry its obvious, tied. eyed our lives in one swoop and now i’ll never possess of a series of creeks, primordial. Like when the earth’s virginity was lost to the last respiris of a first dying. you as a plethora of suntan lotion3. but lotion is lotion, like the sea, it cant be quantified or split up into in order to be a “plethora,” and still there’s no one to rub down my back places my black places I can’t reach or see and so can’t mimic like a leglessness, a series of syllables.
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7
I. I speed down Jamboree, away from you, almost without feelings. The only thing I am really drowning in is guilt. It pulls me under the surface, Leaves me gasping for breath that I can’t seem to grasp. II. I have validations, but they don’t excuse this behavior that won’t just hurt me, but others, too. I can imagine her face when she finds out, a mixture of hate and disbelief. Maybe a double-date to Disneyland is not such a good idea anymore. III. Cheater. IV. I had the option to go home but you tempted me. Stolen kisses like whispers in the night, forgotten fast without a trace, except your smell, your taste. That smell that should choke me, but is inviting. That taste that should be foul, but is sweet. You’re familiar. V. There’s a history between us. It’s hidden amongst the ruins of our secret romance, kept within our tight-knit group of comrades and left a mystery to anyone outside it, including our “other halves”. No matter their title, they don’t know, and they won’t. VI. I know you. I know the number of wrinkled shirts on your backseat that reek of gasoline from the go-karts. I know the way your ankle cracks when you wake up from an accidental nap on your charcoal couch during a “Two and a Half Men” re-run. I know the nightmares of funerals and too many baked goods for a son and mother in grieving. I know too much, and that terrifies me. VII. You’re like an addictive toxin. You’re bad for me, yet I find you in the worst and most unlikely places and embrace your killing qualities, breathing in your broken promises and injecting myself with your reminiscences. I thought I could quit cold turkey yet here I am in your cold Accord wearing your work sweatshirt and wondering where I tell him I am since he knows what time we closed. December 3, 2013
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Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 2:00 AM UTC
The Problems with Sanchez
I. I speed down Jamboree, away from you, almost without feelings. The only thing I am really drowning in is guilt. It pulls me under the surface, Leaves me gasping for breath that I can’t seem to grasp. II. I have validations, but they don’t excuse this behavior that won’t just hurt me, but others, too. I can imagine her face when she finds out, a mixture of hate and disbelief. Maybe a double-date to Disneyland is not such a good idea anymore. III. Cheater. IV. I had the option to go home but you tempted me. Stolen kisses like whispers in the night, forgotten fast without a trace, except your smell, your taste. That smell that should choke me, but is inviting. That taste that should be foul, but is sweet. You’re familiar. V. There’s a history between us. It’s hidden amongst the ruins of our secret romance, kept within our tight-knit group of comrades and left a mystery to anyone outside it, including our “other halves”. No matter their title, they don’t know, and they won’t. VI. I know you. I know the number of wrinkled shirts on your backseat that reek of gasoline from the go-karts. I know the way your ankle cracks when you wake up from an accidental nap on your charcoal couch during a “Two and a Half Men” re-run. I know the nightmares of funerals and too many baked goods for a son and mother in grieving. I know too much, and that terrifies me. VII. You’re like an addictive toxin. You’re bad for me, yet I find you in the worst and most unlikely places and embrace your killing qualities, breathing in your broken promises and injecting myself with your reminiscences. I thought I could quit cold turkey yet here I am in your cold Accord wearing your work sweatshirt and wondering where I tell him I am since he knows what time we closed. December 3, 2013
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59
By Victoria F. Sanchez I’m not different, I’m just like you. I take one step at a time; look, one foot, two I have fears. Like many I am afraid of dying. The thoughts of being beneath the dirt Makes me feel like crying I may not be rich, but it’s nothing to whine about How I use the money I have is what counts So don’t toss me a bone, My issues are nothing but my own. I admit, there are be times like life has ended and I may feel lonely and drear Then something saves me, a temporary home is here. I’m not so different, I’m just like you I take one step at a time; look, one foot, two I have fears, like many I’m afraid of heights The thought of falling to the ground Starts to make my heart pound I am not rich, but I am not poor I am stable, to pay the bills; I am able. I have few dollars to spare, don’t need any bone Take this, now please leave me alone I admit, I am bored at times with nothing to do but stare at the wall Left hoping that someone, anyone would call. I’m not so different, I’m just like you I take one step at a time; look, one foot, two I have fears, like many I’m afraid of spiders 8 legs is one too many, those creatures will scare any I wouldn’t say I’m rich, but I have more money than others A bone I don’t need, But I will give it to others if needed Paying if forward, what that boy did I admit, at times I question who my friends are. Which ones were there from the start. Which ones will depart? Unanswered questions left me falling apart. WE are not so different
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Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 6:51 PM UTC
I'm Not So Different
By Victoria F. Sanchez I’m not different, I’m just like you. I take one step at a time; look, one foot, two I have fears. Like many I am afraid of dying. The thoughts of being beneath the dirt Makes me feel like crying I may not be rich, but it’s nothing to whine about How I use the money I have is what counts So don’t toss me a bone, My issues are nothing but my own. I admit, there are be times like life has ended and I may feel lonely and drear Then something saves me, a temporary home is here. I’m not so different, I’m just like you I take one step at a time; look, one foot, two I have fears, like many I’m afraid of heights The thought of falling to the ground Starts to make my heart pound I am not rich, but I am not poor I am stable, to pay the bills; I am able. I have few dollars to spare, don’t need any bone Take this, now please leave me alone I admit, I am bored at times with nothing to do but stare at the wall Left hoping that someone, anyone would call. I’m not so different, I’m just like you I take one step at a time; look, one foot, two I have fears, like many I’m afraid of spiders 8 legs is one too many, those creatures will scare any I wouldn’t say I’m rich, but I have more money than others A bone I don’t need, But I will give it to others if needed Paying if forward, what that boy did I admit, at times I question who my friends are. Which ones were there from the start. Which ones will depart? Unanswered questions left me falling apart. WE are not so different
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34
I am a Filipino. I'm hospitable. I have the concept of "Kapwa" I celebrate Fiesta's. I bought street foods. . I shouted when Pacquiao wins, When Jessica Sanchez sing. I love listening to Korean music, I also sing it. I can speak Korean language. I love copying their expressions and what their wearing. I always watch Korean movies, I always watch. I'm saving my money to watch concerts of my K-pop idols. I am a Filipino, having other countries culture.
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Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 4:22 AM UTC
FilipiKnow?
Lost More than ever 6 am on a Tuesday Asking, where do I go? I guess this is what you meant, huh Ana? I’ve got to work on myself before anyone else But I’m prone to denial and procrastination it’s a cycle for real Life keeps getting too real Had a convo with my pops a few hours ago and now the kid isn’t sure how to feel wanting nothing but to fulfill their wish but have no idea about where to start too busy fooling myself that we live in “Never Never Land” The kid ain’t ready to grow up Peter Pan, Peter Pan I’ve said it before, You’re the man! I’m forever scuffing with my shadow in the hopes that my present will alter from my past mistakes but you aren’t worried about a thing huh? Just that ***** hook and the wild boys but in my reality, I’m surrounded Conflicted, not like the one who probably forgot something I’ll never forget that night I spent time to write all the lines from my mind that I thought described you Shoutout to Lana Lang, I really hope that man right for you. And don’t worry you don't cross my mind too much Words are never exchanged so I thought maybe here you’d listen again Fool, remember the one rule: Let it be… I apologize for the lack of focus It’s been a while I suppose. Since I’ve called ******** on myself. I mean what the **** am I doing? what happened to the mentality that those teachers instilled in you Yeah you’re ****** at the outcome of UMD but you were supposed to dig your way out of that hole make the comeback that was expected of you. it’s like you’ve forgotten all of those lectures from the likes of Rigley, Jones, Bent and Weatherhead you’re destined for more if you don’t believe it you’ll never achieve it and further more, if you don’t apply yourself you’ll never see results. Even Ms. Sanchez said a few words that stunned you like, “it’s just funny because I bet you procrastinate as well” lead by example like how you gon’ preach something you don’t practice she’s plenty right. disappointing right? the fact that you keep trying to keep people from falling apart when you are the one in fact who keeps breaking down but they’ll never know because you believe its not important and you let it sit on the back burner till it consumes you like this… I guess this is my role. walking down this solitary road like I’ve nowhere else to go. I’ll never expect a soul to understand pen in hand, sleepless nights in never land.
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Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 3:24 PM UTC
Sleepless Nights
Lost More than ever 6 am on a Tuesday Asking, where do I go? I guess this is what you meant, huh Ana? I’ve got to work on myself before anyone else But I’m prone to denial and procrastination it’s a cycle for real Life keeps getting too real Had a convo with my pops a few hours ago and now the kid isn’t sure how to feel wanting nothing but to fulfill their wish but have no idea about where to start too busy fooling myself that we live in “Never Never Land” The kid ain’t ready to grow up Peter Pan, Peter Pan I’ve said it before, You’re the man! I’m forever scuffing with my shadow in the hopes that my present will alter from my past mistakes but you aren’t worried about a thing huh? Just that ***** hook and the wild boys but in my reality, I’m surrounded Conflicted, not like the one who probably forgot something I’ll never forget that night I spent time to write all the lines from my mind that I thought described you Shoutout to Lana Lang, I really hope that man right for you. And don’t worry you don't cross my mind too much Words are never exchanged so I thought maybe here you’d listen again Fool, remember the one rule: Let it be… I apologize for the lack of focus It’s been a while I suppose. Since I’ve called ******** on myself. I mean what the **** am I doing? what happened to the mentality that those teachers instilled in you Yeah you’re ****** at the outcome of UMD but you were supposed to dig your way out of that hole make the comeback that was expected of you. it’s like you’ve forgotten all of those lectures from the likes of Rigley, Jones, Bent and Weatherhead you’re destined for more if you don’t believe it you’ll never achieve it and further more, if you don’t apply yourself you’ll never see results. Even Ms. Sanchez said a few words that stunned you like, “it’s just funny because I bet you procrastinate as well” lead by example like how you gon’ preach something you don’t practice she’s plenty right. disappointing right? the fact that you keep trying to keep people from falling apart when you are the one in fact who keeps breaking down but they’ll never know because you believe its not important and you let it sit on the back burner till it consumes you like this… I guess this is my role. walking down this solitary road like I’ve nowhere else to go. I’ll never expect a soul to understand pen in hand, sleepless nights in never land.
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71
Sanchez and Frazier sound like keys Tate and Judge got me on my knees Though They know so much about Torre’s blow Five ‘o clock high And Greg Bird is hitting one into the sky This spring training what with late afternoon day games, not reminding me of veteran remains and even Mason Williams could be used even if Aaron Hicks blows a fuse, there. All is fair . . .
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Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 1:43 PM UTC
The Yankee Youth Movement
Think of it as a Vacation (For the New Comers to Treatment)                     Written by: Matthew J. Sanchez Age:(23)                                             August 10, 2019 For the empty souls who think their life is at a loss, I've got a letter folded up, that's as simple as a coin toss But here's the thing it's not always easy It leaves you sad, mad, isolated, constantly feeling uneasy It's a disease we have to fight with every single day A war within a substance that only traps us in a haze Lost in a dark room; a dark minded struggling maze.. wasting away the years with each passing day. You have to know when enough is enough,.. Or it'll only tear you apart ending in death, institutions or handcuffs Therefor the choice is yours! No more excuses to avoid opening an unlocked door, Make the big decision or you'll be nevermore It's time for you to open your mind ,discover new places you've never explored The choice is yours for the taking, cause the withdrawals will only leave you nauseous and shaking Or even worst it can lead you to a hollow grave, an eternal rest in which you can never escape So take the time we're granted as an advantage for yourself Find who you truly are and travel far to escape that internal Hell Because if you really think about it, this is like a Grand Vacation To ease your pain, and find a way to be saved through Rehabilitation The choice is yours, to spread your wings and soar Smash this disease into nothing, and finally walk through the door.
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Sep 5, 2019
Sep 5, 2019 at 12:34 PM UTC
Think of it as a Vacation (For the New Comers to Treatment)
Think of it as a Vacation (For the New Comers to Treatment)                     Written by: Matthew J. Sanchez Age:(23)                                             August 10, 2019 For the empty souls who think their life is at a loss, I've got a letter folded up, that's as simple as a coin toss But here's the thing it's not always easy It leaves you sad, mad, isolated, constantly feeling uneasy It's a disease we have to fight with every single day A war within a substance that only traps us in a haze Lost in a dark room; a dark minded struggling maze.. wasting away the years with each passing day. You have to know when enough is enough,.. Or it'll only tear you apart ending in death, institutions or handcuffs Therefor the choice is yours! No more excuses to avoid opening an unlocked door, Make the big decision or you'll be nevermore It's time for you to open your mind ,discover new places you've never explored The choice is yours for the taking, cause the withdrawals will only leave you nauseous and shaking Or even worst it can lead you to a hollow grave, an eternal rest in which you can never escape So take the time we're granted as an advantage for yourself Find who you truly are and travel far to escape that internal Hell Because if you really think about it, this is like a Grand Vacation To ease your pain, and find a way to be saved through Rehabilitation The choice is yours, to spread your wings and soar Smash this disease into nothing, and finally walk through the door.
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Down there in the valley, where the lunatics play parts, until the cinema doors open and the latest movie starts, there's a Mexican with gold bars that are strapped into his trousers, and down among the lunatics are the freemen, rebel rousers, it gets hard to make their features out as the silver screen lights eerily ,with blinkers sat across his eyes he stands alone and wearily, calls to the main assembly, 'I'm waiting for you and I'm here' but no one seems to notice him, as Robert Redford rides a bike, he bites into a burrito, no sense in wasting good food and there's nowhere else that he can go, the gold bars start to melt and yet he's never once felt so alone, he wonders what is wife is at when he's so far away from home. The lunatics are filing through the exit doors and who's to say, if what is madness here and now is going to be madness on another day. The Mexican prepares a feast but no one comes except for me but he's not in the least perturbed, he did it once before and no one came then, so it's no surprise ,when looking in his eyes I see a medal made of bronze for me, a runner up in history, no golden ingots hidden there, just questions and I wonder why he came.
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Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 10:16 AM UTC
Sanchez.
The fountain of nectar still flows along the river of wisdom, way, way beyond when coconut florets have fallen. We dipped our cups and your words have yielded the wines you brewed, mellowed by the years you served head up high, but feet always on the ground, forever resolved, pursued the dreams. Strong in will, but still soft on sides right of your heart. The few defeats only inspired the lady knight in you to fight the battles in life. The armor of the soul shines but you still kept that motherly crown for all of those you cared and loved dearly. Proudly, I met and knew and served and was once a friend of that singular, unforgettable Queen. Our wellspring of thanks will never dry up for all your support and love.
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Jul 24, 2021
Jul 24, 2021 at 9:54 PM UTC
The Great Lil (For Dr Priscilla C. Sanchez, 1936-2021)
There was the backfield tandem of Doc Blanchard and Glenn Davies on several West Point football teams of the UOS. There is that power hitting duo of the modern day Yankees - Gary Sanchez and Aaron Judge. There were those great power hitters of the 70s, I believe, that seemed to come in clusters like Mike Schmidt, Breen Downing, and yes, I believe, John Milner. There was, of course, Ruth and Gehrig that stood out on the 1927 Yankees. There's Hawke Leonard and James Harden, an unsung pair of the San Antonia Spurs and the Houston Rockets, respectively, in pro basketball that stand out. There's Stephan Curry and Kevin Durant, a Mutt and Jeff combination in the Golden State Warriors. There was a couple of gifted first to play on a University of Illinois basketball team African Americans that were tantalizing good at that time - Mannie Jackson and Governor Vaughn. There was those 4 great old time Boston Celtics guards; Bob Cousy, Bill Sharman, K.C. Jones, and Sam Jones. There was Bill Bradley and Dave Debusschere manning the wings of the New York Knickerbockers pro basketball teams of the late sixties, I believe. There was Ron Kissinger and Glenn Becker, the keystone duo on the Chicago Cubs of the sixties, I believe. There was Mainstay, reliable pitcher for the Casey Stengal dynasty teams - Vic Raschi and Allie Reynolds and there were great teamsmen of Vince Lombardi's pro football Green Bay Packers Super Bowl team like Dave Hammer, Forrest Gregg, and Boyd Dowler.
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Aug 23, 2017
Aug 23, 2017 at 3:26 PM UTC
Famous Duos of Special Teams and Clusters of Players that Seem to Stand out in Groups to Me
There was the backfield tandem of Doc Blanchard and Glenn Davies on several West Point football teams of the UOS. There is that power hitting duo of the modern day Yankees - Gary Sanchez and Aaron Judge. There were those great power hitters of the 70s, I believe, that seemed to come in clusters like Mike Schmidt, Breen Downing, and yes, I believe, John Milner. There was, of course, Ruth and Gehrig that stood out on the 1927 Yankees. There's Hawke Leonard and James Harden, an unsung pair of the San Antonia Spurs and the Houston Rockets, respectively, in pro basketball that stand out. There's Stephan Curry and Kevin Durant, a Mutt and Jeff combination in the Golden State Warriors. There was a couple of gifted first to play on a University of Illinois basketball team African Americans that were tantalizing good at that time - Mannie Jackson and Governor Vaughn. There was those 4 great old time Boston Celtics guards; Bob Cousy, Bill Sharman, K.C. Jones, and Sam Jones. There was Bill Bradley and Dave Debusschere manning the wings of the New York Knickerbockers pro basketball teams of the late sixties, I believe. There was Ron Kissinger and Glenn Becker, the keystone duo on the Chicago Cubs of the sixties, I believe. There was Mainstay, reliable pitcher for the Casey Stengal dynasty teams - Vic Raschi and Allie Reynolds and there were great teamsmen of Vince Lombardi's pro football Green Bay Packers Super Bowl team like Dave Hammer, Forrest Gregg, and Boyd Dowler.
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