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the silent resonance of regret

Another month, another poem.  When all is said and done, as I look back on my achievements — and lacks thereof; the list of unfinished goals — this column is one thing I will not regret.  It reminds me to exercise my love of verse.  To spare some minutes for a cherished pursuit.  I have too long forsaken my songwriting passion.  Too easily ignored other beloved penchants, the dreams and druthers that shape who I am.  It is these glaring omissions that plague me most as Time courses too swiftly past.

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Well, what about it? you might ask.  I'm getting to that; hang onto your berets!  Oh yes, I'm the poet.  Hang onto your chins then . . .  Philosophically, "Existentialism" relates to free will.  But is everyone in the world free?  Not by a long shot.  Some because of their own mistakes.  Others because they were born into bad situations, or were in the wrong place at the right time.  Some are imprisoned by fear, doubt, anger, even hate — stemming from the scars of experience and loss; the twisty ties that bind.

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Question Songs & Answers??? - List One

Finally, here are the answers to some of those nagging song questions you keep hearing from the radio, jukebox, your television or phone-slash-portable-dojiggy.  Lori Lopez has taken a moment to reflect upon these issues and settle them once and for all.  We hope you will find her responses helpful.


Chicago:  "Does anybody really know what time it is?"

I think so — No, it just changed, now I know, wait, wrong again, it's — Too late, never mind.

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Follow Lori's Amusing Antics On Twitter!

You can now hear the peculiar inner thinkings of LoriRLopez on Twitter!  Here are a few examples:


Called 911 for papercut. Ambulance lost, took cab. In surgery now; hope they finish soon. Seventeenth stitch. Should leave a nice scar!


Like the question about a tree falling in the forest, I wanted to see if I failed to post this monthly column whether it would be missed.  Of course, the answer is no — unlike the classic tree punderance, which you know would still make a sound even if no one were there to hear it strike the ground.  Don’t give me any guff.  There would be a sound.

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Dance Of The Chupacabras Bonus Excerpt


HUMIDITY AND SHADOWS LINGERED.  The storm had evanesced.  Noél scratched a sticky scalp.  His body felt cramped from sitting too long.  He wanted this nightmare to end and speculatively stretched out to emerge.

The tempest, as if taunting him, began again — a prepensive torrent; a rampant moratorium.

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Lori R. Lopez

Rafael Lopez

Noel Lopez