Live and Let Live

My life is like a quarry, where what’s valuable is dug deep, underneath this thick crust-skin

Those who dare mine the gold in my mind, declare it to be extraordinary

Though most seek the jewels & glory of saying they took what’s good from me

Like a fool I stoop low for letting another abuse me.


For I am the generator of this diamond-like energy

I must have responsibility, to share my love with only those that are worthy.

Now, go out there n tell my story for it’s the only way I’ll keep living

Even when I’ve returned to the essence.


Messages from your Mom

Hey, your moms messaged me asking how everything’s going. Inquiring if I’m up for grabs or taken, if I got kids on the way or ones that are almost speaking. A lot can happen with time and distance once a relationship has been broken to pieces.

Talks with your moms brewed emotions, stronger than Cuban coffee with a dash of Columbian powdered lactose that’s cut with coke. Those three dots erupted a commotion of emotions within my flesh-n-muscle soul-powered locomotive and the gears of my heart grinded thinking of what message is attached to her keystroking. I choke on my own spit as I read what she says. “I miss you everyday and hope we can remain as close friends.” I begin typing away a brief, amicable n sincere rejoinder and before I could reply to her, my cellscreen switches to an incoming call from your mother. I hesitate but answer and quickly initiate to conversate. She did nothing wrong to me and to be honest I miss her loving sympathy. A genuine compassion, unconditional. But it’s making my heart feel trivial…

I hold back my tears and hear her every word, as she tangents off and began to spew of her life and yours. How she feels sorry for what occurred, she hoped my focal-point’s sores are recovered and have not given up on love anymore. I’m torn to bits and burst into an internal fit as I do not admit to her, that my heart is scorned from what her offspring did. I simply tell her, “Everything’s going. It is, what it is.” I keep my talk short and sweet. I’m cordial and respectful but a sensation of a vocal tension arose, after my closing statement “What can we do? You live and you learn.” Your mom said goodbye with tone of rejoice and said, “We’ve missed the sound of your voice…”

I replied in a likewise manner wishing her and what’s hers a bright future.

I now feel like I have closure. I still wish you all nothing but the best.

But it’s time to free my mind and take care of me and mine.

To finally let

my f*cking heart rest.

Do it (circa 2009)

Opening up and being vulnerable is something new for me. I’ve written poetry and other works in secret for longer than I can remember, being afraid to show anyone my joints because I didn’t want people to judge me or whatever. Thanks to family, friends and therapy I’ve built up the courage to finally share my works. This blog is my outlet.

I wrote this (24 June 2009) and didn’t act on what I preached… until now.

Retract the feelings of being attacked. Go in it alone with no drone. See that its possible to conquer the fossilized monster within your mental cavity. Abandon it. You’re strong enough to do it alone. For the longest time you’ve kept your craft in secret. Every draft tossed into the bucket. It’s time to reveal how you truly feel with no remorse give you mental discourse. Later you’ll see how beneficial this can be. Bottled up and aged, only to make one feel strange. Afraid to honestly speak

what’s hiding inside of me. I am a writer. Always have and always will be.

I’ve always kept my mouth shut and allowed the flow to govern my soul. Always attempting to publicly excel in everything else. Still keeping this dirty secret of mine stored for all this time. Insecure of how others would react to how my words enact. But it’s time to speak up, and not stay quiet. For I’ve stayed in the dark for too long. I must reveal how I truly feel. I AM A WRITER.


Time to let my words take flight, hang glide into your minds eye. Show you beauty with my articulated history. From back to front, wipe away the encrusted notion of what you think. Frustrated you’ll be to see how grand I speak.