“42”

Life is a lot like baseball.

Growing up is basically like being in the minor leagues.

That is where you learn how to play the game.

That is where you learn the basic rules.

That is where you sharpen your skills.

It is where special bonds are created and formed.

By the time you reach the age of adulthood,

You are expected to perform at your best,

Because now, you are in the major leagues.

From here, you will either rise to be a star,

Or fall hard like a foul ball into the right field stands.

This will be my 42nd season,

And I must admit, I have enjoyed every last minute of it.

Nothing in life will ever be perfect,

But nothing says we can’t have fun and live each day to our best ability.

So here’s to another amazing season, cheers!!

 

©Mauricio Rincon       ®Skeletal Abstract        2019

“Wind Factor #3”

As the wind races over
The contours of my body,
My ears freeze up as if
Being embalmed with nitrogen.

The wind is running rampant,
But, has no real destiny.
It lives to caress me like
An eager, excited lover.

The wind gives me the kind of chills that could break
The thickest of frost riddled ponds.
Ice begins to glaze across my neck,
Giving me brainfreeze like
After eating a slushee.

A raven swoops by and croaks out
What sounds like a mating call.
Another smaller raven gives chase
As they rendezvous with a third raven up into the clouds.

The wind begins to pick up its’ momentum.
Where in the hell is this damned bus?
I’m about to turn into an ice cube out here.
Wait, here it comes…

Excuse me while I put my pen on ice.

 

© Mauricio Rincon 1994

“New Year”

Another year comes to a close…

As old man winter tickles your nose.

For me, today is just another regular day,

A humble type of guy, going about my way.

Be safe and don’t put yourselves at risk…

Don’t give these cops a reason to frisk…

Have a good time, as if it was your last,

Take a moment to reflect on your past.

God gives, and God takes.

Be mindful of the choices you make.

Tomorrow begins a brand new year,

What good is being alive, if we just live in fear?

© Mauricio Rincon 2018

“Savanah”

Look at those brown, wide and curious eyes.

Look at that intense smile.

It’s hard to believe you’re seven months now.

I can still remember that sticky, purple, gooey, little baby girl they pulled out of your mother.

It was a blessing from God.

The most magnificent moment I ever had the honor of witnessing first hand.

A part of me being reincarnated into your very own flesh, bones, and soul.

(Also known as DNA)

When the doctor handed you over to me, you opened your eyes for the first time and took one glimpse of me, and smiled.

Then you closed your eyes, and fell asleep in my arms.

Being born on Friday the 13th was even extra special for us.

That was the day we took your mom in for a check-up and realized that your fluids were so low, your mom had to be rushed to go give birth to you that very moment.

Otherwise, had I not taken your mom to her appointment that day, we could have lost you, precious little one.

Hija, yo se que solo tienes siete meses, pero yo se que tu vas hacer la que mas me va romper mi corazon.

Digo eso, por que yo se que a los padres siempre les llegan los castigos de Dios por camino de los hijos.

Y por esa razon te voy a dar todo respeto y amor sin finito.

Todo lo que tu vayas a necesitar, quero que cuentes con migo en dar te lo.

Eres mi princessa.

Tu madre siempre sera tu reina, y yo siempre sera tu rey.

The day that you were born, God smiled down upon us, and gave us the light of birth.

I will always love you, my little Savanah.

© Mauricio Rincon 2002

“My Little Angel (Mi Angelita)”

daddy’s little girl.

look at you, all grown up.

(ok, ok, you’re still only four years old)

but, i can still remember when i would

hold you in my arms and feed you

your little baby formula.

you would look up at me, and smile.

then you would hold onto my

pinky-finger while going to sleep.

i guess you wanted to make sure

daddy was still there.

when I married your mom,

it was actually you that had me wrapped

around your tiny little finger…

mija, que linda eres.

que nunca olvides que tu papi

te ama con todo su corazon.

siempre estare aqui para todo lo que

tu necesites en tu vida.

mira que grande estas.

mi angelita.

© Mauricio Rincon 2006

“Rally Around Your Family”

Predator drones.

Ice cream cones.

Scientifically designed sheep clones.

The depletion of the ozone.

Middle Eastern war zones.

Decomposing body bones.

Garden variety decoration gnomes.

No-knock search and seizures of homes.

Cellular devices are easier to trace than pay phones.

Universities bury you in deep student loans.

While the Government forces us to live like Flintstones.

Swim or sink down to the locker of Davy Jones.

And prepare to hop on a ride aboard the cyclone.

Use green smoke to signal the landing zone.

Rally up at the extraction before it gets postponed.

© 2014 Mauricio Rincon

“Clever”

My poetry is tougher than leather,

Yours is soft and fake like pleather.

I’ll even recite your wack ass poem or whatever,

And make that shit sound a whole lot better.

Go ahead, try and make yourself sound clever.

You’re just a butt pirate fool, you ain’t even on my level.

Any last words, before I make you walk down that plank?

I can either shoot you with a musket, or pull out my shank.

I’ll make you famous, like Billy The Kid or Doc Holliday;

My poetry stay more gangster than yours, on any given Sunday.

You really should go home and pray,

Pray I don’t tap that ass and we both turn gay.

And yes, you are welcome to sit at my table;

As I pour maple on mable that just might enable

You to become stable, ready, willing and able;

As I share with everyone, your falsified fable.

© 2013 Mauricio Rincon

“Heavenly Divine”

There are no parallel lines above me
So I stand perpendicular
An amazing amount of fortitude
Resides in my testicular
I’m the shepherd
That leads you lambs to the slaughter
The pied piper
That ran away with the Sheriff’s daughter
I’m one of a kind
You can say one in a million
Don’t let me win the lottery
I’ll build homes for the homeless by the billion
Upon my death
I will tap dance like Fred Astaire
And boogie dance
All the way up Heaven’s stairs
But where
Where is Heaven, do you know
I guess knowing is half the battle
Like they say in G.I. Joe
© 2014 Mauricio Rincon

“Ghost Writer”

As I sit on my throne,
I have been known,
To postpone
The depletion of the ozone.

Two scoops of abstract,
A dash of actual fact,
Keeps my sanity intact
As poetry leaks out of my urinary tract.

I’m highly skilled,
The strongest willed,
Main attraction, top billed.
Fuck with me and you may get killed.

Get bodied on paper.
This is my latest caper.
Send you to meet your maker.
I’m known as the dream taker.

Let bygones be bygones.
Love women in little thongs.
My words poke like prongs.
Someone should turn my words into songs.

© Mauricio Rincon 2015