Showing posts from February, 2011

Mi Hermano

Dear brother of the same loving loins Of the same strong blood of Soto, If I could tame your demons and Carry you into the cool, reviving Waters of strength and self-worth, I would! I have yet to bathe in them, but What little I have, I give, for I know The greatness that was once you and Those eyes that shined and pulsed with life! Those fervent bones and muscles that Carried you strongly from one day to the next! Mon Frere, take this cupfull of hope and Break this shell! Cast this crooked shadow! Let us laugh in seedy bars and Shout with our father at the joy of the game! Let us embrace our patient parents With arms that crack with love! Mein BrĂ¼der, wake the dormant Lazarus in you, Drain your sea of despair and scream, "I am free!" And make haste, with new legs, my way, For I fear I may need you soon. Esteban Luis Soto for my beloved brother Ernie Soto (c) 2011

Fermented Blood of Grapes: An Ode To Wine

Oh, fermented blood of grapes Tamer of Princes and Paupers, Muse to Writers and Saints, Enter, render me hazy and quell These ravenous demons, even if This night only and into the next Oh, prized fruit of the gnarled vine, Provocateur of murderers and thieves, Thin this muddled blood that bleeds the hue of you! Oh, breeder of children and death, Courier of disease, false calm and hope, I gladly host you in any quality and quantity! Esteban Luis Soto (c) 2011

The Vehicle That Is Me

These misfiring spark plugs of hope      This half-full tank of butterflies and misery This non-ignitable, dirty fuel of love      These faulty brakes of thought This cracked carnal shell      This warped and dented frame This leaking oil pan of confidence       This fear of the crash into the next plane This broken speedometer of inspiration      This shattered windshield vision of life This sputtering chassis of the soul      These non-inflatable tires of religion These ever-dimming headlights of the heart      This unreliable battery of goals and aspirations This inefficient engine…is the vehicle that is me Esteban Luis Soto (c) 2011

Love Is Just Love: The Issue of Gay Marriage.

I write this knowing that I will probably get flack from my family from this, because of their strong beliefs but, I feel it's important. However, I will say that my opinion on this is non-biased. You will not find me preaching on a soap box either for or against it. I'm very secure in my sexuality (which is straight) but the whole issue of banning gay marriage just seems illogical to me. I should also say that when I talk about love in this blog, I do mean absolute love. Not raw lust or random sexual acts. I see love as just There are no stipulations, prerequisites or standards attached to it. Who are we as a society to restrict love? Whether it be a man for a man, a woman for a woman, a man for his dog or a man for a woman, it's all in the same love. Who are we to take that sacred union from two people who love each other dearly? Those same two people have every right to enter into that sacred union as we "straight" people do. How would we straigh

The Evolution of Our Souls: A View On Reincarnation.

It's very simple-minded for we humans to think that there is nothing beyond this life incarnate. It's very basic to think that all the intense love, pain, hate, relationships, etc, are just merely lost once we die. We go far beyond that. We have to, and I don't necessarily mean the classic "heaven" of choirs of angels singing nor the classic "hell" of eternal fire and pain. That's just too simple and finite to be logical. I know it sounds complicated, and it is for the most part, but I consider myself an old soul so I kind of get it. Let me try to explain... Souls are forms of energy that are never lost nor dissipate. They simply change hosts and develop through many lifetimes and social situations. In one lifetime a soul could be a rich male politician while in the next he could be a Puerto Rican woman growing up in the projects of New York. In turn, that same poor soul that grew up in the projects could become a child growing up in a middle incom

Cinnamon Coffee

This cinnamon coffee. How it ripples in the pot reminds me of my deep, dark sighs and how they trickled down the valley of your back and into you. The pop and gurgle brings to mind the palpitations upon our first meeting. This hiss and steam, how it lingers and dissipates quickly, is like our memories of Bella in the backseat, the powerful stag that seemingly foretold our fertile future and sleeping above fermenting yeast. It brings to mind pictures of your bottom, breakfast with flamingos and that radiant smile only because it was my eye behind the camera. Forgive me. I wasn't able to convey the strength of what was building nor the vines of content that began to wrap themselves around my spine. How was I to convey this when you couldn't even hear me breathe? It's neither here nor there, I suppose, but I pray our paths cross again. I hope to look up at my book signing, one day, and see your face, beaming from the crowd. We'll embrace and laugh it off as a misconnecti