Ruben De Escapado
Bio
Most know me as a poet sitting on a park bench in Central Park. Writing poetry for strangers. Before that I lived a life and learned a few things. Now I listen to what the world had to teach others. Believe in yourself and be honest. Okay.
Stories (19/0)
Cobalt Silence
Cobalt Silence By Dario “This is the way,”, said the elder to the younger, “it is the way now for it is what was. All must pass so that what may come will be received. Do not maintain the truth that is and was, then the great eagle will come and pluck the sight from your eyes.”. This is the way. My face is the younger. My face is also the elder. My face is the women of my tribe. My face is the men. My face is the ancient soothsayers that have released themselves. They are not, so that we may. They are all of me. My face is all of them. My face looks to my palm and it is the palm of the elder. The mirror shows my face and the ears of my sister. My face is the elder. My face is my sister.
By Ruben De Escapado7 days ago in Fiction
A Lighthouse in the Sky
A Lighthouse in The Sky By Dario Hernandez When the old man in the sky was a young man on the ground, he prayed to God every morning, evening, and night. The way his father did. The way his grandfather did. The words his grandmother showed him. The posture his mother displayed.
By Ruben De Escapado21 days ago in Fiction
Blue Haiku
Evaporate the heart; into the eyes. Feel teal sun rise.
By Ruben De Escapadoabout a year ago in Poets
There is no shame in asking for help.
When busking in Central Park, a failed writer was high on heroin and asked me for a poem about ‘flattery’ but left before I could finish. While he was there, he was intentionally distracting me. He sang "Strawberry Fields" by The Beatles. He described the cool alleviation of putting a needle in your arm. That a pen would never come close. He was a violent and aggressive reflection of the worst version of myself. I feel as though the experience made me a better writer.
By Ruben De Escapado2 years ago in Poets
