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!
"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!
He who conquers lust
will conquer
anything else
Man, what powerful words
and what a powerful time
to remember them, think
about them, reflect
It was 11:30 PM
Closing time at the
grocery store
Few jobs are more suitable
for 58-year-olds with no
education than security guard
or that’s what he
used to think
It gives one the possibility to
be alone while still
being surrounded by people
definitely easier than being
at the cash registers
the cash registers were
hell itself
He avoided even thinking about it
so instead he
thought about the
words
"He who conquers lust
will conquer anything else."
words spoken by a teacher
back in the day when the problem of
lust was just
beginning to bud out.
Seventh grade that was. What
a time
At 58 it’s infinitely easier
to defeat lust
than at 14
but he could stand proud
for he’d done it at
14 also
Lust has been conquered back
then just as it was
conquered now
and…
what about the second part of
the saying?
He who conquers lust will conquer
anything else
now where was that
‘anything else’?
Shit…
Outside
in the parking lot
a man said to his kid,
"I said you could get anything,
but not everything."
Fools
both of them
the store had just
closed
Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "he who conquers lust"!
Check it out HERE!
Thank you!
I believe he was in his
mid thirties
lived with this one-eyed
gray cat
that always sat on his lap
while he
played video games
"You should try Diablo 3," he
once told me.
"Playing that game feels like
gambling.
You never know what item's gonna
drop and it just gives you
that sweet dopamine release when it
does.
New season starts the day after tomorrow."
I declined
Told him that I had no time for
video games
for I had a job and whatnot
(didn't go so far as to tell him
that I write in my spare time)
I know that he was
married some time ago
but it was all neighbor talk
If I am to believe the neighbors
then I'm to believe that
he was married to his
high school teacher
She taught English
and I guess somehow fell
in love with her student
There wasn't that much of an
age difference between
them. I'm guessing somewhere
between nine and fifteen years
But where we're from
the problem is not that
some adult seduced her underage
student into becoming her lover
the problem is
that she, the adult, was already
married and had two children
the problem is
she had abandoned that
family to be with her
student
And I guess
they were together for
a while
Married as soon as he
came of age
and then lived together
for a few years
and were happy
But her suicide?
I guess I'll never know
Some stories are better
left untold
Anyway
Diablo 3 turned out
to be quite cool
actually
Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "neighbor talk"!
Check it out HERE!
Thank you!
I don't think this is the
worst type but
it's certainly up there
the type that only contacts you
when they need something
from you
such as
to borrow money
or to sell you some
pyramid scheme shit
And it's funny to think that he
was by far the
richest guy in our group
at 23 he already had two apartments
One to live in
and one to rent out
and a pretty decent car
now all he's got is the car
He sleeps in it
and calls from time to time
and asks
"Hey, you ain't got no
girlfriend, right?"
It's not a way for him to flex
or anything
it's just his way of asking
whether or not you'd like to
spend some time
with his girlfriend
for a little
sum
of course
Yes, it has come to this
It's probably the destiny of
all hardcore
gamblers
have wealth
gamble
win or lose
gamble again until
you eventually lose
borrow money
lose the money
borrow again
win some
but lose some more
and so on
until you end up
asking random people if they'd
like to sleep with your
girlfriend for some money
But I guess the bigger mystery
here
is how in the
hell
is she okay with all that...
Seriously
do girls really have something
for gamblers
or is it just luck?
Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "or is it just luck?"!
Check it out HERE!
Thank you!
No color, no sound,
just this grey sky pressing down
on a field that used to be alive
I hate how winter doesn't shout
It just takes and takes
until the world looks like this
My boots sink and the silence follows me,
thick and stubborn
quiet, empty,
and harder to care about
it was a very
nondescript truck
perfectly blended with
the environment
more building than
machine
it hadn't moved in
over eight years
the tires had melted into
the asphalt
and random weeds started
to grow around them
into the thin layer or dirt and
sand
I must've passed by it
thousands, tens of thousands
of times
paid it no mind
until it was
no longer there
Now where the hell was it?
Did the authorities
finally decide to tow it?
And if so
did they know
that truck was somebody's home?
I never learned his
name
but I heard he moved in
there after
the war.
State gave him enough money
to buy a small apartment or
something, but he chose that
old truck
some people are
bums by choice
Walking by
I'd see him in arid summer days
sitting behind the wheel
windows rolled down
a stumpy cigarette between his lips
a small chapbook in his hand
Never got to see the title
but I do recall
the image on the cover
't was a burning tree with one
shadowy, just vaguely human
silhouette hanging from it
He probably wasn't the kind of man
you'd want to
have in your circles
and perhaps his image dirtied
the overall aura of the neighborhood
I don't know
Don't care
All I do know now is that I'll never
get the chance to
walk up to his truck
and ask him what he's reading
and show him that I
too have chapbooks of my
own now
and I too
enjoy dark poetry
Well,
we both
probably enjoy
goodbyes
even more
Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "fellow lover of dark poetry"!
Check it out HERE!
Thank you!
Daydreaming as a profession 