Category: Race

Musket policy applied to crowd killers

Alleged logic, as you baptize rounds in blood

Dispatch more souls to unearthly worlds

While living creatures blindly pray for death

Revenge, questions, supplications and more void

Too much to absorb for most senses, near or far

Shout out to the hoarders of demon weaponry

Brown and black are targeted- 100 yards from home

Bring flowers to where sacred parchment rest

Our Terrorist Constitution of these United States


Sanitized licentiousness and savagery – promised by forked tongue
What else is in the deal? Stars, moon? Eternal forgiveness … yes
And when the music stops with wet blood upon hands
Avert all eyes so easily and accuse a beloved soul
The masses misdirected. Doggerel verses dancing on tongues, in heads
Blameless, all are blameless – still punishment is doled out
He, she, black and brown spoke sass loudly – qualifications are met!
We were ordered. Fear? yes, of course and there was the matter of a promise
Everyone knows the wind was high and the promise loves to fly


Children of Abraham

Seek peace for yourselves

Inhale pure celestial breezes

Listen for your human heart 

Exhale barbaric rage, vengeance

Amputate your wicked limb

Offer it to your wronged brother

Mourn every single loss

Of good and evil earth walkers

Of the unlabeled babies now gone

Of the stars and moon that witness all

Of the blood-soaked atheist ground   

Realize that you are all and nothing

Father Abraham has disowned you 







I have much to say on the topic of self-realization and how I take note of the ‘beautiful people’ in the world. Such topics could take a lifetime to type out. So I’ll try my best to summarize.

For the first 8 years of my life my self-image was wonderful. I lived in a neighborhood where almost everyone looked like me. Throw in some cute ponytails and frilly dresses and I was adorable.

Then we moved to Pasadena, California. Culture shock on steroids! I had never seen black people, Asians, Armenians, Jews, Russians and everyone else. They scared me. Especially the black kids. Keep in mind I wasn’t even ten when this happened.

In retrospect, the black kids probably scared me because their skin was the most pronounced. Once a black girl had lunch and a very honest conversation with me I was no longer scared.

Then she asked a question I was not ready for. What are you? What do you mean? I’m a girl. Then she said, are you white or something else? It took a few days to answer the question.

As time went on, I coveted the white girls’ beauty, wealth and good luck. Yes, I wanted to be white. White was ‘all right’. Mexican-American was wetback, beaner, fruit picker and brownie.

White people were perfect even when they were cruel. Then came the biracial kids: black and white, black and Asian and yes, black and Latino. They were all super gorgeous in my book.

Then one day I woke up. I had a teacher with blond hair and blue eyes. She was sweet and I loved her. During an open school meeting she introduced me to her husband.

He was well over 6 ft. tall and black as night. He shook my hand and said, how do you do young lady. I couldn’t stop staring. I went to my teacher and said I had no idea she was married to a black man.

She laughed and said that she was black. I said she didn’t look black. She then pointed out how I could tell. I was amazed. I apologized for my ignorance and she said that it was best for me to ask.

Mrs. L helped me so much in how I view the world. Today I can tell who the beautiful people are. They are the full-figured mothers who nurse their babies. They are the dark-skinned grandmas who hug every child. They are the smudged face, pot belly kids playing in the park.

True beauty falls upon all of us when we have silliness, tenderness, love and acceptance. There are so many skin tones and facial structures for a reason. God loves variety and we should too. All of my friends and family are perfectly beautiful. My two beautiful black girlfriends were in my bridal party. There is no celebrity that can hold a candle to them.

I witnessed a grove of pallid idiots

Mocking a dark Nubian dream

Possessing tearful honest eyes

If happy, one could gaze endlessly

Life-affirming glow upon her blessed skin

You know no beauty, to morons I screamed

Her look is authentically Godly and pure

Her hands are as well meaning as dawn

Nubian angel smiled friendship to me

We are dubbed perfect by each other

Cruel ones be cursed – askewed bad eyes 



Welfare splinters invaded my feet

I’m so hot and stubborn

No barrio zapatos for me  

Lead painted weathered porch

Once housed my childhood slivers

Barefooting cracked sidewalks – keep looking

Leaping to islands of shade

Elated with watered oasis

Even better – the daily dying of the sun

Cracked splintered and swollen little me

Loving East L.A. twilight jungle

I can smell the tacos, Tecate and unemployed

Washing my bad girl feet – quite thoroughly

Pobre ant-infested garden hose – you’re it

Mama, I need a towel! Mama, please now!

A bit of well deserved Mexican scolding

Adios, my Cholas, Chicanos and welfare winds

Inside to my beige and white welfare casa I go



Perspiring  cajeta, frijoles and amor

Bosom embraces equal motherly safety

Quiero mas, says my bipolar heart

Massage hands, back and core of who I am

Sweet and sour Mama – my first Niña love

Witness to rising falls and stagnation

Eyes laugh, cry and frightfully worry

So marred,  insightful views guide us

I won’t and can’t stand solely, I am yours

My tender breath – housed in maternal core

Gracias Querida Mama – my love is absolute





Bible Thumper

Self-serving soliloquies – heard by a dying crowd

Gaze at skeletal creatures garbed in pestilence – does colored humanity reek too much

Averting probing questions – self frailty doesn’t exist, your sweet lie

Sustain your monstrous arsenal – use 30 pieces of silver and tax collector bribes

Beware the omnipresent evil Philistines – what do they number in your self-righteous head  

Kneel before God and Christ – comfortably on a pious silk pillow

Proclaim perfect love and loyalty – while admiring your new Roman robes

Tug Of War

Roaches, white walls, beige carpet

Thick city-grime windows – complete

Pobre Chicano dwelling

Cynically houses good-bye dreams

Bikini clad daisy girls

Living silly on island sand

Blink, awake to fractured streets

Shattered glass-crusted asphalt

Battle chica’s sandaled feet

Bamboo walled suite is calling

Bubble bath fit for a queen

Can’t turn the white girl faucet

Blistered palms can’t ever squeeze

East L.A. jails and suppresses

Chica’s  freedom loving mind

Go to magical island realm

When welfare lights are off


Flat screen glows, beckons political me

No hoity-toity  MSNBC, CNN or snoozing C-SPAN

Precious slice of Americana values, Fox News, of course

Televised cradle of morality and justice for all

 Except Black, Hispanic, Arab, Persian and nose breathers

Proudly employing sloping brows and scholarly delusional

Knuckle-draggers O’Reilly, Hannity and inbred Beck

Edward R. Murrow coursing through their veins (yeah right)

Peabody Awards bursting through the roof (they wish)

  Should God Almighty come down and judge the platitudes

Surely, Rupert Murdoch would cower and be celestially screwed