The Night That Changed EveryThing
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By: Mister Más Sobre Nosotros
For: The El Patrón Observador
Rubato Relacional
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Perhaps the experience can shift seamlessly
seamlessly through beautiful emotional highs
and obsessive behaviors
cautiously planning for the future
without any assurance or care
seeing things as normal speaking a
beautiful story when the narrator is
more matter of fact instead of that hopeless
romantic one neither swoons or are happy
in your sight and away from you ,you are only
a point of reference of Rubato were the shift
in romance to unromantic is heard
no support for depending
in every stage of romance
the survival mechanism allows you
to keep your faith for hope might
the tables turn
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I watched my bedroom fold into dimmer light,
The mirror learned to flinch away from sight,
My name slipped off the wall like fading chalk,
Home turned its face and forgot how to talk.
The hallway hummed a hollow, distant tone,
Like every echo learned to leave me alone,
My heartbeat frayed into the brittle air,
As every inner voice dissolved in a scare.
My hands forgot the weight of being home,
I felt myself recede, begin to roam,
A stranger leaned inside my borrowed skin,
And quietly erased the girl within.
Leaf dies in air
Trees going bare
Death stalks the woods
Of those athletically good
Sweating summer heat
In games where they compete
Never do they cheat
Being honest and true
Acting cool
Laughing fools
Champions determined
Life lessons learning
Decision final and confirmed
Hardware issue no longer a concern
Northern success exposed
Confederates propose
Move inside
Red lights will guide
Scores made
Making the grade
Finally, a trade
Check signed, saying paid
Shutting mouth
Going south
Community warm
Staying in University dorm
Will make this undergraduate program a winner
Before the all-inclusive meal plan dinner
Then off to the library and study
Learn how to make, investment money
Earning a degree, that is what is funny
Since making field goals really wasn’t a realistic thing
Along with not being able to sing
But books in print
Will hint
Proper direction
After securing academic protection
Life is full of steps and stages
As we learn what it is to be alive.
And every stage is marked
By the recognition that we were wrong
About what it is we now know.
Like a box within a box
Or nesting Russian dolls
Continually we open onto a new world
A new level of understanding.
We talk of insects and crustaceans
Reptiles and amphibians shedding their skin
But we do it too, just more subtly and subjectively,
And as more evolved beings, continuously.
What is it we shed besides old dead skin?
Old dead ideas, outgrown, outlived
Making way for the new
Slowly changing the programmed self
Into a newer version, gradually adjusting
Our identity
With software updates
That continually need the bugs worked out.
When does this all end?
Never, Life says
With every new layer of skin.
(9/13/25)
Having encountered work of others
You can't really consider it yours
For neither reason
You no longer required is
To be saving the world
That is the fine schism
Your strategy is the wrong course
Psychiatry says
Human God is sophism
We neither recycle the souls of yours
As fact of the life isn't soul
Life quality and contribution degree
On mass of the humans is foul
Start shrinking
The quantities of the mankind
In various points of time
The quantities of population the mass
To time of existence of yours and progression
And when Census this isn't really Mankind
You won't have that many regression
Swirling words from an infinite field,
Caught and thought in a moment of time.
Knowing not their future or their yield,
Their full potential may be sublime.
Allow yourself a time to reflect,
Give your thoughts the freedom to expand.
It won’t take long for them to connect,
Piece them together the best that you can.
For simple thoughts to be understood,
Whether written are spoken be clear.
Used correctly, they’ll be more than good,
They’ll be easy to read or to hear.
Allow your thoughts to simmer and stew,
Make your message be truly unique.
Add some depth for those special few,
Who hear more than just the words you speak.
Most of your words the crowd will not hear,
Or even remember in the end.
But those who listen, they will endear,
Mature thoughts on which they can depend.
(“Tapestry”, 2025, original encaustic)
Late Bloomer
It wasn’t until I was half my age
That I came into my own
And finally felt whole.
Now at sixty six
I’m not sure what you’d call
The way I feel.
Over the hill
Ripe in a hard cider way
Nobody going nowhere.
But there is peace
In having been there, done that
And gotten over the need for more.
Knowing in my bones
What a long strange trip
It has always been.
(4/6/25)
For it to…
For it too—
Four and two.
Forty-two!
A number?—or a gate?
Where past meets present,
And dreams no longer wait—
Fighting, and finding—their rightful place.
For it to…
For it too—
Four and two?!
Forty-two!
An age where silence breaks,
Where the pen takes its rightful place,
Listening to the voice long ignored,
Now, writing what has been stored.
Yes!
42!
Cheers!
For Me—and You!
Breaking through
the walls of my old thoughts
peeling away the dead skin
of the old sins I was taught
I know my loved ones
didn’t mean to hurt me
but teaching me the same toxic lies
did in fact poison me
and it was the kind of poison
that tasted really sweet
when you’re a child
you don’t get to choose what to eat
so, at 51 I’m still breaking through
the walls of my old thoughts
peeling away the dead skin
of the old sins I was taught
You will start off as an egg
With a tug and a tug and a tug you will rip out
Now you have advanced to a tadpole
And with that you will start your route
Then when you find the difficulties of life
You will have to find the solution every time
This is because you strive to be the absolute best at everything
Now you have grown a mouth so wise like a persons that can rhyme
Now you have careened into a new path
You are following forward with fellow frogs
You see new conditions and environments everywhere you go
You are now growing legs while you are going under logs
Now you are following your destiny
Next you have to go through your final path
For you have discovered where you are meant to be
And you have calmed down and silenced the rest of your wrath
You are in your final maturing stage of existence
Next you need to find someone to stay with you for the rest of your life
For you have matured enough to reach this stage
You are now a complete frog with another frog wife
a silent calling
scattered colored leaves
a maple bleeds
rain falls
from holes in the clouds
a passage
thunder rolls across the sky
and fades
to the patter of rainfall
I run from my car
and call my gods
whispers of nothingness
as summer fades
I see my friend at a restaurant
as she clears tables
she smiles as she walks
by my table
hands full of dishes
snippets of conversations
affections shown in small ways
she pays for my drink
and together we linger
neon lights reflections in window
reflections of passages
and promises for more
silence speaks of seasons shared
in a most tender moment
I wish I was young and still drinking
Where others would see my soul
And feelings were thought together
for shallowness meant to role
That all of my troubles were sexual
and life meant I'm easy that way
For others to see me as special
and happiness had it's say
That all of my time was as busy
as the work that I do today
When proudness was chaised for better
and loss was left making my way
The author grows, reflects, and acts.
Words become harder to express.
When youth was evident,
the soul was thriving.
Now it all hurts,
on the news the world is dying.
Too afraid to lift the eyes,
staring at the steps infront,
hurrying to a destination.
An author experiences, shares, and cares.
I thought perhaps I would be one.
But where I was bold, I am timid.
When I was trusting, I am now battered.
When youth was evident,
so was pain.
Confusing and vast and deep.
When there was so much beauty,
I found terrible tragedies.
The author mesmerizes, captures, exposes.
I perhaps, have lost the author.
Christianity is a process.......
Some Christians explore their faith and question their denomination
Some do vice versa
Some question and explore both....this is the process by which true maturity comes.
The only immature Christian is the one who does neither zero none.
Time seemed to be in abundance; enough to chew and brew
Sleep, play or gossip; enough to spare despite all that we blew
Dreams, expectations, full of flurry; no tick to stir the blurry
Life discarded as wasteful worry; hurry, worry all went to bury
I the Master, I the Supreme; others, the ordinary got little attention
Times came and crept by slowly; learning shirked away at mention
Who cares, motto was straight; something will happen, why haste
We will surely learn as we grow; grew we sure, but in utter waste
Overtime, the uncared suddenly became important; time was short
With hunched shoulders I prayed for mercy; hoping for His support
Help! I shouted, but they laughed; I got no solace, calm or sleep
Fear, unknown, induced a maddening; my end seemed so cheap
Mercy, somehow was restored; zero, the ordinary I learned to ask for
Time, the industry & thrift; I learnt to strive for, not ignore anymore.
(This poem is a modified (couplet) version of an old poem titled 'Transcendence' which was in Free Verse form.)
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