the men i love

because he has a crooked tooth

because he is tall and built

because he's short and frumpy

because he's bald

because he's a great fiance

because he's understanding

because he's kind

because he laughs with me

because he cries with me

because he empties the trash for me

because he leaves his dirty dishes in the sink

because he's comfortable when he's with me

because he listens

because he is resilient

because he is cunning

because he is so ugly in the morning and

it makes me feel prettier, and he doesn't even 


 because he farts and blames it on me

because he bails me out when i'm down in the dumps

because he has a dimple on one cheek only

because he has nice cheeks***   ;-)

because he smells good

because he has body odor

because he's smart

because he failed the driver's test 4 times in a week

because he dropped out of highschool

because he kissed my forehead when i needed it kissed

because he kissed my ass when i was being a bitch

because he outsmarts people 

because he's a great fiance

because he's the best dad

because he's the best brother in the world

because he is the best friend i ever had

because he's obese

because he's not perfect

because he's perfectly himself

because he works hard

because he tries hard

because he never gives up 

because he loves my cooking

because his hands fit perfectly on my waist

because he eats like a pig

because he snores

because he leaves the toilet seat down

because he hurt my feelings

because he loves me

because i love loving him

because he is a man




3:05 AM 7/6/2013





Author's Notes/Comments: 

men are always writing women the most beautiful poems of love... just listing all the reasons men are lovable...good bad and in between!

His morning glory

the man lived his life, in the end, became a sad story..

wishing for her...

his morning glory.

loneliness was his plague..

walking along the concrete, his shadow amplified his defeat.. 

a pill for each sorrow.. 

doesn't care to wake for anything tomorrow..

will he ever be able to see her smile again..?


the guitar was his outlet..

& precious was his long hair, a golden crown..

like an angel to all around..

but the demons took his hand...

promised a better land, as they dragged him down...

robbed him of all his color... 

he gripped tightly to what was left..

but grace slipped through his finger tips...


pages, chapters, paper & writing..

short lived escape route.. 

books were some of his closest friends..

little did he know, how I worried about him..

wish I could of done better..

though I was just a child, it all feels the same to me..


like I watched his growing disease of depression make progression...

the darkness overwhelmed him, & choked him in his sleep...

I knew it was the day..

& after that, I myself haven't longed to awake in the morning...

every night I doze off, tossing & turning..

I feel like i'll wake up to someone dead..

Author's Notes/Comments: 

just wrote this today.. 3.22.13

about my Uncle who lived with me for a few years before & after my fathers death.. 

my Uncle passed Oct. 25 2007.. 

I hope he finally has some true peace, wherever his spirit may be.. 

Windows to reality

Every two or three days I used to see them, that couple of flattened squares of him. Summer or winter, no matter, he always wear those little windows to reality over his nose. With them he saw beautiful wonders, but he faced bad and sad things, too. Two distinct elements fused as one single. That’s the story of my uncle Ruben and his loved aviator sunglasses. He used them since I have memory. It seems like he always had them. It seems like always been there, over his nose. As inseparable friends, it was impossible to think of my uncle without thinking in their sunglasses or vice versa. Every birthday, every Christmas, in all the celebrations my uncle’s sunglasses were present. Those sunglasses were here, were there, as watching us, as part of the family. In the golden anniversary of my grandparents the sunglasses observed us from the pocket of my uncle´s shirt. Indeed, the shirt´s pocket was the second favorite place of them. When they weren’t in the pocket is because they were protecting my uncle’s eyes, covering them. This pair of sunglasses has accompanied me on many special moments. My uncle took them every one of my birthdays. I still remember that time when he even gave me a pair of sunglasses. A pair of aviator style sunglasses. That present was my way of be connected in a very new way to my uncle. I used them daily; I used it until it broke (yes, that was sad). Those sunglasses were part of my uncle, and my uncle was part of the sunglasses. Guess, who was the perfect companion for my uncle, for family roasts in sunny days? Yes, that metal frame with little windows similar to fly eyes. Roasting beef, preparing paella, playing soccer or monopoly, the normal fact is to see my uncle Ruben with sunglasses. But his favorite situation for use them is in every poker play. As he says ¨Excellent glasses for an excellent player¨, and there we had a poker face for all the game. He has lost his glasses only a few times. However, he always recovers them. Years have passed and my uncle´s enjoyment for their aviator sunglasses is not gone. It seems that it has become more jealous of their tradition of carrying with him that accessory to cover his eyes. Undoubtedly, the sunglasses are part of my uncle’s personality and all other people associate it with him. For this and more, those sunglasses are one of the most prized possessions of my uncle Ruben.

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