Monday, March 30, 2015

All Your Body Would Sell

These tired eyes weaken,
waiting for the blood letting to begin.
I feel all that I was, seeping,
Waiting for the end.
I remember your lips,
but not their taste.
When love rips,
all is laid to waste.
So goodnight, farewell.
Serenade me with one more lie.
I paid for all your body would sell.
I paid for a dream so high

copyright 2007 salvador cordova

Thursday, March 26, 2015

A Life Spent

The rain came and went
Like my life already spent.
I listened to the clouds roll by
A blue and receptive sky.
I knew my day had changed,
My steps could be unmade.
I held the promise so tight,
Showered by the rainbow’s light.
I held my son’s hand,
Together we could stand.
I listened to the earth grow
As she pushed aside the stone.
The roses strained toward the sun
as we firmly took step one.


copyright 2006 salvador cordova

Sunday, March 22, 2015

Alone in the Dark

The years burned away.
Like a grassfire out of control,
‘Til all you have left is a
smoldering black mark in your path
that’ll burn you each time you tread there.
You ask yourself what your time is worth,
Waiting for heroes that don’t exist.
Praying for miracles that don’t occur.
Hope flies away like that
Last ray of sunlight before dusk,
Leaving you alone in the dark.

copytright 2007 salvador cordova

Friday, March 20, 2015

Flesh of a New Day


A drink in her hand,
The smoke hanging thick,
The music hot as sand.
I could feel her body stray,
Searching for the flesh of a new day.
The lessons of a new romance.
She holds my hand as we step to dance.
Clinging to these old bones
That no longer induce her moans.
She smiles as my heart breaks.
Leaving everything she took
As she walks away

copyright 2009 salvador cordova


When the scheduled main event of Raphael Assuncao and Urijah Faber was scrapped due to injury fans were left with Demian Maia against Ryan LaFlare. The matchup is very intriguing pitting an undefeated rising fighter looking to make a name against maybe the best pure submission artist in MMA looking to put himself back in the title picture. But what it gains in intrigue it loses in star power. Nonetheless Maia vs. LaFlare could play a substantial role in the future of the UFC's welterweight division.

For a while now I've believed the UFC does no favors for up and coming fighters pitting them against veterans that can and many times do derail their careers. Instead of building someone, they feed them to the lions in a sink or swim lesson. Pitting the rising Erick Silva against Jon Fitch. Recently pitting Myles Jury against murderer Donald Cerrone. They normally don't do their young stars many favors. While Demian Maia is certainly no favor, Maia is tailored for the rising LaFlare.

Demian Maia is capable of controlling and submitting almost anyone at any time. He's submitted Rick Story and Chael Sonnen. If he can get the takedown or reach the hips, he is excellent at controlling and finishing the takedown as well as securing the submission once there. Pitting him on his back is also not the best idea, just ask Chael Sonnen. But he has always had problems against fighters with mobility and striking skills. Against Rory McDonald, Maia looked like an amateur fighting in slow motion. He shot for takedowns from too far away and at an elementary speed. He was never in the fight against McDonald. In fact, a fighter with more killer instinct would have probably finished Maia. Maia also struggles against bigger, stronger MMA adapt wrestlers. Chris Weidman and Mark Munoz both controlled and beat him en route to decision victories.

In Ryan LaFlare, Maia faces a very, very good wrestler with very good mobility and striking skills at a higher level than his own. If there was a prototypical fighter Maia would not want to fight, he would look a lot like LaFlare. LaFlare used his footwork and sharper striking in his last match against John Howard on his way to a decision. While LaFlare has not KO'd anyone since 2010 and fought to a decision in his last three bouts, his striking is adequate and against Maia that's all he needs. LaFlare has the skills to keep the fight standing if he wishes or to repeatedly take Maia down. I would not recommend he stay there though as that would be disaster. The other thing LaFlare has going for him is a 5 round fight. Maia is 37, while LaFlare is 31. The pace that LaFlare will impose upon Maia will wear the veteran down in the later rounds making the chances of a late submission almost null as in his bout against Rory McDonald. 

I expect LaFlare to impose his gameplan against Maia. Move around the Octagon peppering Maia with sharp strikes and utilizing the takedown at will. Either ending the fight via strikes in the later rounds or earning a unanimous decision against
Maia, sending a message to the rest of the UFC's welterweight division.

Thursday, March 19, 2015


“Oh God! Oh God! Please...please...stop. Spank me. Oh God!”
Damn it. Three nights in a row now they’ve been going at it like monkeys. Couldn’t they at least be quiet? Danny thought. I’m trying to sleep down here! Danny’s wife slept soundly beside him, oblivious to the thumps on their ceiling, the slaps against flesh, the pleas to God. Danny placed his pillow over his face but could still hear her. Please, oh God, please. Begging Him to do...what? And Him! Spewing orders at her. Do it now, do it now, yes baby yes, that’s it. If things became quiet briefly, Danny could even hear His breathing. Slow and calm. Deep methodical breaths which seemed to absorb her along with all the air in the room each time. Each breath taking something away from her.
As the screaming, hitting and thumps on the floor continued, Danny wondered what exactly was happening above him. Sometimes the woman’s cries aimed at passion, false passion. Veiled underneath Danny heard pain in the woman’s voice. Sometimes she’d remain quiet for several minutes then inexplicably begin screaming again. And who was she? Only a single Hispanic man lived upstairs and Danny never saw any women with him or heard anything before this past few nights. Maybe she was  a prostitute ... for three nights in a row? The monkeys continued above and Danny became keen to every scream and whisper, hoping to gain a clue to the mystery above.
Danny heard steel clash against steel, more moaning and squealing. He heard flesh striking flesh, hard. Then Danny heard Him, his voice such a low, delicate whisper it was almost inaudible. Danny laid motionless in bed.
“Say it.” Danny heard another slap, this one harder.
“Yes Daddy, What do you want me to do Daddy?” Her voice sounded weak and beaten. “Kneel in front of me.” Danny heard her moving, each movement sounded hesitant as she crawled towards Him. Danny heard her adjust her knees, they were now directly above him.
“Bow your head.”
“Please no, I’ll do anything, please.”
“DO IT NOW!” It was the first time Danny heard Him raise his voice. Danny thought he heard the girl crying but he wasn’t sure. He imagined teardrops clinging desperately to her cheeks and lips. Then he heard something hit the floor followed by something heavier crashing down. Then nothing.
Danny didn’t sleep the rest of the night worried what might have happened.
The stereo alarm kicked his wife awake. She turned to hug Danny and found him intently staring at the ceiling. Danny never woke up before her. But Danny was waiting, quietly, patiently. Waiting as he had all through the night, waiting for a sound from above. He wanted to hear a moan, a scream, a good morning, something to tell him everything was fine. Anything. His wife dressed, ate breakfast and left for work. Danny remained in bed feigning sickness. Danny laid there, holding his breath at intervals, scared to make a noise that would force him to miss a sound from above. He waited to hear her voice. Say good morning, say it. Nothing.

When I Die

When they bury me,
they'll be no one there
who knows my Christian name.
And those in attendance will
wonder why they came.
They'll mouth hollow phrases
of memories they don't trust.
Of a man they pray to God 
is in that coffin.
They'll feel the cold
as they shovel the dirt upon it.
Drive home to their families
Kiss and hug them.
Wondering who was buried that day.

copyright 2009 Salvador Cordova