Poetry, Thoughts on Living

Her eyes flitter in sunlight
like butterflies forcing
themselves against the wind.

I wonder why
colored Accuvues reinforce notions
of dark skin and pale eyes
equaling beauty.

Don’t momma’s eyes reflect yours?
Don’t you connect
with the sun-burned whites
of her eyes?

Doesn’t a brown iris
share the depth of your soul,
the coarseness of your Pan-African hair,
the Dominican cocoa sheen of your skin?

Does the chocolate reflection of
Juan Crow laws scare you
into passing as non-his-panic?

Does the cornea reflect the white?

And mine.
Don’t I connect with you?

What God’s Answering Machine Really Says

Poetry, Unorthodox Poetry

Can you believe they called me down upon you?

They called me down to change your personality,
your whim, your whole fucking attitude.
It’s as if they didn’t like you or something.

Doesn’t surprise me, though.
It happens all the time.
But yet, it does surprise me.

I mean, they called me down to kill you,
they called me down to make you crash.
Those fuckin’ road-ragers.

they even called me down to disembowel your cat.

They basically called me down
to implement all bad things on your life.

You people don’t read commandments anymore?
Damn illiterates.

It’s okay, though.
You called me down upon them too
and look what happened to you.

Now you’re calling me for help.
I mean, what,
a ma’fucka can’t answer prayers no more?

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Como tu

Love Poetry, Poetry

El sol corre a mi
seis horas al día.

Se pasa las otras seis
huyendo de mi.

Vive un eternidad
en lo oscuro

dándome luz
cuando le conviene.

Sin razón.
Sin decir porque.

Nomas no se.
¿Qué más puedo decir?

Igual cómo tú,
no me prefiere.



Chubby kids play
in patchy front yards,
well groomed dirt
and prickly crab grass.

No old Goodyears or
used oil pans here.

They frolic in dirt
and Huggies, chasing
chickens and those damn cats.
No pants required.

To quench the heat
they take baths

with the cousins in la tina
de aluminio, cold and frigid,
perpetually full of water
on warm August days.

Mud swirling makes
no difference in games.

The ALL NEW Jesus Action Figure

Poetry, Unorthodox Poetry

And now,
Introducing the ALL NEW
Jesus action figure,
now with kung fu grip and mighty whip
Able to make any merchant run from the Almighty’s wrath.

Act now and receive your very own cat-of-nine-tails accessory,
ideal for re-living those
memories from the “Passion” movie (also available (sold separately))

And for a low, low price of only $9.99/mo. for nine months.


We’ll also throw in a complimentary,
absolutely free,
hand crafted,
Satan doll,
at no extra charge to you.


Jesus isn’t only my Homeboy,
He’s also my action figure!!

Chuy, My Wingman


Mi compa, Chuy Christ,
came over last night
wearing his trademark
Birkenstock huaraches
while I was playing X-Box.

He came to tell me
it was “time.”

Confused, I asked, “Wha’da Ya mean it’s ‘time’?”

Fondling himself, He replied,
“It’s time to go out and party, holmes!”

“I made reservations at our ‘local
gentlemen’s club’,” he continued, giggling.

“Aight. But brush out your hair and beard, ése.
You got some green shit tangled in there.”

“Oh, my bad,” He replied

So I put on my Jesus-Is-My-Homeboy T-shirt and rolled out.
He turned some water into Hennessey,
Moét, and Hypnotic,
I watched Him take Incredible Hulk shot
after Incredible Hulk shot to the noggin.

Passing out on me,
I left Him laid out in the gutter,
took his broad home,
and on the way Ms. Magdalene told me
He talks to His Old Man and Dove
saying somethin’ ‘bout
His job’s done.

He’s rebelling, looking for freedom,
and she’s worried.

She asked me to do something.

I will…eventually.
Right now,
He makes me look good
with the ladies.