Category: poetry

dog, love, poetry

Me & My Dog


I am foregoing “Tid Bit Tuesday” this week because I woke up with a poem in my head that I needed to write. I do not just come up with poetry everyday so the times I feel inspired I just need to write it down. So this is what I got:

Me & My Dog

My Dog would never…
Say “I don’t want you”
or tell me we can never be together

My Dog would never…
would never nag me or
complain that I work too much

My Dog would never…
ignore me and pretend I do not exist
nor would I have to question if I am being missed

My Dog is sad when I leave and happy when I return
I never have to wonder where I stand in the heart
of an animal that just knows what love is

My Dog would never…
be confused or require space
or be hung up on mistakes

My Dog has a very short memory and will not linger in the past
instead will live for the moment, for as long as it can last

My Dog’s love is unconditional and I would never have to worry
about maintaining a friendship
or proving my love

I don’t have to fight for My Dog’s heart, I already have it
when I am lonely I can look over and see
that all My Dog really wants is just me

My Dog appreciates…
my touch, my voice, my playfulness, and my humor
as well as my desire to be needed

I would never have to get defensive because
My Dog would not point out things that I constantly do wrong

My Dog understands…
that I am a man that is not perfect
that my indecisiveness is based on need to make a better choice

My Dog understands…
that at the end of the day all I want is hug
and to feel that I am important

Right now, the only thing
I need is the only thing
that loves me

So for now…it is just Me and My Dog

poetry

Poem: Facet of Me

In my quest to shake off the bad vibes of last month, I decided to post this poem that I wrote a few years ago. This is a different type of poem you may expect from me, but hey, I am a man…

She engulfs my presence
Runs shivers through my essence
Her movements are so calculated
Her actions have so demonstrated
That her intent is to explore every facet of me

Once she makes me feel warm,
Words become hard to form
I close my eyes so I can dream
About how this should never end
But her intent is to explore deeper the very facet of me

Her eyes are fixed on every expression
Everything she has done is right with no exception
I try to push back my excitement because I know
As well as she does where this will go
But her intent is to consume every facet of me

She takes over with complete control
Ready to take my body as a whole
My manhood loves when she goes down this road
And is waiting for her to break the mold
Her intent is devour the very facet of me

She takes me on roller coaster with every turn
Up and down, side to side, each move I yearn
For a bigger plunge and a faster spin
I try to hold out, but this a game she will win
Her intent is to dominate the facet of me

My excitement kills the hush
As I explode with such a rush
Intent quickly become reality
Revealed to her is the inner man she can see
She has taken the very facet of me

dog, New York Mets, poetry, work

Struggling to Focus

I should have a problem focusing about what to write about. But, of course I am. Why you may ask? Several different reasons…

I brought work home tonight. My boss decides to tell me in the late afternoon that she needs a report by tomorrow. This report usually takes me several days to complete. So I am trying my hardest to make sure I get this done tonight. Which is the problem with being so damn good at what you do…no one else can do it.

I just watched the Mets fall apart. Good Lord. It takes me more than just a few minutes to cool down when they lose so badly. Let me just go on the record and say that I would rather they get blown out in games. This way I can just not be too into the game. Losing close games makes me want to… I am good. I am over it.

My poor dog. His eyes are not doing well. I think the other cataract popped. He looks bad in my opinion, but god bless that dog, he just rolls with it. What I do not get is that despite his eye issues, he is eating now! Which is something he was not doing before. We continue to give him his drops and he does not seem in pain. He is running around (although bumping into shit).

Then there is the fact that I have a cough that will not go away. I have been living on DayQuil for the last few days. I would take NyQuil…but last time I did that, I had issues waking up and staying up. So, i am trying to feel better.

Anyway…I did mention in my last post that I wrote other poems. I did post one on Myspace and I did archive it on this blog. Just in case any of you wanted to read it…

poetry, wrong

Wrong

Today I was reading Serena’s Blog, Divine Wryte Creations, today and I did not know that it is National Poetry Month. So I have dug into the vault and pulled out a poem. Let me just say that I have written a total of 5 poems in my life (currently, working on 6). I only write them when the mood hits me. Clearly they do not hit that often. I wrote this poem 2 years ago…

Wrong
That is always how I get things
Wrong
I always win arguments
Wrong
Ok fine, I win some of them
Wrong
Well, at least I do my job right
Wrong
Damn, I do somethings right…
Wrong
Well damn this is how it is
When all I want to do is just live
My life the right way, there is always
Someone there to tell a man that he is
WRONG
DEAD WRONG
My mother thinks I am
Wrong
Shit, my wife thinks I am
Wrong
My Boss thinks I am
Wrong
So how do I make it right?
Do I need to just shut the fuck up?
Do I pretend my opinions don’t matter?
Because we all know if I tell
Them that I feel my voice means nothing
They will all get together and tell me
That I am
Wrong
So tell me what is a man to do?
I have friends who have given up
Their nuts to the women they are with
Their balls lay in a pouch that sits on
The bedroom mantle that has a sign that
Says “FOR RENT”
So when they need then on a rainy day
Or perhaps when an intruder comes into
The house, the balls can be inserted back
In and maybe for the split second he can become
Wrong (again)
You see it is not very hard to look back
And see how wrong I have been
I was born wrong
I was born with the wrong skin
I was born with the wrong sin
I grew up with the wrong hair
Lived in the wrong city, the wrong neighborhood
Spoke the wrong language
Ate the wrong foods
Rooted for the wrong team
Chose the wrong parent
Chose the wrong president
So why do I fight?
Maybe, for that one chance to be right?
WRONG.
I fight because no one else will fight for me
Because no woman will understand
How hard it is for a man
Of color to live in world dominated
By people telling him he is
Wrong
All the time because he cannot be right
All the time because he cannot be white
All the time because he cannot fight
The fact he will always be viewed
As insecure, when in reality he never
Had the choice to be secure when he is always
WRONG.

poetry

I Have Poetry On My Mind…

{Originally Posted on Myspace}

Ok, first I have to say that this is new to me. I am not saying that I have never written poetry, but I am pretty sure that I have not been inspired like this before. So why did I write this Poem? Well, I will blame it on Hebrew Mamita & Nyathera (both on my friend’s list). I will tell you. This sucker just poured out of me. I do consider myself a writer, but never a poet. Well anyway here it is:

I have poetry on my mind.
inspiration is just a sign
of how things are changing within
me, are so many different emotions
and feelings that I cannot always express,
like a train that goes from parkchester to 125th
I look out the window and I see my life passing by
like rooftops in the Bronx when I am on the 6
I let the pen flow
or keyboard know
how my fingers flow
I just cannot stop because
I have poetry on my mind

I have Poetry on my mind
inspiration is just a sign
that I can love life and the little things
like goya products and chicken wings
like maduros and Corona
like The Mets in the summer
like getting laid after being drunk
the list goes on and on
like the lies of an American President
who refuse to see
how like you and me
we are all the same
from people from New Orleans
to the abandoned Lebonese
but, it is those little things that can make angry
I have poetry on my mind

I have Poetry on my mind
inspiration is just a sign
that I love my people
no matter how late
no matter how ignorant
no matter how homophobic
no matter how prejudiced
I love my people
even if you never see
someone dark like me
on TV
like 47 or 41
Telemundo or Univision
I love mi gente
but I am not blind
I have Poetry on my mind

When I read it to my wife, i realized how short it is. But oh well.