Can I get my parking ticket validated here? And while we’re at it, can I get my life validated here too?
Joyful Friday, maaaaaan!
It’s been a loooong time coming
Quite was the journey…
Mind and soul
Need this oxygen
Need art every day, not just Fridays
Soul doesn’t take a Holiday
Soul needs nurturing…
I create my future every day.
Without art, I am nobody.
First thing that appears in Genesis, in the Old Testament, before the Earth and the sky were created there was the verb, la palabra. Word of God.
Palabras, so powerful, should be used very carefully and with love. We are made of words. Palabras, ideas, thoughts. Palabras de mi madre, palabras de mi abuela, palabras de mi corazón. Sólo palabras es lo que somos.
©2014 Víctor Sotomayor
I want my voice back.
Where did it go?
It was here the other day or so,
There was no stopping my mouth from spilling words of wisdom
Words of encouragement
Words of praise
But none for me…
Where is my voice?
Hidden between the cupholder in my car?
Under the bed?
Under the kitchen sink?
In my iPod? In my cellphone?
Where did I last heard it?
I miss my voice
I miss it so much
I don’t know what I do without it
I need my voice
I need it now
Next time I get my voice back
I’ll lock it up under lock and key
I don’t ever want to lose it again
Words of encouragement, I need you
Words of wisdom, I need you
Words of my heart and my soul, I need you now
Where is my voice? Haven’t found it yet…
Let me look under the sink, or between the lines of the book I read or maybe between the lines that are written.
That’s where I still hear my voice, if ever so low and quiet. I can still hear it between my heartbeats and my deep breaths. It’s still there… My voice just needs time…
©2014 Victor Sotomayor
Lesbian, homo, transgender
Pick one, only one!
orbiting around the sun
Picking speed of sound
©2014 Victor Soromayor
You know you’re addicted to poetry when…
… your idols are Maya Angelou, John Lennon, Jim Morrison, Pablo Neruda, Ruben Darío and Juan de Dios Peza…
… All your friends are poets
… you surround yourself with poetry
… you breathe poetry
… you can cry because you get it now
… you live your life as if it was poetry
… you believe in your heart that all you need is LOVE
… I write poetry in my sleep
Window 22, please, sir!
Wake up, number’s up!!!
If Maya found her
voice, I too shall find my voice
this caged bird sings back.
I am a statue
Immobile, unflinched body
Naked to the world
My body is art
A marvelous masterpiece,
It’s one of a kind