Esteban Luis Soto

In this anemic landscape of failed unions, You were a welcomed storm. A bolt re-charging ions of ambition Incinerating volatile praries of gloom! Now I consume ravenously, this hope! Fueled by fertile winds of change, Stirred by your inciteful breath that Renders my name precious and worthy. Oh, the admiration that thunders within! Of your shoes to the blistered and barefooted, Of guitars to the gifted and impoverished, Of lakes of faith to the soul-parched! And as this fire humbly burns to your gracious sea, I'm reminded, in you, all that I'm meant to be. Now come, my love, so that I may wash in your rain And bare the tempests of passion that push our way! (c) Esteban Luis Soto (c) 2011

In the mirror of this morn Shown a man thin and wet As if he swam in a sea of Nostalgic regret It shown the deserved Greys and how they Crept so cleverly into Folds of his yesteryear scalp The mirror of this morn Shown scenes in his eyes Of... music played on The many stages of life Of the many hands And hearts of the loyal He was priviledged To have loved passingly Of roadkill byways And the mourned dead Who call to him with Their fateful siren song Of the plush fields of want Sowed by machines of change And into the mouths of the Desolate and misunderstanding Of the hands of colleagues Wielding knives of Hypocrisy and deceit for The sum of a quarter pence Of the dense admiration for Those who gave him life and Fear of this abhorrent carnal- Clock that holds their time, yet... In the mirror of the morrow A man will stand fat with pride And wipe the dismal mind-haze And decry, "I am meant for more!" The mirrow of the morrow Will s