Poet Work

A poet knows and speaks his word, life shivers.


Although everything about it is identical to rivers.


The fear inside knows no boundaries.

All I work is my mind, my body


Follows it's orders identical to arteries.


So control is all but a mist to a guided universe.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Poem original work by Erick Cordova, 

Yours truly.

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Dangerous Territory

I’ve been swimming in the deep end lately.

My head is spinning in circles.

My heart had never been so hollow on the inside.

I need to catch my breath before I do anything else stupid.


My work of art is an escape from uniformity.

I felt safe with you for the time being.

At the end of the week, you cuddled me

When the sergeant had an off day at work and took it out on me.


I let you in like I did when I meet new people.

You were happy for me when I told you I finally found love.

I wanted nothing more than a friend’s reassurance that everything will be okay.

But you in particular were a land mine waiting to explode.


It’s dangerous territory where you’re from as a queer.

It’s dangerous territory where I lurk on the web.

It’s dangerous territory to build a world without receiving adequate training.

It’s dangerous territory to make friends with volatile people like you.


I can barely read script in Delphi without misinterpreting some if not most of its passages.

My art isn’t like what you’d expect to see in other do-it-yourself or high-profile projects.

The way I write, the way I archive, and the way I distribute information is my strongest suit.

There is no way I can fulfill my goal in life alone without the help of a team that knows its stuff.


You didn’t have to sugarcoat your advice to fix my problems

But you didn’t have to pull more than my teeth either.

You spoke to me as if I had to know every damn trick in the book.

You pointed out where I went wrong as if I didn’t already understand it.


I would have welcomed your advice if you watched your language.

I would have been more considerate if we joined forces as planned.

But being friendly with you in light of this is just out of question.

You can say that I’m high all you want, but it goes to show that you’re smaller than you think.


It’s dangerous territory where you’re from as a queer.

It’s dangerous territory where I lurk on the web.

It’s dangerous territory to build a world without receiving adequate training.

It’s dangerous territory to make friends with volatile people like you.


A vagabond told me this morning that I don’t learn much from success

And boy, I sure did learn a lot about your character more than what it takes to be top dog.

I might also let it slip that you exploded in my face because your little rant was all over the place.

In that case, riddle me this, who among the two of us really needs room for improvement?


Unrhymed Poetenry

The French Revolution worked as a guide,

To the Romantics,

They learnt nationalism,

They learnt patriotism as well!


Wordsworth and Coleridge knew,

The new dawn was at hand,

Time longed for change,

Time longed for justice.


Now is the moment to do,


Now is the moment to live!

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The Necromancer Who Cared

There was darkness around me.

It felt like a bad dream.

Fear, anger, pain, and sorrow.

These are feelings that consumed me.

I fear I would lose myself.

I was by myself while the moon beams its silver light onto my body.

A hand reached out for me.

I jerked back, knowing the hand belonged to a necromancer.

He was a misunderstood man and he is very brave.

I was scared of him even if my pain is much worse.

The necromancer told me that I should not be alarmed.

He won't harm me and he promised to guide me to peace.

He knew that I am in pain so I ask myself, "Did someone send him?"

There is compassion in this necromancer, I can feel it.

I could not revel in my misery so I took his hand.

He helped me up and once I stood, my arms were around him.

He jerked back a little, but reassured me that everything will be fine.

We went to his barn and sat me down on a rock.

He did too and all we did was talk.

He wouldn't open my eyes if he didn't care about me.

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ice cold numbness

bathing the hands and feet

of soldiers past

doused in healing water

reaching into portals beyond

and flesh and bones 

of days gone by

and a time where sirens

fill the skies

the laughter of chidren dies


he glazed the tip of the scapel

to the wound in my mind

unknowing if whether

the stitch would hold

but had faith in the light of my eyes

her pain was great and lasted years

but the greater pain seen in his tears

a universal bandaid was what he saw

to nulify the scars of war


the surgeon's hopes 

are filled with fears

but love outlasts

all human tears




12:48 PM 7/4/2013





Author's Notes/Comments: 

this is about an experience gifted to me by a doctor whose care i was once under as a child.

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Are you sure I'm a member?

I've awed and I've cried

I've walked a divide.

I've run and I've sung

My life barely begun.


Tumbled through mountains,

Got soaked in the rain.

Suffered humilities,

I'll never mention again.


Been round the bend,

A wee bit, time or two

But how can any one person,

Make it all through??


I thought to myself,

What a ridiculous place

To trample about,

With a big leather case.


Work me to death,

I'm up at all hours,

I'm sure there's a reason,

You own all my power...


Why this for you,

and not even for me?

Why all for some,

yet others get none?


All of these rules,

That change by the hour,

Are all contradictory

And more than just dour.

Who made this law,

That we all have to follow.

Your way, or the high way,

It seems a bit hollow.


Why am I here?

'cause I don't remember;

Did I choose this club?

Are you sure I'm a member?

In either case sparky,

Here's how it goes,

I'm breaking tradition,

So come and behold;


As I change my life daily

To encumber your cause,

I'm the sun to your cloud,

If ever there wuz.


Author's Notes/Comments: 

I haven't actually written poetry in some years... and what's pouring out now is not at all what i was expecting!! lol, it's definintely different than anything I've ever written... and is it just me, or does anyone else get a Dr. Seus feeling?? At any rate, please enjoy, I welcome your thoughts :) Bless you, Bless you, Bless you

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Why is it that I feel
As if I’ve got the Devil right
Here whispering in my ear
And I’ve got an Angel that
Sits here on my heart
That has always been
My big problem
But somehow I’ve always
Got past it, somehow I feel so torn I do not know
What I should do or feel
Because I have got two guys
That are vying for me
One guy that I have years
Of friendship with him
And the other one I met
About three months ago
Now seeing as how I
Can’t talk to Bri right now
Because he lives in New York and
Because of his financial issues
And I know that and I have
Accepted that because it will
Be another month or more
Before we get to talk again
Yet there is another guy
And it’s sad to say I like him too
We don’t have the time together
Like Bri and I do but yet
I am feeling more than friendship
With him too, guidance please god!

Written on
April 21, 2011

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is another one I wrote about Brian. I just wish i could get the other guy out of my head.

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Trying to make peace, where peace isn’t available.
Behind wet tears, everything’s intangible.
Unable to have a clear thought.
Unable to see what’s being sought.
I keep trying to hold on to faith
But been broken, faith is now my disgrace.
I keep searching for some relief,
They keep saying, hold on to your belief.
What do I believe?
In something that gives no relief.
I keep asking, and asking and asking,
But maybe he has a hard time multitasking.
Cause I’m still here, losing my mind.
Asking for the answers to the prayers that I’ve assigned.
They keep saying “all in his time”
Before to long, I wont be able to make this climb.
I know he’s there. I’ve seen his work.
All I ask is for a miracle invert.
Of my life.
And my pain and strife.
I know I’m having a detrimental influential dejection party,
But maybe he’ll send the celestial hierarchy.
A band of angels, to help me through
Something to help me feel renewed.
If not, maybe I’ll just give in…
To this quote, unquote, deadly sin.
All I ask is for a little mercy…
Maybe it’s not him, Maybe I’m just not worthy.
Author's Notes/Comments: 

I’ve never, in my 25 years of life, written a poem. I wrote this because I couldn’t find a poem or song that displayed how I feel. If you feel the need to critique my poem, by all means, do so. But just know that I’m not a writer. I just wanted to post my poem where I could keep it available for myself. 

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