Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Michael Chandler Feb 2013
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
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”
Nithin purple Apr 2014
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.
Aknowledgement For My book 'Halycon Wings'
Malaya Sanchez Jul 2015
In a city that never sleeps
At 1am the trains have stopped
But jeepney engines roar
You can see a few dressed in ragged
Shouting, sometimes laughing
Their dark skin burnt
By stinging rays of reality
At most times you will see a few going through
Garbage bags and bins for salvation
Just like how they go through
The bulks and ******* of everyday life
At 1am the most interesting people come out
Friends, lovers on a rendezvous
Waiting in line
Hungry
A 68-year old man
Ready to clean up and opens doors for everybody
A teenage girl sitting
Plain bored and disinterested
Until a much older man comes up
Asked a few questions
Then left together
Kids hitching on maddened wheels
Jump off and ask for alms
Ready to grab whatever catches their attention
Like how they hold on to questions
Which their parents fail to answer
At 1am you will see
Street lights and dark alleys
Stop lights blinking red to green then orange
And back to red again
People cross the streets
Cautious, guarded against shadows
Lurking on the darkest corners of the streets
At 1am you will see
The ****** and the blessed
The ill-fated and the comfortable
Mix up on the streets
You may decide to
Go on watching
Or
Put your cigarette out
And call it a day
But for people alive at 1am
Life goes on
In a city that never sleeps

-Malaya Sanchez
Stu Harley Jun 2013
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
Johnny Hunt Dec 2015
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.
judy smith Apr 2015
After months of preparation — sketching and making patterns, finding and fitting models, cutting and sewing fabrics, arranging makeup and accessories — Cornell University senior Ellen Pyne this weekend will send her fairy-tale themed “Crimson” line down the Cornell Fashion Collective (CFC) runway in a matter of minutes.

Anticipating their moment to shine, Pyne and 35 other student designers have been laboring since last fall to perfect their creations for the 31st CFC runway show, Saturday, April 11, 8 p.m., in Barton Hall. For first-year designers, the event allows them to present a single look on the big stage, whereas seniors like Pyne plan a full collection, hoping it will launch their fashion careers.

“I eat, sleep, go to class and sew,” said Pyne, whose showstopper is a seamless Snow White-inspired dress made entirely out of hand-felted wool. “The collection is a statement of my artistic aesthetic and the culmination of everything I’ve learned over the past four years.”

Working just as diligently are show planners, led by senior CFC president Megan Rodrigues, who are remaking the cavernous Barton Hall field house to host a night of glamour. Since shortly after the curtain closed on last spring’s show, Rodrigues and the CFC executive board have been organizing ticket sales and a heap of other details, including a new runway design will give the expected 2,500 guests a better view of the Cornell student models on the catwalk.

“Through this process, I’ve learned a great deal about leadership, learning to delegate and being able to inspire others to a common goal,” said Rodrigues, who hopes to work in event planning after graduation. “Mostly, I’m excited to see the growth of each designer leading up to the show.”

Designers come largely from the fashion design major in the College of Human Ecology, but students from the College of Engineering and the College of Arts and Sciences will also contribute pieces. A multidisciplinary team will present “Irradiance,” a wearable technology collection that uses sensors and luminescent panels to detect and respond to audio—glowing and dimming in sync with surrounding music. Lead designer and junior Eric Beaudette said that team, which includes Lina Sanchez Botero and Neal Reynolds, doctoral students in fiber science and physics, respectively, hopes to inspire a vision for smart clothing of the future.

In the sesquicentennial spirit, the show will also include a nod to the past. Recalling campus styles dating back to 1865, Denise Green, assistant professor of fiber science and apparel design, will air a short video about an exhibit, “150 Years of Cornell Student Fashion,” currently on display in the Human Ecology Building.

Inspired by art and culture she observed studying abroad in Paris last fall, junior Linnea Fong will present “Infatuated,” luxury evening wear she described as taking on “individual obsession with physical perfection and how that manifests in the fashion industry.” Just days before the show, she’s still modifying parts of her collection, noting that “you just have to figure out how to make your ideas come to life, which is the fun part.”

Concluding the show will be a line by senior Blake Uretsky, recipient of a 2015 Geoffrey Beene National Scholarship from the YMA Fashion Scholarship Fund. Her “Crested Butte” collection of women’s outerwear, a modern twist on vintage 1950s ski clothing, includes “distinctly wearable, yet visually exciting pieces,” she said. Presenting 10 looks, Uretsky’s line incorporates classic silhouettes and wool, corduroy and denim fabrics embellished with laser cuts and other modern techniques.

“Ultimately, I want to design clothes that people love and have a desire to wear,” Uretsky said. “The show will be such a wonderful experience with my family, friends and the Cornell community all supporting my work.”Read more here:marieaustralia.com | www.marieaustralia.com/cocktail-dresses
Erin Aug 2013
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.
August 28, 2013 /itsjusterin
Malaya Sanchez Jul 2015
Mother
I know
Your instincts tell you
How i hurt inside
Though i've never said a word
Nor shed a tear infront of you
And it hurts to imagine
How you find comfort
And sleep in my bed
Whenever i worry you
While i was away
I guess i'm on the hardest
Of all hard days
And the lowest
Of the low
A heartbreak
And uncertainties of what to do
Have been running like rats
In madhouses
Right in my brain
I still haven't mustered
The courage
I never know when
And i know if i tell you
That would break your heart more
I appreciate
How you try to cheer me up
Despite my cranky face all day
How you try to pull me out of my cave
And bring me to places
Though you know
I hate seeing people
And how you try to digress my attention
From buying alcohol
But still buy me anyway
And scolding me when
You found my pack of cigarettes
I wanted to stop mother
I'm working on it
But not now
But this I promise today
For you i won't try
To touch death
Nor even think about it again
There will be days
When I will lock myself in my room
There will be nights
When i will choose to be in solitude
But i promise mother
That i will grow up
That i will grow old
That I will get through this
And one day
I'll be stronger
Like you

-Malaya Sanchez
Malaya Sanchez Jul 2015
A rainy afternoon
Amnesiac was playing
Wishing I would be one when I go back
And I’ve drown myself
In Bukowski’s soul
Just the way I needed it
So I won’t have to
Depend on the sleeping tonic
Lying around the room
Everything was becoming peaceful
Swimming in tabula rasa that give me hope
Arms becoming numb
Eyes starting to shut
Just the way I want to
Then someone from the gates of hell
Decided to pull me out of it
“Malaya! Malaya! Are you going out?”
The most nonsense question
To my utmost annoyance i almost flipped everything
But composed myself
And replied “no!!!”
**** this ****
Solitude is my bestfriend
But he was not here
When I needed him most

-Malaya Sanchez
Katie Robinson Jun 2014
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.
Malaya Sanchez Jul 2015
I saw a child roaming around forest
With her long black flowing hair
Dressed in white tunic
Then she reached a cemetery
Which was made of stained glass
With dug holes but no bodies
And then I just saw her there
Walking around
I knew it wasn’t me
But somebody else
Then i woke up
I was a man who was labelled crazy
And had to see this shrink
Who was sitting on her desk in the same forest
I convinced her to give me some colored pens
Because the stained glass was too beautiful to ignore
And it surrounded the pale child in a white tunic
But she told me that can’t be
Instead she gave me a piece of “chocolate”
Which turned out into a pen
And then i woke up

-Malaya Sanchez
Malaya Sanchez Jul 2015
It has been quite difficult to look at those eyes
Demented with indifference
Laced with contempt
Days and nights
Of silence
Aching muscles
Bruised arms
And swollen eyes
**** me inside slowly
Day by day
Hoping death is a little bit better
How to keep a struggling smile
How to keep a facade of a phantom happiness
And easily tear up
At the slightest touch
And look at those pitied eyes around
Which i never want to see
And to reply to questions
Which I’m so tired to answer

-Malaya Sanchez
allison Jul 2014
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
Malaya Sanchez Jul 2015
I kept on fighting
For my limbs
For my arms
And my heart
I kept on fighting
Because i need them
Just not to function
But to live fully
I keep on fighting
I see them lurking around
The walls
The streets
Even under your cousin's pillow
And under our bed
I am afraid
I admit
I am afraid
Of losing
I am afraid that you might see me
Not needed anymore
If you decide
To feed me to the wolves
Following us around
With their teeth bare
And those gazing eyes
One day you told me
That my grip is too binding
And you want to be free
I had no choice
But to give you
All the freedom of the earth
And suddenly one day
You came rushing to me
Cursing
Cursing
And cursing
And went away
And one day
My limbs
My arms
And my heart
Were no longer there
Hallucinations of nostalgia
I was fed to the wolves
And you went away with them
At such an ungodly hour
I prayed that the universe would save me
For i am left bare with my soul

-Malaya Sanchez
Malaya Sanchez Jul 2015
I watched how she walks through the pavement
With her chin up and shoulders straight
I watched her dainty hair being blown by the wind
And how she sit and light her smoke
I watched how she see through the horizon
I watched how she cringes by the wind
I watched how she walks
And enter a house with a cat that doesn’t talk
I watched how she makes dinner
I watched how she stares at it
I watched how she flicks through tv channels
With no interest whatsoever
I watched her light another pack
I watched how she amuses herself with the dissolving smoke
I watched how she silently carresses the cat
And scratches his head, the cat likes that
I watched how she decides to go to bed
I watched how she looks into nothing
I watched how she cries more
And love less
Think more
And sleep less
Wallow more
And eat less
Die more
And live less
I just watched her
And couldn’t save her
Then I realized
I was her

-Malaya Sanchez
Karijinbba Oct 2020
More often than not
one is fated to continue loving
a lost great love misunderstood
as regrets teaching self love
expanding to others
is healthier to living
then surviving in daily
worthless pain that hating is.

I wanted to know true love
in this life time.
To meet great wise souls,
but mostly haters came to me as
stranglers boa constructors
mendicants greedy blood
hungry Alien moths
attracted mostly to my light.

Snakes slidered around
my tini cradle in my parents
forestlands, one bit my leg!
Through life, it was the most benevolent of my attackers!
My uncle's malignant
child predator his jealous
viper wife Roselia was as evil
marriage to my spoiling paternal uncle didn't change her ways.
.
Roselia murdered my two baby brothers David Sanchez and half brother blue eyed Antonio Chavez G.
She devil left me
internally bleeding dying requiring surgery to save my life
.
I ran away at age seven
surviving that ugly predator
in her jealous rage towards my
naive un-protective ignorant
unfit widow mother!
Later on, running from this nightmare two human predators
fathered my three precious kids
Jealous Greek Medeas tortured
my newborn babes in Calamata and Athens Charalambos
(haralobo) Kiriaki and her family
poisoned us three for years and
a lifetime trashed me to those who were deafly jealous of me in USA.
Henry R, W remained
a Charles Manson advocate in CA
he is and his evil sister Liz his sterile ex-girlfriend all high on ******* almost turned me into Sharon Tate!
trashing me for being an RH -O-
Back in 1983 to steal my children and sell them for ******* dues to whom ever bailed them out
a hate crime against me a Mexican born a Mom struggling to stay alife all alone beautiful in and out purple heart Mom;
an immigrant running for my life saving whatever the vipers left of my 3 baby girls and myself!
I couldn't find a single friend in USA
My Josie-Rosie my sassy, required surgery on her sternum chest
to save her life.
We are hated for surviving them all
foes ditching their death dice each time they tried stocking me and baby girls everywhere we went.
Elizabeth W G even bought me a fraudulent life insurance sold my medical records to thugs in the medical LA care fields
in LA CA USA hating me
for succeeding in all they have failed.
For my heart, my perseverance!
for my lovev to my children.

I was so battered myself I feared going public but my silence allowed enemies to return to trash me to my kids and harm them some more I couldn't save them they were assimilated drugged compromised and blackmailed.

I have not seen my grown kids in eons
just to not to spike the demented jealousy in those thugs
they now call friends enemies
who took my place in their life.
the witch hunt must end
for God is stronger then evil doers.
That deadly enemy used drugs to lure my 2 sons in law trashing me
  to them too beyond repair.

They think they won but God's justice shall prevail to avenge some justice
for me and my blindsided children
whom I birthed adored raised schooled my gifted high IQ'd kids.
I saved their life a million times
my motherly rights shall resume.
as God is my witness
evil just can't prevail forever.

True love divine found me too.
in all areas of life that may matter
the all wholly good ways.
That unforgettable true love
had left me behind shredded.
alone misunderstood;
Afterwards misery and pain
was all I found as you read above.
but my heart of gold knows how to love no scorn in me hides only love.
Is it better to have love and lost?
This purple heart Mom knows
what true love is though.

What to be in love is like,
when a special human being
fell in love with me too.
When my children deep down understand we are all victims of same evil enemies
my kids love themselves and me their good life saving caring heroic Mom.
deep down, my children adore me Angel Mom, remembered well.
their Mexican-American Mestizo French mix Mom pride and joy
Mexican lives matter too!

I am glad I was your Mother
(my lala, my sassy, my coco)
Patricia Angela, Josephine Rose,
Michelle J San-Gutier.
I am giving you three new names
for good luck, new beginning!
kiss my grandkids for me
their true maternal grandma.
with much much love.

And to me all, all this,
it made all the difference.
sigh..
~~~~~~~~
By:Karijinbba
Copy Rights
2020
To the loves of my life my grown daughters my grandkids and my first
and last love JPCRk
as for my unprovoked jealous enemies.
My children and grandkids belong to my heart to God not to you snakes in our paradise!
we aren't dogs nor cats not for sale!
your evil deeds are destroyed with truth.
Charalambos haralobo serial killer human trafficking predator: Kiriaki Mantalozis, Elizabeth W G Henry R W
Arthur and Susan W. Raitano
chikd tiryurer Judy A
you are trash thieves human ptedators racist biggots
human trafficants with agendas
sociopaths I give you all ten traits of narcissist personality. I didn't make you sterile you were born that way God is wise in who to make a Mother and who not to but the devil births and feeds thugs like yourselves
to steal treasures and feel important because without victimizing innocents you have no life at all.
As God is my witness you all shall rip what bitterness you inflicted unprovoked..
Jun Lit Jul 2021
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.
Dedicated to the memory of Dr. Priscilla Chinte Sanchez (July 8, 1936-July 16, 2021), renowned food microbiologist, University of the Philippines Los Baños
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.
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
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.
NOT FINISHED
Jimmy Desire Jul 2014
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.
Thanks For Reading!
Charles Sturies Mar 2017
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 . . .
Matthew Sanchez Sep 2019
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.
To the addicts still struggling out there, just know that it's not over for you. Everyday is a new day to start over with a better life, just gotta make that first step, and you gotta really want to overcome the disease of addiction. God Bless to the ones in recovery and to the addicts still out there struggling.
bluevelvet May 2017
There's beauty in all of her.
In the way she
throws her head back,
covers the half moon her
uneven lips creat.
In the way she
cries some nights,
dies a little more in others,
just to wake up and make
everyone laugh and to
make them feel wanted.
In the way she
has curves that illuminate
in time and possibility.

She craves warm hands,
cold glances cursing
her very existence.
She craves neck kisses,
tummy tickles by hands
that are long gone.
She craves to be
a final, golden chapter
in a book void
of any mistakes.
There's beauty in that too.

She yearns to be free,
a childlike innocence
in the depths of
hills and meadows
in her fickle mind.
Another beauty passing eyes
never dare find.
There's beauty in everyone. No matter who you were or who you are now, you are beautiful and deserve the best any life could bring.
DElizabeth Sep 2023
S I D E      A :
"august"                          : flipturn
"all i want"                     : kodaline
"picture perfect"            : joli
"apocalypse"                  : cigarettes after ***
"the funeral"                  : band of horses
"all too well (10 min.)"    : taylor swift
"strawberries"                : caamp
"anchor"                         : novo amor
"embody me"                 : novo amor
"because of you"           : stephen sanchez

S I D E      B :
"sleep on the floor"                               : the lumineers
"brightside"                                         ­ : the lumineers
"iris"                                               ­       : the goo goo dolls
"flightless bird, american mouth"       : iron & wine
"wake me"                                             : bleachers
"i choose you"                                       : adam melchor
"until i found you"                               : stephen sanchez
"real love baby"                                    : father john misty
"more"                                                   : between friends
gold

— The End —