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Copywriter

 

A man is more than the six pieces of work he chooses to showcase in his portfolio. A man is more than a New Yorker. More than a Miami Ad School and University of Miami alumnus. More than a social media marketer for the world's largest electronic music festival, or copywriter for Miami's leading luxury hospitality agency.

 

A man is defined by his passions and his commitment to pursuing those passions with unwavering determination. My passion is creative problem solving. And my love of music, film, art, photography, traveling, athletics, fashion, and an innate curiosity and relentless desire for knowledge have provided me with the tools necessary to derive powerful insights that yield unique solutions.

Oliver

Permut

 
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Trust Issues (A Memoir)

With an alarming jolt his heart began to race
A shocking realization, brought on a dangerous pace

 

With frantic movements he began to search

Wasn't it in his pocket or was it in her purse?

 

He turned his trousers inside out Nothing to be found, he began to pout

 

He looked around, paranoid and scared

Did she take it? Would she really dare?

 

"Open your bag!" he asked with shout
He thought he trusted her, but now he was filled with doubt

 

She emptied it out, all over the counter
Nothing to be found, just makeup all around her

 

He clutched his chest, filled with frustration
His hand over his heart, he felt a strange sensation

 

Something was lodged between his hand and his pec

He looked at the pocket, and decided to check

 

Alas it was there, his heart did a flip
Immediately, he apologized to her for giving her lip

 

How could he have acted like such a chump?
So he decided to mend the fence, by giving her the first bump

Early Lessons

To give to you what belongs to me

I will not share
Not one, not two, not three

 

To leave my place so that you can sit
I will not get up
Not one second, not one moment, not one bit

 

To bow my head so that you can see I will not budge
Not an inch, not a foot, not me

 

But soon I will stumble and tears will flow
Not helping hand to grasp or a kind face to know

 

Alone I will sit, crying on the floor

My legs in pain, my backside sore

 

Until you approach me with bright eyes and a warm heart

You'll bring me to my feet and offer me a fresh start

 

To give to you what belongs to me

I will share
Not just one, but two, or three

 

To leave my place so that you can sit
I will get up
Not just for a second, not just for one moment, but for as long as you desire it

 

To bow my head so that you can see
Of course I will budge
I'll move an inch, I'll move a foot, I'll move a mountain

Because you'd do it for me

Rapture

A familiar face within a crowd

Eyes mistaken, the music too loud

 

Or was it my heart, it's rhythm pounding

My soul soaring, my spirits bounding

 

I spoke first, my intentions clear

Your voice foreign, clearly not from around here

 

You were alone, but not for long

I took your hand, and we danced to our first song

 

We laughed and smiled, a language of its own

I tried my hardest to bring you home

 

My efforts you resisted, not even a kiss

But I still persisted, next time I wouldn't miss

 

We danced yet again, amidst the dim candle light

And finally our lips met, this time without a fight

 

The waltz would continue, the music never ceased to play

Now you are mine, in my heart forever to stay