Category: Poems

I’m immersed in what is supposed to be a happy moment. My aunty turning 78 tomorrow, but I’m celebrating it today because I work the next day. Ephemeral, but I try to soak in the moment as something positive, but even as I sit next to her listening to the…

Como han pasado los años… Las casas son Hogares que guardan recuerdos, lagrimas, secretos, alegrías, tristezas… Caminé por cada habitación una última vez para observarlas y recordar. Me quedé parado un ratito más largo en un espacio del hogar, el que más uso le daba por las mañanas y por…

En Corozal andando por un bosque fangoso, Un monumental Ceiba, una Catedral del bambú, Un Viaje lejos en ayuna. Nos desviamos en Villas La Palma, buscando una tía que por años no la visitaba. “¿Te acuerdas de mi?” “Mi niña, ¡que gusto verte!” Yo la conozco por primera vez, Gloria,…

Going down the stairs now, Bukowski in my hand, taking him to my library. It’s bittersweet finishing reading his verse. I want to read some more. It’s the first whole book of poetry I’ve read, and it was great. So, real, unadorned. I place him on top of Today’s Best…

Everyone alive today was young once, they had some dreams and excitement to look forward to, and the promise of an afterlife. But the world feels pretty hopeless now, a general sense of nihilism pervades. Some philosophers talk about or say that just because life has no ultimate meaning, it’s…

At the end of the day, I’m heading up the stairs, stop halfway, gaze at my mother and aunt watching Turkish soap operas again. Maybe I should sit and watch them with them. To be with them, spend time with them. One day they won’t be there anymore, and I’ll…

I wonder how old is that beautiful girl staring back at me as I wait in the parking lot. She’s on the me salvé! propaganda wearing a grey t-shirt and ripped jeans. Her smile is lovely. A lady pulls up next to me, complaining about cramping up on the regular.…

I’m walking again, same old road, Realizing my life ain’t unique or special Nor my experiences. The older folk round here Have already done and seen Many of the things I am now, just as people in the future will be walking in my shoes. “Things take on a repeat,”…

I remember asking my father to beat me as a child when I realized I had it too good, he didn’t because he had enough of his own. Like Bukowski he too learned the meaning of undeserved pain in his early years. I thought I was being humble asking for…

Eleven hard years of fighting to find my place in the world and do something, for nothing. Empty inside, empty all the time. Walking corpse, pathetic, body keeps going for no reason. Used to be excited about life, but then life happened, and I don’t want it no more. I…