if all of earth's creatures were blind,
would color still exist?

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.

when she cries, it rains
when she angers, it thunders
when she laughs, it shines

the brush of rothko,
caresses the white canvas—
harmonious blend.

eyes cerulean,
hair gold-burnished, scarlet-streaked,
never to be mine.

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.

when sky dons
her sloe-sable sheath,
and gone ‘s
the luciferian vestige,

and hour
bids the tired
sleep,
and comes
forth
the gentle
breeze,

then come to me
my pallid queen,
come be with me
luna’s realm ‘neath

Sky dons her ebon fleece,
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?

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

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 won't happen,
It just won't happen
I wish we would never meet
But here we are again,
Here we are again

No more is sky's ebon fleece,
Cold dawn in Autumn streets,
Another night where I
Didn't sleep at all

And then we awayed
Upon the parting of day,
To the brook we went.

And Caesar then wept
Before the feet of Alex,
Vast was his domain.

let us build bridges,
not borders

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?

cual dicen los sabios
la muerte es la que triunfa,
todo sigue su curso
hasta que volvamos
a la tierra, hasta que
seamos una mera memoria.

the cambrian seas
are calm this mid-summer eve,
and shimmer the stars.

no
le
temas
a
la
muerte,
que,
a
la
postre,
por
todos
viene

Soy lo que soy, supongo.
Lo cotidiano, lo mundano,
Acompañante de lo solitario.
De las goces de la juventud,
Privado, e la mancha de los años
Se muestra en el gesto.  

Que poco es el tiempo
Que me queda acepto.
E olvidado seré tras mi sepulcro.

Mas ¿acaso me aguarda algo
Luego de mi entierro
Amén de la tierra e
El son de los gusanos?

Solo se sabrá esto
Cuándo llegue el momento.

Do not seek out gratuitous wealth,
For you may miss the beauty 'round.
Do not wish harm unto those who wrong,
For of their toils and burden you may know naught.

Do not entertain envious thought,
For you will surely come to dwell on what you are without.
Do not curse your hair, your skin, your visage,
For you will only grow wont to see defects where none exist.  

Do not concede 'fore the onerous occasion,
For stronger you will become thro' life's tribulations.
Do not speak ill of stranger or of kin,
For vile words are but the seeds whence sprout vile actions.

Do not oft bid guidance of emotion,
For you may oft be guided amiss.
Do not feign a wise complexion,
For the wise will note your dearth of true wisdom.

i touch
the
blossom
hallowed,
sired by
the
spring,

to
one day
leese
its
vernal
fleece
of
verdant
and rosy
tones.

i hark
the gay
canticle,
conjured
by
the
winds,

so
splendid
in
form,
i its
parting
will mourn,
when the
winds do
cease
to blow.

i watch
the
placid
heavens,
kissed by
dawn’s
timid
glow,

soon to
retire,
for nigh
are the
showers,
the skies
ember-colored,
the calid
rays of jove.

i smell
the scent
sweetest,
borne of
earth perfumed,

though, i
bid the scent
stay,
in time
‘twill away,
and
its passing
will i
bemoan.

i taste
the fruit
succulent,
plucked of
the berry-laden
boughs,

yes, these
too await
the advent
of fate,
o wretched fate —
life’s and
beauty’s
foe.

yes, words
have power

but only
as much
power

as you
give unto
them

it is often
said by many
that failure needs
a scapegoat

En vano, escribimos.
Oh las letras del poeta
Son meras palabras
Si no captan el alma
Ni crean la vida.
Ver cómo relumbran
Los cielos dorados;
Cómo florecen las rosas
En pleno verano;
Cómo emanan la juventud
Tu carne y cabello;
En los versos
Merecen ser relatados.
Por tanto, Musas les ruego
Que me den la fuerza
Y la inspiración
Para anotar sus Estrofas.
Que su divinidad dentro de mí viva.
Que mis coros canten su grandeza.
Que sus espiritus florezcan a través de mis odas.
Mi pluma, la luz será
La que ilumina las tinieblas,
La que trae la viveza.
E cuando conozco
Mi morada eterna.
La tierra ojalá no entierre mis obras
Solo lo que mi cuerpo
Una vez era.

Ojalá con gallardía
Encarar pudiera
Mis temores que marchitan
Los primores de la vida,
Mas mientras del árbol
De la juventud
Todos gozan de sus frutas,
Quedo impotente yo
Ante sus mudanzas.
Ah condenado estoy
A verlas madurar
Hasta que de la rama
Se desprendan y a la tierra
Se caigan.

To sing the victor's song
'Fore victory's dawn,
Is only the first loss
Of many to come.

perfection must be
the fastest runner
because nobody,
nobody

has ever caught
it

the day is fleeting,
so why not seize it?

you might not
get the chance
tomorrow

I may never meet you in person...
I may never know your name...
I may never hear your voice...
But that does not mean that I am incapable of understanding your pain.

This is not my teaching, but I must share it:

Imagine your trauma is but a glass of water.
You pick up this glass and
Hold it in front of you.
A minute passes.
Is the glass of water heavy?
No, and that is normal.
An hour passes, and your arm
Begins to hurt.
Three hours pass, and
It becomes almost unbearable
To hold the glass up.
The longer you hold on to the glass,
The heavier it seems to become.
Yet, the amount of water remains the same.
It is normal for the glass to not
Feel heavy at first,
Just as it is normal
To think back
On past traumas
From time to time.
But the longer you
Hold on to these memories,
And the more you think of them
The heavier they seem to become.

The longer you hold on to something,
The heavier it will feel.
Just like the glass of water.

A dream, a dream, bound by lucidity!
Environs bedight with beauteous things--
Th’ verdant leaves, founts, and springs;
Th’ robins embosomed by ebon trees.
And sing, they sing! Mid this august dream
So hearken I th’ avian euphony.
And th’ melody of th’ azure seas
Th’ seas, th’ seas that lie abreast th’ sylvan dwelling
As the aureus eye above clothes th’ nature ‘neath.
Yon roses vermillion, and meadows green,
Th' gilded skies, and th' hawthorns’ blossoming,
Th’ novel life that sprouts of minute seed,
Th’ boughs whither pend th’ gossamer berries.
All by dint of Apollo’s waxing.
And as morn’s hour betokens departure of sleep
Will I enjoy what remains of oneiric state, ere farewell ‘t bids me.
O rejoice, rejoice! Doth abound such felicity mid this ethereal dream.

The man of Keos once penned—
Poema pictura loquens,
Pictura poema silens.
Thus, will the quill be my brush;
The page, my canvas;
My words, the sundry hues.
O a picture of mute verse
Will I produce!

The seas may be calm now,
Though, grow not complacent,
For the swell is sure to come.

no matter what you look like,
where you come from,
or what you believe in...

there will always be a
community out there
that accepts you
for who you are.

if i could
give one piece
of advice

it would be
to learn from
the past,
not live in it

Oh great Enkidu, as you lay upon the arid earth
To never arise of lifeless state, may the peoples of grand Uruk
Forget not your complexion heroic, nor nature intrepid
When faced with perilous forthcoming.

So recall I your conjuring at the behest of my subjects;
At the mercy of Anu and Aruru, the great gods of creation.
But a feral beast were you then upon your conception,
One who roamed, and hunted, and dwelled amongst savage brethren.

Stranger to the vices that so consume humankind.
Nature ****** was your dwelling till appeared the beauteous Shamhat.
By her features so enraptured, her nigh perfection, that unto her you conceded,
And in time renounced your erstwhile beastly ways.

And became a mighty man, who abandoned me not when I took to slay Humbaba—
Ogrish beast entrusted by Enlil to safeguard the cedar forest—
Enkidu, ***** fierce yet wise, how you solaced me as I woke many days
And shared the dolorous dreams I had received.

Fearful had I grown of Humbaba, of the wrath of Enlil,
Though your patience and guidance inspired in me the strength
To renounce not my true ambitions.
O divers gods of Sumer

Wherefore the Death of my beloved companion?
Perchance, ‘tis the ire engendered by the felling of Humbaba and the Bull of Heaven?
Tho, for many days I weeped and wandered the varied land,
Hither, do I now stand with a message to impart.

Aye, the path that lay ‘fore us will oft be creviced and cragged,
Our foes await ahead, arms in hand, in hopes that we regress,
Yet we, the valiant, will fall not to their attacks
Nor let difficult terrain impede our advance.

Yea, Enkidu, departed gallant,
Bestow your wisdom and courage upon all!
For with these our city will forever stand tall.

Oh fields teeming with verdant hue,
Skies of azure complexion,
Why can I not enjoy your presence?
Despite the beauty before me
Am I obliged to meditate
On carnal pleasures—
Such banal musings!

O thee, dew vernal!
Nascent is thy form at dawn,
My aqueous muse.

Where th' water 's not opposed, th' water flows.
Where understanding 's opaque, frustration grows.
Where ignorance resides, hatred shares its abode.
Where dishonesty respites, malice lies too.

Where th' voice remains unheard, what good are their words?
Where th' voice remains unchallenged, what 's e'er learned?
Where force triumphs o'er fact, 'tis truth that falls first.
Where truth no longer thrives, falsity 's th' victor.

Where fear supplants courage, nigh are th' darkest days.
Where justice wilts and withers, 'tis th' innocent that pay.
Where vengeance wins th' mind and heart, with haste peace decays.
Where peace 's fated to perish, th' stench of war pervades.

Thus, reader, let 't be you who heeds this writ;
Who remedies the world's defects;
Who restores Good where Good 's spent;
Who bears th' light to illume th' darkness;

Who brings change where change 's due.

it's the small victories
that can mean
the most

I thought I would pen a hymn for you,
But now I don't know if I want to.
You used to say that you love me too.
Now we just scream until we’re –
Blue in the face, I hear you
Cursin’ my name under your breath.
And every time that we drink
We say something that we regret.
And I don't know, I don't know
How to get past this.

I can't count all of the lies,
All the times you said goodbye.
To only come back with teary eyes
Say you got no one else in your life.
And I always let you back inside
To mend our woes for a short time.
Then come the fights, the words, the cries
The sayin' "this won't happen twice".
This is what we know, it’s all we know
Will we get past this?

Oh when the morn comes will you be gone?
Tell me now and this’ll all be done.
Then after you, no I won't run
You can fall into another’s –
Arms, yeah find the one who treats you right
Who stays up with you, talks all night.
Who tells you they'll never leave your side
Who feels your joy, your pain, your strife.
Who really knows you, who really knows
And you'll get past this.

I hope you know I don't hate you
I never have, I never will.
Been with you come the rain or wind.
It's something that I do –
Miss, I know you're leavin’ soon
Before the eventide comes ‘round.
Here's farewell to creviced love
I might not see you when dawns the morrow.
But I don't know, yeah I don't know

Oh when the morn comes will you be gone?
Tell me now and this'll all be done.
Then after you, no I won't run
You can fall into another’s –
Arms, yeah find the one who treats you right
Who stays up with you, talks all night.
Who tells you they'll never leave your side
Who feels your joy, your pain, your strife.
Who really knows you, who really knows
And we'll get past this.

it's the new knives
that can open
the old wounds
the easiest

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.

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.

alike are
love and
the rose

if
neglected,
farewell
to
both

Threefold is a man's foolishness
When he denies true love's existence.

Whence cometh my mediocrity?
Shameful is my life.
In verse I so long
To pen my thoughts
On love, nature,
On life’s fragility.
Yet from my heart and mind
Exudeth naught.
Voiceless, museless
Dare I deem myself a poet?
If I am not to write
Then wherefore do I exist?
Just as the captain without bark
Is but a soul bedeviled and lost,
So too is the author without voice
Ne’er to be an author at all.
Though, oft I wonder
Perhaps, senescent are my woes,
And there is many a song
Have I yet to compose.
Only in due course
This will I e’er know.
O till that time is upon me
Ne’er will I cease to ponder
Whence cometh my mediocrity?
Only in due course
This will I e’er know.

beauty is the night----
the solace majestic that warrants
the weary eye----
the muse ethereal to whom is beholden
the creative mind.----
yonder the elden oak
'twixt darkness and moonlight;
the wolves whose cries resound
beneath the ebon skies;
the fauna savage that prowls
with prey in sight.
anon, a gentle rain dawneth
and giveth life unto the earth.
anew, the aqueous offerings!
o how nightly wonders
are but the eidolon of beauty,
the paragon of grandeur.
‘tis oft i roam
the terrain so dark and calm
of jovial mien, allur’d
by the starry plane above.
and think most profoundly
on the coming morrow
when departs dian
upon the arrival of apollo.
thereat awakening the many a soul
of their repose,
and the day’s concomitant joys and woes.
bathing the land in a burnished glow.
tho’ in study will be i
‘mid texts of prose and rhyme.
and with wont eye
mark the passage of time,
till cometh once more
the beauteous night.

When in ken of amorous forthcoming,
And witness bears the heart
To love’s fair presence, doth life
Seem to grow of woes surcease,
And restoréd is joy whither
Joy was once spent.

But if subject to the throes of misfortune,
And love remains afar and elusive,
How the breadth of ire, of scorn, of envy
Befall the erstwhile ardent *****.

So oft I think on future’s givings,
So oft I ponder these undying questions—
Will I come to embrace my king or queen?
Or suffer e’ermore by Cupid’s absence?

The answers, I suppose, Time will bring,
And perhaps, I will find happiness forgotten.
Though, for now here I sit and hark the dove sing
And these verses write that my mood betoken.

O Dreams interred of erstwhile youth
Befallen by th' ills of time's passage.
I, ere a soul of bountiful mirth,
Am now but confined to a crestfallen existence.
And tho' memories remain of ****** Earth
Once I deemed my environs.
Gone now 's the unspoiled nature
And th' merriment of juvenile innocence.
Yet, with each dawn's ascent,
Whether the heavens are marked by ashen or azure,
What remains of felicity 's not spent.
So long as I have thee, my sweet beloved,
Til life's ineluctable end.

I am but one ash of many,
Remnant of a by-gone fire
Quelled by wind.
I am but of body liquescent,
Mid the showers that brings the mighty tempest.
I am but a leaf of divers,
Anon to fall from agéd branch
As Autumn arrives, and the erst warmth retires.
I am but of common nature,
Who has not the beauty nor uniquity
Of Summer’s flowers,
Nor bids the eye inquisitive
Of the wanderer.
Lo! By dint of Winter’s dawn
Alas, I am to wither.
Supplanted by life anew
And forgotten thereafter.

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.

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.