Inspired Poems & Musings

Eyes of Sorrow

by Paul Latanzio

Moma

by Derek Adam

Moma please don't go. I beg you

I know I messed up. It wasn't my intent.

I beg you to see past my mistakes and Look forward to my future choices. Moma don't leave me. I need you.

I'm so sorry that I disappointed you I don't know what to do without you.

You were by my side every time I needed hugs, kisses, and love. Moma! You know I love you.

Life isn't the same without you. Moma! Where have you gone?

Please come back Moma!

Please come back?

As I stare deep, deep into those eyes, I realize, our pain is the same, grief and sorrow, burdensome to those we love, I see it in your face, the pain you're going through, the one we can't erase.

Your eyes tell a story, a nightmare lived with fame and glory, how can this be, if there's so much pain I see, in those eyes of grief. As I stare into those eyes, I can feel what you feel, that's the power of misery.

As our eyes meet, contact fades, I blink, reality sets in, I hear a voice from afar, I pull away from the mirror, so that I can get ready for yard.

Where do you Stand?

by Derek Adam

You're at the end of the road

For what is seen, now splits in two

But only one you know you may go

What is to see is sand and the other is land

Sand what feels to have a pull

Land what hears to have a call

All isn't what it seems

Only on where you care to stand

Where do you stand? Pick your path!

Stand on holy land or sinful sand.

Something Inside

by Samuel Nault

A chill stirs me awake, as I hear the hum of a metal door unlock. The electric whirr, snapping to a stop. The sound of keys clatter as a blue orb dances into my cell - illuminating the walls. In a flash, the orb is fixed on me, slashing at my pupils with razor blades of white light. The violence, not real...Gone in an instant.

My bleeding eyes are restored once the orb has passed.

My icy bones beg me not to move, but I brave the dark coldness of reality every morning. I'm not too far removed from the days when something deep inside would tell me to just lay here for eternity.

Who is this insidious adversary, rendering me motionless, bound in their agonizing shadow of whispers?

Is it the collective voice of trauma, or just the echo of my insecurities?

Depression, anxiety, and loneliness, incite a quiet riot of love and hate that surge into an overwhelming flood of emotions down into the pit of my stomach.

The pain is a rising swarm of bees in my chest. Who sting my throat swollen shut.

I cannot speak.

No one else can taste the salt, but me. There is no remedy, not even a spoonful of the sweetest honey - I hate that about myself.

Why do I cling to the anchor made of guilt and loss, to all of the people who break my heart daily?

Soaking in sorrow, the ceiling disappears, and I see the stars for the very first time - trusting the currents that set me adrift, buoyant on salt water seas.

I let go of the thick rope soaked in blood, ripe with the pain of the torn flesh of my palms. Free from the anchor, I can feel the waves wash over me.

After awhile, the water isn't as frigid.

I can feel sand in my hair, and I can hear the oscillating sound of waves crashing against the shore.

As pink dye bleeds into the opaque water colors of dawn, the tenebrous sky burns away.

I imagine tendrils of steam rising from the sodden earth below, while the youthful sun brushes beautiful strokes of fresh, vibrant hues of green against the redwood trees.

The walls that surround me cannot be moved, and time will not fast forward or rewind.

So I am at peace with my stillness, and the motion of forces around me.

The push and pull of tides, and the magnetism of attraction, and light.

Staying present and grateful for the rhythmic beat of my heart, the harmonious rise and fall of my chest, and the cool tingle in my nostrils - the essence of life, that moves me through being.

Who can master the complexity of navigating this ephemeral existence without grieving the death of each passing moment, or waiting in painful anticipation for the next?

Why do we stare at faded photographs...stuck, time traveling through the shattered windows of our memories, hopes, fears, and dreams?

Picture me now as I move with lightness and grace.

Summer laughter briefly interrupted by the reminder of my scars.

In a moment's glance, the wisdom of nature ever-present in the form of a dark figure mimicking every movement I make.

My smile returns, in recognition that the darkness is just me, knowing I not longer have to hide my shadow in the shade of silence.

The silouhette of my pain doesn't shape me, rather I shape it...and one day it will be gone, when I take us home to rest forever, looking back - only to see how far I truly have come...

Now it is my door that buzzes to life.

I'm reminded of the bees, and the taste of salt. But I don't fear the sting, or the pain, because the bees have turned to butterflies - a feeling I've come to love.

Setting them free, into the world...I free myself. Those wild butterflies...

The movement within me - something inside -taking me here and there, but most importantly, to places I've never dreamed of.

A Merry Heart

by Horacio Abdiel Jafit Rios

A merry heart makes a cheerful countenance. The light of the eyes rejoices the heart

And a good word, makes the bones healthy. Pleasant work, are like a honeycomb Sweetness to the soul, and health to the bones.

A merry heart does good like medicine. Your lips are just like the top lid of the container Of this wonderful medicine.

Death and life are in the power of the tongue

The container is your heart, and I feel your heart in mine. You are my medicine, just like I would like to be for you. Thank you for your words, thank you for giving me health.

With love, thank you for marrying me. You are my merry heart.

Dedicated to God and my lovely wife.

Lost Boy

by Arthur Ramos

Every night she lies in bed

Every night a single tear she sheds

I think of my mother who doesn't know

Her Sons a criminal.

Her little boy who played and laughed

Now thinks evil thoughts and destroys his path.

Her little boy who sat and listened

Now at least once a night goes on a mission.

So please forgive me for the pain I've caused

But most of all, forgive me for the little boy you lost.

"Who I am"

By Derek Adam

I am from ancient times around the globe

From wide areas of vast grasslands and cold climate.

I am from the 3rd and last geologic epoch development of mammals

And my breathing is a force that binds everything in the universe.

I am from a time where sight and smell is the need.

From where it gives me life to live.

I am from a non-ordinary state of perception

And I possess such unbending intent that I'm not extinct.

I am from"various cats"

And I closely resemble the tiger. From my family is as I

I am from a massive body, shorter legs & tail

And long, curved upper canine teeth.

I am from a time where we hunt as one or none

And I understand all that is said, but know fear best.

I am food is best uncooked once got

From what I know is 'cause I've watched and seen.

I am from the moment of survival And a place of knowledge.

I am from through dreams from sleep

From transferred through your awareness is where I'll be

And the seers of this lineage is total freedom. Who I am is the saber tooth tiger.

"If I Was a Love Poet"

By Erik Rodriguez

I'm going to be honest, I'm not a love poet.

In fact every time I try to write about love my hands cramp just to show me how painful love can be and sometimes my pencil breaks just to prove to me love takes a little more work than you planned. You see I heard that love is blind, so I write all my poems in braille and my poems are never actually finished because true love is endless.

I believe that true love is kinda like a super model before she's airbrushed, pure and imperfect just the way God intended...

You see I'm not really a love poet...

But if I was to wake up tomorrow morning and decide I really wanted to write about love, I swear that my first poem...it would be about you...

About how I loved you the same way I learned how to ride a bike, scared and reckless with no helmet, or elbow pads so my scars can tell the story of how I fell for you. You see I'm not really a love poet. But if I was...

I'd write about how I see your face in every cloud and your reflection in every window. You see, I'd write about how I wish you were here right now because if you were, I'd massage your back until your skin sung songs that your lips don't even know the words to, until your heart beat sounds like my last name and you smile is like the Pacific Ocean. I want to drink the sunlight in your skin.

If I was a love poet...

I'd write about how your eyelashes are like violin strings that play symphonies every time you blink and how you have the audacity to be beautiful even on days when everything around you is ugly...

I swear I'm not a love poet, but if I was to wake up tomorrow morning and decide I really wanted to write about love, my first poem would be about you...

And after all that she was like "How do you feel about me??"

I said...I want to be your ex-boyfriend's stuntman, I want to do everyting he never had the courage to do, like trust you...

I swear that when our lips touch I can taste the next sixty years of my life and some days I want to swallow pictures of you just so you can be a part of me for a little bit longer.

If I could I would sample your smile and then I would let my heart beat to the base line so we could create the greatest love song of all time.

You can be ooh child when I'm in pain and I can be your candycoated drops of rain. Eventhough it never rains in Southern California and together we can be music. When my friends ask if you're my girlfriend, I'll so no...

She's my musician, and me...I'm her favorite song. Your know you're in love when you can't fall asleep...because your reality is finally better than your dreams.

The Man Behind the Mask

By Benny Scaiano

As I take time to reflect I have come to the realization, although I did not grow up under the best of circumstance, I have been provided with many opportunities to become successful. It is not that I did not have the potential but rather I never fully acknowledged it...In a state of brokenness, having ambition and no sense of direction.

A reality of an unfortunate and humbling beginning, I eventually became accustomed with and content with failure...but a part of me always believed that I deserved better, and I desired success.

Becoming a distant memory of a troubled past, I am not out of sight and out of mind. I who was once so capable blessed with talents and abilities...begin to learn the error of my ways, living a lonely existence and full of regret! Lost and later then found. Regardless, I remain hopeful, patient, encouraged, inspired, and motivated. I am content, but not complacent. Passionately preparing for my eventual return. With this in mind, I remain focused on the task of making amends, seeking forgiveness, on the path of redemption. In the pursuit of life and liberty.

Overcoming all odds and surviving expectation. The past is still with me. I am concious of the hurt I have caused, empathy, compassion, remorse, and sorrow...My eyes opened providing visual clarity, breath in my lungs, tasting victory! I ascend above smoke, and ashes...my wounds have healed and my bleeding begins to stop. There is no more locked doors and no more cops! The cuffs off me now, the prison gates opened, "Wow!" I become aware of the endless possibilities, a world filled with opportunities. Full of anticipation, moving forward without hesitation. A lifetime of crime behind me, seen and experienced so much it is blinding...My past has no place as I remove the mask from my face. I am aware and percieve of what is ahead. I catch the essence of my epic future. As I "CrossFit" until my heart splits, I pave a new path and I will not look back...

Elevating beyond and transcending boundaries expelling the fear, doubts and tragedy. Disappearing, reappearing in the light and comprised of multiple facets of complexity, "eccentric diversity". Even scars begin to fade rewriting my own narrative contemplating responsible decisions yet to make. Envisioning fate and destiniy in utopia, I will create...