Poetry by Victor Apodaca

Why me father “o” why me
Why have you given me a heart to be broken
To break me and mold me into something I do not want to be
I like so much to not care and be so cold since you
Broke me, many many years ago …

I was so young and tender and I helped bring bone of my bone
Into the light of day.
You took her so fast that I had “no” way to understand
Here, she was so beautiful to me and such a joy
She always looked like an angel, her smile brightens my
Ever lovely day
One whole life before that went away when her
Sunshine shown all about me

Why “O” why did you have to take her from me
I turned out so evil because I lost her when I only had
Her so short alive that it made me bitter and hate you
Filled me with such darkness all the rest of my days

Made my heart so hard no one could love me
In turn could never love again
Now you want me to do your will why father
Why “O’ why do you ask me to love others when for
So long you let me stand alone

Did it strengthen me and temper me for your mission
That you put in my way
Why “O’ why father must I love areas where “no”
One loves me

Why “O” why father do you ask this of me?
Can’t you let me hate that’s more simple then
What you ask of me
Why “O” why fater do you now ask this
OF ME …

“In loving memory  of my daughter”
God rest her soul …

Love You 
By Victor Apodaca

What is love?
I knew it at once upon a time
It’s so far away now I’m lost in forever

What will become of someone like me?
My peace will come one day
Is there a forever for me someday
Or is it a dream a grain of sand or a beach
Lost in forever

What to believe love someone says to me
And the next is go away I can’t stand you
What is this word that they use to quiet you
And then they lie and hurt you go away they say

To you; I don’t love you; they use it in so many ways
Why should I believe; is I love you when in the end
It destroys you!!!

And what was said is really 2 lie
No such thing as I love you
It’s okay 2 myxx to help do their work
And take and take all that worth!!!

My Sick Little Game
By Victor Apodaca

What is dark but absent of light
So what is light but the love of one God
Why does one God love
Who is this one God
This one God of absolute love
Can we prove this one God is real
Pain is real
Death is real
Is this one God real
Why is there pain and suffering, is this one God truly real
Who am I to this one God
Why do I suffer pain if he loves me
Why does he love me this way
I’m in pure hell everyday
How can he say he loves me and leaves me this way
Who are you really
What is your true name
If you are really real why is there so much pain and suffering
I believe but in what and who
I have the papers that say what I believe but do I really believe
I ask you my patronage do you believe like I believe
Are you too evil and curse
Don’t you wonder why
Who am I or who are you in this game
Ask yourself what is his true name
I leave you with that all the same

 So Silly
By Victor Apodaca

So what is history to someone like you
So what philosophy do you follow
So why do you read this work, or is work 2b all
So ponder that question or any that come to mind
As you stare at the white page
So why do you read the dead works of dead poets
Can you answer in a lyric or stanza that makes you feel
So why poetry at all
It’s sometimes a mess of nonsense words, sometimes of lost loves and hurts….
So why do you want to feel someone else’s pains
The blood drops of sweat that comes from reliving 2 lie that life is somehow worth living
Silly thing
So the planet is dying, the waters are polluted
The forest is going extinct where will you come from
So silly
All things are going yet you’re here with me putting pencil to page
You’re so silly
What to waste of a day you can never get back
But you still reading what some insane mad man has to say…why
I pose that to you
So silly willy does this madness bring you 2 smile
That’s what I wanted for you
So silly……you

Untitled
By Victor Apodaca

Poems, the ideal moment, what to do, what to do.
If I was lost and had a compass, I could somehow find my way…
But, into this world, I’ve always been lost; you must be lost to become a slave to the truth. It’s hard for –
People to face the truth…
Only when it affects them do they understand,
– a way to follow…
“What is truth?” was asked of someone. I now have become a slave to a Pima is what I am, but so far away from what it is…
But it’s an awakening to a newness of mind, soul, spirit.
I still cannot do what I must do…
I myself can only show Eros and only to the opposite sex…
But master gave me a shot of agape and oh how I need you…
Became my motto and healing your wounded soul.
Began 96 slashes of the whip, surged and beaten, the holy garments of the universe were mauled and the crimson red of life covered evil of our universe…
You see, if you unlock the truth of this, it goes as this,
We are a universe and we impact others.
Universe show of great souls and we all are instruments.
EYE-ASHER-EYEH or YOD-HEY-VAY-HEY
This is the truth of the moral minister, mythology the obsession of Eros, or the truth for today’s flesh and blood because of agape, this is my and your own quest… TRUTH!!!

One Day
By Victor Apodaca

At my beginning, I do not know my life is not much different from all of you…

I was born with father and mother. One I thought hated the life he gave me that day I came into this world! The other loved in a way that I came to know! I myself cannot in a way you could understand!

Love to me is a darkness I acre not to understand…
Everyone who ever said they loved me has cut me to the bone! My own blood has betrayed me…

I gave them my everything, heart and my soul, they won’t spend 48 cents to just say hello! I try to understand why something I made does not love me so. It’s hard for others to comprehend why God made me the way I am…

I do not apologize for who or what I’ve become! It’s society that put the thoughts and actions I have done…

Some say I’m evil, full of darkness, and spiritless…

Why blame others for their creation you should ask? Because I came from a life that very few have survived…

I came from that that very few have survived… I came from war, drugs and humanity-lies…

You yourself have given me life, the hate, the sadness, that is felt beyond your comprehension, but one day I will get out!!!

El Juego de la Vida
By Victor Apodaca

Payback for all that crazy shit, I look deep into my box.
There’s nothing there for a vato loco.
There’s no love coming in the form of an envelope,
no money order for a crazy dude like you.

No friends like when you held the big sack,
no family saying they love you when you’re passing them a bill.

Where’s the love for you, gangsters out there in the freeworld,
what’s up homeboys, where are you now?

Came in, you got your number – 59195 – the same frontwards and backwards.

This is payback for all that gangster shit.

The vida loca, homeboy, your daddy wanted to be a gangster.

Rendezvous  
By Victor Apodaca

Am I my mother’s hopes; I ask this as I look deep
Into my dark soul. I’m here for what I ask the big man above.
I live in a concrete box, no joy, no love, no joke,
just one more upon another ….
Who are you I can tell you, but does what I say matter to someone like you.
I earned my pain through blood and tears you know nothing about. I say to you I have a rendezvous but with who? …
My life on the line covered by thick grey walls 15 feet high
with sharpened double edged knives …
There’s a man in the tower with cross hairs when I go outside.
It’s hell on earth as I do not look for today …
As death is always waiting for me to slip and then he can end my days …
I’ve watched year after is a cold grey cell for that
Rendezvou in hell. It’s not easy to bet on someone like me.
They hate what the fear so to hell for my future/ As it’s not so bright and shining. Blue cloud with a silver lining as some suspect not for an X-con such as I …
It would of been nicer to die in that war I survived two bronze
Stars and colored ribbons all in a row, they pinned to my chest
Good job Soldier, I was impressed, but  there was a rendezvous in
My future called P.T.S.D. half out of my mind when I committed my crime.
Where were the honors for an old broken mind, did those parades
And ribbons help in the end from a grateful nation for what you had done,
But know your broken and shamed so will just lock you away.
What happened with a grateful nation when they called
I came …
Now there’s n o one for me except the cold dark grey
Without even a view to pass all these thousands of days.
The silver grows with each passing day …
I see the end of the tunnel but it’s so far away. My eyes
Are dimmer with each tick of that damn clock. There’s no-one, no
Where, when or why. I do reach for the end thanks from a
Grateful nation …
I can still hear someone say …

The American Dream
By Victor Apodaca

America  the home of the free and the brave …
You shed your grace on me.
The words of a white man’s America may be not for me …

I once believed this crazy sentence I myself wanted to give
My life for this so-called dream!!!
But it wasn’t meant for someone like me. I fought for this
Country, I was willing to shed my blood for
The American dream …

But I came home to a country that turned their back on me.
My own blood betrayed me for a piece of paper that
Was the white man’s dream! …

Who to blame I guess that would have to be me!

I took it to heart because I thought it would
Give me freedom, but it’s all a lie for some XXX me. No help
For a dreamer like me, a kick in the ass and your
Way! …

Thank you for your help now go away  you’re damaged
And we don’t want to help a dummy
Who call for a statement, xxxx, line, and a sinner
You’re to blind to see that the American dream
Is for the rich white man, your to blame if you really
Believed you had a chance at the
American dream!
Your skin tone makes  you a spik & beaner I’ve often been called.
Never you be fair shake I’ve bleed for nothing
Lost it all for your sake
Not even a Thank you what’s the problem when I
Came home too! …

I gave all for you and in return I got the
Bars for my American dream!! …

Stain of Hurt
By Victor Apodaca

Blacken by the stain of hurt. I wonder why I must hurt others.
I am not willing to give in. But there’s no way to win.
The stupid things people do to me makes
Me angry and want to hurt you and me …

I don’t understand what they think in this concrete jungle
You must not speak to the people in charge or
You’ll have to pay with blood …
And that’s the way this life in hell, is to be the
One whom you blame …
Except  yourself when you put yourself in a bad
Place, all the demons from this hell will make you
Hurt and that’s why I can’t understand why you place
Yourself in that place to make someone hurt you in
This awful place …

I have to do what I must to live and walk
The line straight and tall because if you’re weak
You’ll never make it out of this place ever could
Die for no good reason, it’s my way, to stay alive.
But no one cares not one soul. The blood you
Spilled darkens  your soul …
That’s my stain of hurt but one day I’ll get

Out that’s for sure …

I Look Up
By Victor Apodaca

I look up towards one blue of the sky I don’t look to what waits for me below, one day I weill have finished this mad race. I’ll be put to rest one fine day. Then one book’s in heaven will be opened nothing unturned will be hidden from my sight.

Will it be to the light I go out forever in the dark and cold. Will I meet the one’s Dr at work before4, my sweet daughte4r or the father that had left me to my hell all these days…both have fallen into forever sleep both above I hope to meet.

But I myself don’t believe because my trials have cut me deep
So I’ve forseen that which I believe, I’ve tried to keep the faith but they do not stop from keeping me down I try to forgive and yet I can not.

I have found the cuts are so deep and seared my soll that the one’s that I gave life and raised from birth have turned these heart of stone and destroyed  the one that they say they loved but so they hurt beyond what anyone could do on this earth.

Ever wish sometimes I’de died when the war I survived to come home to a worst death then Satan himself could devise diabolicar is there plan that Satan himself, would bow his head to the things that they have planned for the one they call Dad!!

Bio Bit

What a Strange Thing
By Victor Apodaca

What a strange thing happened to me one day.
And I didn’t know what to make of it
If you could see how dead and empty are
So many soul’s like harden by hate revenge and bitterness
How would such a heartless soul shed a single tear for a monster like me.

I must write my dear mother to say
What a bright light she was in my
Sea of darkness I’m so use to a single flower
In this garden of hate, stiff and envy.

How could she ever love someone like me.
The tear feel on my arm.
Was such a great drop hyou see it fell from
My darkened eyes that only know misery.
How could this happen I asked that  question of me?

Is there something within me that wants
To get free; A single tear fell from me.
What a strange feelilng it brought when
When it rolled down my sleeve,
I couldn’t believe it at first that it came
From somone like me.

I’m a child of the system
Been locked up since I was ten years young
That was so long ago breed to hate, kill and murder
How could a single tear come from
A monster like me

The Situation
By Victor Apodaca

The situation- I’ve looked from the inside out,
And myst say.
How is that – one may say
It’s simple I came to my page sixteen, pages back.
What I remember than was prison was kind of fun …

How is that – one may say.
Because the clickstars were on the line back then.
Don’t get me wrong, it was easy to be draped in a cord white sheet
With filthy crimson holes.

Then there was a terrible day when they locked us all away.
Six pagesforward I was put into the booby hatch
“Where life is wonderful every day,” Then came the day
To stand in front of the black robe with the wooden hammer.
Fifteen plus nine to run along-side and this and
Half to run after one last day of those are done.
Having only killed a dog shame shame on you …

How is that – one may say, it’s not funny to me but
Maybe to you. That’s what American Justice does to
Someone who’s not white, some one like you.
So they locked up me away in the hell of grey it’s only
24 hours each and every day. For six more page’s I spent deep in
The south, no one can say even hello or good day …

Then California broke that hard 24 hour a-day and I was
Loged to a system that was different from when I’d gotten locked-up in lock up.
Now these inmates children I should say.

As I have grey hairy head, try to be someone in this
Diaper plade, places that is sure, hell for someone lie me,
The old guard is not so liked by the pieces
Of crap that call themselves Convicts but the go and tell …

How is that – one may say – well my last cellie was told I heard
Voices and was very old, make a name for yourself it’s all a game

So one moring not long ago he treated the old
Hairy head as I went to the cell door he must of thought
What a pussy he’s running away but to his dismay
He only lo0cked it so no-one could et away.
And to his dispair he got holes poked into his face
And chest and came so close to his very death …

Here’s a cliche, I leave it with you, “don’t judge a book by it’s cover,”
He learned a lesson thasgt convicts don’t play
We don’t grab ass or walk away …

THE END! 🙂

Bio Bit

Prison Blues
By Victor Apodaca

Who am I? That’s a question I pose to you. Whoare you, do you believe you, could never put on the prison blues. How many people have heard say that and opps! There they are next to you …
Fathers, brothers, sisters, cousins, it does not matter to them who you were before. When you care and you very well may.
I’ll bid you adieu. Welcome to the devils playground, we all kind of sick things you can do …
You poke yourself just to forget for a while changing the hell you’re in.
Remember no plans to come but one worlds is about the haves and the haves not which one are you …
Think long and hard before you do your dirty deeds.
The time you spend here in a 9’ by 12’ cell that awaits someone like you. No sunshine on your face, no birds singing in the cherry tree next to your window. No candy or soups for a dope like you. As a family has forgotten about you. No love with a stamp address to you know who. Think before you do. This time here hates you, you may get stab, beaten or shot by one man with a badge or one in prison blues…
Life here is no joke, you loive second by second and if you’re weak. In this place you’re someone’s punk or bitch pimped off for a cigarette. Holding on to somones belt loop, wearing red M&M’s for lipstick.
You have fight for your right to be left alone. Sometimes you win, and others you lose. But heart counts here win or lose, there’s no help for you, no skirt to hide behind and play peak-a-boo…
Your momma can’t help you there’s no tears in here for you …

Bio Bit

Whom Do You Love?