Amor
Deseo que escuches
Estas palabras que yo he
Escrito por ti
Yo no queiro vivir
Una vida que no me permite
Tocarte y besarte y escibirte
Las canciones que tu inspiras con cada sonrisa
Mi vida
Aunque yo te he fallado
Eso se quedara en el pasado
Solo una oportunidad mas
Y mi alma es tuya
Solo tuya
Tu belleza siguiera cresiendo
Como un vino mejora con el tiempo
Te hiciera el amor como un joven
Lleno de pasion
Que emocion
Tu veras
Que mis besos te calmaran
Te mantendran soñando
Tu veras
El futuro brilla con la luz
De nuestro amor
Tu veras
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Act like a kid sometimes, it's okay!
Life shouldn't be taken that seriously because do keep in mind, this is all transient and will all go up in smoke at some point.
-Jordan Lejuwaan
-Jordan Lejuwaan
Monday, February 14, 2011
Songs That Sound The Same
What are you gonna do now
That your time is running out?
And the clock is ticking loud as it
Counts down to the last call tonight.
What a waste of time
To look over any rhyme
That was written with intention
To provoke a ringing in your ear
Dance along with me
As we drift across the sea
Of rhythms that so swiftly cause our hips
To sway and twist and wind.
Any excuse will do
Just as long as you and I
Get to groove along the dancefloor
So close that you can even hear
My heart beat
It bumps for you
Like the beat of the last song
They play tonight
I keep writing songs that sound the same,
It's only 'cause you're running circles in my brain,
But you know that I don't mind,
I hope you know that I don't mind
That your time is running out?
And the clock is ticking loud as it
Counts down to the last call tonight.
What a waste of time
To look over any rhyme
That was written with intention
To provoke a ringing in your ear
Dance along with me
As we drift across the sea
Of rhythms that so swiftly cause our hips
To sway and twist and wind.
Any excuse will do
Just as long as you and I
Get to groove along the dancefloor
So close that you can even hear
My heart beat
It bumps for you
Like the beat of the last song
They play tonight
I keep writing songs that sound the same,
It's only 'cause you're running circles in my brain,
But you know that I don't mind,
I hope you know that I don't mind
Thursday, February 10, 2011
The Cab Ride I'll Never Forget
by Kent Nerburn
Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. One time I arrived in the middle of the night for a pick up at a building that was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window.
Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away. But I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself. So I walked to the door and knocked.
"Just a minute," answered a frail, elderly voice.
I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase.
The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.
"Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness.
"It's nothing," I told her. "I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated."
"Oh, you're such a good boy," she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then asked, "Could you drive through downtown?"
"It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly.
"Oh, I don't mind," she said. "I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice."
I looked in the rear view mirror. Her eyes were glistening.
"I don't have any family left," she continued. "The doctor says I don't have very long."
I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. "What route would you like me to take?" I asked.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.
Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, "I'm tired. Let's go now."
We drove in silence to the address she had given me.
It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.
"How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse.
"Nothing," I said.
"You have to make a living," she answered.
"There are other passengers."
Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.
"You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said. "Thank you."
I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.
I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?
On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life. We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware—beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.
Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. One time I arrived in the middle of the night for a pick up at a building that was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window.
Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away. But I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself. So I walked to the door and knocked.
"Just a minute," answered a frail, elderly voice.
I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase.
The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.
"Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness.
"It's nothing," I told her. "I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated."
"Oh, you're such a good boy," she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then asked, "Could you drive through downtown?"
"It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly.
"Oh, I don't mind," she said. "I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice."
I looked in the rear view mirror. Her eyes were glistening.
"I don't have any family left," she continued. "The doctor says I don't have very long."
I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. "What route would you like me to take?" I asked.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.
Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, "I'm tired. Let's go now."
We drove in silence to the address she had given me.
It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.
"How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse.
"Nothing," I said.
"You have to make a living," she answered.
"There are other passengers."
Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.
"You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said. "Thank you."
I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.
I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?
On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life. We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware—beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Dreaming of You
Could this be a fantasy?
Are the curtains waiting to rise?
Will the actors pull off their masks,
And ruin their disguise?
Will the cameraman start again,
And call the whole cast to begin
And read over the script to make sure
They remember every glimpse and grin?
Will you walk away from me,
Back to the make-up booth,
And touch up the tears that you shed,
When I thought you were telling the truth?
Could this be a dream, my dear?
Have you really done it again?
Are these your lips,
Or just my own longing imagination?
I hope this is happening.
God forbid I ever wake up.
Let me dream forever with you by my side,
That would be enough.
Darling if you'll stay with me,
I will always find a way,
To steal at least half of a grin off your face
Each and every day.
Are the curtains waiting to rise?
Will the actors pull off their masks,
And ruin their disguise?
Will the cameraman start again,
And call the whole cast to begin
And read over the script to make sure
They remember every glimpse and grin?
Will you walk away from me,
Back to the make-up booth,
And touch up the tears that you shed,
When I thought you were telling the truth?
Could this be a dream, my dear?
Have you really done it again?
Are these your lips,
Or just my own longing imagination?
I hope this is happening.
God forbid I ever wake up.
Let me dream forever with you by my side,
That would be enough.
Darling if you'll stay with me,
I will always find a way,
To steal at least half of a grin off your face
Each and every day.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Into the Great Unknown
With stardust memories fading into cosmic abyss,
The space nomad floats along the asteroid belt.
Wondering how many light years it's been
Since the final take-off.
Orbiting through a distant solar system,
Whose ancient life forms had long since vanished,
And been forgotten by the universe.
The space man knows not the measure of his true solitude,
Which looms so purely in his atmosphere.
He simply stares out the window,
Wishing for a signal.
Some kind of saving grace.
A miracle.
But all he can see is stars,
Billions and billions of them,
Suspended in the infinite blackness,
Waiting for some lonely wanderer
To keep them company for a while.
The space nomad floats along the asteroid belt.
Wondering how many light years it's been
Since the final take-off.
Orbiting through a distant solar system,
Whose ancient life forms had long since vanished,
And been forgotten by the universe.
The space man knows not the measure of his true solitude,
Which looms so purely in his atmosphere.
He simply stares out the window,
Wishing for a signal.
Some kind of saving grace.
A miracle.
But all he can see is stars,
Billions and billions of them,
Suspended in the infinite blackness,
Waiting for some lonely wanderer
To keep them company for a while.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
I've Learned...
I've learned that you cannot make someone love you.
All you can do is be someone who can be loved.
The rest is up to them.
I've learned that no matter how much I care,
some people just don't care back.
And it's not the end of the world.
I've learned that it takes years to build up trust,
and only seconds to destroy it.
I've learned that it's not what you have in your life,
but who you have in your life that counts.
I've learned that you can get by on charm for about fifteen minutes.
After that, you'd better know something.
I've learned that you shouldn't compare yourself
to the best others can do,
but to the best you can do.
I've learned that it's not what happens to people,
It's what they do about it.
I've learned that no matter how thin you slice it,
there are always two sides.
I've learned that you should always leave loved ones with loving words.
It may be the last time you see them.
I've learned that you can keep going
long after you think you can't.
I've learned that heroes are the people who do what has to be done
When it needs to be done
regardless of the consequences.
I've learned that there are people who love you dearly,
but just don't know how to show it.
I've learned that sometimes when I'm angry I have the right to be angry,
but that doesn't give me the right to be cruel.
I've learned that true friendship continues to grow even over the longest distance.
Same goes for true love.
I've learned that just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to
doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have.
I've learned that no matter how good a friend is,
they're going to hurt you every once in a while
and you must forgive them for that.
I've learned that it isn't always enough to be forgiven by others.
Sometimes you have to learn to forgive yourself.
I've learned that no matter how bad your heart is broken,
the world doesn't stop for your grief.
I've learned that our background and circumstances may have influenced who we are,
but we are responsible for who we become.
I've learned that just because two people argue, it doesn't mean that they don't love each other.
And just because they don't argue, it doesn't mean they do.
I've learned that sometimes you have to put the individual
ahead of their actions.
I've learned that two people can look at the exact same thing
and see something totally different.
I've learned that no matter the consequences,
those who are honest with themselves get farther in life.
I've learned that your life can be changed in a matter of hours
by people who don't even know you.
I've learned that even when you think you have no more to give,
when a friend cries out to you,
you will find the strength to help.
I've learned that writing,
as well as talking,
can ease emotional pains.
I've learned that the people you care most about in life
are taken from you too soon.
I've learned that it's hard to determine where to draw the line between being nice
and not hurting people's feelings and standing up for what you believe.
I've learned to love
and be loved.
I've learned...
- Omer B. Washington
All you can do is be someone who can be loved.
The rest is up to them.
I've learned that no matter how much I care,
some people just don't care back.
And it's not the end of the world.
I've learned that it takes years to build up trust,
and only seconds to destroy it.
I've learned that it's not what you have in your life,
but who you have in your life that counts.
I've learned that you can get by on charm for about fifteen minutes.
After that, you'd better know something.
I've learned that you shouldn't compare yourself
to the best others can do,
but to the best you can do.
I've learned that it's not what happens to people,
It's what they do about it.
I've learned that no matter how thin you slice it,
there are always two sides.
I've learned that you should always leave loved ones with loving words.
It may be the last time you see them.
I've learned that you can keep going
long after you think you can't.
I've learned that heroes are the people who do what has to be done
When it needs to be done
regardless of the consequences.
I've learned that there are people who love you dearly,
but just don't know how to show it.
I've learned that sometimes when I'm angry I have the right to be angry,
but that doesn't give me the right to be cruel.
I've learned that true friendship continues to grow even over the longest distance.
Same goes for true love.
I've learned that just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to
doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have.
I've learned that no matter how good a friend is,
they're going to hurt you every once in a while
and you must forgive them for that.
I've learned that it isn't always enough to be forgiven by others.
Sometimes you have to learn to forgive yourself.
I've learned that no matter how bad your heart is broken,
the world doesn't stop for your grief.
I've learned that our background and circumstances may have influenced who we are,
but we are responsible for who we become.
I've learned that just because two people argue, it doesn't mean that they don't love each other.
And just because they don't argue, it doesn't mean they do.
I've learned that sometimes you have to put the individual
ahead of their actions.
I've learned that two people can look at the exact same thing
and see something totally different.
I've learned that no matter the consequences,
those who are honest with themselves get farther in life.
I've learned that your life can be changed in a matter of hours
by people who don't even know you.
I've learned that even when you think you have no more to give,
when a friend cries out to you,
you will find the strength to help.
I've learned that writing,
as well as talking,
can ease emotional pains.
I've learned that the people you care most about in life
are taken from you too soon.
I've learned that it's hard to determine where to draw the line between being nice
and not hurting people's feelings and standing up for what you believe.
I've learned to love
and be loved.
I've learned...
- Omer B. Washington
Monday, January 24, 2011
Madness
Can it be true that this sensation,
This utterly enigmatic state of thought and emotion,
Is actually madness in disguise?
Why is it that every corner I turn,
Every face I see,
Reminds me again,
and again,
and
again...
I am tumbling down the rabbit hole,
With hopes to soon land at your door.
Let your kisses break my fall,
And your caress mend my broken mind,
Which skips like an antique phonograph,
Playing all of our favorite tunes,
again,
and
again,
and again...
Your love is the antidote to this lunacy,
So cure me with your love.
This utterly enigmatic state of thought and emotion,
Is actually madness in disguise?
Why is it that every corner I turn,
Every face I see,
Reminds me again,
and again,
and
again...
I am tumbling down the rabbit hole,
With hopes to soon land at your door.
Let your kisses break my fall,
And your caress mend my broken mind,
Which skips like an antique phonograph,
Playing all of our favorite tunes,
again,
and
again,
and again...
Your love is the antidote to this lunacy,
So cure me with your love.
Best Toast I've Ever Heard
"Let us toast to animal pleasures, to escapism, to rain on the roof and instant coffee, to unemployment insurance and library cards, to absinthe and good-hearted landlords, to music and warm bodies and contraceptives... and to the ‘good life,’ whatever it is and wherever it happens to be." ~Hunter S. Thompson
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
The Bed Song
When I lay my hand on you
I can feel your pulse inside me
We wait for them to leave the room
Then shed our clothes like old skin
Reborn against your mattress
We’re breathing in each other’s warmth
Locked in luscious motion
Sweat beads along your face
And I’m ready to melt your pains away
With a silky touch to caress as you obey
As your giggles turn to moans
You hold on so tight
As we unite to become one and take flight
You’re on top of the world on me
As you hang on and try to breathe
I'm entranced by your perfect curves
And I'm bathing in your endless sea
Along in the sheets we sway,
'Til we both come we'll make love all day
I can feel your pulse inside me
We wait for them to leave the room
Then shed our clothes like old skin
Reborn against your mattress
We’re breathing in each other’s warmth
Locked in luscious motion
Sweat beads along your face
And I’m ready to melt your pains away
With a silky touch to caress as you obey
As your giggles turn to moans
You hold on so tight
As we unite to become one and take flight
You’re on top of the world on me
As you hang on and try to breathe
I'm entranced by your perfect curves
And I'm bathing in your endless sea
Along in the sheets we sway,
'Til we both come we'll make love all day
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