Dare I say that the rhythm is gone the flame is subdued the voice is unrecognizable. Being a chain of the link of fools being a sad muse to the heartache which I had no clue I say dare to dream. To live out the endless realities that were once reveries to the sleepless nights that held a tear for the eye to see. Dare say I to give me a reason to stay. For the name calling and insults hurling anger and dangerous thoughts. Which one to blame whom is at fault? Dare I say that what was once loved is now forgotten. Swept up in the wind being a lonely echo. walked over time and time again Dare I say that I am challenged to be without a lover easily but living life oh so happily. Dare I say that without you I am complete.   -b.r.rivera

With this touch I would have you in my arms Dedicated to nothing but me and the closeness between us With this touch You would feel my heart beating Synchronizing in rhythm With your rise of your breath And fall of your chest With this touch I demand your presence and motion Your sanctuary and new beginnings For within this touch You and I dwell No others No empty space between us Waiting to be filled No dense surrounding Giving echoes within the walls With this touch You would be mine and I would be yours And together we would be held Together. -b.r.rivera

We often fall in love and get caught up in other's dreams. Their dreams become our reality. Our reality hence becomes a dream, faded away and left for dead, giving no breath in the wind. It amazes me how much one can give up for a relationship. How failures become daily strengths to overcome through ignored conversation, dwindled desire and nonchalance. What about the desire that was once felt? What about the quiet nights and long days of uninterrupted stories that were told because of curiosity. They are replaced. Replaced with short tones, irritated inflections of voice and looks of repulsion. We have fallen in love and got caught up in other dreams. We stopped living, and become a prisoner within our own home. We have stopped believing in ourselves, stopped believing in our own goals. The clean up process is much more hard. So hard that being focused becomes sleepless nights riddled with anxiety and longer days of being a walking zombie. But the goals are obtainable. The to do l

I do not believe in empty fairytales any longer where my prince on a white horse comes shining through of fresh air ones and a decent ride smelling of Ralph Lauren cologne Fresh faded hairline wheels spinning in chrome For it is not the epitome of what beautiful personality can bring full of desire and longing wishing and hoping. I do not believe in once upon a time introductions where the peak of the story begins in fantasy ends in wonder and amazement piqued with sensitivity for the sensitive man that I thought to be by my side ended up a villain to by night to which he hides lies and memories distant lovers and secret conversations diluted words and empty promises once again unfulfilled. once again, I am once upon a time full of fresh grass and magical happenings but the only thing surrounding me is unadulterated negativity once upon a time, in the land far away I met this one guy who loved me or at least I shall say so charming by day so seductive by night all the ladies in the lan

Am I temptation to you Beyond a eight hour reverie Destined for me to be Your warmth entranced between thighs Your spontaneity of sweet surprise Your desire held secret by lies Of a rendezvous to be That came so easily Am I to be Your temptation tasted of pure delight Entranced by dim lit rooms Bounced off the walls in candlelight With soft melodies played in the background Boys became men singing easily As physical presence becomes our foreground Because if I were to be Truly be- your temptation As it seems Miles would not distance us Years of separation loneliness and new relationships Would pale in comparison By understanding the function of Pure electricity. From the law of physics we defy the bond separated by heated inter-creation soul reflections and reformed treasures as you are the sweet temptation coming so easily my sweet reverie born with life that came to me I said easily your pure desire whereas you are the old cliché again renewed to re-ignite my fire.   -b.r.rivera This

I have to remain focused. So focused, I have fucking tunnel vision. I have to remain calm. When the winds blow around me when they create turmoil accompanied with thunderous rolls, earthquakes and aftershocks, I have to remain still. So still, I turn into a yogi. I have to have patience. When worlds collide and stress endures, I will be graciously uplifted from only the wonderful magnificence of the Lord. Because I am hoping, and praying and wishing…that with this mantra, this endurance-I will continue on. I will continue on.

In my last post, I wrote about writing, the art of writing, the soul of writing. Writing to me is essentially my escape and domain of a private world which I allow others to see me. It is of that world which allows me to acknowledge and give my individual self of not only creativity, but passion. A lot of people ask me when I write poetry, "Who is this about?" or "Is this a true story?" People are amazed with the level of details and intricacy involved to retell and recount human moments. Because made out of flesh and blood, we are prone to forget. We take advantage, and are prone to forget the simple moments: a kiss with our lover, the dance with our father, the cooking lessons with our grandmothers. Even I forget. But in poetry, I remember. I close my eyes and can find the room which I was in, the temperature of the day, the placement of objects, and the raw emotion of the moment. This poem that I wrote, "In this Moment" is appropriately titled for the b