Poem #2 My Next


If I had a crystal ball
I can tell where you are
and then I can pass
to you this note
in hopes that it will
find you well enough
as if it was me
searching for you
the Next one
the one who will
put the others to rest
the one who will
pass the test
the one who
finally shows me
that I am not crazy
to give up that beating
muscle that resides
behind my damaged chest bone
that has been cracked open
many times
like an egg against a bowl

the next one
my future woman
that will be everything
I can imagine
that will meet the expectations
without the games
the rolling eyes
and the propensity
to make everything about her
because we would be a partnership

Maybe I know you now
or maybe I don’t
but this poem is for you
all the nights of solitude
sleeping with multiple pillows
just to feel comfortable
will pay off like hitting
the numbers in the Mega Millions
you will be the next winner
 

Poem #1 Replace

I have replaced my pen
with a keyboard
my dell
with a mac
my heart
for a hole
my life
for a stagnant death
my choices
for a thing called fate
A season of change
and I am still the same
with the same issues
running in place on a treadmill
works on the physical
but not on the mental
my presence may be forsaken
but my poems can’t be taken
the keyboard acts like
tiny little “easy buttons”
that act like
control rods
in a nuclear reactor
holding in every
fucking emotion
before I explode
I replace my emotions
with silence
because I simply
can longer release
the odor of that stagnant death
that surrounds my being
that gets held back
like a kid repeating the 4th grade
who never seems to learn
that if you put 2 & 2 together
you better get the same answer
although I often do
addition by subtraction
with my heart
whether it is a letter
or a phone call
saying that I am not good enough
my will is stronger
than any disappointment
than any rejection
because I will replace failure
with success
I will not be known as a have not
or a never will be
i will replace that death with life
that fate to choice
and my holed heart
with a whole heart 

National Poetry Month 2011

It is that time of year again for me. I know that did this last year and I was a bit wet behind the ears because I wasn’t sure I could do 30 poems in 30 days. I struggled with the notion that I was indeed a poet. Fast forward a year later and I realize that I am one. I was nervous because I was not really sure I can produce this type of work because I base everything I do on emotion.

I have discovered many things about myself over the past year. I also realized several different forms of writing and poetry. Haikus are something that I have been toying with and being creative with lately. My creative juices have been some what stifled by recent disappointments, yet my emotional level has been so very high. Anger, sadness, frustration, mixed in with a few moments joy and satisfaction. This is something I want to capture within this month.

I am not sure exactly how I am going to do this, I want to post my poems on my tumblr but I definitely want to post them on here. I think I will just do both because I learned that I have different audiences. As I write this I am only thinking about the feelings inside my chest. It is only April and I feel like it has been a long year.

So once again. Welcome to my heart and my head. It will be a ride for the next 30 days.

Poem #30: Masterpiece

Damn!
every time I see
your body
I want to
outline your
figure with a pencil
trace your curves
on paper
and paint your
features with
a very fine
paint brush

You make me
want to be
a painter
and capture you
forever on canvas
so when we
are both dead and gone
future generations
can see you
the way I see you
a picture of perfection
a masterpiece
that gets better
with age.

A beautiful woman
that transcends
all color and race
it would be
a priceless relic
that would
make the Mona Lisa
pale in comparison
to the work of
you are.

End of the Road

Before I write my last poem of the month, I wanted to talk about my personal growth during this month. I never imagined the places I would have gone when I set this challenge for myself. Going into this month, I had written a total of about 18 poems in my entire life. I am not counting unfinished poems either. So the idea of writing 30 was a little scary considering that those 18 poems were written when I was emotional.

I was very concerned on where I was not only going to get the material from, but where was I going to get the motivation. I am not that depressed person anymore and I certainly didn’t want to walk down the street and write about poems about everything I see. So, I had to dig deep and find something that I was going to write about. I wrote the first 3 poems in one day. After that, it was process that went from barely making it because of work and almost falling into writer’s block. Clearly, this blog suffered as a result. The next 10 poems after that were not all that difficult to write.

By the time I got to Poem #15: Number 42, I was scared. I barely squeaked that one out because I had no idea what to say. It just happened to be Jackie Robinson day and I decided to run with it. Interestingly enough, there was a thought that I was half way there and I was not going to even stop. So I had to spend most of my days looking for some sort of motivation. I thought about how I wanted to do a poem in Spanish. But in order to do that, I needed to write it first. I was still at Poem #12: Intensity when I came up with idea. I had not even wrote it yet, but I knew what it was going to be about. With the struggle of coming up with day to day poems I was also in the process of writing My Butterfly/Mi Mariposa which came out 6 poems later. Once that came out, It was all down hill from there. I actually hit my stride at Poem #21: Manipulator.

There was a point where I woke up one night and I realized that I dreamed about words. Is this what true poets do? I have heard that crazy mathematicians dream about numbers, but I am no where near that level of crazy. The words were flying in the air and I would pick them out like I was popping bubbles. It was crazy. When things like that occur, I know that I have to keep going.

There is another thing that I did not expect, please understand that I am a humble individual, the amount of people that I know and those that I do not know that have encouraged me through this process. It made getting to this point easier. Thanks to those that always encouraged me.

I am not sure how other poets do this. I have read poetry this month too, that I really liked. Some which made me think that I need to do better. I also know that not everyone agrees that poetry should be manufactured in such a way and to that point I will say this… I clearly have a lot of pent up energy and poetry within me. It took me 35 years to tap into something that I should have done when I was in college. I continue to have a story to tell and I will continue to do that.

What I find even funnier is that when I was doubting myself and my ability, I thought to myself that once I get to my last poem, I will take a break and not deal with poetry for awhile. However, the way I feel right now, I think I can write another 30 poems. I have ideas and imagery that continue to form in my head. I had to narrow down what tomorrow’s poem is actually going to be. So I have tons of poems left that I cannot wait to share with the world.

Poem 18: Mi Mariposa (Spanish Version)

Mi mariposa hermosa
cómo deseo
para ver sus alas
Estoy enamorado
con su vuelo
usted vive adentro
de las flores
que crecen de
mi corazón
el ritmo de
sus alas empareje
el golpe de
mi corazón
Mi mariposa
usted es hermosa
de cada manera
su forma
su forma
quiero volar
con usted y compartir
el cielo hasta
que el sol fije
y comparta
claro de luna
hasta que su cansar
de las alas
mi mariposa hermosa
no hay nada que viene
cerca como la observacion
de sus alas
tal vez no soy capaz
de siempre
tiener la aqui
pero te amaré
por siempre

Check here for the English Version

Poem 11: That Man

Only a boy
can look up to
a man
and feel safety
in his presence
only a man
can admit
to a boy
that he is not perfect
and that all men
are not created equal
but encourage the sequel
to do better
than the original
it take that boy
to grow
and see that
this man had
always been right
about love
about life
and everything in between
do as I say
and not as I do
can only be described
as a father
being real to a son
so now I live
to make that boy
be everything
that man wanted
to be
and when I look
into the mirror
I see me

I see him
and I know
I will make it
because he did
and maybe when
I grow up
I can be 

that man

Writing Challenges

I continue to amaze myself. April is always been a busy month for me and I have been able to maintain my poems for the first 6 days. As I write this I have not even started the 7th yet. It is true what they say about never being too old to learn about yourself.  I considered myself a person that can only really do poetry when I was emotional. That has not been the case lately.

Right now the real challenge is managing my normal writing while continuing to do poetry. I want this challenge of course because this puts me to the test. I want to be able to extend myself with my writing to places I have never been. While there are people who get paid to write, it does not make them better or love it any more. I do this for the love of the art and want to hone the skill in case I ever do get paid for this ability.

I will tell you that for those who are not following me regularly, I think you might missing out on some things. I am very impressed with my poetry. I made that commitment to do the 30 Poems in 30 days because I need to really explore if i can in fact be the true literary artist I believe I can be. The first 3 poems came out very quickly and to be honest, I wrote them all in one night. This gave me time to think about Poem #4: My Love Affair. I could not think of any thing to write until I got home and thought about the one thing that I really want in my life right now, which is to return home.

After writing that, Poem 5: I Remember was more of a natural progression since I spent some of my best years in New York City. I just find it interesting constructing these verses based on pure effort and not emotional investment. When I get my emotions involved, I can write a poem in a matter of minutes and have not worry about syntax or rhyme. It just come out just the way I mean it to.

Right now, I am bouncing back between this blog entry and what is Poem #7: Why Men Lie. I am just thinking about all the lies I have told and the reasons. I am also thinking about the men I know and heard about that have done worse things than me. I very much believe there is a connection there and I am trying to explore that.

It seems that I have a very healthy addiction. Lately, I have need to keep my mind occupied with some thing other than my pursuit to leave Syracuse. The job search is not going as well as I would like. I am coming to some conclusions that I cannot express at this time. However, I will take steps to continue to improve the way I represent myself. I am not the type of person to give up and I have set goals that I need to make.

On a good note: tomorrow I completely pay for my trip to the Dominican Republic! I am quite excited!

Poem 1: Blacktino

Teasing Tan
or golden brown
am I talking about my skin
or how I like my maduros
it may be how I describe my mood though
I am black enough
to be black enough
to be called a nigger
to see myself on the news
like I pulled the trigger
yet too black for me
and too black for my identity
because Latino isn’t a race
and brown isn’t a color
I am too dark to be called either
unless you are hiring
then being Latino is welcome
because we are good
at picking tomatoes
cooking your potatoes
installing your plumbing
and that is just the Mexicans
they wont take offense
because I am too black for them
I am a student of life
that was raised Puerto Rican
called my grandma abuelita
and made fun of my father’s pipa
I can give you a history of a people
from the Young Lords to Truillo
but I am too black to be Latino?
not according to the Census
because I exist
outside the lines of
black and white
you might as well call me gray
because gray goes with
white and black
can live on either side
can combine
can intertwine
and can be divine
fluid is this identity of mine
I don’t lie about my afrocentricity
I don’t hide my roots
but my people get the boot
because now we are too black
for Sammy Sosa
skin cream means skin hate
when did it become uncool
to have a Caribbean tan?
when did it become uncool
to eat a platano
but not look like one?
I am Blacktino
Afro Latino
Latinegro
I am all the best parts
of Africa, Latin America, and the Caribbean
I am the all encompassing
culture that is so
deep and dangerous
that blankkkitos make us invisible
unless we play soccer or baseball
I am black enough
to be black enough
to be called a nigger
but too black
to be called Latino.
Go Figure.