You are there, there,
In my past that is my present.
You are there, there,
In the steps I walked today.
You are there, there,
In all the words perhaps you meant.
You are there, there,
In my days of great dismay.
You are there, there,
In the shadow in the light.
You are there, there,
In the silence of the noise.
You are there, there,
As I remember and sigh.
You are there, there,
In the instants I’m annoyed.
Yes! You are there
Inside my beating drum;
You are there, there,
Even now that I am numb.

(c)copyright 2009

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Aspire not what You are but what You are Not

I like the word aspire, though, until recently I have used it wrongly. Aspire means, to long, aim, or seek ambitiously; be eagerly desirous, especially for something great or of high value. That’s the definition I like. But instead of using it to soar, I used to put myself down, and give myself less credit than I deserve.

I started writing since I was fourteen, although, I never shared what I wrote, until recently. Up to this point in my life I’m an unknown writer, and for many reasons there is a high probability that I will stay that way. To succeed in the arts is extremely difficult due to high competition, and because, well… The arts are a labor of love, for most people.  But that is not an excuse for me to say that I am aspiring something I decided to be long time ago. So, I stopped saying I am an aspiring writer.

You see… I am a writer – not a famous one, but a writer simply because I write, love it, and decided to share what I write.   What I do now is say something along the lines of:  I want to be a published writer, or if I feel like saying aspire, it would be something similar to:  I aspire to be a successful published author.  I decided to give me the credit I deserve, even if some people disagree.

I am a writer, I am a dreamer, I am a dancer, and I am so many other things.  I do have aspirations, though. I aspire to live to old age, I aspire to find a companion for the ride we call life, I aspire to be a better human being every day, and I aspire to not fear failure so much. If any of you feel like me, give yourself credit for what you are, and aspire something more.   Just remember that there is always room for improvement, and that aspirations need action. As long as you are alive there is always room for both.

Picture by: SJU Undergraduate Admissions,

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The Trip

The Trip

The car keeps moving,
Like the hours in the clock.
And then there’s a bump,
It’s the road’s way to mock.
I cannot stop this car
To a destination must arrive.
Up and down like a Sprinter,
That’s ready to take a dive.
Suddenly, smoothness at last.
But nothing is everlasting,
And that’s a proven fact.
So, why do I keep ranting?
I believe I just arrived.
I just finished my ride.
The car soon turned around
As I swiftly grinned and died.
But all the rides continue.
The road gets never fixed.
And all the good passengers
To the handles strongly affix,
Hoping for less pain before the ending hit.

Copyright© 2009

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A Human Being

Before I belong to a country,
Before I belong to a race,
Before I belong to a culture,
Before I belong to a family,
Before I belong to a social stratum,
Before I belong to a religion,
Before I belong to a cause,
Before I belong to a group,
Before and above all,
I am a human being.
Very different from you,
And yet, we are the same.
Let us listen to the wisdom
Shared by many noble souls,
And love our differences,
Or just respect each other.
Let us let each other live.
Let us let death come
At its proper time.

© Copyright 2011

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Lost Right to Dream

As I walked through the street today
I noticed a million and one thing:
A kid at the store crying with dismay
As if he had just lost a precious wing,
A tantrum over a candy he couldn’t have.
Then, I wondered away to another place,
Where things have a different face.
Crying happens over a plate of food,
And kid’s toys are their invention;
Kids know there’s no place to elude,
And poverty is that place’s convention.
They simply lack the right to dream.
They know what the future upholds,
They don’t sit to watch as it unfolds;
They’re out trying to make a dime
For school ends right at sixth grade,
Dreaming is a joke, a waste of time.
Any hopes in the hours of labor fade.
They are the misfortunate wingless birds.
To hold their strength they do not cry,
As dawn awaits birds that cannot fly.

Copyright © 2009

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The Welcome

She lures everyday
Inside the walking men.
She stops just to say
I’ll be here now and then.
She ignores all the pain
Caused by her ill grace.
Men hide from the rain,
As women run the chase.
For men feel the attack
But women all the fear.
Both something may lack,
For she feels welcome here.
Solitude, you must come in;
I’ve told her more than once,
And she will not depart
Unless I let her die.

Copyright © 2008

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The Wind Still Blows South

The need of shoes, and clothing
Are seen in every corner.
The bodies on the circle turning
Proclaimed that there is hunger.
Yet as they held hands
I felt hope in the air.
I stopped as an observer
And left as a believer,
That hope still lingers
For all of these children;
And as they sing and turn and turn
In dirty clothes and worn out soles
They still have hope, I know;
Because they smile and wind blows,
Yes! wind still blows south.

Copyright © 2006

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