Month: November 2018

shy to sing


drunk moments seem to mean more
(more mean)
and the arguments are opera.
(opera fiends)
my monsters are shy to sing,
(fuck do they sing)

shake ’em up
shake ’em up
watch them pop
wake ’em up

sing along
sing along
you’ll never outsing
a monster’s song.

they know no rules,
they come from hell.
i’ll play the game,
i know them well.

they’ll say i’m right,
they’re quite convincing,

but i know them better
than they might think.

and i know i’m never right
past 5 drinks.

and i’ll wait for moments
when they might blink.

to apologize
for what’s inside.
i know i’m less love
than cyanide.

give it a night,
they get tired.

give it a night
to remember
what you admired
about me.

“shy to sing”
©Steven Cuenca



Amalia, el nombre de mi ma-
mama, i’m sorry for falling short
in the future,
i’m sure you’d do well without me.

seen the dirt and the demons,
know they’re thirsty for beauty.
if they try you, i promise,
they’re gonna have to get through me.

Amalia i love you,
you’re gonna be someone special.
it’s gonna make life much harder,
when they see your potential.

but, like a rock to a pebble,
or your heart to a devil,
watch your love shine so brightly,
watch it blind them and tremble.

Amalia, i saw you
in a dream; you were perfect.
drove across the whole country,
held you close, it was worth it.

It was worth the frozen toes and the broken down car. It was worth so much, the country was hardly far enough to merit your beauty, Amalia Sophia Cuenca.

You hold my mother’s name, and she’s the strongest person I know. I know you’ll wear it and make it your own color of excellence. I know this because you’re surrounded by people who love you, and that’s really the goal in this little life. All that’s left is doing what you do best and we don’t know what that is yet, but that’s the fun part; that’s why you’re here Amalia, to be yourself and show the world how amazing you are.

©Steven Cuenca

i met J.C.

sadboy 1

i met Jesus Christ,
or rather He met me;
it only lasted a moment,
but it was a moment indeed.

i remember that day,
a little more than a haze,
His hand on my shoulder,
the heavenly rays.
He lifted me up
and walked me with purpose.
He borrowed my voice,
He figured me worth it.

i sang praise to His name,
they all sang it back.
didn’t believe a word that i said,
He must have known that.
the heavenly rays disappeared,
and so did the hand on my shoulder.
never felt that warmth again,
my bones have only grown colder.

i guess i should think myself lucky,
lucky He touched me.
lucky my voice was enough;
there’s enough me
to merit His time,
the, ol’ “Son of Mine.”
He used my voice once,
and He left me behind.

used the same voice to say,
“i’ll love you forever,”
used the same voice to say,
“fuck you”s and “fuck off”s,
used the same voice to lie,
to scream, and to cry,
used the same voice to sing,
spill everything inside.
used the same voice to sin,
whisper pleasurist things,
used the same voice to laugh,
it’s almost all that i do,

used the same voice to write,
write about You,

and it’s a little easier now,
believe it or not.
now that my bones have iced over,
my blood burns so hot,
and my eyes have gotten
used to the dark,
i can kind of see
why You touched me that day,
why You believed in me
whilst i didn’t believe in You,
still don’t know the truth,
but i’ll voice it when i do,
i’ll voice it when i do.

“i met J.C.”
©Steven Cuenca




heartbeat poetry

sc 4

it’s hard to write
when you’re right
next to me,
and your heart is
thumping poetry
through the rest of me.

the best of me
can’t compete
with every beat
with sleepy heat
from your chest
to your feet.

i’d rather lay
dead and dumb,
bummed out,
without a pen
in reach.
just you and me
making heartbeat

“heartbeat poetry”
©Steven Cuenca





sc 2

my stomach hurts,
it’s full of worms.
they’re screaming,
they’re cheering for me,
they’re singing,
“don’t eat until you make it,
don’t eat until make it.”

my eyes burn,
they’re full of worms.
they’re singing,
they’re cheering for me,
they’re screaming,
“don’t cry until you make it!
don’t cry until you make it!”

my flesh is falling off,
i’m picking at the worms.
i’m hungry,
i’ll never make it,
i’m crying.
they’re screaming at me,
“you never had it in you!
they’re laughing at me,
“you’ll never have it in you!”

somehow it makes them taste better.

©Steven Cuenca




sc 3

i’ve never felt so naked before
foreign places making me sore
soaring to new places in store

stories dipped in platinum metaphor

met a four year old girl
she said, “you look like a monster,”
i saw the flies
fly out from under
my eye lids.
i said, “little girl,
where is your mother?”

she said, “where is your father?”

i never felt so naked before
foreign places making me sore
soaring to new places in store

storming storming storming

saw the sunrise one morning,
more like,
i think i saw jesus.
he said, “you look like a monster.”
i said, “you better believe it.”
felt my gut turn to ashes,
i guess i knew i was demon.
he said, “this isn’t the last bit.”
felt my legs and my feet and
my arms go to sleep and
my head fell too deep and–

i’ve never felt so naked before
foreign places making me sore
soaring to new places in store

burning burning burning

©Steven Cuenca