Saturday, July 6, 2013

On Replay....

On replay with a sweet, but somber tune…
 listens to the beats playin’ all afternoon…
don’t assume…she says, it’s all good, she says…
to the tune she hums, as she walks to the beat, beat, beats of her own drum….
like a track on vinyl, stuck, switches, jumps to the beats, you just floooow with it. 
You don’t force it…you just goooooo with it....
everything moves in a mysterious rhythmic pattern…
their rhythms juxtaposed…it works, I suppose…for now....
at this time, his heart skips a beat, beat, beats to the words of his own drum-,
 -sticks like gum to a shoe old ways can’t erase…
transfixed are the two rhythms, 
sometimes finding themselves in opposition…
two opposing rhythms finding their ways to the notes….of the last lyric which denotes, 
she beckons “…get right or get left…”….…
on replay, are of the days gone by,  she now listens to the beats reminiscent,  of a sweet, but somber tune, now playin only once this afternoon….

Tuesday, January 24, 2012


Small, delicate fingers,

Foreigners to these barren lands,

Scurries thoroughly, rummages, and pillages,

These villages of,

Metal scraps: her mirror,

She hides behind her reflections…

You see those dirty diapers: her head rests upon?

Used cotton substitutes,

Is where her head hangs down.

Her pillow of comfort under the dark starry night.

Punctured tires: her only friends,

There they roll…

See those race cars down our street?

She can never beat them.

Smoke inhalation from the gas fumes,

Incubates the small part of her living room of a….

Cardboard box keeps her separate…

From you,

She yearns for compassion,

As her….

Small, delicate fingers,

Foreigners to these barren lands,

Scurries thoroughly, rummages, and pillages,

These villages of,

Metal scraps: her mirror,

She hides behind our reflections…

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

The Damaged Knight

Confined in his armor,

He cannot breathe.

Restrained and immobile,

His body is his sheath.

His scars are protected,

By his big heart.

A constant battle to be free,

To meet his counterpart.

Inability to define reality,

Documents his fate.

Visions of confusion and illusion,

Often misunderstood and irate.

The armor deteriorates,

Slowly wearing thin.

His blinded eyes and hardened helmet,

Cannot protect the deep scars from within.

Thursday, December 15, 2011


(I wrote this poem as the Dedication in my thesis...published May 2011. Dedicated to Hyma K., Maria H., Angelo B., Peter Y., Janeal S., Cynthia L., Elz T. and Troy.)

Credit: Photo taken by Bamboo's Daughter

These lyrics don't do justice to the nature of your soul,
Your white light is so idyllic, full of pure love that just shows,
In the dawn of the sunrise, and the sun's rays on my cheeks,
While I lay listening to your resounding whispers amongst the whistling of the leaves,



In love with each crashing wave of your ocean's embrace,
Guidance and protection is what permeates,
All around me,
I feel your vibration and ubiquitous touch from the night sky,
Reflections of us in the smiles of children,
And from kind acts of those who pass by,
I am reminded of the Oneness of love and am blessed for our connection that is,

In the dawn of the sunrise, and the sun's rays on my cheeks,
We are forever connected in the Oneness of love, which I rediscovered within me.

Saturday, December 10, 2011

American Dreams

The red cheeks in my face,

Are rooted from anger and disgrace.

I yearn for equality in our human race.

The white color in my eyes,

Exerts fear and surprise.

I yearn for a world of unity, not its demise.

The blue spots in my skin,

Aches from ancestral history of abuse I keep within.

I yearn to be released from your prolonged convictions.


The stars in my eyes shine so bright,

In search for peace, justice and what’s right.

I continue to fight for my dreams, with all my might.

The red, white and blue stripes and white stars in our faces,

Are struggles for equality, opportunity and peace for all races!

This is my American dream.


Waves’ flow to embrace,
Opposites engage in peace,
Now, calm waters dance.

Founder of Aikido, Morihei Ueshiba. Credit for photo:

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Our Secret Garden

Unbeknownst to everyone, this seed blossomed before our eyes,

Nurtured through mutual love and compassion,

Herein our story lies.

Unbeknownst to everyone, this seed developed into something so beautiful,

Yet, your repudiation of its growth,

Negates what made this so wonderful.

Unbeknownst to everyone, this seed that you and I secretly share,

Cannot mature into its truest form,

If you do not allow your heart to become bare.

Credit: Photo taken by Bamboo's Daughter

Unbeknownst to everyone, this seed that you lock secretly in your vault,

Forced to thrive within the confines of our walls,

Bleeding from others’ infections onto my wound like salt.

Unbeknownst to everyone, our seed which you suppress due to fear,

Cannot live in your construction of doubt’s imprisonment,

Slowly, our flower wilts away my dear.

Unbeknownst to you, I cannot allow myself to wait for you to plant our seed to grow,

If you continue your repudiation,

My contemplation for another seed may be sown…..

In my garden of no secrets.

Monday, December 5, 2011

I Miss Those Simple Days

Wind in my hair,
Rushes towards me,
Hair flings everywhere,
Laughing, I can’t see,







And away,
Lips kissing,

Celestial movements.

I’m only a small sneeze in the wind,
Like an ant in the grass,
You can’t see me ‘til,

I’m back…

Brought back,




I return back to this place,
Grass swaying under my feet.

Heart’s pounding,
To the beat,



Beat of…


Here I go again,


Wind charges against my face
As if to say,
Hello again.

I don’t want to go back here,
Down again.


I wanna stay up here,
With you.
Warmth and touch,
Of your hands,
I’m always swept

Into another unknown place,
I stealthily try and,



Glance at you.

Love rocking back

With You,

Just to reach up and be held by you,
And say

To you.

We smile at each other,
Small hands grabbing onto the
Cold, steel bars,





And away I go again,

Just one more time,

On, this pendulum,
I call my swing of life.
I miss those things…

I miss those simple days.

Sunday, December 4, 2011

Street Commandments

Violence and death spreads,

Poisoning minds to submit,

Lives lost, mothers’ cry.



Remember that night when,
Darkness fell,
Our worlds violently colliding,
Explosion of anger and rage.

Eruption rooted from,
Your own mouth-watering,
Temptress corruption.

Emptiness in your eyes,
Overflowed tears,
My rapacious appetite to,
Maul and rupture your,
Soul into tiny,


Of sharp,

I didn’t,

I couldn’t,

It just isn’t me.

Even though,
Your malicious actions I foretold,
“It smells of roses here,” I candidly said to you,
Fragrant petals remain on our heavy laden pillow.

All I see is you,

Caged in these four boxed walls,
We are alone to face one another,
An almost threatening silence covers your mouth.

You don’t speak,

I sit and listen,
To your,
Is the address you keep.

I knew of your many travels around the city,
Left and right you went,
Sun-kissed lips, she touches you,

As she sits with,




As you drove the desire around
In the vehicle that,

I bought you.

Loud cries like wolves in a pack,
A surprising mammoth voice leaps from my mouth,
We engage in this insurmountable battle,
Yet, no one wins…

No one ever did.

I deserve better,
I knew it then,
I know it,


This journey alone,
Is well traveled with ease,
No longer am I emotionally restrained,
By your rusty,

My wrists still have the scars that show,
Your marks of pain,
But I’ve let go.

This weary traveler,
Freely roams,
On this,



Of surprise and opportunity.

Yes, you are replaceable.


They say that they empathize with our problems and pain.

Yet, they fostered an environment,

For us to become crack-brained.

Equality and rights for all is guaranteed.

Yet their actions show otherwise,

Again, we are deceived.

We are ensured complete protection and safety.

Yet, they enforce “assume the position,”

A constant reminder that we are the detainee.

A good education and work experience is always emphasized.

Yet, the glass ceiling they created prevents us from success.

Once again, our dismal futures are set to be jeopardized.

We are assured all help and assistance.

Yet, they slowly take away funding for social services.

So, we must unify against their resistance.

Credit: Photo taken by Bamboo's Daughter

The poor get poorer and the rich get richer.

Yet they sit and watch many of us barely get by everyday.

What’s wrong with this picture?!?!

Do not subject yourself to be devoured.

Let us secure the futures of our children,

We must be educated and empowered!!!


Saturday, December 3, 2011

History's Lessons

Haiku called 'History's Lessons':

Secrets and lies told,

Brainwashed to believe, follow,

History repeats.

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

The Forgotten

Its beautiful wings move from side to side,
Bright in color and voluminous,
For all who watch with pride.

Its graceful footsteps dance to the song,
Coming from its powerful voice,
The Great Spirit sings along.


A life long history of struggle and pain,
Many heroes and legends
Found in the sun, moon, earth, wind and rain.

The mysteries embedded in their songs and dance that last,
Leaves a trail for all to follow
And, embrace its powerful and important past

Be Still

Be still my child,

My love for you will never cease.

I give to you everything:

Love, joy and peace.

Be still my child,

I am always near.

When you feel despair and loneliness,

You must never fear.


Be still my child,

Listen very carefully to these instructions:

It is during these times of darkness,

When I carry you through each destruction.

Be still my child,

You must always believe.

I will embrace and support you,

Just ask me and you will receive.

Monday, November 28, 2011

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Somewhere over the rainbow....


When his small fingers ravages and pillages,
Amongst peels of rotted oranges and bananas,
And colorful,
Sometimes black,
Fuzzy, yummy French fries,
Mixed in his usual fruitful salad bowl of fruit flies,



Listen to his surround sound system.
A regular lone audience member,
He sits in his large and empty auditorium,
Four walls of dilapidated cardboard,
Swaying with the winds,
Like a sunflower in the field of a storm.
Tired, he rests his little head,
On ripped, colorful SpongeBob Square Pants printed,
Cushion-filled defecation.

          He is never hungry.

Why does a person deserve to live?

Somewhere over the rainbow…

When I find her shivering, curled up like a precious baby girl,
Exhausted, she clicks her six-inch hot pink heels together,
It’s not Kansas anymore.
She’s tired from doing her nighttime dance,
All men are entranced, by her theatrical feats.
A big time actress in her hood,
She returns to her mansion of expanse-filled space,
Loud horns, car engines engaging in their orchestra,
Deafening barks and thunderous daily screams,
From guns, are her neighbors,
Who share her dark, starry eyed living room,

          She’s never lonely.

Why does a person deserve to live?

Somewhere over the rainbow…

When he creates his own cold, prison cell,
Moats, iron-barred gates, only one entrance,
Will allow you in…
To his,
Restrained with a cactus made straight jacket,
Prickly thorns rapidly grew.
He never speaks,
Mute to the world.
Yet, we only hear his voice, when his small arms,
And rips through his jacket,
Reaching out for,
Our sun’s warmth,
He shivers.
I feel his calloused and scarred arms,
Like icy stalactites in December,
The ice melts ever so slowly,
Slowly, dripping like a leaky, broken faucet,
Waiting and ready to burst.

          He still waits.

Why do they deserve to live?

Yes, they deserve to eat.
Yes, they deserve shelter.

Yes, they deserve to be treated equally.

Most of all we deserve love.

Don’t we?

Sunday, November 27, 2011


Under this beautiful,
Willow tree,
Leaves faintly falling,
Branches brushing against,
My shoulders,
A gentle embrace,

So soft are…


Your eyes,
I find,
My gateway,
To your soul,
I have the only key,
Guiding me to unlock,
Your puzzle…
I find myself staring,

At you.

My smooth,
Child-like fingers,
Anxious and finicky,
Reaches out,
To gently trace,
Your lips,
To mine.

Underneath the beauty,
Of nature’s wonder,
The cotton clouds,
Scurries above us,
Attempting to amalgamate,
With the blue hues of heaven’s portrait,
As if to hide,
They don’t want to distract,



Your lips which,
Finds itself exploring,
And imploring,
To hide in the tufts,
Of my mountains,
Hidden underneath,


Smells of you,
A new unforgettable,
Infusing itself,
Into my skin,
Burning into my flesh,
Like the small roses,
Which my lips,
Onto the crook of,


Is where I find your cupid’s passions,
As you travel,
Tenderly down,
My undercuts,
You are a true trailblazer,
Your arrows into the hidden,


Opens my…

Moving with you,
Like ocean waves,
In unison,
We become one,
An explosion of excitement,
This typhoon,
Throws me ashore,
Back and forth,
Electrical attraction,
Immersed together,

Under this beautiful,
Willow tree,
Leaves faintly falling,
Branches brushing against,
My shoulders,
A gentle embrace,

So soft are…
Your eyes,
I find,
My gateway,
To your soul,
I have the only key,
Guiding me to unlock,
Your puzzle…
I find myself staring,


At you,


Letter to My Fathers...

Dedicated to my father, grandpa Ramon and grandpa Mariano:

In this photo: my grandpa Ramon and my mom

Why did you leave your family?
“In search for a better life,
Opportunity and equality!”

Why are you in so much pain?
“We face discrimination and poverty,
Human rights taken away with nothing to gain.”

Why are you so depressed?
“Opportunities lost and taken,
Beaten down and often oppressed.”

How do you maintain?
“Our perseverance and aspirations,
Keeps us alive without disdain.”

When will this arduous journey cease?
“When we all achieve our dreams
Of equality, opportunity and peace.”

Street Symphonies

Tantalizing tunes hearkens deep into the darkness,
Piercing through the dense fog of the night,
And calling forth,
Its audience,
Where shady’ shadows lurk.

I see ‘em doin’ paper chasin’ dances,
Singin’, their euphoric notes of,
Adrenaline pimpin’,
Needle humpin’,
In dark, menacing corners,
Of a hustler’s famous stage. 

On the corner,
I see spilled,
Permanent blood-stained lyrics,
Of the same ol’ song,
Of red streams flowin’,




These concrete pages,
In the hood again.

Led by another illusory maestro,
Holdin’ onto his hot steel baton,
Finger trigger twirlin’,
Performances of gun smokin’ exchanges,
With another lead conductor,
Facilitating a new following of,
Death playin’,
Angelic musicians.
There’s always a new breed…


Pied Pipers of the street,
March to this acclaimed symphony,
Arousing the attention,
Of shape shifters,
Architectural mind gamers,
And street pharmacists,
Ready to medicate,
And regulate,
Your obituary.

Still, there is an alarming following,
Of these scrape steppin’,
Robotic drones,
And entranced by,
The disconcerting,
Haunting rhymes,
In these,
Symphonies militias.

This deafening overture of battles,
Is eerily familiar,
Reverberating its usual cadence,
Of maliciousness,
Rhythms stealin’,
And disappearin’,
Into the night,
Amongst those who choose to be,
Deaf and blind listeners.
It dissipates into,
Ghostly whispers,
Forcefully heard and impacted,
By those few,
Discarded groupies.

We all pray,
For these street symphonies,


Can you still hear them play?

.........I can.

Saturday, November 26, 2011

These Words

These words,

Are dancing as it flows with each line,

It shouts,

Phrases panting heavily spilled onto paper,

Oh, what a mess,

Waiting to arouse, suppressed thoughts and,

Emotion-filled anger, excitement of exploding fireworks,

Look, what a sight,

Traveling down your spine, it tickles,

The poets who defecate these words into his or her mic,

Through the versatile, sometimes bludgeoning pen,

Mysteriously striking you blind sighted, to see

Enlightenment with,

These words.

And begins!

First, this photo is of me taken in San Francisco, one of my favorite sacred spaces where my spirit feels at peace, tranquil and rejuvenated.  My spirit always feels compelled to be in constant reflection about myself, my experiences and life in general.  ....And so it begins.....I am awakened to the start of the Regenesis of the Sultry Tongue!  What does that mean, you ask? Let me begin by sharing that I've often found myself making the right choices when I listen to my intuition.  And, it was during the evening of Thanksgiving 2011, when my spirit/intuition compelled me to share my writings, express my truths and grab the pen and paper to start writing once again.  This, out of nowhere feeling to get back into writing, has led me here. 

My life continues to be filled with beautiful, joyous, painful, inspirational, heartbreaking challenges, and spiritual experiences that have led me to where I am today.  However, I am grateful to every person and each experience in my life.  I define myself as a work-in-progress, constantly learning, evolving, a process that leads me to be in a state of ever-lasting transformation.  The totality of who I am and what I see in the world, can be seen and felt through the thoughts, feelings and experiences in my poetry and writings.  My ceaseless evolution for positive transformation, both external and internal, can be best understood through the power of my Sultry Tongue.  I am grateful for your presence here...and am thankful to you for viewing my work. 
 I look forward to any comments and feedback....