Biography of Ray Quesada
(***Please take a moment to vote 1-10 on any of my poems you read. I don't think I'll have an accurate idea of the quality of my work until each poem has a decent amount of votes***)
- -I want to say thank you to every one of my friends who have visited my page/voted and commented on my poems, and thanks also to any of the poets on here who've done the same, whether I am friends with you on here or not - its a very satisfying feeling when people enjoy my writing. I've had a lot of positive feedback so far, which only inspires me all the more to keep writing.
For those who just now have stumbled upon my page, I'm Ray. I was born in Ohio, where I wasted my teenage years, and now out of guilt, write constantly. :) - I lived in Myrtle Beach, SC, for around 8 years and I just moved out to Arizona in January this year. Nothing like a change of scenery and a change of pace to bring your soul out of hibernation. I've been writing poetry somewhat seriously since age 20, more seriously for about the past 2 years.
Besides poetry i like to play guitar, write songs here and there, etc. i find inspiration in silence by the ocean just as much as i find it when i'm drinking and shooting pool in bars with my friends.
-I used to fall in and out of love with my own life on a daily basis...but as of late, I've mostly just been in love with it.
I have made friends on poemhunter with some very exceptional poets, and it seems I find inspiration a lot now in reading the work of others. I admire the poets who just let it all out, who trust in their own voice. Nietzsche said, “Poets are shameless with their experiences: they exploit them.”
Thanks again for taking time out of your busy day to check out my page!
Ray Quesada Poems
When you finally realize your life is a death sentence in every breath your eyes and mind
The Punk, The Monk, And The World
My friends and my family scattered across the land of America; land of the Lost there's a shortage of love - a shortage of water a shortage of food - the temperatures hotter
A Homeless Man
Those cold hands sheltered in his lap... A simple life chosen to live, perhaps? Could no bed be offered though? Not even a chair?
A Poem Sneaks Into The Room
A poem comes abruptly – A poem Sneaks into the room and hides behind the chair Or the couch, or the curtain And then pounces through the air
As The Rain Hits The Leaves
With no inspiration or passion in heart O, where is a person ever to start With hardly a friend in this mysterious land Is there hope for growth
Two Autumn Leaves
Though we both lay here together we're a hundred worlds apart different memories; different demons different Spirits; different Hearts
Epsilons In Nail Salons
Go to work, get paid then spend it fast You need more stuff cuz things don't last forever. - Hurry! Run to the store! Corporate slaves and Wal-mart whores
Creature Of Wings
Song bird, intrigue me flow forth your wondrous tune intrinsically, your music pours from you
And Time, A Burning Flame
When I was young and playful the future seemed so bright there were songs that we sung and days were always nice
On Stars That Twinkle
When Mind is baked, time Thinkles When it rains, the puddles Plinkle
A Secret Shade Of Blue
Pink is just a shade of Blue with Purple in between And Yellow is a shade of Pink, and, the color that is Green,
Hamsters in a hamster world hamster boys and hamster girls drive their cars and go to work every day the unspoken 'social contract' is why they stay
The River Is Never The Same
Buddha Universe of Good Embodiment of Peace, purely understood All things come, and instantly have passed away Right Now; Tomorrow; Yesterday
I stare into a lonely nighttime puddle 'Don't Worry' tattoo'd on her right wrist; 'Be Happy' on the left -She puts out a cigarette
Response To Maya Angelou
And a man in a room can be a caged beast
where Death himself has come 'long to feast
upon his soul, so he's never pleased
And he longs for what? He can't be sure
For a man in a room can get up and leave
but chooses to sit and cry on his sleeeve
A slave by his own choosing, but he will not believe
when you tell him theres something more pure