Category: Poetry

When life throws you lemons, you make lemonade.

When life kicks you down a bad rabbit hole,

you have no choice but to go with it.

Flying down a rocky wonderland that’s anything but wonderful

as the different mythical beasts nip at your heels,

it seems even day-to-day now that hope is futile

instead of one of two of the only people and things

that kept me afloat on this river of tears and

emotional lava:

Hope and Her. She and my own prayers.

My family was there and so was she,

standing in league as the only human beings

I cared to see and often still see now; How

curious it is that I took her for granted,

but all my personal sins I’ve recanted

and I would run a million miles through

it all again with a smile on my face as I panted

to get to where I am now; a place of solace,

a wondrous peace that although sometimes

disrupted is a far cry from the volcano

of my mind that one time hath so

violently erupted.

And I’d do it all over for her,

she is my Christmas Eve,

I’d do it all again, the suffering,

the ups and downs, highs and lows,

For all the unrestrained ‘I love yous’

and kisses we now share in return.

And I’d do it all over, for her,

I’d do it all over with a smile on my face. – RSM

A light string strummed on a cold day,

A percussive mastermind strikes

while sitting on the hard pavement.

A playlist on Spotify sets the tone

for the rest of the time that passes along

before the sun sets and the moon plays her song.

A band on stage captivates the crowd

as the young women flock to the forefront.

Moshers behind them let out their aggression

while the sound guy takes a drink to forget past transgressions.

A million minds in their own little world

as music activates their soul’s ear.

I sing, I dance, I play some myself

whenever I feel that time allows.

I yearn to float like a rain cloud that pours

so when I feel the music vibrating my bones

I spill my heart out on the people below.

When they feel my rain drops they will know

what music does to me.

I just need to chill.

Everything is as it is

and things could be shitty,

but things ain’t so bad at all.

Call me one of the few and proud

who likes to dance and sing it loud

my ring says ‘True Family Love’

for reasons that speak solely

to my old friends and my soul, G!

I never forgot who I was no matter where I went

be it Europe, Queens or down the block

I’m still the happy-go-hardworking-

indifferently-relaxed spiritual being

in a human’s body I’ve always been.

Nevermind sin, I’ve lived

like the mentally rich pauper,

occupying more skies in my dreams

than a thousand flying saucers.

Que sera sera, Murphy’s Law,

YOLO, What goes around comes around,

Lo que paso paso, I’ll be running through My Town.

I’m not done living, I’m just rethinking still.

The best philosophy of all is: Just chill.

I sit in a chair suited for a poor king.

Jacket open, wind swirling about

as I light a cigarette and put it to my mouth.

Inhaling what’s no good for me, I ponder

why the pigeons change directions so abruptly

as they follow the wind currents, flying

unpredictably as the the air’s force coerces them.

A feeling of peace enters my nervous system

as I exhale into the sun. Free. Serene. Euphoric.

I look down at the streets below me and think of

how many tiny humans exist from here to Long Island.

How different and similar it would be to live somewhere else.

This little moment of clarity reminds me

that we all take smoke breaks here and there

and there’s no shame in it, even if you don’t smoke.

This overwhelming peaceful feeling

that invades my body like nature’s hippie bacteria

is nothing short of a miracle;

I let my body hang over the chair

and soak in the sun.

Certain songs leave me paralyzed.

It’s not easy to relive childhood memories

when growing up is all that’s on your mind.

Singing along to Marc Anthony

was my reality across this living room

twenty years ago.

It’s on VHS tapes

that will never see the light of day

except for family gatherings

of rarity and importance.

I exist as I always have, yet

so much has happened since

I was in diapers.

My life has seen many a happening.

throughout this experience I’ve danced,

sang, laughed and lived too many times

to not say it all brings me back to my origins:

Salsa music, the living room

where I’ve always lived

now a beautiful collection of framed pictures

each recanting memories of sonrisas y bailar

and trips to places I never thought I would go.

I don’t know how to fail because

all is never lost if I can smile

through all the personal tragedy.

I was born to laugh

and trained to work hard;

a combination that left other

dancers in the dust.

Be it plaques on the wall

or lighting up the eyes of others,

I live to be happy.

Of all the hard times, accomplishments and

memories for better or worse

the smiles resonate so radiantly

and I am proud of who I am. – RSM

As I watch other poets

retell their fake lives

on this nightmarish eve that falls

a strange sense of jealousy comes over me.

Am I living mine or giving mine to them?

As Ms. Roberts goes on her own journey.

Good gone bad gone bored gone to be mystified

by the hypnosis machine of old.

How awkward things have gotten in the realm of Ms. Roberts.

I love it. Tres adventurous. She just puked. – RSM

As I pass my high school on ye olde bus route

I feel a redemptive chill run down my spine,

Striking a chord that no song could touch upon

Nor any words could make me think about.

I was a good boy, following all the rules

To get into a good college.

Now my life is all about ‘been there, done that,

Appointment this, appointment that’

And yet I feel a regretless sense of satisfaction

To know Im making better decisions sooner than later.

I’m doing what I must to show who I trust

That I’m a swimmer, not a sinker.

A former party boy nowadays

With no intention of going back to his old ways.

I never asked anyone to ‘Put the money in the bag’

Because good times on my mind was all I ever had.

Let this be a lesson learned to myself:

There are other ways to heaven,

Dont put yourself through hell.

As my crooked jaw line clicks into place

I hear the ambient sounds of the air propelled

from my netbook into my eardrums.

I press and switch away on the keyboard

to combat boredom hand-to-hand.

A serenity-ridden, guilt-stripped night

where I have thus far achieved my ultimate goal.

Rewinding time is as impossible as it sounds,

even memories get distorted.

Late is better than not at all to right wrongs

and improve on self-perceived imperfections.

Xes not on my mind for once, seY I’m a mirror

Of what I’m used to being lately; calm, cool,

collected my thoughts and placed them in order.

Does that make me the same? Different?

Was I ever addicted to anything but love, really?

It does make the world go round, ya know.

Aristotle was onto something when

he equated the rotation this oblate spheroid

having it’s power come from laughter and joy

Yet everyman wants to be more, not less,

It’s always No, not Yes.

As the music pumps peace through my veins

I smile at these words, not even caring that

life will never be the same.

It will be better. – RSM