My Poems... My Thoughts...

...de mis notas (Aforismo)

2010-11-05T16:44:00.000-07:00

Los aforismos no cambian la realidad. Las determinadas reflexiones innovan la realidad.

from my notes:

2010-11-05T16:33:00.000-07:00

La desnudez ante el espejo habla de inaccesibles reflexiones.

I Came from a Faraway Land...

2010-10-26T20:50:00.000-07:00

I Came from a Faraway Land…

I came from a faraway land

Where the clouds smiled at me

And with clear sweet rains

Filled my hands

With plentiful goods to eat.

Where I was born to be a fearless warrior

A prince or a King.

Where colorful birds filled the skies

With a rainbow of feathers...

And the mountain tops touched the skies

Making a bridge to the heavens.

Where beautiful animals roamed wild, ran free

And I was a happy and a brave man

Who had not known to be on his knees.

One dreadful day

From out of our waters

Out came the white men

All dressed up in armor

With long reaching blades…

Lots of shine, much clatter and lots of fanfare.

These men, like out of nowhere

Came spreading, tossing and flinging

Their seed of greed

And with their ploys, lies and their promises

Killed… maimed, raped and chained

Harvesting from the fear

For that was their creed.

And they hunted incessantly for glares…

And set our villages and homes on fire

…while calling themselves our saviors.

And in the name of their god

And of a cross…

They became our hunters and traders.

Warriors, princes and Kings

Where soon on their knees…

They put us on chains…forever in shame…

And took us across the oceans

Tossing lifeless bodies overboard

To at the end of the voyage

Crown the survivors

With a disgraceful crown of chains of steel

And we then became

Their slaves for hundreds of years…

III

With the shameful tackles on our legs and necks

We were sold to the highest bidders

And America became our home

As we had just become the “Niggers”

Some of the buyers were prominent

And respectable men…

The likes of the Washington’s, the Adam’s

And Jefferson’s

Names we grew up to respect and fear!

Our families were separated, unjustly broken

Our wife’s and children maimed and raped

Once again!

Our will’s were bent, but never―broken

And they stripped us of our creed

And all of our human needs.

Our hands and necks were bound so tightly

The southern soils of America

Became red from our blood

And as they led us into the thorny fields

They chained our wills… Tore our flesh…

They killed, raped and sold our skins

Again... again and again!

We fought and lost and won some battles

Till ultimately we succeeded in a war…

Then, on the eve of our victory

While hiding their bodies behind their cross

They wore the cotton gins

And with their hooded faces…

They set the skies far and wide afire…

And trees bloomed stringed wilted flowers

While the huge lanterns of fires

Illuminated the hanging and mutilated bodies

At the end of taught ropes

From which

Sadly hung African-American

Men

Women

Children

And the sick, and the old…

While all along, our master’s

Our self proclaimed gods…

The powerful, respectable and forceful

Proclaimed themselves supreme!

They tore our flesh, our souls

They stretched the ropes to extremes

As we took to their god in desperation…

And we made Him real…

And cried our pain…

And we sang to Him!

And we praised Him!

And took Him in our hearts!

Let’s not forget…

But let us not think revenge

For the offense on His children

God will avenge!

On the false gods His vengeance

Will be so much sublime…

But let us never forget

Why the southern soils of America

Became so beautifully red!

Blooms of the Seasons

2010-10-25T22:54:00.000-07:00

Blooms of the Seasons

Looking at the echoes

From the murky bed of a mirror

I see the seared springs

And the blistered summers

And the vivacious downpour

Of my remaining years

Hovering to fall

Beneath the ice

And I want to scream

Screech and reach the light

And shatter the boom…

And make some sense

Of the unseasoned pains

Before I finally die!

BREAKIN NEWS! Science Finds New Uses for Lemons

2010-10-24T19:03:00.000-07:00

To pad your bra and make men drool all over themselves like fools!

HAIKU #27

2010-10-24T16:43:00.000-07:00

(To my Cousin Arnold)

~ * ~

Vivacious downpour

Like vibrant butterflies

Hovering to fall

~ * ~

A true Haiku f or you, hoping to make you smile!

Was Archie Bunker the Anti-Christ?

2010-10-22T17:51:00.000-07:00

Archie Bunker was funny and was bold. He introduced to the American public the face of bigotry long hidden behind walls. Archiebald Bunker made us all laugh at a time when America was crying for a laugh…although very much in denial.

Bill O’Reilly is NOT funny, Bill is a bigot. He’s extremist and a very ill and hateful individual. Bill O’Reilly is NOT Archie Bunker and unlike “Archie,” Bill has nothing new to teach or lend our society, but his hatred. Bill O’Reilly is not any better than the terrorists who brought down the icons of our Big Apple, nor any different than Hitler or Mussolini, Franco, and Stalin embodied in one. Bill O’Reilly follows on the footsteps of Osama Bin Laden by definition... with all his hatred and bigotry, with his extremist attitude at a time when our nation needs to heal, and carry on.

We CANNOT, because of some religious fanatics, condemn a whole nation, race, or religion...and we ought to practice what we preach... to condemn a whole religion, or peoples, for the faults of a bunch of fools, is to condemn ourselves in Hell for eternity for we have acted just the same throughout history. Our first mayor offense began here at home; with the American Natives… Remember them still? We took their land and a nation’s live as well. We then took on the Blacks… and made them into slaves, and treated them as animals. We took and raped their children, their mothers and wives, and killed and tortured and maimed the whole race a little at a time, even a lifetime after their freedom had been won… We then took, by brutal force, countries and its people, and raped, killed and maimed all over again. We have destroyed and ransacked the natural resources of foreign countries, bringing chaos into those lands...from Puerto Rico to the furthest port in the world… and we meddled in their politics and killed the opposition, and use our armed forces against them, like pawns, knights and bishops for economic and political gains. The very lands and very same people that we have so violated, in such sick and evil manners… are reacting, as they have been trained to act by our sanctioned intelligence and military organizations and qualified by us…to sabotage our country and inflict back pain.

Make no mistakes. We created Osama Bin Laden! History speaks of Afghanistan and the U.S. involvement with their struggles during their war with Russia. We supplied money, men and weapons as well as the training (Add a couple of betrayals to the list), and made them a mean fighting machine. Russia got their asses inconceivably, and forcibly kicked out of those forsaken mountains…Where did we end up?, Trying to do… exactly what the Russians couldn’t accomplish in a million years and God knows what thirst they had for blood at the time! We didn’t learn in Viet Nam, and went for seconds and thirds in Afghanistan and Iraq! Now we count body bags once again and get some paid back… in a vicious, savage and inhuman way, while Bill O’Reilly, condemns every man, woman and child that opposes his color, religion and fashion of thinking.

Cover your eyes, take a dart and throw it at the face of the globe… wherever it lands; we have meddled and caused pains!

Mexico, a country that has suffered throughout their history the most horrendous of poverties, is a fixed word in Bill O’Reilly’s vocabulary... because it has now, a well trained army of thugs, trained by our own marines and our Intelligence apparatus.

Cuba’s Castro regime was helped (Directly and indirectly) by our very own nation, and God also knows what our political agendas almost cost the world! Castro would have never succeeded in January 1959 without the help of the U.S. Assistance meant to bribe and sway Castro’s Cuba sympathy towards U.S. when the then President of the republic, Fulgencio Batista no longer snapped its boots when America called. A policy that proved dangerously suicidal because we had knowledge of Castro’s communist tendencies but, failed to know Castro already had darker plans of his own.

Let’s now take Iran: Who, if not the U. S. supported, trained and supplied the Shah? Did the people of Iran even wanted to have a Shah? We also tried to impose our will on the Viet Nam people, with knowledge, that the French had gotten their asses badly kicked out of that country… and we went and bombed that nation to hell… and filled the land with bombs, smart bombs and stupid bombs…and made that country look worse than the surface of the moon to no avail. We then filled the holes, of every bomb dropped in their land with their bodies… and drown them in tears, mines and pesticides… our boys had a small dose of it… and, agent Orange is still eating them away a mouth full at a time. Then, when our unsuccessful and demoniac plans ricocheted into our own backyards, weakening and changing the very fiber of our nation, which gave way to crime at the speed and rate we started the Viet Nam conflict… which killed our children and made them drug addicts and buyers and pushers… We raped and maimed our returning heroes by abandoning them to their fate… and made them cold killers and gave them more chemicals…making them a killing machine like no other, for a bag of dope! Do we need to search deeper in our bag of shit to make the point?

Who the hell is Bill O’Reilly? Under what authority does Mr. O’Reilly speak for our nation and its people? …or, the countless others brave mouths that do the very thing that he do, incite the population and deliver them into the hands of hate and bigotry!

Yet, when Joy Behar and Whoopi Goldberg stood up, and walked out, tired of Bill’s diehard ranting (While our very own Barbara Walters calmly sat and twitted her fingers… ), Mr. O’Reilly took offense!

Well, Mr. O’Reilly, on that very same subject, caused a good man, Juan Williams (And deservedly), to lose his job. Why? Because Mr. Williams is supposed to be a professional and well versed in leaving his fears and personal opinions in the dressing room, prior to opening his mouth before a microphone. He is supposed to know better… he would have been the very first news media person to demand the head, on a platter, should someone else had made HIS statements! Mr. Williams was not fired by NPR, he was just another instrument in the hands of Bill O’Reilly which Whoopi Goldberg and Joy Behar candidly refused to be.

Yet Bill O’Reilly’s ratings give him the security of his job. Why? Ask yourselves why! Ratings, that’s why! Who provide the ratings? Of course we do! …and every network executive looks at ratings as a sign of still being alive, which in good days hits libido with the punch of three or four Viagra pills!

Bill O’Reilly exists because we allow him to exist. The push of a button and he’s out!

Let’s face it. We created our own monster. What are we going to do? Let Bill O’Reilly keep feeding us hate and anger and the wants of revenge? Or, as a nation, hand in hand, swallow our pride and admit it to ourselves. We created our monster! Now let’s find a way to pacify it… and let’s leave it in peace… and put it back in his cave!

People, like Bill O’Reilly, got us into this mess with their extremist far right mentalities. Hooligans like O’Reilly are the true cause of all Ground Zeros of our world.

Nothing ever said or written, have given us a clear picture of the Anti-Christ. We, being the fools that we are, think of the Anti-Christ as our minds allow us to see... but, the Anti-Christ does NOT necessarily have to come in one man’s body... We all have a little of the Anti-Christ in us... Bill O’Reilly does... Bin Laden do, and even Archibald Bunker did in his days... Thank God we all thought Archiebald Bunker to be funny, which Bill O’Reilly has never been!

Pablo J. de la Rosa (My Poems… My Thoughts…)

Oui! Hats Off to the French Nation!

2010-10-19T12:33:00.000-07:00

As more than a million people takes to the streets in protest of France´s planned pension reforms, we must take our hats off to them, in support, not of the violence, but of the resolute want of the People to halt governments, around the globe, from their continuous abuse of powers, of forcing those who elected them, to carry the burden of their charades of corruptions and misspending.

True! France´s minimum retiring age is the lowest in the world but, to yield one day, one hour or minute from what was previously enacted into law (Because there is a danger of bankruptcy in the retirement system), is an injustice to those who have worked a lifelong existence with the expectations of their reward at the end of the road. A reward that has been shrinking over the years, due to misspending and corruption, at the hands of politicians that have been delivering empty promises for just as long.

Violence in the streets is justifiable, just as a government aggression is acceptable under the cloak of power which governments appear to fit so well. Violence brought freedom to the French people before… and cannot be any different now, or more violent, when it means an end to the exploitation being perpetrated to the very same people who elected them.

Violence is a fair cost to the abuse and tyranny. Violence is a just cause and weapon, when all else has failed, and the rope is about to stretch!

Let it be a lesson to the elected and corrupted politicians (At least in France, for now), and a warning elsewhere, that people are tired of their tyrannical exploitations and abuse. Let it be a sign that it’s time to sit and re-think, of ceasing the increasing armaments, conflicts and wars and to spend a little more time at home solving the internal and just as important issues we face today. A runaway budget does not runaway in one hour or day… and after all, elected officials caused and have known of the danger of an impending derailment’s for dozens of years… let them now fix what they caused, without having to tax, even more, the ones they have hurt the most!

Let them show restrain to their increases of salaries, benefits and non-official expenditures and to the war machines!

C’est la vie!

To Kill or Not to Kill...

2010-10-16T02:23:00.000-07:00

Forgive me, but there is a bit of hypocrisy in wishing the Death penalty for the taking of a life. The Merriam-Webster defines the word Kill as: To deprive of one’s life, cause the death of, to slaughter… and does not differentiate as to who can justifiably do the killing or slaughtering. While the taking of a life is despicably wrong and sinfully wicked, it does not give licenses for others, particularly the states, to follow suit.

The Death Penalty, even the far and in between pardons granted… are nothing but political ploys employed by criminal minds, in a political war machine, to gain votes and secure an otherwise unsecured victory during an election.

Why would a man be so willing in carrying out a death sentence? Or, better yet, what prompts a morbid group of men and women, signs in hands, shouting for a death sentence to be carried on? Is an eye for an eye really justice?

What about the possibility of an innocent person having fallen at the hands of unscrupulous politicians and corrupted law enforcement agencies, who is then sentenced to death, and subsequently deprived of his life? Hasn’t it happened before? Isn’t even one such mistaking a warning sign that we’re as despicably wrong as the alleged assassin?

Why not punish for life, life imprisonment without parole … and make that criminal pay back to society for his crimes, by putting him to work, in something that would benefit mankind?

Killing is wrong and immoral no matter what side of the devil you’re on…

Take for instance the case of Cameron Todd Willingham, executed six years prior in the state of Texas (Notorious for playing the role of God), and now found to probably having been a flawed conviction and therefore execution… in which the then Gov. Rick Perry ignored the pleads for clemency and defending his action called the wrongly convicted and sentenced man a “Monster” and then washed his hands and is now running for re-election.

Is it justice or thirst for blood and mighty power?

How many Willingham’s have suffered the very same fate?

Be careful what you wish… fate is blind and has the tendency to knock at our doors unexpectedly!

A Well Deserved Reply

2010-10-15T23:04:00.000-07:00

ANONYMOUS WROTE:

“Ditto to you and me for both shooting from the hip without thought. But you didn't answer my one question. Why stay in the United States if you have such hatred for all our past and present? Do you realize that the U.S. best days economically are probably behind us for decades going forward. Some good reads: "Aftershock Protect yourself and profit in the next Global Financial Meltdown" 2009 David Wiedemer, Phd. "America's Bubble Economy" 2006 David Wiedemer, Phd. This book came out prior to the collapse of real estate. Save yourself.” Anonymous”.

Dear Anonymous (Once again)

I find it, both rewarding and improper to reply to your latest comment, which by the way, it’s still “Anonymous” (Apparently, and under the circumstances, is the cowardly thing to do?). But, since your spelling is improving, and while you’re still not making sense, but beginning to write clearer, I feel like playing your game. Remember. It’s all about learning!

First is first. Never mind the book by David Wiedemer, Phd. It seems to me that since you have been unable to comprehend a few words from one small Commentary, that a whole book is far too deep for you… specially if written by a Phd. and I can’t help it, but to feel sorry for the author and wonder if he will also undergo the same frustrations when he realizes he has been taken totally out of context with the easiness or ignorance that you do.

I have a clear picture of you in mind. You can hide behind your anonymity but NOT from the eyes of those familiar with your method of approach. Individuals like you are what hold back progress in OUR nation and cause havoc wherever you walk. Individuals like you, are what put us both in each other’s path… for I see a miniaturized picture of O’Reilly in you… I smell the bigotry, the hatred, the content so recognizable in those suffering from repente animi deiectio. (“Abrupt mental diarrhea”, a symptom easily recognized and attached to Bill O’Reilly’s behavior).

As for your question, and since you’re pressing me for a reply… and to demonstrate I can shoot from the hip more accurately than you can, I will answer your question with another, which I am sure, it’ll be too far from your grasp but it’s the answer you very well deserve. Why do you? Ditto!

2010-08-18T12:53:00.000-07:00

Cardenal Juan Sandoval Iñiquez Vs. Los ¨Maricones¨

¿Qué Opina Usted?

Días atrás, la Iglesia Católica, por medio del Cardenal de Guadalajara, Juan Sandoval Iñiquez, dio comienzo, impúdicamente, a una guerra abierta y sin cuartel a la homosexualidad mundial con sus declaraciones antes una rueda de prensa, en la cual, el Cardenal, muy católicamente, respondió a preguntas de varios periodistas con la siguiente pregunta:

“¿A ustedes les gustaría que los adopte una pareja de maricones o lesbianas?”

Cardenal Iñiquez, quien en ese momento respondía a preguntas de periodistas por cuestión de la aprobación del código civil, en el Distrito Federal, Ciudad México, cual permitirá la adopción de niños por parejas de un mismo sexo, también atacó la Corte Suprema de ese incorrupto (huh-huh) país… acusando la institución de corrupción y haber aprobado la ley a cambio de dinero.

Al parecer, y hasta la fecha de hoy, el Cardenal Iñiquez no ha salido del closet sotanico en el que la Iglesia Católica se ha refugiado históricamente y desde el cual, ha cometido numerosas fechorías, muy cuantiosas para enumerarlas una a una, de las que se pueden mencionar:

1. Falta de castidad por medios homosexuales.

2. Abusos sexuales y corrupción de menores.

3. Gustos personales y carnales no sancionados por la iglesia.

4. Siniestros atentados contra la humanidad desde el principio de los tiempos.

Aunque a veces me apena confesarme “Católico”, una falta que le achaco a mi madre (Fui criado como tal sin habérseme dado oportunidad a elegir a mi mayoría de edad…) pero, como en la política- no nos queda otra afiliación… u otras alternativas, hacia las cuales correr. (Lo que quiere decir que no soy ciego o, que este incapacitado para no hacer algo por mejorar las cosas)― Solo que no hay otra afiliación religiosa que se merezca ser elegida…

Yo, personalmente, preferiría ser adoptado por una pareja de miembros de un mismo sexo, que se hayan confesado “Lesbianas” o, “Maricones”, que por el mismo Sumo Pontífice, aun por confesar. La mujer “lesbiana” y el hombre “maricón,” desde el comienzo, me habrán enseñado valores en honestidad, al haberse confesado como tal…algo que la Iglesia Católica nunca podría comprender porque pecan con sus mentiras.

Yo admito. Es algo nuevo… ¡No fácil de entender!― Y en mi opinión, un tema para que aquellos menores por adoptar decidan a su mayoría de edad. Pero, por haberse declarado una alternativa sexual… un hombre y una mujer no dejan de ser seres de carne y hueso, como lo somos tú y yo- y después de todo…

La iglesia Católica está repleta de ‘’Maricones’’ (Desde Roma hasta la Chinchilla) y aun así…

¡No hemos perdido la fe en Dios!

¿Qué opina Usted?

Have We no Shame?

2010-05-12T13:20:00.000-07:00

Police Brutality!

Have “We” no shame?

There was a time in my life

When I used to go to bed

Hoping for shorter days

(While waiting for the mailman)

And hoping for my certification

To follow my vision and fate.

I was young then…

Very naïve!

And even believed that any end… could

And would justly, justify the means.

In those days, I also had had many dreams.

I believed in my country and what it stood for.

I believed in democracy and its freedom

And all we could possible reap.

And I felt proud to wear its armed forces uniform!

…to put my life in harm’s way-

And to be a pawn in the name of Democracy

To save the world from harm…

I believed that we should not ask of our country

But to be there, willing and ready, when called upon…

I believed in Law Enforcement!

The F.B.I, the Intelligence Agencies…

And Oh boy! Did I want to join the police?

I was young then…

Much wiser now!

That naïve little boy

Has been brutally let down!

I read it in the news on a daily basis.

And like you, I, also watch TV

And see its headlines flash on Internet Explorer

Unremittingly… every other second

With the black bold letters:

! POLICE BRUTALITY!

-and its fallout…

Discrimination against everything in America

That isn’t white!

Life has changed…

My dreams have changed!

I have aged…

And now I look at America

Through the narrow opening

Of the funnel and feel ashamed!

I can almost see… feel his fears and excitement

While galloping… dangerously, full speed ahead...

And can hear his frantic screams, for the world to hear…

“The Yankees are coming!”

The Yanks are just around the bend!!!

Why the Paul Revere relation? You may ask…

Well, Paul Revere stands for everything that’s dear

To us, just as much as our Constitution and the Bill of Rights…

Because, Paul was warning us of Tyranny…

And the dark oppression that we so dearly dreaded

And were about to face and fought against.

Have “We” no shame?

“We” have turned the world against us…

“We” have cause upheaval throughout the Globe.

And “We,” boil-down to dollars and cents!

We’re a country of corrupted politicians.

From top to bottom!

Left, middle and right

Black or White!

Corrupted!

“We” are a country where the Police

Is not meant to Serve and Protect

But to oppress, mistreat and to beat

On the general public

Foreign and domestic.

“We’’ are not different than the Gestapo

The KBG, or goons from Castroland.

We’re just as mean and sadistic as Saddam ever was…

Lost, brutal and perverted as the fools in Iran…

As the cartel’s

As Osama Bin Laden himself…

We look and take notes of all crimes throughout the world

And weigh it all on a pennyweight scale

And when beneficial

Forcibly enforce that which we criticize on others…

Within our borders…

While demanding and imposing changes

On “Non-Democratic” countries that do the same!

The-very-same-abuses

‘’We” commit day, after day…

Have “We” no shame?

2010-05-12T13:00:00.001-07:00

Indomable Criatura

2010-04-08T12:38:00.000-07:00

Indomable Criatura

Indomable criatura

Silvestre como el viento.

Árbol nato entre ranuras

Unido al desconcierto.

La fiera que no duele

Nunca gime, no sangra...

Ni tiembla en la incerteza

Cuando sus hojas derrama.

Desplazando el concreto

Y cabilla oxidada

De otoño, a primavera…

De entre una estrecha grieta

El Roble surgió y rajó

La pared de mi casa

Wandering Thoughts...

2010-04-08T02:05:00.000-07:00

Wandering Thoughts...

We often bid a penny for a thought

As if a coin, even a golden coin...

Would have an ounce of thoughtfulness

Don´t complain of tightness of your foot

Till you try a size smaller...

Nor critize the one who´s taxing

What you have not bear to sport...

If Confucious was ever so clever

Why do we only read his translations?

If temptation is the root of all evils

It´s a miracle there is still room

For flowers in the garden

Why hasn´t a feminist organization

Ever denied having reached first for the apple?

...and who could believe that Eve

Cheated Adam of his virginity for a single bite

Of the fruit, of such heavenly bush?

Hypocrisy is the act of telling:

There is something about you that I like

But won't give you the joy to know!

One, plus one, makes two

Two, plus two, makes four

...except at the White House

Where Truth takes the tour

And faints out the door!

Politicians, lawyers and cops

Make ill and unavoidable prostitutes

They´ll trick a dance onto your lap

Comes morning...best look for a cure!

Wandering Thoughts...

2010-04-05T20:41:00.000-07:00

Show me...

2010-04-02T04:40:00.000-07:00

My Thoughts…

(You read it here first)

If you can´t hold it by its head…

Grab the bird by the tail´s feathers

Show, at least… that you´ve tried!

Pensamientos...

2010-03-13T19:24:00.000-08:00

Pensando…

A veces me detengo a pensar

Cuestionando todo lo que se deduce

Por vida…

Y caigo en la estampa del “creador”

(Con cierto miedo a llamarlo trampa)

…por si se decide a resolver su ira.

Y con temor innato me pregunto

¿Quién, creó a quien?

¿Fue Dios quien creó al hombre

O, fue el hombre quien nos dio la merecida?

A diario veo tantas desgracias

Tanta tristeza y desvergüenzas.

El sumo de las guerras…

Las muchas…que arrasaron en nombre de la iglesia.

…en las almas… por siglos, buscando la calma…

¡Los volcanes, maremares y terremotos!

Las enfermedades incurables…

¡Las que tienen curas… pero, no para el pobre!

¡El hambre! El hambre…

El abuso del hombre contra el hombre…

Damos vueltas al mundo

Como otro acontecer…

Llegamos y ocupamos la luna

Y en Martes… saciamos la sed.

Y sin quemarnos los dedos…

¡La luz del sol podemos apagar y prender!

Y si eso no fuera suficiente poderío

Tenemos el intelecto y poder

De entre lo más minúsculo

Hacer de entre lo muerto, otro renacer.

¡Y en otra fracción de segundos

Hacernos, todos… ¡Todos! Desaparecer!

¿Quién o quienes… si no un Dios o, dioses

Pueden tener tanto poder?

¿Se entiende?

Y si ahora te pusieras a pensar…

¿Cabe la posibilidad

De la crucifixión y renacimiento de Cristo

Haber sido una creación del hombre

Otra mitología Griega?

¿O, es dable que un Padre

Se preste a ver su Hijo vejado…

Cruelmente crucificado sobre un madero…

Para salvar a quienes ya comieron

Del un árbol prohibido?

¿Puede un padre ser tan resignado?

¿Puede Dios omnipotente ser tan cruel con su hijo?

¿Está mi salvación en sus manos?

¿La tuya?

¿La del mundo entero?

Padre nuestro que estás en los cielos

Santificado sea tu nombre…

¿Pudo la humanidad, su fe o sus miserias

Haber hecho realidad de una mentira?

¿Porqué tanto sufrimiento sobre la tierra?

¿A dónde van a parar nuestras oraciones?

¿Estamos siendo sacrificados

Para el bienestar de futuras generaciones?

¿Serán ellos sacrificados por igual?

¿Es Dios realmente el creador del cielo y de la tierra?

¿Es El, nuestro juez supremo?

¿O, es El, un padre ciego que no mira a su alrededor?

A veces me detengo a pensar

Cuestionando todo lo que se deduce

Por vida…

Y caigo en la estampa del “creador”

(Con cierto miedo a llamarlo trampa)

…por si se decide a resolver su ira.

Y con temor innato me pregunto

¿Quién, creó a quien?

¿Fue Dios quien creó al hombre

O, fue el hombre quien nos dio la cumplida?

¿Se entiende que…

Yo tenga temor de su ira?

A veces me detengo a pensar…

¡Y no creo ni en mi mismo!

My Poems... My Thoughts...: HAIKU#links

2009-12-27T07:09:00.000-08:00

My Poems... My Thoughts...: HAIKU#links
pablojdelarosa@yahoo.com

With Sightless Tears of Love

2009-12-20T17:41:00.000-08:00

With Sightless Tears of Love…

©2009 Pablo J. DeLaRosa
All Rights Reserved

As first light caresses your window
Do you envy its soft warmth?
Outside, the rose bush is sprinkled
With sightless tears of love…

And as the new day breaks
It chants with unrelenting tic-tacs.
Every second softly ticking
Every minute brutally tacs.

The hours are steadily circling
The eternal sphere with gongs…
The days, with its base like endings
Bow out with the Bangs…

All in all, all too rhythmical:
Tic-tac, tic-tac, tic-tac… Gong, gong… Bang
For us to notice the terror...
The terror around the globe!

Some gongs, will bring you tears.
Some bangs, will make you laugh.
Maybe, a kiss from someone dear
Or a son, who says: I love you, dad!?

Tic –tac, tic-tac, Tic-tac… Bang!
Tic-tac Tic-tac Bong!

And with each and every tic:
Another child is neglected.
And with each and every tac:
Another child is abused.

And with each and every Bang:
Another child is raped…
And with each and every Bong
Another child is gone!

Tic-tiK, tic tiK tiK gone
Tic-taK- tic, taK… gone…

Another child is KILLED

Gone forever!

HAIKU

2009-12-02T18:11:00.000-08:00

Shot on the summit…
Winter pounced like a spring!
Now a dead flower.

Un Año Atrás...

2009-11-22T18:54:00.000-08:00

Un Año Atrás…

©2009 Pablo J. DeLaRosa
Derechos Reservados

Decir que sigo la política
Del Presidente Barrack Obama
O, que simpatizo con la misma
Sería una gran mentira.
Una falsedad, como lo es la política
En tono general.
Como todo ser humano
Una vez fantasee… con algo puro y bello
Y por primera vez en la vida
Hubiera puesto mi ser… al fuego
Mientras descansaba mis ilusiones
En lo que creí un hombre cabal, y capaz
De llevarnos, al fin, a la cumbre prometida.
Eso fue un año atrás, y otra, de mis muchas fantasías…
Espero no haya sido la última.

Pero el Presidente electo
Fue favorecido por el pueblo.
En elecciones libres.
En un país Democrático.
Hasta ese momento rígidamente dirigido
Por el partido Republicano…
Sañudamente llevado a la quiebra
Y con obsesionada rapidez
Arrastrados, a dos guerras…
Un gobierno que no respetó
Los derechos constitucionales de nuestros ciudadanos…
Los derechos humanos…
Un gobierno enfermizo…
¡Un Presidente que se robó las elecciones
Y enriqueció en el proceso…

Hoy, el partido Republicano
Divide y causa conflictos, distrayendo con ello
A un país que desesperadamente necesita unirse
Y por medio de esa unidad, salir a flote.
El partido Republicano, manipulando
Sus numerosas marionetas
Nos quieren hacer ver, y creer,
Que el presente estado de nuestra economía,
De nuestra política exterior,
De las guerras…
De los numerosos caídos en esas dos guerras…
Es directamente atribuible
Al Presidente Barrack Obama
Quien, sin culpabilidad…
Se encuentra entre la espada
Y a un escaso paso de la barranca…

¡Es fácil criticar
Y encontrar faltas!
Es muy cómodo
Apuntar dedos a grandes distancias…
Es inmoral demandar mejorías
Si no sabemos apoyar…
Es deshonesto, llamarse ciudadano
De este gran país
Y no querer abrir los ojos a la verdad…
A toda la verdad…
A nuestras faltas y valentías
Así como a nuestros excesos
Y cobardías...
Es obsceno, es suicida…
Abandonar al presidente electo
Con solo un año en la silla…

Nosotros lo elegimos…
Somos responsables de nuestros actos
Y nuestro deber es apoyarlo…
Y llevar a nuestra Nación a la victoria!

Untittled

2009-11-16T16:00:00.000-08:00

Poets see miseries...
And color them as seasons
From winter to spring.

Mankind

2009-11-15T19:39:00.000-08:00

Mankind

©2009 Pablo J. DeLaRosa
All Rights Reserved

In early morning folly
The sun begins to rise
As the moon rests its glory
Having tended through the night.

The stars, not certain what to do

Shyly hide behind the clouds.
Rainbows shine, to fool the fools…
The clouds just glide, to dress the sky.

The land below does not feel curtsy…
It has seen the soft and bullying moons
And the kind and rock melting sunsets

…droughts… and even drenching monsoons.
It has survived a few, God-sent-tempests…
But is forever horrified, not of God... but His son!

Juanes

2009-09-23T08:44:00.000-07:00

Juanes
©2009 Pablo J. DeLaRosa
Derechos Reservados

Para Juanes

No hay mayor peligro
Para la libertad del hombre
Que el apoyo fascista
De un pueblo ignorante.
Como lo fue bajo Lenin y Stalin
Hitler… Mussolini y Franco.
Como sucedió en Argentina…
Sucede hoy en Cuba
Y tambien Venezuela…
Y todo rincón de la tierra:
Porque dondequiera que habite el hombre
No existe gobierno dictatorial
Que la masa no invite, sirve, y levante.
Un gobierno totalitario
A todos
De sangre, las manos tiñen.
Y se puede pecar de ceguera
Hasta ahogarnos en su tiznes….

El hombre, ciego, enmudece-
Y tiende su vista en el horizonte:
En un espacio, que por su lejanía
Opaca los abusos y rumores
…los gritos y suplicas… la angustia.
Los llantos de espanto…
Los chillidos del rebelde dolor
Bajo los afilados y hambrientos dientes
De la mutante tortura
Moral, espiritual y siempre física…
La persecución…
La inmerecida prisión…
¡Las desapariciones!
El paredón que recién perforado, suma aun, nuevas muertes…
¡La fosa común, con esa fetidez que hierve!
La necesidad, la enfermedad, la pobreza.
El hambre que a todos toca y mata.
La intranquilidad… ¡El pánico!
La innegable falta de Libertad…

De paz…

¡De paz!

…mientras unos se esconden
Tras sus mensajes oscuros… inmundos
Vociferando y festejando al tirano
Vistiendo, bebiendo… comiendo
Lo que no puede vestir, bebe y comer
El pueblo del que se ríen…
De esos que se burlan, restando apoyo
A colegas… y hermanos
Los músicos, bailarines, actores...
Los periodistas, ensayistas y novelistas
Compositores y poetas cubanos…
Que viven bajo la opresiva censura, y bota cubana.

¡Háblenle de paz!

A los presos politicos, a los muertos...

A un país que sufre…
Que languidece en su hambre.
Que vive sobre las ruinas de lo que fue
…cincuenta años atrás, a causas del engaño…
Un pueblo que no puede escudarse
Tras el derecho a la Libertad con las armas
Porque es controlado…

¡Háblenles de paz a los disidentes cubanos
Que fueron recogidos, encarcelados…
Para el discrepante mensajes de Paz en la Habana!

Háblenle de paz a ‘’Panfilo’’
Quien fue encarcelado… y subsecuentemente
Internado en el hospital siquiátrico de Mazorra
Por expresar su hambre…

¡A Javier Cerani… por portar su letrero de Libertad
Para el pueblo cubano.

Y al resto del elenco…
O, a Gloria Estefan y Willie Chirino
Quienes por ideales opuestos
El régimen castrista temió dejar actual.

Juanes, quien en su propio país
No se atreves a pedir ‘’Paz’’
Porque al primer descuido
La FARC (armada por Castro)
Lo encadenan del pelo a los pies
Y le ponen precio, como si un animal
Sobre su tendenciosa cabeza

¡Juanes, la palabra es: Libertad!

¿Pero Juanes, porque no llevas tu ‘’paz’’ a Bogotá?

With Ink From my Eyes (Translation of ''Con Tinta de mis Ojos'')

2009-05-04T17:59:00.000-07:00

With Ink from my Eyes

Temporarily removed

Con Tinta de mis Ojos

2009-05-04T16:45:00.000-07:00

Con Tinta de mis Ojos
©2009 Pablo J. DeLaRosa
Derechos Reservados

No es a mí, a quien conscientemente buscas
Pero a ese otro, que apresas en tu corazón
No al que te ofrece su amor, sus besos y caricias
Pero a él, quien ha consentido tu pasión

No es amor lo que buscas vida mía…
Buscas algo entre lo vulgar y sin valor
Buscas ese amor que no es amor pero apetencias
Del cuerpo al que se le ha extirpado el corazón

Y llegará el día, en que encajes tu llanto entre tus manos
Para no ensuciar la mancha, en tu almohada, de mi amor
Esa, que entonces apretarás entre tus senos...
Tus labios sedientos... sorbiendo mi dolor.

¡Y si esa mancha, te supiera tal tu llanto…entonces sabrás
Cuanto te amó, quien con tinta de sus ojos, te escribió ese adiós!

Sketches (Bosquejos)

2009-05-02T19:41:00.000-07:00

Sketches
©2009 Pablo J. DeLaRosa
Reserved rights

Ask me not where am coming from
Nor do you wish to know where am heading to
I am the wind, impetuous and plebian
I am commanding like the sun
I am the summit... still to conquer
The guts of a volcano about to belch
I am of the road both its highways
And hold in my chest the deep
To some, I will be that fallen angel…
To others, the angel they will adore
I am not skin on a carcass
Nor bone for a dog, and do not know how to meow…
Ask me not where am coming from
Nor do you wish to know where am heading to
Because I arrived on the tail of a coil
Of a fearsome and destructive storm

TRANSLATION FROM “BOSQUEJOS’’ BY PJD

Bosquejos

2009-05-02T18:53:00.000-07:00

Bosquejos

©2009 Pablo J. DeLaRosa
Derechos Reservados

No preguntes de donde vengo
Ni quieras saber hacia dónde voy
Soy el viento impetuoso y plebeyo
Soy imperioso como el mismo sol
Soy la cúspide por asaltar...
El vientre de un volcán por eructar
Soy del camino los dos senderos
Y llevo en mi pecho el mismo mar
Para unos, seré aquél ángel caído
Para otros, el ángel por adueñar
Nunca seré pellejo en un hueso
Ni de perro su hueso y no se maullar
No me preguntes de donde vengo
Ni quieras saber hacia dónde voy
Porque llegué en la cola del viento
De un temible y destructivo ciclón

Fresh, Wholesome News!

2009-04-28T20:38:00.000-07:00

Fresh, Wholesome News
To Beenie-Bean with all my love

What does one write about
When nothing comes to mind?
There is a swine flu outbreak everywhere…
And the economy couldn’t be worse, for us all.
The U.S has its first afro-American President
And its armed forces are divided, in two wars, abroad.
Worldwide, unemployment is a runaway train…
And the only sure wager, if it ever makes it to Wall Street
Is to invest in Drugs, harvested, in the poorest of countries
All, in the hands of a hand full of men
Who had their hands sewn, deep
In the bottomless, politician’s pockets.
Crime, overall, does seem to pay…
Or should we ask Mr. Madoff and Mr. Bush?
And last, at least on my list…
A woman, just a few months ago
Became the proud mother of octuplets!
So, back to the original question:
What does one write about
When nothing comes to mind?

Forget the flu, the economy and the wars.
Never mind the President, unemployment and crime.
Drugs are old news…and will remain the news
As long as God keeps holding back our precious Garden.
That old saying is true… It Does Happen…
And we will all be deep in our own shit
Unless we wise-up and wise-up very soon!
And that woman...the whole thing seems like a joke
Since she was too poor… to pay for her own insemination.
So, did the State give birth to octuplets?
Are they planning to bring back- the Draft?

I am going to be a grand-father in just a few days
And I thought I mention it to everyone
And that, my fellow Americans, is fresh, wholesome news!

Haiku # 5

2009-03-20T15:41:00.000-07:00

Abril descorcha
Alegre burbujeos
De primavera

Walking under a Storm

2009-02-28T17:14:00.000-08:00

Walking Under a Storm
©2009 Pablo J. DeLarosa
All Rights Reserved

I

Walking under a storm
I saw confusing traffic signs...
Uprooted, mangled and torn.
I was attracted to one in particular
And deliberately
Without much thought
I grabbed it.
No one but you was waiting.
My feelings, like the wind
Were tangled and confused.
And riding my thoughts
I followed that sign, without a care.
I found myself in a bare
Cold and unfamiliar place.
There were no tracks of you…
And impatiently, I waited
For another sign to pass by
And go after… one that would take me
To a place, I have never been before
…that I had not searched for you!

II

A new sign flew by…and as urgently
I clutched on to it, as it took me out to sea.
I froze… I couldn’t swim.
I was drowning in a tempting ocean
And I did not feel you near me.
Abruptly, a gust of wind hurriedly lifted me
And I found myself holding on
To unidentified icon…
It was whirling and thrashing in midair
Forcefully trying to rid of me.
I could not hold it, had to struggle
Until we began a fast descend.
We were falling…
Increasingly turning and tumbling…
Like dumped, chute-less from the sky!
When we finally landed
It mocked me:
“Dead End”—

III

…anxious, I awoke from the nightmare.
The bed was drenched.
My clothes were torn, soiled and wet.
There was sand in my cuffs
And my waterlogged shoes were far
From where they ought to be.
I walked to the bathroom
And leaning towards the sink
I splashed cold water on my face.
The soft touch of the towel, took me to the mirror
Where we often met.
I saw a face full of fears…
The streaming sweat
The loneliness, the hurt
The tears.
I saw you before me…
Tearfully looking at me
With that inflexible, reproaching
And horror-stricken look…
And all I could say…
“I will be OK, I will be OK!”
But deep inside, I had the feeling
That I could not satisfy your discontent
Until, I had found myself…

Peacock without Feathers

2009-02-27T10:43:00.000-08:00

Peacock without Feathers

My life’s an empty shelve.
Nude! Stripped of all necessities.
The empty closet
With faded traces of mothballs...

It is the ending chapter
To the unwritten, ten or twelve.
The agonizing hereafter, always feared
Never seen nor felt.

The phantom no one sees. Like air
Assertively breathed and yet, not tasted-
…a peacock without feathers
All the flair, gone to waste!

Playing the role of God...

2009-02-04T05:07:00.000-08:00

Playing the role of God…
©2009 Pablo J. DeLaRosa
All Rights Reserved

At first there were seven.
Then, out came a hand−
It looked as if waving…
Like saying:
Someone− please, let me out!
It was somewhat tardy
…think of it as the straw
Neither doctors nor mommy
Ever thought to re-draw!

Who ever heard of octuplets?
…well, maybe just once before−

The day when science, and Mommy
Began their new role!

Somber Silence...

2009-01-23T15:07:00.000-08:00

Somber Silence
©2009 Pablo J. DeLaRosa
All Rights Reserved
New York

On the bicentennial of Abraham Lincoln’s birth
February 12, 1809-2009

Somber Silence―not a sound―
Only whispers of molting tears
Washed the blood, off the ground.

Memories of anguishing years
In a grieving nation’s heart...
Drew back, tormenting fears
Under the ebony sky.

The night stood still― far and wide…
An abysmal outcry
Took hold of the land...
Blue vs. grey tears…like an incoming tide!

Curtains down― spotlights numbed.
There were no applauses… only tears.
―In a theater, Booth
The final act, tragically unfolded―

Somber silence―not a sound―
Only whispers of molting tears
Washed the blood, off of the ground.

In his somber attire... righteousness by his side
The tall, doleful gentleman
Quietly―took to the mound
Spirited to find freedom…peace at last!

Somber silence― not a sound―
No applauses, only tears...
The land weeps at half mast...

Savvy is the Man...

2009-01-23T14:44:00.000-08:00

Savvy is the Man
(Haiku)

Savvy is the man
Who shares loneliness
Out in the open

Simple, Silly Susie

2009-01-23T14:14:00.000-08:00

Simple, Silly Susie
©2009 Pablo J. DeLaRosa
All Rights Reserved
New York

Simple, silly Susie
Sadness… sorrows in tour stare!
Sorrowful shaking snuffles
Soaring… silently sopping…
Salty like the sea.

Simpleton silly Susie, in a snit…
Sampling grains of salty sand.
Searching, seesawing in a scuttle

S tanding stodgy...
Shilly-shallying by the sun.

Sulky, silly Susie
Saucy saunter saturnine.
Scanning, searching for a scanty
Subversive speck of sand...
Sum-up by supra-stumble or, till it succumb!

Shamus-striving silly Susie
Searching for a stud, in a sty of sand.
Seeping, shifting… seeing like a seer
Scanning sand, like Sherlock… in Shangri-la!

“Simple Silly Susie” came about while at the Clearwater beach, Florida; where I often went to read or write. On one of those excursions I observed a woman, frantically crying and searching (while screaming at the same time) to a female companion, who she called “Susie”… The belligerent woman was sort of sifting sand, dangerously close to her eyes… while angrily, screaming and cursing “Susie” for standing on sand that had not been searched… I later found out that the object of the hunt was for a lost contact lens…

At first, I became annoyed at so much screaming… and said to myself: Dammed Susie, stop shifting sand! … And right there and then the silly piece was born. (In case you ever wonder…) No, the contact lens was never found.

Standing on the Edge of Time...

2009-01-22T10:33:00.000-08:00

©2009 Photograph “Self” by PJD

Standing on the Edge of Time
©2009 Pablo J. DeLaRosa
All Rights Reserved
New York

Standing on the edge of time
Gripping, bit by bit― the hours.
The thoughts… too entwined.
The echoes, the heart devours.

Finding pleasure on the ways
Memories, turn to flares;
Illuminating a pain
Dutifully imposed, as fair.

In a self proclaimed ritual
Peace― has no home―
…the I― turns to mutiny…
And seeks, of hell, the fiercest hole…

Standing on the edge of time…
I― found a home―

.

Night Before the Storm...

2009-01-21T18:00:00.000-08:00

My mind searches in vain.

My heart is quiet all right... it is still―

As blood push cold through my veins...

Where there's usually a solemn beat

The night is unusually quiet―

Unaccustomed to such treat...

My mind looks to deny it!

"Maybe tomorrow…" it says

As if I was a willing partner.

And not knowing what to say― I said:

It is not at its best― when is calmer.

I know its cunning ways…

Tomorrow will be words heavy in lead

Page, after page, after page…

And I'll be wax on the candles!

Bertha's Husband...

2009-01-20T22:36:00.000-08:00

Bertha's Husband
©2009 Tpa Fla PJD
All Rights Reserved

With the bang, bang, of the hammer
And the clink, clink of the steel…
Nails yield to the hag man
Nail, after nail… even if, a little steep.

With the rap, rap, of the raindrops
And a torrent running down the slope…
The worn-out singles carelessly dripping
What a hundred buckets― could not hold.

Her heart beating furiously…
Bertha, is about to suffer a stroke!
Her husband stopped banging― and as swiftly...
Went right through… a nail he stroked!

2009-01-19T13:20:00.000-08:00

New York

She waltzed into my life

Like a bird from out the Arctic .

Her plumage opened wide…

She was cold, hurt and very frantic.

I caressed her ruffled feathers

With big and open hands.

Knowing, every hour…

Winter, too- will come to past.

Now, all I have is but an instant…

-A scary moment, in my life-

When loneliness was distant

And I did not foresee the strife.

…now, looking at the snow outside

I close my eyes and see her youth

And hear the quietness… deep inside―

Of feathers― that won’t soothe...

2009-01-19T13:16:00.000-08:00

Untitled ©NY 2009 PJD

She waltzed into my life
Like a bird out of the arctic.
Her plumage, opened wide…
She was cold, hurt and very frantic.
I caressed her ruffled feathers
With big and open hands.
Knowing, every hour…
Winter, too- will come to past.
Now, all I have is but an instant…
-A scary moment, in my life-
When loneliness was distant
And I did not foresee the strife.

…now, looking at the snow outside
I close my eyes and see her youth
And hear the quietness… deep inside―
Of the feathers, that won’t soothe me.

2009-01-19T00:40:00.000-08:00

New York

All Rights Reserved

She came out of nowhere.
Like a storm... from under a cloud.
And came out with such flair
Enticingly naked, and viciously proud!

She was very wordy―
Her tongue very sharp, very fowl...
And she sounded so manly
A “lady”― I ruled out!

I tried to be a gentleman
But was too much of a man…
And in a very weak moment
I had, a strong change of mind.

And forgetting her manners…
We hopped and we danced.
Till she came to her senses
And did away with her pants!

Closing Chapter...

2008-12-25T23:37:00.000-08:00

Closing Chapter

Like air through a keyhole
You came and went through my life.
Opening and turning chapters
…with the cold, sharp, point of a knife.
And from the very beginning
I knew of my demising fate…
—I knew the seconds were counting―
And yet, I took the bait!
Now free― and reasonably older...
And perhaps, somewhat wiser?
I have turned to a miser
And bear the load over my shoulder.
Still... I do not think of it as boulder-
That I drag into my grave―
But the lightness of a vibrant Gem
That I splinted, cut and polished myself...

2008-10-31T09:37:00.000-07:00

Para "Alicia"...

Poesía en una imagen…

2008-10-31T09:06:00.000-07:00

I came from a far away land...

2008-10-30T13:16:00.000-07:00

Tampa, Fla.

I

I came from a faraway land
Where the clouds smiled at me
And with clear sweet rains
It filled my hands
With plentiful goods to eat.
Where I was born to be a fearless warrior
A prince, or a ruling King.
Where the colorful birds filled the skies
With a rainbow of feathers...
And the mountain tops touched the skies
Making a safe bridge to the heavens.
Where beautiful animals roamed wild, ran free!
And I was a happy and brave man
Who had not known to be on his knees.

II

One dreadful day
From out of the waters
Out came white men, all dressed up in armor
With long reaching blades
Lots of shine much clatter and all the fanfare.
These men, from out of waves
Came spreading, tossing and flinging the seed of greed
And with their ploys, lies and promises
They killed… maimed, chained and raped
Harvesting from the fear
For that was their creed.
And they hunted incessantly for glare…
And set our villages and homes on fire
…while calling themselves our saviors.
And in the name of their god
And of a cross…
They became our hunters and traders.
Warriors, Princes and Kings were soon on their knees…
They put us in chains…forever in shame…
And they took us across the oceans
And flung our lifeless bodies overboard
To finally crown the survivors
With the disgraceful crown of chains of steel!
And we became
Their slaves for hundreds of years…

III

With shameful tackles on our legs, and necks
We were sold to the highest bidders
And America became our new home
As we became “Niggers”…
Some of the buyers were prominent men…
The likes of the Adams’s, the Washington’s, the Jefferson’s
Names we grew up hearing and fearing over the years…
Our families were separated and broken
Our wife’s and children maimed and raped
Our wills were bent…never―broken
And they stripped us of our creed...
And our human needs.
Our hands and necks were bound so tightly
The Southern soils of America
Became red from our blood
As they led us into the fields
They chained our wills…tore our flesh…
They killed, raped and sold our kin again and again!

IV

We fought and lost, and won some battles
And ultimately succeeded in a war…

Then, on the eve of our victory
The cotton gins they wore on their heads
And hiding their faces behind the cross
They set the skies, far and wide, afire!
And trees bloomed, stringed wilted flowers
Everywhere across a nation…
While the huge lantern of fires
Illuminated hanging and mutilated profiles
At the end of thorny ropes
From which sadly hung African-American
Men
Women
Children
And the sick and the old…
While all along, our master’s
Our god’s…
The powerful and forceful… now our fathers…
Proclaimed them selves supreme!
They tore our flesh, our souls,
They stretched the ropes to the extreme!
And we took to their god in desperation…
And we made him Real!
And laughed so He could not see or hear us cry…
And we sang to Him
And we praised Him …

V

Let us never forget…
But let us not think of revenge
For the offense on HIS children,
God, will avenge.

On the false gods His vengeance
Will be much sublime…
But let us neither forget
Why the southern soil of America
Became so beautifully red and fertile

…and God Blessed!

...and Democracy may let us see the day! Vote for the Obama-Biden ticket!

Mudo...

2008-10-30T11:55:00.000-07:00

Mienten mis sentidos… a verte
Por no verter lagrima rauda.
Mudo, a ese ayer que es inerte
Que busca extinguirse en la llama.
Y mientras mi vista se empaña
Buscando escapar tu perfume
Se acuesta en el pecho la escarcha
Vago frío que lo consume.
Y ruge el volcán en la carne
Con voz que derrite candados
Llanto, de un valiente soldado
Herido de muerte, aun prendado.

Recuerdos de lunas y primaveras...

2008-10-27T16:04:00.000-07:00

Rasga la noche con sus encantos,
Recuerdos de lunas y primaveras.
Reliquias del camposanto,
Refulgentes como vez primera.
Reos nutridos por los llantos.
Reos atados por cadenas.
Reos que viven sin sus rasgos.
Reos cavados en la piedra.
Rebeldes nubes de polvo…
¡Reventando, insurrectas!
Ríen, pero sangrantes…
Rampantes y majaderas.
Rasga la noche con cruel encanto,
Recuerdos de lunas y primaveras…

Con mis ojos cerrados...

2008-10-27T09:14:00.000-07:00

Cansado de llevar mis huesos a cuestas…
Le rezo a Dios por una fina montura.
Para cabalgar largos y verdes campos
Como no me lo he permitido en la vida.
Y si en medio de mis jaqueados ensueños,
Yo me encontrara sollozando y sin guías
Mis quejas nunca llegarían al llanto,
Felizmente celebraría la dicha.
Y descendiendo con mis ojos cerrados,
Ajustaré cuentas, sin miedo a ninguna.
Yo sé que contaré de mis malos ratos,
Que no tendré defensa, o presto jurado...
¿Y que habrá un justo y sabio juez esperando?
¿Testigos? …la flaca y hambrienta montura
Que sin dudas… ¡Me habrá de cobrar sus cascos!

Like a stain on the environment...

2008-10-25T12:17:00.000-07:00

(Traducción en español al continúo)

Like a worthless plastic bag,
That dressed yesterday’s news;
Going along for the ride…
Like a blot on the environment.
Exposed to the cold and rain
The wind, unsurely blowing,
It whips again and again
Hopefully, recycling emotions?
וֹ לּ בּפּ

Como una mancha más en el ambiente…

2008-10-25T12:09:00.000-07:00

(Traducido al español por PJD)

Como una bolsa plástica, sin valor,
Que las noticias de ayer han cubierto;
Revuelto en una excursión,
Como una mancha en el ambiente.
Expuesto al frío y la lluvia,
Con el viento calando los huesos…
Azotando una, y una vez más
Animoso… ¿Reciclando emociones?
וֹ לּ בּ פּ

...hold on my heart

2008-10-24T08:26:00.000-07:00

“Hold on my heart”

Hold on my heart
Just hold on to that feeling
We both know we’ve been here before
We both know what can happen

Hold on my heart
‘Cause I’m looking over your shoulder
Oh, please don’t rush in this time
Don’t show her how you feel

Hold on my heart
Throw me a lifeline
I’ll keep a place for you
Somewhere deep inside

So hold on my heart
Please tell her to be patient
‘Cause there has never been a time
That I wanted something more

If I can recall this feeling
And I know there’s a chance
Oh, I will be there
Yes, I will be there

Be there for you
Whenever you want me to
Whenever you call, oh, I will be there
Yes, I will be there

Hold on, my heart
Don’t let her see you crying
No matter where I go
She’ll always be with me

So hold on, my heart
Just hold onto that feeling
We both know we’ve been here before
We both know what can happen
So hold on, my heart

Written by Michael Rutherford, Phil Collins & Tony Banks

¿Qué es la poesía?

2008-10-17T12:41:00.000-07:00

Apuesto que la gran mayoría de leídos, de cualquiera de las numerosas poesías, han llegado a envidiar lo que suponen una gracia celestial, o, un talento muy especial… y que se imaginan, fue justamente dotado y difícil de imitar. Compito con ese pensamiento para agregar, que también los habrá, quienes presumen, que una inspiración poética es sinónima con estar sentado, por lo que aparenta ser una eterna primavera, en primera fila, frente a un arco iris que brota de entre un avispado rosal. Si mi presunción es correcta, esos lectores no son amantes de la poesía— y por lo tanto, no la saben apreciar. La poesía es un estado mental, algo muy puro. Es caminar entre la gente desnudo… y teniendo las manos libres, el escritor opta por ser cortes, e inclinándose, se quita el sombrero para saludar y hacer la merecida reverencia a una dama…mientras que su vergüenza, y los sonrojos ajenos, le calcinan la piel. La poesía, o quien la escribe, es un ser de carne y hueso como tu…como yo…tal vez bajo la desventajosa y siniestra habilidad de poder entrar, y culminar, en un mundo lleno de tristezas e impurezas que jamás puede abandonar. Es sentir lo indescriptible y tratar de expresarlo con tres palabras... aun por inventar. La poesía es un estado mental… ¡Un estado mental que predispone la poesía!

Aun soñando...

2008-10-17T07:32:00.000-07:00

De vez en cuando, me da por pensar que despierto aun soñando. Que por mucho que me lo piense, no soy ese lince que me he imaginado… ni tan perspicaz…y que estoy muy lejos de ser avispado. Y a veces, días como hoy, recién madrugado, veo la luz del sol y me molesta, porque sé que la claridad no es cierta, y por mucho que yo quisiera, preferiría verlo todo apagado. Si el sol fuera una bombilla… (Que se pudiera apagar y prender a gusto), yo lo apagaría, y no lo volvería a prender hasta haber recobrado mi juicio. En uno que otro lugar, sé que en ocasiones he oído rumores de que soy algo tenaz… (Para no usar la palabra “terco”), y me hace pensar en consejos que en ocasiones mi madre me ha dado… y los cuales, invariablemente, siempre se han perdido después de lavar y guardar el pañuelo. ¿No hay nada más permanente? ¿Algo que nunca muera, o se haya de perder? Si, de vez en cuando me da por pensar que despierto aun soñando, y quisiera poder esconderme, evaporarme… hasta alcanzar el cupo de una lagrima… y fluirme de nuevo en su vientre, y apagar la luz, y dormir… regresar o, esperar, por días más sanos.

Tengo deseos de hacerle el amor...

2008-10-14T23:38:00.000-07:00

Esta noche no tengo deseos de rimar, ni de contar silabas y versos. Esta noche no es noche de pensar, ni desear, porque se desea en vano la vida entera. ¿Pero que hago aquí, escribiendo…rechazando esos locos deseos de medir y construir esa ultima poesía… De expresar lo que nunca antes he dicho? ¡Nada! No hago nada más que contemplar el tiempo. Miro el reloj... y es lo único que me trae una sonrisa. Los espacios pasan. Todo en la vida pasa. Y es entonces que se me ocurre. ¿Porque no contar los segundos? Y cada minuto y cada hora que el nuevo día ha de traer. ¿Para que? ¿Con que propósito? No sé. Pero tengo hambre de musitar... de hacerle el amor a la noche, segundo por segundo, y amanecer en sus brazos ardiente de pasión. De sentir esa intima satisfacción de saber que la noche es mía, solamente mía, y que no existe en sus cuerpo la chispa de la traición.

2008-10-14T16:51:00.000-07:00

Buscas en ti,
Sin fe, en la holgada búsqueda
Del querer ser…

2008-10-13T23:55:00.000-07:00

Sabio el tintero
Que impregna sensatez
Al restado haiko

En una mirada...

2008-10-13T17:00:00.000-07:00

Me cautiva tu mirada;
Porque me habla de tristezas,
Me cuenta sus alegrías,
Y me mira con la verdad.
Me gusta, por sus promesas.
Por la pasión que derrama,
Y frágil feminidad.
Me gusta, y no te lo niego.
La quisiera acariciar...
En una muda mirada,
Indefenso a tu almohada,
Y bajo tu piel soñar.

Hoy estuve repasando tus cartas

2008-10-12T10:40:00.000-07:00

Mayo 2008

Hoy Estuve repasando tus cartas.
En especial: La de tu despedida.
Esa, en la que me escribes de tus ávidos
Llantos– y de tus profundas heridas.
...del daño que yo te hice y que aun, hoy te hago;
Y soy la causa de tus desencantos…

Hoy estuve repasando tus cartas;
Pero me fue muy difícil, querida.
Porque no pude leerla completa.
No me fue fácil deducir las letras...
Que vienen manchadas de tinta sangre
Y vestidas de vil injusticias…

Hoy estuve repasando tus cartas...

Y sangraron por ti, mil heridas.

No quise ver la tormenta…

2008-10-07T21:17:00.000-07:00

Quise creer en un cielo,
Amplio… azul, y soleado.
Mirándolo desde un suelo,
Estrecho, negro y marcado–
No quise ver la tormenta…
Que rugia bajo sus faldas,
…solo su fragancia a menta,
Entre bruñidas Guirnaldas.

Nota:

Una pequeña libertad ¨Rugía¨

I did not want to see the storm…

2008-10-07T21:12:00.000-07:00

(Translated from Spanish by PJD)

I wanted to believe in a sky,
Ample… blue, very sunny.
Gazing it from an earth,
Narrow, black and indented–
I did not want to see the storm…
Brewing under its skirt.
…only its minty fragrance,
Amidst the dazzling crown.

Oigo tu manta que llama...

2008-10-04T14:42:00.000-07:00

Busco atinar mi respiro,
En una puerta cerrada.
Manoteo… no hay respuesta—
…siento mi mano cansada—

Ominoso...el frío cala.
Mientras que de la ventana
Oigo tu manta que llama
Y brinda el sol de su calma.

Toco de nuevo en la puerta.

No hay respuestas...nadie gana...
Y el frío, con impaciencia
Me abraza y de ti me aparta.

Oigo tu manta que llama...
No siento el sol de su calma—

Talando pensamientos...

2008-10-03T20:21:00.000-07:00

Talando mis pensamientos
Transito de lado en lado
Portando mil sentimientos
Que me apalean atado.
Porrazos que me doblegan,
Que forjan de mí, un esclavo...
Momentos que ya no llegan,
Ni pueden ser olvidados.

My beautiful little girl...

2008-09-24T20:21:00.001-07:00

Not so long ago, I saw you come into view and nurture into a beautiful baby, and at the blink of an eye, became a dazzling and very special little girl. My beautiful little girl! I remember that big, warm smile, the hugs and the sweet little kisses. I remember how you made my heart race to an inevitable fast pace when seeing me come home and rushing into my arms, you would yell: “Dadda”! ...how you searched my pockets for the “forbidden” Gummy Bears, or beg for ice cream; and when you snuggled next to me... under the raised Volkswagen Beetle convertible… (yes, the one I said would one day be yours and I broke my promise) your cute little nose blackened with grease, because you wanted to help and hand me the tools. I remember the hard and difficult years too…those that broke my heart when I could not see you everyday, the hurt… and the tears. I will never forget the distress my spirit felt when after two weeks of not seeing you and your brother, my always lovable JP, I picked you both for my so called “visitation week-end”…and instead of feeling excited and happy, I felt so much sadness, so miserably upset…so not alive…and how I tried to hide my tears from you and your brother, because in just a few hours, I had to bring you back and not see you, again, for fourteen more days…how each time I took you home, I could hardly see the road ahead on my return trip, because I did not have wipers in my eyes…There are so many things I could never forget, so many…and remembering them all brings new things to remember and never to forget… Vivid in my mind are the lost years…the ones that could never be lived again…those I do not wish to remember but I do…because they are so hard to forget…Surprisingly, I have not changed. I still find myself lost without you both and maybe one day I will be able to find peace- but, how could I ever forget? Time have passed, memories have grown old. I’ve grown older too and you have grown into a very beautiful woman. A better man you couldn’t have by your side… and I enjoy seeing you both love life like a marriage should. To say I feel happy and proud is an understatement. I am in bliss and certainly very, very proud! I feel especially joyful because you’re a Mom to be…and I can’t wait till the day I see that beautiful baby arrive…and it will be a world filled with new and beautiful memories for me…and maybe then, in the excitement, I will have no time to think of old recollections, that saddens my heart… Love “Dadda”

Walking Under a Storm

2008-09-23T20:25:00.000-07:00

Walking under a storm
I saw baffling signs...
Uprooted, mangled and torn.
I was attracted to one in particular

And deliberately,
Without a thought, I followed.
No one but you was waiting.
My feelings, like the wind,
Were tangled and confused,
And riding my thoughts
I followed that sign without a care
And found myself in a dry
And hostile desert.
There were no tracks of you
And impatiently, waited...for
Another sign to come
And go after...
To take me to a place I have never been before
That I had not searched for you.
A new sign passed by and earnestly, I followed.
It took me out to sea
I froze, couldn’t swim. . . .
I was drowning in a tempting ocean.
And didn't feel you near me…
Suddenly! A burst of wind abruptly lifted me

And I found myself attached to an indistinguishable icon.
It was whirling and thrashing in midair,
I couldn’t hold it without a struggle...
Then, we were falling and when we finally landed
It mocked me: "Dead End"
…fearful, I woke up from the nightmare,
My clothes were torn, soiled and wet
There was sand in my cuffs
And my waterlogged shoes were far

From where they should had been.
I walked to the bathroom
And leaning on the sink

I splashed cold water on my face.
The soft touch of the towel took me to the mirror
Where we so often met.
I saw a face full of fears,
The streaming sweat,

The loneliness, the hurt, the tears…
I saw you before me...
Tearfully looking at me

With that inflexible and reproaching look…
As I told the image:
"I will be OK, I will be OK"
But deep inside, I had the feeling
That I could not satisfy our discontent
Until I had found myself…

Two whammies, back to back...

2008-09-19T13:12:00.000-07:00

New York, September 18, 2008

a) “Appeals court restores life sentences of former NYPD ‘Mafia Cops’ for their involvement in eight mob-related homicides”. (Newsday, Page A7, September 18, 2008)

b) 2 cops charged in firefighter beating” (Newsday, Page A8, September 18, 2008)

Well, if you dial 911 for an emergency and response seems kind of slow... or non existent at all, have no fears…or, should we?

It is nothing new to read about the New York Finest making headline news. Not serving and protecting the public as they should... seems like a favorite but, beating and kicking a fireman? Well, they have just added that one to the long list of abuses, harassment, kicking, beating and murdering of our citizens, even before being taken to court. (Not that it justifies the brutalities).

I wonder. Why have the Central Intelligence Agency neglected, for the past 49 years, to ever think of recruiting the New York Finest to do what they have proven to be a walk in the park for them? Instead, the CIA, for half a century have spent (mishandled) our tax-dollars in recruiting a band of unprofessional thugs- some of them, member of the very Mafia that our boys in blue have done away with, (With magnificent simplicity- if I may add) in the countless and fruitless attempts to send Castro into hell a thousand times over. Doesn’t it make you wonder who is the clown in charge, within the CIA, for covert assassinations? Bugles the mind!

One thing though…we have to give credit where credit is due. The Patrolman Benevolent Association does not discriminate. Ever! They always defend the boys in blue... No matter who they abuse, harass, maim or kill. If they steal, or go on the pad…or physically abuse their wife’s, and children...if they drink-and- drive… (epidemics within the ranks), the PBA quickly goes on their defense! But, let the average John Doe even think of spitting on the sidewalk, even after an extraction by the dentist, and he will be roughed-up into silliness by two, three or even ten officers…or may even get shot, fifty-some-times- by a few cops...leaving nothing but holes and air to bury... and the PBA will readily come out cheering for them. Serve and Protect? Yes, their own and their corrupted pockets! Sometimes I think we are safer with the thugs... in that in the almost 50 years, they have proven to be pussycats next to the men in blue!

I once heard a joke which now escapes me…but I believe the jest of it had to do with circumcisions, the collection of sufficient pieces of skins and patiently propping them all, one on top of the other, till it became a bully of a mass... to which, of course, you hang a badge, handcuffs and a holstered gun. Recognize it? Prick-ly funny, Uh?

Too bad that the few good cops... (the blind, deaf and mute ones) are made to look like Al Capone's blood thirsty enforcers.

Well, I just thought of sharing my newspaper with some of you, especially after reading how “good” our economy is doing... (as per John Mc Cain) and figuring you couldn't afford the fifty cents...

Speaking of Treasons...

2008-09-19T09:23:00.000-07:00

Speaking of treason…
Can we forget John McCain?
A man of obscure visions
And a traitor to Vets.
The man is insensitive;
A republican would you say?
Cunning…very inventive,
When covering his mistakes.
He once was a prisoner…
Who betrayed his country,
An oath, buddies and friends,
…and is now running for office,
Our highest Office…
And he will hurt us again and again!

With enthusiasm and patriotism: A brief tour of our military establishment.

2008-09-18T15:05:00.002-07:00

[ No Subject ]
Thursday, September 18, 2008 7:44 PM
From:
"comments@whitehouse.gov" comments@whitehouse.gov
To:
pablojdelarosa@: context":

On behalf of President Bush, thank you for your correspondence.We appreciate hearing your views and welcome your suggestions.Due to the large volume of e-mail received, the White House cannot respond to every message.Thank you again for taking the time to write.

With enthusiasm and patriotism: A brief tour of our military establishment.

2008-09-18T15:05:00.001-07:00

Picture a soldier (one of our own) lying on the dirt; mortally wounded. His face and body riddled with bullets…

Envision a scene and a field of fears, where the enemy is well concealed among civilian women and children, the sick and the elderly… in an urban house to house search, in an unfriendly and far away place…where it is difficult to distinguish friend from foe; where confusion and the adrenaline are heavily resting on a hair-line-trigger…on those dreadful guns made in hell…

Let us now look at the face of a fallen hero, who was proud member of the U.S Marine, 3rd Marine Div., III Expeditionary Force, assigned to a tour of duty in Fallujah, Iraq.

Sgt. Rafael Peralta (April 7, 1979-November 15, 2004) was born in Tijuana, Mexico, and migrated to the United States as a child. He obtained his green card and immediately afterwards became a U.S citizen while in the U.S Marine Corps. Like most of our children, Rafael was serving in a foreign land, not protecting us from danger…but protecting the deep and greedy pockets of our economy, of our politicians and their ill and stealthy friends. Rafael was told the enemy was knocking down our back door… and was also told: “It’s your duty to up-hold and defend it”. Rafael was also a proud American; a man who decorated his bedroom wall with what was to become his own epitaph…a copy of the Constitution of the United States, a facsimile of our Bill of Rights and his boot-camp graduation certificate. His adopted country, his honor, his pride!…

Rafael is now laying on the dirt. His half blown-off-face warming up his now cold body with a stream of blood, which should had been running through his veins and now, in vain, tries to filter itself through the many bullet holes on his body, in a fruitless attempt to keep him alive, because medics were not parallel. In the confusion, a hand grenade is thrown... God knows from where... and what hand had thrown it… but, our proud marine, a hero till the end, looks around… sees his buddies from “Operation Phantom Fury” in close and dangerous proximity…and closing his eyes with resignation, reaches out and grabs, tucking the deadly instrument of death under his body, to protect his friends from being killed or hurt...

Drums, trumpets and boots are all heard in cadence. It is Memorial Day. On the background, our unstoppable and evil President uses our dead hero’s mangled body to fit his contortioned views of his disastrous actions in that far away land- Our President, the Chief Executive of the armed forces- for whatever crooked and greedy reason he had at the time... called Rafael a “Hero”!

Congressman Bob Filner, (D) of California, and Chairman of the House Committee on Veterans’ Affairs and defender of Veterans rights introduced legislation to award Sgt. Peralta the Medal of Honor, which well deserved honor, was obscurely denied by a military review board for reasons which seem to indicate that our hero died under a frenzy of friendly fire…and NOT at hands of the enemy.

What better reason to award the prestigious Medal of Honor to one of our boys, than having been killed, in the line of duty…by one of our own? Are we, as a nation, confusing issues? Who cares who shot our hero, who cares what hands threw the hand grenade… did Sgt. Rafael Peralta shield his buddies, with his body, did he save them from injuries and/or certain death?

Write to your Congressman today... write to the White House and ask for clear, black and white reasons as to why, yet another injustice, is being perpetrated on Sgt. Rafael Peralta.

comments@whitehouse.gov.

Rest in peace my dear soldier…rest in peace among the thousand upon thousands of men and women, that have given their life for a country that sucked the life out of its youth and later used the untimely and violent deaths to fulfill their corrupted ambitions… or swept the bodies under the powerful and corrupted oval rug.

Shame on your buddies…for not coming on your defense, shame on the Corp. for not shielding you from those who still are trying to hurt your soul! Shame on the Armed Forces and its commander in Chief...Shame on those who believe that our children are having fun in and unfriendly and faraway land...when the truth is, they are only protecting the interests of corrupted politicians, wall street and the insatiable hunger for more, of our country, at whatever the cost.

Rest in peace Sgt. Rafael Peralta. We The People… recognize your brave and unselfish sacrifice and award you with what you so highly deserve… something your Commander in Chief wouldn’t understand; we give you our deepest and sincerest respects.

Farewell friend.

Link to Congressman Filner: http://www.house.gov/filner/biography.htm

Men should not cry...

2008-09-15T19:47:00.000-07:00

(Translation from spanish by PJD)

I have known of contempt its vanity, and have also felt its rancor. And I have felt it stirring under my skin with the coldness and length of a snake slithering in the mud. At times, I have felt the smile of bitterness anchoring to my lips, and to leave its sour flavor in my mouth… and before disappearing from my face, I have felt its incandescent iron to leave, yet another mark in my guts… and I have lamented, with the cries of an abandoned and hungry child left to the elements… and I have moaned without power to contain the pain, causing to question my own masculinity… only to continue crying, tremulous from the hunger and cold, not paying attention to my thoughts, nor its preposterous noises...

With love I have had a strange relationship… In estrangement I have earned a thousand decorations in a battlefield where I lost the thousand battles…and when at last, I fell in love… it surrounds me and threatens with the confusion that sadly weakens and beats me. But, although I may perish from its pain… it is better to die of love… than to never have loved before…and to love you, have been my most cherished decoration!

Los Hombres no Deben Llorar...

2008-09-14T20:27:00.000-07:00

Yo he conocido del desprecio su vanidad, y también su encono. Y la he sentido hurgando bajo mi piel, con la frialdad y plenitud de una serpiente deslizándose en el lodo. A veces he sentido la amarga risa visitar mis labios y dejar en mi boca sus agrios sabores… y antes de apagarse por el dolor, he sentido su incandescente hierro dejar otra marca en mis entrañas; y he llorado, con los lloros de un niño hambriento y abandonado a la intemperie… y he gemido sin poder contener el dolor hasta hacerme cuestionar mi masculinidad, solo para continuar llorando...temblando del hambre y del frío, sin dar importancia…a mis pensamientos, ni a sus ridiculos rumores...

Con el amor he tenido una extraña relación… En el desamor he ganado mil galardones, en un campo de batallas donde solo he conocido mil derrotas…y cuando al fin me he enamorado…me cerca y amenaza la confusión, y tristemente me agota. Pero aunque perezca en las filas de su dolor, es mejor morir de amor, que nunca haber amado…y haberte amado a ti, a sido el mas preciado de mis decoros.

My Poems... My Thoughts...

2008-09-14T19:00:00.000-07:00

My poems are reflections of my heart, mingled with the disenchantment and the sarcasm which so often walks hand in hand with those reflections. However, more often than not, my Poems speak of love… and the way my heart’s eyes wish to see life in general. I believe I am incapable of writing a true love poem, although recently in life, my thoughts have been geared towards love in its many colors.

Once upon a time, I believed in love, but, love died in the child’s heart that I once knew. It took a fairy tale to revive it and bring it to life…however, the fairy tale has yet to end…for me to find out if love is true.

My Thoughts are scrambled at times. Like life itself. Like our so called destinies… Life is a colossal drain when it comes to imposing its weight and power upon us, only to remind us, how fragile and spirited our spirits are. Life becomes a burden when we feed the morale and greed of others… or when bigotry shows up at our doorstep dressed up as racism, intolerance or chauvinism.

My thoughts, at times, tend to find their way into my poetry when my soul wants to scream…when my lips wish to utter the words: Please, stop the abuse! Abuses that arise from everywhere and everyone…abuses from a parent, a husband, a child, teacher, police or a priest…even from a total stranger and against a son or a daughter, the wife, pupil or faithful follower…or our next door neighbor─ Even from a country from far and wide!

Abuse, when the governments that are meant to protect us, lead us into harms way, or a certain death…because we disapprove of their ways and actions. Abuse when one man lies his way into power, with intentions to oppress…and no man or government is exempt of faults.

My Poems… My Thoughts… are my feelings of you and me…of him who for the most part have blind faith in our creator, although tends to question His blind eyes, at times… to the wells, rivers and oceans of tears…

My Poems... My Thoughts...

...de mis notas (Aforismo)

from my notes:

I Came from a Faraway Land...

Blooms of the Seasons

BREAKIN NEWS! Science Finds New Uses for Lemons

HAIKU #27

Was Archie Bunker the Anti-Christ?

Oui! Hats Off to the French Nation!

To Kill or Not to Kill...

A Well Deserved Reply

Have We no Shame?

Indomable Criatura

Wandering Thoughts...

Wandering Thoughts...

Show me...

Pensamientos...

My Poems... My Thoughts...: HAIKU#links

With Sightless Tears of Love

HAIKU

Un Año Atrás...

Untittled

Mankind

Juanes

With Ink From my Eyes (Translation of ''Con Tinta de mis Ojos'')

Con Tinta de mis Ojos

Sketches (Bosquejos)

Bosquejos

Fresh, Wholesome News!

Haiku # 5

Walking under a Storm

Peacock without Feathers

Playing the role of God...

Somber Silence...

Savvy is the Man...

Simple, Silly Susie

Standing on the Edge of Time...

Night Before the Storm...

Bertha's Husband...

Untitled ©NY 2009 PJD

Untitled ©NY 2009 PJD

Untitled ©2009 NY PJD

Closing Chapter...

Poesía en una imagen…

I came from a far away land...

Mudo...

Recuerdos de lunas y primaveras...

Con mis ojos cerrados...

Like a stain on the environment...

Como una mancha más en el ambiente…

...hold on my heart

¿Qué es la poesía?

Aun soñando...

Tengo deseos de hacerle el amor...

Haiku #2 ©2008 PJD

Haiko #1 ©2008 PJD

En una mirada...

Hoy estuve repasando tus cartas

No quise ver la tormenta…

I did not want to see the storm…

Oigo tu manta que llama...

Talando pensamientos...

My beautiful little girl...

Walking Under a Storm

Two whammies, back to back...

Speaking of Treasons...

With enthusiasm and patriotism: A brief tour of our military establishment.

With enthusiasm and patriotism: A brief tour of our military establishment.

Men should not cry...

Los Hombres no Deben Llorar...

My Poems... My Thoughts...