Who am I?

In this complex dynamic being,
Are there any variables that are constant?
If one day I cease to stop acting –
In me might cause revolutionary onset…

But are these nuances the centrality of me,
Just a collection of idiosyncrasies?
This implies a build-up from a generic base
Just a filter, a capture, of the world we face

This idea of a Tabula rasa; can I hit that base again?
Start from the beginning.

© Luis Valencia

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , | 1 Comment

Un Poema

Agonizando los días que ya han sido –
En la solitud de mi vestíbulo
Regresan imagines de algún tiempo, ya distante,
Y de nuevo late un sentimiento.
El tamaño – la semilla de un membrillo.

Vuestros tiempos ya se han ido
Pero la memoria de tus ojos, no se ha perdido
Tu aliento contra mi alma
Todavía aun me hace falta

Ruego a dios que algún día,
Mientras estoy joven todavía…
Haya alguien que llene el hueco
Con urgencia, pues mi corazón se hace seco

Incertidumbre consume mi ser
Conforme tiempo pasa, mis sentimientos se entumecen
Y la esperanza se pierde , y de dolor tengo que padecer
Mientras tanto, mis sentimientos se expiden –

A un mar, muy lejos de ti.

© Luis Valencia

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Terrible Son

Of the worse kind of child
All think it, but none revile
Unreliable, unaware, and undeserving
But a burning desire to do what’s right, is yearning

Life never progresses as you believe it should
Hoping that your actions will be understood
You forget common sense and that to you I consign
Because life’s fastidiousness eats away at time

That said, I should’ve been there, then and now
Instead you lie in a room afraid, again

And to feel that this was not something I just allowed
Well, I’ll just have to pretend –

I’m sorry you’re in the hospital and I’m not there.

© Luis Valencia

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , | 3 Comments

In the Dark

Absolutely terrifying; the feeling of uncertainty
Taking root in an empty space, instilling a sense of urgency

It’s true, the worst is not knowing –
While events remain ongoing,

Equally troubling is being disempowered
The ability to act accordingly –
Forever stuck at the halfway point.

Everything, everything, becomes disorderly
The structures of your life fall apart
Crumble from the top down

Anyone can witness you spiral into the abyss
No one even feigns interest; as in your instability you drown.

A scenario more so frightening, than when liquid fills your lungs
Because even then the outcome is certain,
And your mind, doesn’t carry the burden

Of being in the dark.

© Luis Valencia

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , | 2 Comments

A Dynamic Duo

Paranoia and anxiety go hand in hand
A happier marriage I cannot disband

But please, keep distance; may I remain un-frayed?
Once a thought enters, you I cannot dissuade

Episodes result in the most maladroit of actions
All sorts of twitching itching and reaching that which is unreal
My mind beings to wonder and think in abstractions
And results in the plummeting of personal appeal

I can feel your mal-intentions breathing down my neck
Creating desires (of) blasting my mind into oblivion
Instead I drown it with Domecq

© Luis Valencia

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , | 3 Comments


I love my life, I hate my life,
Behavior of the rupture in my being –
The wonderful and beautiful it keeps me from seeing

Creating self-loathing, asinine behavior;
A constantly vociferous inner struggle,
Fatigue inches me ever close to the judgment of the savior.

Rays of hope I’ll try to smuggle
In times of spiraling disheartening inner monologue,
Lest a short eulogy become my epilogue

Meandering blind, I cannot find what I have lost
My path to genuine emotions remains uncrossed

Always a buffer, emotionless cold thoughtful logic
This collected mind creates a life, less tragic

© Luis Valencia

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Neural Networks

When you say anything, I know you are lying
It’s just a result of the Synaptic connections your brain is tying
And while your neurons are impressive
Your logical cognition remains repressive

From your dendrites to your Synaptic Connections
Your feelings run down the Axon, and reveal your imperfections
The structure process is always Electrical, Chemical, Electrical
But your connections run deep, it’s why you’re emotionally hysterical

I don’t hate you; I hate your brain’s wiring
And also, the rate at which your neurons are firing
At frightfully increasing fast rate,
In the dark – I think – your brain it’d illuminate

At any rate I’m no better
Even with my brain I have no power whatsoever

Thousands of Logic-wired Synaptic Terminals –
And I still can’t help but think with my genitals

© Luis Valencia

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , | 3 Comments