The End of The Road

I can’t imagine that I’ve been blogging for over a decade. Flobito.com (when I went for it and bought the domain) was supposed to be a showcase of my talents of a video editor while blogging about my Southern California exploits in detail.

Like how I evolved, so has the site. It was revamped into an author’s blog, coinciding with my book releases, and it pretty much stayed that way until this year.

With my site now streamlining back to being about the services I offer, there really wasn’t a place for a blog in the traditional sense. An though I’ve amassed a relatively small following with each post, I still feel odd letting that part of the site go.

In any event, thank you so much for checking out my home on the web over the past couple of years. The best is yet  to come

 

Greatly appreciated

 

 

F

You Ever Have a Weekend That Was Epic? #Instagram

I did a couple of weeks ago. I did some personal development, some professional development, and got some new experiences in the mix. Check it out.

Throwback to #Halloween 2017 #Instagram

Time to ride, cowboy!

Mr. DJ #MassTransit

Hey y’all. Today’s post is another poem from the book Mass Transit. So interesting, because I wrote this one six years before I became an actual event DJ! Check it out and buy Mass Transit on Amazon!

Mr. DJ

 

Spin. Scratch. Mix

Make their songs your own

You sit atop the nightclub

A king on his throne

 

 

Scribble. Crab. Slide

Your hand caresses the deck

Bring it back. Push it forward

We dance to the beat. A groove for every step

 

You are king of the night

A vampire scratching on his coffin

Presiding over the dance floor

Once a week if not more often

 

Drink up. Drink up.

This round is for you.

Whatever keeps you spinning

On the ones and twos

Poem: Parque Central

Here’s a poem that originally appeared in my short story and poetry collection, “By The Ounce.”

 

Parque Central

 

Forever crowded

In the immense heat

Vendors and tourists

Share the grounds

 

School children in uniform

Taxistas looking for fares

The poor, the destitute

All in the mix

 

The smell of roasted nuts

Fresh fruit and candy

Hang in the humid air

Before the rains come

 

The home to history

A central meeting place

Is all the same

Parque Central