Year in Review

My writing sucks lately. My only hope is that next year I can get my head out of my ass and take things even more seriously.

--
It's a great thought to have resolutions, but I've never really understood them. All really seems to do is mislead habitual people for a few weeks, and clog up the gym when I want to work out. All I want to do next year is find more time to write. Will that happen? No. It's shaping up the be the busiest year of my life. A little happiness, and less time spent fighting with loved ones (including my fiance) would be nice, but that probably won't happen either. I am, and am surrounded by people who are constantly on fire about every aspect of their lives. And, when those things don't pan out, they turn on each other. It's that, or everyone is too damn busy to find time for complete resolution. You be the judge.

I just wanna write stories with ghastly ghouls and mischievous monster. Things that go bump in the night, and things that traumatize children. Writing more poetry that promotes deep thought, and/or is something that people can relate to would be ideal as well. Basically, I wanna keep on keeping on.

Happy new year. Stay warm. Have a scotch. Love your neighbor. Love yourself. Love me.

Love you.

~Torres

Untitled...With Reason

Untitled...With Reason

You think that the fact that we are going to die would be enough…

You think that we be enough.

Motivation to be kind to each other—

      Believe in something besides fairy tales.

            Love harder than you thought possible.

                  Be loved back.

But it isn’t.

       It isn’t enough

              to walk with both eyes open in wonder.

We won’t let it be so.

We favor our differences over the differences of others.

The crowd refuses to give up its rule.

        It refuses to consider that

                     it

                                 may

                    be

                                 dead

                                                   wrong.

---

Moving around the stanzas and lines can be fun sometimes. This is the first time I really did it.

But, I haven’t written poetry is a couple months.  It’s sad, but true. I’ve been doing a lot of
editing. I’ve been doing some submitting. And, I’ve been focused on writing spooky stories and the like.

I miss poetry. But at least I’m writing something.

Later,

~Torres

The Squalid Number

I used the title "The Squalid Number" because an English gentlemen used the term when describing "The Life of Brian" to John Cleese during an interview. It's fun to say; sounds like a Victorian horror story; and has a great meaning (a dirty/unpleasant bit of info/material).

It has nothing to do with this post. 

--

In this post, I will provide you with a Bukowski video that (I think) everyone should watch (Tom Waits is reading this one). Then, I will attempt to reach you with poesy of my own. Behold!

The Laughing Heart

Now, it's my turn...

-------------------------

Wanda

The first girl I ever kissed

when I was 8 years old

is wanted for manufacturing 

and dealing

in my home town.

Judging by her mugshot

(from an arrest a year ago),

it was a more serious chemical this time.

Back them,

she was cute

and shy.

A rose of promise.

Her father was gone,

but her mother would beat her 

with one of his belts

on a regular basis.

Her brother was overbearing

and over-protective.

There was no neck tattoo back then.

No luggage under her lids.

No scar on her left cheek.

She was as pure,

and as tan 

as untouched

Puerto Rican 

sand

along Arecibo.

We were building Lego castles

in the toy room

of my old house

when she leaned it,

and I felt the softness

of the opposite sex

for the first time

upon my lips. 

"If you tell anyone, I'll kill you,"

She said with a smile,

before strolling down Chestnut street

unguarded,

back to Lebanon's own 

little Barrio

on the other side 

of the train tracks. 

It looks like she's been there ever since.

--------------------------------------------------

~Torres