Daydreaming and then, maybe, writing a poem about it. And that's my life.
the reason they called
him Jesus
had nothing to do with
his refusal to do drugs
He was far from
being the only homeless guy
who stayed sober
But he was the only one
who owned a donkey
it grazed the weeds around
his tent
and at times carried him
through the park
He didn’t go around
preaching
and that’s what
made everybody love
him more
Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "they called him Jesus"!
Check it out HERE!
Thank you!
Feeling bitter again
he opens the
beer can
stares at it
stares at his
reflection in the
mirror mounted on the
wardrobe door
“Well,” he says with a
sigh. “If I’m lonely it’s
because I’m at
the top. It’s always lonely
at the top.
The winner stands
alone.”
He raises the can
at his own
reflection and
drinks
Thank you!
he sleeps outside
in the grass
or on some park bench
does absolutely nothing
all day
not a thing
other than
existing and breathing
and sitting in silence
If he gets anything to eat
from the mercy of others
he’s grateful
and if not
he’s also grateful
he has no complaints
no family
no friends
no possessions
no wishes
nothing to strive for
nothing to accomplish
nothing to do
all he has is
what the rest of us
are missing
perfect
awareness of the
present moment
bliss
God
Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "all he has is what the rest of us are missing"!
Check it out HERE!
Thank you!
I don't know how many friendships
are forged by
divine intervention
all I know is
that theirs was
definitely one of 'em
I don't even know what
breed that dog
was
It was one of the big, heavy
ones
and it walked in front of the
old guy
without a leash or anything
And the old guy would
call the dog Bo
Bo would turn away the
scoundrels who'd try to
steal the old man's money
and the old man would use
some of that money to buy
Bo some food
Life in the streets was a jungle
for sure
yet somehow very few of those
who were living it
were seeking to escape it
They must know something
"All I know is how to
be alive in the present
moment," said the old man.
"And the rest is details."
Damn...
I couldn't agree more
Neither could Bo
Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "be alive in the present moment"!
Check it out HERE!
Thank you!
the TV was blaring political
crap again
somewhere in the background
always the same fear
inducing story
but she didn't need
the political turmoil in the
country and the world at large
to make her feel afraid
She looked at
Leonardo, her turtle
through the glass of the tank
"Soon enough we'll be evicted.
I've seen homeless people
with dogs and cats and even
birds, but never
a turtle. What the hell am I gonna
do with you, Leo?"
Perched on top of its wet
rock, the turtle
looked at her and not at
her at the same time
There was no fear, no anxiety,
no trouble in its eyes
it simply existed
was alive
It just was
"You're just too dumb
to get it," she said
got up
and went in the other room
to turn off the TV
"You're just too dumb
to get it," she said to her
own reflection in the
black mirror of the TV screen
Right
now back to playing the
electric guitar
in her empty room
lying in bed
drinking the cheapest
whiskey
attempting to play with
herself and failing
because of depression
giving up
drinking some more
eventually falling asleep
One time Leonardo showed up
into her dream
as a guitar with a turtle's
carapace
and it said to her, "Too dumb
to get it?
Hah! Says she who can't even
live in the
now
and constantly tries to
be someone else somewhere else
in another time.
Dumbest shit anyone can do, really."
If only she could've
remembered
that dream
Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "too dumb to get it?"!
Check it out HERE!
Thank you!
"I was raised in a strict
Christian home," he said
as he poured
another glass of whiskey.
"That's why I turned atheist
right after
I left to be
on my own."
"At 18?" I asked
"Nope. At 24."
I liked the guy. He was somewhere in
his late fifties
looking forward to pensioning
worked as janitor
in an office building
and the reason they all
called him crazy was that
he swore
he saw someone in the
women's bathroom
right after closing time
as he went to clean
A female figure standing by
the mirror
she must've been real, he said,
because her presence activated
the sensor lights
in the room
It was a story I've heard
dozens of times
And I don't care how real it is
I believe him
because I want to
I want the story to be
real
Had he not
had a story like that to share
we wouldn't have been
friends today
"Wanna hear my advice?" I
asked him.
And without him saying anything
I went on. "Don't quit.
This job... is perfect. Trust me."
"I don't have much of an
alternative," he said
"Me neither," I said
Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "don’t have much of an alternative"!
Check it out HERE!
Thank you!
Daydreaming as a profession 