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Ten poems

The Way


Poetry is it.
Words on a page
Or verses spoken,
This is my ocean.
It need not be me
Producing the poetry,
For Benjamin Zephaniah
Can really take me higher,
Edna St Vincent Millay
Can really make my day.

There’s something
About the way
That words
Their. Way. Through.
Delicately dancing around
The maypole of my senses
As my heart clenches
And the fences
Of my mind
Come down.

We are one
For a moment,
Until the moment
Is gone.

¿Cómo Es Ella?

Es combinaciones de canciones
de muchas culturas.

Es cavilaciones y revelaciones
de sabias maduras.

Es la tostada y mermelada
de un desayuno aristocrático.

Es la cascada de la llamada
de un ruiseñor muy errático.



go where
no one else
has been is seen
by some as madness,
or just plain silliness,
because there is nothing new
under the sun, or so they say…
But what about above the sun and
behind the moon and on top of the mountains?
Yes, astronauts and climbers have been there,
yet, not every rock has been overturned,
not every star has been sighted.
The universe still expands,
and so long as it is
expanding itself,
I will remain
searching for


Siento demasiado,
El viento, el pasado…
Sonidos y ruidos
Irritan mis oídos.

Pienso demasiado,
Tenso y pesado…
Preocupaciones y reflexiones
Destrozan mis ilusiones.

me alegra
sentir y pensar
Significa que
estoy vivo.



it comes
to the theme
of guilt, it has
always baffled me
how innocent people
seem to feel it all the time;
guilt-ridden and yet not guilty.
Meanwhile, those who cause the most damage
go about their business without remorse.
The only people who seem to feel the
appropriate amount of guilt for
their dishonourable conduct
are those who do a little
bit of harm and feel a
little bit of guilt.
What can be done
about this?
I don’t

My Last Breath

I draw
my last breath
on this planet,
what will be my thoughts?
Will life suddenly make
sense? Will I finally find
peace? Or will my last thoughts be like
the day-to-day ones that I have now?
By which I mean, will I experience
a large medley of unsolved conundrums?
The philosopher Bryan Magee
dedicated much of his life
to trying to figure out
what we are doing here,
but in the end he
was still unsure.
I guess I’ll
be the

El Péndulo Oscila

Ella es el cielo
o el infierno
nunca la tierra.

Es caliente
o fría
nunca tibia.

Quiere nada
o todo
nunca poco.

Es peligroso impedir
un gran péndulo
por eso tolero
su vaivén.

Lo quiero
o lo odio
nunca estoy

Ella Está Volando

Ella está en pleno vuelo
pilota su avión sola.
Está volando más alto
que los demás y
cuando vuelas tan alto
las cosas pueden volverse

La turbulencia le frustra.
A veces preferiría
estrellarse en el océano
en lugar de alcanzar
su destino

Me pregunto si ella sabe
que esta turbulencia
es en realidad
el universo diciéndole
que su alma tiene

Ojalá que siga


it seem like
we are all doomed,
lost, with no way out.
But your pessimism
is not the only way to
look at things, if your mind is free.
No, I am not just deluded or
believing in mumbo jumbo nonsense.
All I am saying is that things are not
so clear-cut and so predictable.
Sure, life is hard and things go wrong,
but also surprises come
when we least expect it.
So, please, let us not
extinguish the
flame of

Lo Que No Es

Ser feliz no es ser egoísta
Al contrario es ser generoso
Porque puedes emitir tu felicidad
A aquellos que la necesiten.

Ser responsable no es ser aburrido
Al contrario es ser divertido
Porque si conoces bien los peligros
Entonces conocerás mejor las diversiones.

Ser amable no es ser débil
Al contrario es ser fuerte
Porque muestras que no tienes miedo
De ser quién eres.

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