will be performing tomorrow night at The Globe in Downtown,Orlando to kick off my good friend Jeremy Hagen’s first open mic night!
www.abdiasgarcia.com for more info

HAPPY HALLOWEEEEEEN!!!

Live from Club 57 West

www.abdiasgarcia.com for more info

See and download the full gallery on posterous

There’s no cure for a broken heart

Keep your pamphlets at bay
Toss your suggestions to the dogs
There is no cure for a broken heart

You fail to see the misery that owns what’s left of the heart
No guarentess are permisable
Words always fall short of the mark

There it is
Naked
Distorted
Void of reason
my lover lays there, lifeless
slowly i too become a dream
There is no cure for the broken heart

Mood King

The novelty turns gruesome, cold,alone
Adverse to a gelatinous world of confusing prisms
Docked at the corner of sight and sound
Never bound by noise
An nervous laugh wrapped in spring
The light of the unseen torments your everything
Mood King
In the End
You said when
When…
Silence
You said When
Silence forevermore

Broader is the stroke of truth

Broader is the stroke of truth

Verbs,sounds,earth and light
The lonely call of twilight

A strum to a phrase
Always a glass to raise
The laughter says…”it’s alright”

Move me, fragile universe
Shake me from this love-soaked curse

Mood is the glue
A walk once through
Leaves me live and unrehearsed

Toss and turn to the sweet delight
Of a heart bathed in gold for the daughter of night

Cry for the fun of it
Try for the love of it
It is I..tall….and full of might

Softer is the gaze
from the sum of my days

Broader is the stroke of truth

Frontiers of levity

Smile when you hear it,the tone we evolve.

The noise of doubt,fear,conformity,disillusion,guilt,inferiority. The growing roar slowly flat-lines into a faint and permanent “you can’t”. Resist. We are but walking chronicles basking in the permeating conditioning of superstition and empty philosophy. “It’s been done” they say.

Laughable and frightening when revealed, coats of varnish on a old broken world. This skewed lens is an atrocity of ignorance defiling the innocent heart..

I refuse to except the vicariously dull and paranoid life of a coward. No,no,no. There is much more, you see.. we all shift in this sea of paradigms and concoctions wondering which is our shore.

This quiet journey is a dreamer’s dream, a poets ether. The relic of a muse. . We own the horizon,mesmerized by what can be conceived. Sustenance is of the essence, the nuance of adventure, the portal to truth. The folly of faith.

The unwound soul can now lay flat on the irate sky and look down at tranquility…exposed…beautiful.

La Grilla

Grilla con la risa en la mejilla
cuéntame del poema escondido
Saca la cara por el arte de la carcajada
y derrama tu alma en la libreta bajo tu almohada

Grilla, inquieta y poeta
naturalmente grande
cubre tus sueños
con amor y con empeño
y anuncio la madrugada

Tu hijo

El primer aire que respire fue regalo de tu mar caribe
El primer grito se unió a tu historia
Al abrir los ojos vi tu luz antillana
Supe en mi alma que eras mi madre
De Perla a Perla
Madre Boriken
Tu hijo tu ama

Carola eres vida

Que orgullo ha de tener el peru

por dar luz a una hija como tu

que tanto amor ha cosechado

es inmenso el legado

de las almas que has tocado

y siempre siendo tu

hoy tu historia es nuestra historia

y marchamos con euforia

como fiel y fuerte rebaño

la herencia de tus años

flor perfecta del antaño

suma de suenos y memorias

como un rio que desenbocas

en cada vida que tu tocas

queda mucho aun por descubrir

en lo que has de vivir

nos invitas a sonreir

porque tu siempre fuiste y seras nuestra unica roca