Archive for July, 2013

La Raza Dream

They were born beneath your polished shoes

Working hard to keep your world clean and new

Love your home and children above the stars

Names apply only within their blessed hovels

Oppressed is how they love without guarantees

Praying fervently to an earless and tired deity

Beseeching the kind holy virgin in the end

That El Jefe or La Migra don’t abruptly end La Raza dream


Deep-seated things to acknowledge

To the one behind my eyes

Thank you for absorbing such horror

Playground’s sadistic, rabid trolls

A punching, taunting alleged brother

Beating, leaving unforgiving mother

Smoking devil who targets little girl

Still, some happy moments are excavated

Laughing amongst the pain-laced scene

Climbing above fearful hearted heights

Injured spirit must be maintained or die

Screaming into all-knowing pillow

Cutting a little instead of ‘ending me’

You saw and heard too much everywhere

Surviving without peace-giving meds

The truth keeper nonetheless is inside

This is not our shame, I scream into mirror

We are here as embattled warriors


Haven’t slept for about a century

He holds her resistant body

Until it becomes a pile of empty sheets

And he loves to torture himself

Into her angry dreams he wails

And she screams through antisocial tears

Refusing to drift into refugee sleep

His universe is in her open space

Her universe is beyond his everything

Freedom is a vacuum life … for now

He cries at her silent good-bye

Then believes she may come back

Encountered well dressed experiment

Beneath the cynical Capitol Rotunda

Are you a good moral man, I said?

Of course, I’m running for office again

Does your office promote everyday solace

Do you reject compromised laced money

Will you sacrifice your coveted seat

In an effort to protect faceless constitutes

Well worded and rehearsed politician utters

I’ll certainly look into all your valid concerns

And have my staff get back to you

Innumerable no’s in my tame, prudent dreams

No six-figure car weaving through empty streets

No museum-like manor to call my very own

No indoor outdoor pools in which to lounge away a day

No romantic stranger comes professing unwarranted endless love

Without even knowing all my crazy, stupid mistakes

No vault full of money and jewels I never earned

Such trifling possessions designed to weigh me down

Dreams always free me as I soar into open air

Appear in a beautifully strange circle to partake in pliable speech

Or simply to witness a real home ringing in silly sounds

Where family is multi-racial and every bed is Godly love


Mystic Love Scene

No translucent love right now please

Sunny weekend calls for comic intrigue

Don’t be so current in garb and talk

Old fashioned breathless insecurity

Draws me to your lovely awful mess

We are grown-up timeless children

Our bare feet don’t blister anywhere

We shimmy from stars and moon beams

Grateful beach is our sacred bed

Making love through eyes and breath

Our skin says forever we are young



Sadly, teacher was not kind to us

Unkind to third grade tender cherubs

First day of school, set affable tone

Alas, grimace invaded teacher’s face

Last year’s teacher spoke in musical voice

Sulfur-scented curmudgeon grunts foreign words

Smiling angel floats into teary-eyed realm

Troll is only hellish principal – all exhale in relief

Beloved angel is our appointed teacher queen

Angel hums lessons into eager little minds

 Exemplary behavior from every last pupil

Hence, no trips to the principal’s swamp cave

Immensely gifted in oratorical prowess

Looks that exemplify commanding presence

Unwavering resolve during  critical moment

Are such traits sought by the lowly simpletons?

Is humanity, loyalty and global awareness devalued

Look back at history’s fallen giants and learn

Hitler, Mussolini and Stalin gave all and more

The Most

How magical is your image

Nasal breathers succinctly disappear

Your face is like impressionistic art

On a wall of perplexity, void of liberal touch

Your pedigree and grooming is impressive

Same as testical licking dogs

You’ll live with lots of expensive stuff

I’ll live and die with love of good souls

Through storytelling and my silly words – I live

How will you be remembered

What are your mourners’ names

No real answer? It doesn’t matter

The one who dies with the most wins

I am the silent witness

Tapping into a bygone world

Mocking grown-up words

Children debate their clan turf and rules

Exquisitely smudged in grass and dirt

Carelessly frolicking about their universe

How this grown-up wishes to join