Saturday, August 30, 2008

My Brother José

Time has passed
So little changed
You raised the call
In freedom’s name

That call rings still
It guides our path
It gives us strength
Against the wrath

Of those who would
Seek to enslave
The truth and rights
All people crave

They took your life
But could not see
The blood they shed
Fed liberty

You are alive
Inside our heart
We pledge to you
To do our part

The task is ours
To lead by choice
Fight for the weak
And give them voice

We must shout out
And lift our hands
Again it’s time
To take a stand

Honor and courage
Must win the day
We owe you this
My brother José

This poem is dedicated to two of my heroes, men who were not afraid to stand against tyrany, men who loved liberty. These two great men, their writings and sacrifices have inspired my own walk. In Loving memory, Rest in Peace José Martí of Cuba (José Julián Martí Pérez January 28, 1853May 19, 1895) and Dr. José Rizal of the Philippines (Dr. José Protasio Rizal Mercado y Alonso Realonda June 19, 1861December 30, 1896)

Wednesday, August 20, 2008


You came in the guise of a friend
You stole from me innocence and peace
You tricked me, lied to me
You stole without regard for consequence
You lived as a specter in my life
You hid in every shadow
Stalking me, chiding me
Dark whispers like a thousand darts
Now the thief has come for you
Stolen your health
Stolen your youth
You are laid bare
You died today
Your broken and decayed flesh failed you
That which you tried to take from me, denied
You died and I feel only sadness
I forgive you
Good night, find peace
Sleep now
You steal from me no more

Years ago something was stolen from me. Something I hid in my shame for years. I recently learned the thief died. Good bye, good journey, I am free...

Saturday, August 2, 2008


It is for she
Who spoke the world into being
and breathed life into it's lungs

It is for she
who was expected to stay
and chose to find her own way

It is for she
who carried the immaculate hope of the world
bore and nurtured him
for our death and resurrection

It is for she
who sacrificed her dreams
and ensured our own

It is for she
who made us men
and with a word or glance emasculated us

It is for she
who has shown me all I desire
and may not have

It is for she
who is worthy of praise and scorn
that I offer these humble prose

Women, they are God's most beautiful and terrible creation. They bear the future in their womb and drive men into their tomb. All Praise the creator for their existence.