Biography of Carlos Rodriguez
I was born in Cuba and raised in Florida since the age of eight. I first became interested in poetry when I entered a poetry contest at the age of fourteen and to my extreme surprise my poem was selected as the winner.
My other interests include acting in the theater and in films as well as writing scripts. I love music (Classic Rock, Jazz, Soul, Blues, Classical) and enjoy writing songs. I am also interested in classic American literature and European.
Carlos Rodriguez's Works:
I am getting ready to publish my first book of poems and short stories.
Carlos Rodriguez Poems
An Ode To Jim Morrison
Savage lust of a childlike infancy Your soul weeps in intricate ways Mystical poet of the night Let your words of wisdom take flight
Balling The Detractor
Hollow cave in the cold realm of morning Shallow grave pearched in boredom, rabid foaming The moon is a harsh mistress Waiting patiently to devour her prey
She Offers More Than Too Much
Dark eyes of velvet stone Wild angel dancing all alone Lips like blood red wine She's looking more than fine
Naked we come & naked we go Touch my soul, like a soft wings butterfly Close me in and feel my heart Wet &oily skin, no place to hide
A Will To Power
A will to power In the strange hour Death creeps on by Like a sailor adoring
I see the sunrise in your smile As your perpetual being Moves with grace and style Confine to this wall of solitude
A child goes screaming into the night like a bird whose wings have been clipped and can't no longer take flight. Hot dead prison in the sleepless night
The nakedness of your body Warms my soul and sends My heart on a spinning cycle Of fury and turmoil.
Knife In The Water
Hopeless The feeling that I will not subside That's lingered since the night you died I wish I could have helped you more
What Light From Darkness Grows
Our eyes bleed in darkness Our whispers bring silence Our shapes feed the shadows Your touch turns to violence
In Quiet Solitude
In quiet solitude I walk through fields of wisdom Time & tide and out of season the hitchhiker stood by The side of the road and raised his thumb as if planning An act of treason.
The Whore Laughs
Your eyes cut me like broken glass when you look at me. A two-face mirror is a pale reflection of your being.
Perchance To Dream
Beautiful sadness Infininte melancholy You are the memory I will come back to
Under The Wrath Of War
And so the juggernauts roared As the firebirds soared And the soldiers howled While corrupt politicians pleased the crowd
The nakedness of your body
Warms my soul and sends
My heart on a spinning cycle
Of fury and turmoil.
Your breasts fully exposed
Pressed tight against my chest
I seek to find your hidden treasure
In the warmth arousal of your pleasure.
I wish to enter your sweet and dense forest