The Curse


The Curse


I live my life in between twenty-eight days

when everything I am disappears in a daze

 vicious cycle in the cursed transformation

that makes living my life pure damnation.


Oh how I dread that night of full moon

with silver the only fear I’m not immune

when nothing else would take my life

bullets will not do neither a sharp knife.


But pain I feel in every bone and in my skin

with silver light transforming all within

and howl I must when I feel a call of wild

with every cell into a new life compiled.


Run, I run through woods away from all

escaping the insanity of a need to maul

beating flesh for a sweet taste of blood

while trashing though the grass and mud.


There is no end to this cursed existence

and with every life I take without resistance

I curse myself into another night of hell

hoping for a silver bullet to end the spell.


Once I Go


Once I Go


Once I go, I don’t want to be found

lost won’t be nor alone

a duffle bag of memories hung by my side

in my pockets fear tucked away inside

and regrets, well regrets will keep in hand

“like a seed that has been sown”

but no one to understand.


Once I go, my footprints will disappear

and only dust will remain

for none to follow or none to see

in the distance if I look back to appease

the guilt and pain I leave behind

once I go from looking back I will refrain

for lost won’t be

and in the dark my way will find.



“I have learned that if you must leave a place that you have lived in and loved and where all your yesteryears are buried deep, leave it any way except a slow way, leave it the fastest way you can. Never turn back and never believe that an hour you remember is a better hour because it is dead. Passed years seem safe ones, vanquished ones, while the future lives in a cloud, formidable from a distance.”
Beryl Markham, West with the Night


let go



Memories scratching the surface

“let it go, let it go”

eyes ahead on the road

“take the sight, feel the wind”

When time memories disperses

there is a reason,

dig no deeper until you are ready

“take a break and enjoy the season”

for you hurt so much already.







I said goodbye more times than I said hello

sometimes left behind something

always took with me something.

And I fed the memories

at night before sleep hoping to dream

of what I left behind

and in the morning’s beam

I would dust the memories

and would say hello.

But the holding on couldn’t go forever

so I said goodbye

and in the morning’s beam

never said hello.





Let the loud music fill the room

a rhythmic beat of drums and saxophone

drowning the voices, drowning the voices.

I dance to the beat singing a song

but I can’t dance and I can’t sing

Closing my eyes I let it all sip in

through the open pores of my skin.

It is a good day I presume

finding myself dancing and singing a tune

but I can’t dance and I can’t sing.

Just messing around in a Sunday afternoon while cooking some good rice with chicken and pinto beans.






A stranger touched my heart with just one word

pleading eyes hiding the shame

that hunger makes easy to swallow

making vanity look as hollow

and just absurd.

A stranger is a stranger just the same

but this one made me pause

in the comfort of my day

and let a moment become the judge

for all my shame

that easy hides when I misjudge

a pleading stranger.

A stranger touched my heart and walked away.






Sometimes I feel shorter and smaller with eyes casted down

unable to equally measure the who and what I am,

trapped in the twisted reflection found

on the blurred stained mirrors in my mind.


Sometimes in the company of friends I find

my shortcomings written all over my hands

and I hide from them and pretend to be a man

full of wisdom and pride with a confident mind

while inside I just know no one understands.


Sometimes in the midst of beauty and youth

I feel left behind, unattractive and old

and I cast my eyes down with the pain of my truth

giving up all my hopes, wishes and dreams.


Sometimes, just sometimes life is hard as it seems

but I know deep inside with the knowledge I hold

that the twisted ideas that I sadly behold

are no more than my thoughts

holding on to the extremes.







Once I come to the end of the road

when searching no longer becomes life

and lacking does not reflect absence of love

what do I do with myself?

Wasted time in fruitless search

brief moments of hope hanging above

swimming among stars a wish made

for someone to hold my heart.

But wishes with time fade

within the dying stars an afterlife

of love becomes a memory that breaks apart

with passing years.

Now at the end of the road

I find myself alone by fate

when lacking is no longer and absence of love

but a failure to look inside my own fears

and find within the love I searched for all these years.






Where are you racing to passing me by?

Faster and faster with one destination

you are like shadows and able to fly

while I feel grounded to the very moment

and if I fly once I would do with death

taunting me with irony of self-damnation.

But you race along with a darkest omen

of what may come to be in a final breath.


Late last night I was riding back from Orlando and crossing one of the bridges over Tampa Bay I noticed shadows around. I was the only one on the bridge which has lights all over on tall posts along the railing. I was going very fast and the shadows were formed by the lights above. Multiple shadows mocking by passing faster around me and for a second there I realized that riding my motorcycle was taunting death and if I crashed as such speed it would be the only time in my life I get to fly for a few seconds. Not the best thoughts to have when I’m riding but the entire episode stuck in my mind.





What is poetry but liberated emotions running wild

infusing every word with our deepest dreams

and fantasies alike, we become lovers and kings

travelers across the galaxy and with imperfect rhymes

we seduce beauty and make slaves out of time

living forever and ever with every word compiled.


What is poetry but a moment of clarity in the mind

captured flashes of sanity translated into phrases

forgotten memories that time and pain erases

and return in moments stripped of guilt and shame,

poetry is our passion setting hearts aflame

with our deepest desires in every word entwined.


What is poetry but  a love affair hiding under covers

romance cascading down every line into the stream

of beauty found that softly entice to read and dream.

Poetry are kisses left in between for strangers lips

to taste in every word and gently touch with fingertips

the keys that make us friends, poets and lovers.