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Okay, a little diversion from the creative writing I usually place up. It’s national poetry month and I really dig the way, the following people are contributing to it:

Shel Silverstein is giving poems on his website. Also try your visual poetry with dumpr.net. It’s even inspiring me to get a flicker account and be on the web more hours than I should. Hey that’s the plight of being single, huh? Yep, pink snowboard guy thinks so. If you are into great writing, check out and hear the fabulous audio of Brooks and Hughes. Just because a poet can’t read their work, don’t write them off, check out “Bolshevescent,” a poem about everything to loose and gain at the same time. I am a big fan of Milton’s blog bringing me topics related to education and identity. I love the words of Frank Bidart, “What you love is your fate.” So in code, action, and thought, inspire people with the poetry that is you.

However, there’s gotta be some standard to poetry and the author has to be accountable for the words in more ways than the thing just sounded pretty on paper. There has to be honesty, a sincere want to communicate, systematic art form, a reason for diction and adequate variation. That’s it. Easy but not when you try it. The rest is instinct like when dogs recognize themselves by smell. So let me show you what I mean:

“Hey, you’re doing it, like I didn’t tell you to, my sinking laundry boat, point of departure, my white pomegranate, my swizzle stick.” –J. Ashbury (and that costs $23.95) It’s like the state of hip hop today. Get some common sense people! Seriously guys, I am not “playa hating” and will gladly endorse worthwhile writing like the people mentioned above. Granted some styles you may not be able to vibe with or because you haven’t had that experience it may not speak to you, but, PLEASE, tell me when my poetry is this stinky.

From the vault of my teenage years….

Llevo cultura y herencia
y peso en mi espalda
Mi corazón llorando
Pues la inocencia de mi gente se desgasta

Falta luz, falta la plata,
Falta el amor, falta alma
Para seguir en día a día
Cuando guerra esfuma guerra
Y sigue sangre derramando
en mi tierra Colombiana
Dime que hacer por/con
todos los desamparados?!

Caminante a su camino
Corredor a su jinete
Melancólica mi esperanza
Porque la situacion no avanza o termina

Tengo familia, tengo vida
Aspiraciones a poetiza
Pero cada vez me siento
Que algo me atrapa

Ven siéntate en mi mesa
Sin silencio ni pretextos
Todavía soy tu hija y el un ser humano
Ya dejen la ignorancia
y prejuicios de otra gente
Toma la mano de tu hermano
Con respeto que es mi amado

Pic provided by dumpr.net, love the museum quality

I heave and I almost wonder where, when, how and whom…if this world is truly a predetermined from death to conception and my life has been decided then why do I feel so insecure. I wonder of the possibility of us floating and making it up as we go along. Is the fear of messing up and the fearlessness of trying an acquired position for everybody and how many of us die in blasophobia? Human beings are full of complexities and it’s in the opposites that most people live in. I wonder why and how does that work. Where does it end and how long till it begins. How often and when can I rest. What constitutes love? How come it’s so difficult to describe, delineate, replicate, rubricate, enunciate all the forms of love and I wonder how many other cultures does love play hide-and-go-seek. Is love all that constitutes success or is there a percentage? Useless questions that need pondering is an oxymoron.