via Instagram http://ift.tt/2AhNpyF
Tuesday, November 07, 2017
Monday, November 06, 2017
please hold me a little longer tonight. please give me an extra kiss. please let me look into your eyes a little longer, look into my eyes a little longer tonight. In my arms I can keep you safe from harm. please look into my eyes and listen to my voice - there are no reasons, no clear understandings only now and the love we share. there are no answers and no rational excuses for this world we have been thrust into - no safety nets, no promises of tomorrow - no safety from pain no safety from sorrow. so... please love me a little stronger tonight... please know that I am forever in your heart and in your soul. please live a little stronger and ingest the fleeting moments of joy, of love. pull up the shades, let the sun inside, open the windows, taste the brisk air and listen to the birds in the morning... please hold me a little tighter tonight, in your embrace I am safe from the universe. please let me hold you a little tighter tonight, in my embrace I will never let you go. FZ 11/06/2017 #bde #poemoftheday #liveInstagram
Sunday, November 05, 2017
Saturday, November 04, 2017
Friday, November 03, 2017
Thursday, November 02, 2017
Tuesday, October 31, 2017
But why wont you come home tonight? You left your bed unmade and your cup of coffee on the table. Your socks on the floor and your toothbrush in the shower. Why wont you be home for dinner tonight? We planned to go out tonight - remember? You left us all alone now - no one to make us laugh or to bring us home. But why wont you bring me flowers again? You promised me forever 10 years ago tomorrow... Stolen life, stolen love...I'm left here all alone waiting for the door to open and to hear you singing a song... A smile, a wink, an embrace and long walks in the snow...Remember we made snow angels in the silence of the night? Why wont you be home tonight? Halloween costumes in the garbage now, all our plans have been stolen... A walk on the West Side Highway on your way back home...Now you wont be coming home tonight. ***A REMINDER EACH LIFE IS MORE THAN A CASUALTY IN A GROWING LIST OF LIVES STOLEN BY TERRORISTS. TOO MANY LIVES HAVE BEEN STOLEN TOO MANY LIVES HAVE BEEN DESTROYED BY SENSELESS HATRED. SOMEWHERE TONIGHT THERE ARE TEARS BEING CRIED AND WORLDS THAT HAVE BEEN DESTROYED. LIVES THAT SHOULD HAVE LIVED ON ARE NOW JUST ANOTHER STATISTIC IN THIS WAR OF HATRED BEING WAGED BY ISLAMIC EXTREMISTS. A WAR THAT CANNOT BE WON*** #nyc #life #love #comehomeInstagram
Tuesday, love is blowing in the wind, answers floating, gliding towards a destination preordained, destiny in a word. Raspberry apples, strawberry onions and groomed gentlemen, wandering, wondering, lost. Wednesday, train is plowing across the platform, people scurrying across the stairs, up through the aisles, riding rushing this hour towards a desk, a chair, a phone, a never-ending universe within a screen. Only to turn around and ride home, to an empty chair, with a table and a universe emanating from a 35 inch screen. Thursdays are kind days to the younger folk, nights of dreams and dances filled with songs and drink. Fridays are pulsating and alarm clocks ringing, across town are littered with remnants, proof of the previous evening's revolting movements. A long jump and wiggle, called dancing. A soft song reminds one of the soft dance from a hundred years ago. When war stared down at 17 years old and death was knocking at the door with a letter and a flag. Saturday… Sunday… Monday. And open door, no welcome mat, just an open door, the sounds of laughter and to aroma of coffee. I am here, do you know who I am? A poem for a Tuesday, it feels like a Wednesday, a wish it were Saturday. I am in need of a smile and some currency, some love and some realization of some hopes and dreams. Read my words, I want you to read my words, the words reveal me more than my eyes can ever dare. Read me, see me, understand me? #picoftheday #poetry #tuesdayInstagram
Monday, October 30, 2017
Sunday, October 29, 2017
Saturday, October 28, 2017
Friday, October 27, 2017
It's a catastrophic misunderstanding between hope and despair. Tears well up while her heart is beating as she stares into his eyes so sincere and trusting. Just a photograph of a stranger she once knew, when hopes and dreams were the measure of a day. A horse galloping and a bird flying across a canyon. Ominous sounds emanate from the valley once devoid of any wild life. Read more http://ift.tt/1hbPRfX
Catastrophic Misunderstandings
Lost! Hearts and souls, hold hands and say, “it's alright, it's alright, let's right these wrongs. These catastrophic misunderstandings of love and lust, these lies, disguised as hopes and dreams. Emotional misers wander around searching...while love starved lovers sit waiting to be found. In a hotel room overlooking La Mujer Dormida, in Mexico a forgotten doll lays on the floor behind the curtain while an old man drinks his bootleg tequila from a metal cup...the sun sets somewhere while he closes his eyes. 
Wednesday, October 25, 2017
Monday, October 23, 2017
We would each get the chance to pick out our costume. The costumes would come in a small box. In my case, Popeye, came with a plastic mask with a string stapled to each side of the mask which we would place on our face with the rubber band string around our head to keep it in place. #halloween #Brooklyn Read more http://ift.tt/2l9ybJA
Trick or Treat?
When I think about Halloween I think about when we moved to east 2nd street; we would go trick or treating after school and try to avoid being egged. (raw eggs being thrown at us) We would come home, running from the bus, put on our costumes and go house to house - then to the buildings on the corner of east 2nd and avenue S. We would come home and sort out the candy - non-kosher candy, fruits (with or without blades) and loose candy would go into the garbage. There were also the ones who would give us a dime, or some pennies. I remember putting together enough change to buy a wiffle ball or two. I know I am romanticizing this - I am sure it was not always as much fun and filled with excitement as my memory tells me. As the the days become shorter and eventually, cooler - the turkeys are beginning to run away from the butchers and the Enteman pumpkin pies are arriving on the counters of the supermarkets - I become nostalgic. Hell, I am always nostalgic. Life is not a simple task and to me, nostalgia helps me deal with life’s complications.
Sunday, October 22, 2017
He didn't consider himself a cannibal. The fact that he enjoyed the taste of the blood left on his weapon of choice after an assault of his latest victim, didn't seem to be cannibal like, but more blood thirst. So when Denise asked him what kind of food he liked, he simply said, “hand made food.” “You mean homemade food?” “Yes,” he laughed, “homemade food.” http://ift.tt/1hbPRfX
Blood Oath
He didn't consider himself a cannibal. The fact that he enjoyed the taste of the blood left on his weapon of choice after an assault of his latest victim, didn't seem to be cannibal like, but more blood thirst. So when Denise asked him what kind of food he liked, he simply said, “hand made food.”
Friday, October 20, 2017
Wednesday, October 18, 2017
Tear Stained Smiles
A picture found, laughter heard and the stains of teardrops on faces around the world.
Sunday, October 15, 2017
Alive
Ruminations, thunderstruck, clouded over and shrouded into a dark corner. With incessant voices, from another time, same place.
Wednesday, October 11, 2017
Back to the Past, Future
A man was playing a guitar but no sound seemed to come from the instrument - only the occasional grunt of frustration from him. There were people gathered around him waiting for the songs to be played...they just sat around and waited in silence.
Tuesday, October 10, 2017
Saw an Old Man
I was standing on the platform on Kings Highway waiting on the F train to take me to the city when I saw an elderly man sitting on the bench. I knew this man since I was a child, seen him around my neighborhood; standing upright and boisterous. He was the kind of man who would walk into a room and everyone would know it before they even recognized his face. He had that dynamic mystique, while not good looking and fit; he had a persona that was like an open door promising warmth and good cheer. So many scenes swept me up in a conspiracy of time travel that I felt dizzied by the theater of it all. He sat there and had a look on his face of confusion? As if he had gotten off the train at an unfamiliar stop somewhere? Or was it his eyes brows rising on the outer parts, sinking in the inner; his face unevenly shaved and his shirt unevenly buttoned up that made him seem lost?
Tuesday, October 03, 2017
October for Love
Memories, a circus, a clown. A Carny, a trick and slap of cards and smoke. . Lights on, lights out, rainy night once again. A flask filled with cheap whisky.
Dream Come True
These past years have been financially and mentally exhausting - fodder for my stories is the reason I feel I have been thrust through the tunnel of failure over and over. I walk into the restaurant and I catch a glimpse of her smiling. Nothing as beautiful to me in the world than her smile. 
Sunday, October 01, 2017
The Rain in Juarez
We started off drinking some burgundy from a bota bag and then moved on to partake in the bottles of tequila, homemade, that were being passed around. There was a table beneath the overpass with local homemade food which the ladies brought in trays. We kept on dancing as long as the band kept on playing. The tequila made me dizzy so I drank some more which brought some equilibrium - the rain subsided and the clouds parted to reveal and hot sun. The band began to play a familiar tune, to me at least, and we stood aside and watched as some locals performed a dance they must have danced a thousand times.
Roses on the Floor
Long time ago, our whole lives speeding by at a million miles an hour, we never stopped to check out the beauty that surrounded us. Thirty years goes by and 21 turns to 51 and still the world is out of focus, yet better defined. Love is the answer, it always was, lost in a […]
Swinging Tire on a Tree
Silent scream in the dark, a cigarette extinguished, a fun moon hangs on the ceiling with billions of stars. We are not alone, we are not alone. A birthday card, a broken pencil and a stamp on an envelope with no address. A deserted beach, a cape, an inlet to a deserted time. A phone […]
If Only…
Downtown Chicago, a moonless night and the young man walked with a limp; it wasn’t his legs that caused it, but a psychological illness which someone manifested itself as a limp. Four years clean and counting, each day a war, each moment a battle. Old friends tossed away like the cigarettes smoked outside of another […]
Tuesday, September 12, 2017
River Afire
A dream, a memory, a song, a dance, a bedtime story from her childhood or perhaps a prayer from her Sunday morning prayers in the church across from this crazy river. It was on one of those Sunday mornings when Agee took her by her hand and led her to the clover patch by the lake - on the Catalina side - gave her fodder for confessions. Agee moved away the next day to the West Coast and that was fine with her. He was a simple guilty pleasure and a gentle guide through the gates of innocence. 
Monday, September 11, 2017
A Man of Contradictions
I live my life one step at a time, taking care to enjoy each vision, each caress...yet I fret about tomorrow three days ago. Look at me, you can never read my emotions by my smile. Look at me, can you read my emotions in my eyes? I am leaping for joy - crying at times in the dark - loving all around me - yet lonely at the same time. I love myself for the person I am - yet I chide myself for not feeling the ultimate freedom of living freely. Freedom of living free - I like that yet I question the logic of the wordplay. 
Monday, August 28, 2017
Time Pieces (Working title) Chapter 4
o the question persisted - were the events in the world, in the lives we live, random or planned? Was I chosen or was the archer blind? The trajectory of life is not just a one off shot. We are thrust up from birth and we are flung, we are thrown, we are tossed like a baseball or dropped like a scalding piece of iron - we are watched, scolded, reprimanded, bent out of our natural shape and forced into cages with invisible bars. The wardens in our prisons are bankers, lawyers and bosses. Spouses, teachers, family and friends play the part of loved ones yet hold us in their preconceived needed visions of whom they need us to be. The trigger is pulled, the arrow is slung, the sun has risen...the bell has rung and the fucking alarm clock is screaming out that it's time to stop dreaming. Fantasy morphs into reality and no change in the past can change the present I find myself in. Sherry had found, lost and found her life again and I had too much and nothing at all to do with it. As I watched her disappear her memory began to fade from my mind; what she looked like, sounded like and tasted like.
Tuesday, August 22, 2017
Water is Boiling – We have all Failed
The media is biased to the point of irritation and driven to increase the ratings have elevated the amount of hatred and anger to new levels. Everyone from late night talk show hosts, who claim to be the "good guys," to the pontificating radio talk show hosts who claim that everyone is wrong because they are "right," are to blame. They should be charged with inciting riots of hatred, bigotry and for ringing the division bells across the country
Friday, August 11, 2017
Time Pieces (working title) chapter 3
Sherry was staying at the same hotel as myself - we went to check if our rooms were ready and only mine was. She accompanied me to my room so she could “freshen up.” Her lips were puffy and her smile was soft. Her eyes were blue and her hair was jet black. She wore a pantsuit and a mans white shirt beneath the blazer. Her lipstick was red and her eyeliner was black. Her neck was long and tasted like perfume - a sweet and intoxicating flavor. When we finally got to the room we fell onto the bed and stayed there for the next several hours. She was a supermodel and somehow made me into a superman that afternoon. I truly was grateful for my 50 year old knowledge and 26 year old body. 
Sunday, August 06, 2017
Time Pieces (working title) Chapter 2
How do we know that it's for the worse and not something that needs to occur to promote evolution of some kind? We don’t. But when it's that devastating and it's something that was never written about in the historical files - we know that it's time traveled terrorism.
Thursday, July 27, 2017
Time Pieces (working title)
My name is Freddy Zalta. I am 51, well, almost 51 years old. I am writing this as a testimony should anything happen to me or the world as we should have known it. Or as we should not have known it. Officially I work as a watch salesman - selling the means for telling time. We sell watches in all colors and styles - for kids and for adults alike. Unofficially I work at a company called, “Timekeepers.” The only thing that it has in common with my official job is the ability to adjust the time on the dial, Timekeepers, is a company that is employed by the U.S. government to maintain and to improve history and control the future.
Tuesday, June 13, 2017
Home Again
I found my way down to Los Gatos in California. I was led there by another woman named, Danielle, who's father worked at Netflix in some high powered job there. She promised me a job there and a place to live. I lived with her and her sister for two years; working in the marketing department of Netflix for a while and then shifting over to work in San Jose at Happy Hollow Park Zoo for what seemed like eternity but in reality was only for a month. It was at the end of that month that I met Tracey, a graphic designer and recently a divorcee.
Friday, May 26, 2017
Take it Picture – It lasts Longer
It sneaks up this spirit called, "Time." It moves quicker or slower than we could ever imagine. Some days and nights feel as if we are waiting for the rust to form on the bars that surround us. Some days and night pass and we are left to wonder who changed the measurements of time?
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)