I took this picture out my kitchen window and it made me feel quite happy for a minute or two because I had a feeling we were looking at the same moon. The Buddha beers belong to my mother, I don’t drink much, to be frank, I’ve never finished a drink in my life. It tastes bitter and dry to me, like a poor sense of humor or the way your lips once did on my cheeks, it tastes warm and feels almost snake-like as it travels down my spine. This picture tells a story to me and it’s up to you to interpret it. It can be beautiful or ugly and that’s what makes this moment so incredibly powerful. It’s all a matter of perspective. You’d never even guess I was doing dishes when I stopped to look at this, I thought to myself “I want to remember this,” and now I do.




“For to be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.”

~ Nelson Mandela

Cursed by some, anointed by others
a hero to his sisters and brothers
this beacon they tried to imprison
who suffered for sharing his vision
dreamed of days when kings don’t slay
but instead, they would rather pray
all things possible within his sight
he climbs now with face to the Light
cowards live, while these hero’s die
and we’re left behind wondering why
he was willing to die for the truth
always an advocate of old and youth
clothed in compassion and of charity
his beautiful soul was such a rarity
so now we draw the breath of his air
carrying his vision if we should dare
our hearts crying tears of his story
this beloved man for freedom’s glory.

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Poetry #3


I remember
His face like it was yesterday
When he told me he loved me

I remember
The color shirt he wore
The day he asked me to be his baby

I remember
The taste of his cold, hard, lips
When he kissed me for the first time

I remember
The way my body curled back
In response to his touch

An instinct
So great
I could never stop it
I could never stop him
I could never stop
I could never

s t o p


How about this?

Erika Fuego | Up, up & away.


You keep telling me you want to protect me. From what? … I’m not sure.  You claim you’ll climb a mountain for me, cross the ocean for me, give me the world, the stars, the moon and everything in-between.  How about I continue to protect myself as I have my entire life and instead you guard my heart and make sure it doesn’t break on your watch.

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Confession #9


I love when people notice little things about me

Like the way I jut my lower lip out as I concentrate

Or how I bite them vigorously when I’m nervous

I like when people notice my feelings

Like my anxiety before a passionate kiss

Or the way I melt in your arms after a few moments in time

Our bodies meshing into one

It’s these little things that make me feel like maybe life isn’t so bad

Maybe it’s wonderful




Poetry #2