DISTRACT ME FROM WRITING THIS POEM!

DISTRACT ME FROM WRITING THIS POEM
Make me forget my flow
So I have to stop
And say TAKE ME!
Leave me a hypocrite to my Self Empowered Love Poem
Cause I wanna get too much of you
Give me everything you’ve got
Suffocate me
Leave me intoxicated
Dehydrated
Out of breath
Clutched fists
Make me beg like a feminist behind closed doors
Remind me of my contradictions
On my knees….ONLY TO CULTIVATE THE EARTH
And to taste you
Taste me
Lick me
Scratch me
Grab me
Spank me
Hard
Harder
You can bite me now
I said you can bite me now
Papi please can you BITE ME NOW?
Ahi,
Ahi,
Sorry….i start talking in spanish when I get excited…..i can’t help it!
Right there
I like that
NOW BITE ME AGAIN!
Nibble on my neck
Let your scent overwhelm my senses
Let your saliva violate my pores
Deeply
Deeper
I want you
Be thorough with me
Touch every inch of me, every crevice, every spot
Yeah that’s the spot!
RIGHT THERE!
Ahi!
It feels good
Don’t stop!
Now llick my toes while you touch me there!
Give me goosebumps
Make it so good it hurts
Make me wanna stop
I dare you!
Make me come
Again
And again
Fast
Faster
Hard,
Harder
Make a martyr of my celibacy
Take me
I want you to
Let’s role play a little
I promise to let you win
I’ll even let you in
EVENTUALLY
Convince me
Say my name
Talk dirty to me
Grab my ass
Pull it towards you
Dance with me
Play with me
Whisper your desires into my ear
Stay there
Whisper more
I like the ears
Makes me feel good
Stay there
Now say something dirty
Tell me what you want to do to me
I CAN’T HEAR YOU!
Say it again!
Speak eloquently
Use big sentences
Anounciate every word
Keep whispering
Use your tongue now
Don’t stop
I like this
It feels good
Breathe with me
SLOW DOWN
BREATHE
I said BREATHE
THIS IS JUST A POEM!
Yet I am visualizing every word
And it’s making me wet
Just thinking about you wanting me
I want you
Almost as much as I want poetry
Take me
Wear me out
I want you to!
Make me have to stay home and nap all day
Make my toes curl, and my back sore
Make me beg you for more
Cripple me for a week
Make my inner thighs weak
And my room reak of the BEST SEX WE’VE NEVER HAD!
I want all the neighbours to hear us!
But wait
Hold on
Breathe
THIS IS JUST A POEM
It’s sounds too much like reality
So I’ll make it rhyme to make it easier for you
To Finish….
I want you to FINISH
Reading this poem…..
See they say Love-making should be sacred like prayer
And that it should be shared in intimate spaces
But I want you to spank me and pull my hair
And fuck me in spontaneous places.
Don’t get me wrong….
My spirit loves our conversations, our kissed and embraces
But if you rip off my thong
And lick my thighs with your tongue
My temperature raises
Make my orgasms erupt
Uninterrupted
My sexuality reclaimed
As I moan in God’s name
Cause there is no shame to my desire
Make my body perspire
From calculated penetrations
I want this poem to inspire you in hours of masturbation
When I am not there beside you
I want you to imagine my bare skin
Make me wet before entering
With the energy I bring
I promise to let you do anything
And everything you want to
Praise
My body in every way
As you go down on me like you haven’t eaten for days
AND THIS IS JUST A POEM
But I wanna excite you with every verse, every word, every phrase
I want it to raise your temperature
Enthuse your imagination
With infinite sensations
Of what is to come
And REMEMBER THAT THIS IS JUST A POEM
But maybe one day….
THIS POET….might let you HAVE SOME!

My Intimate Revolution

I have an addiction
To the friction of Trashy Lingerie
And the way
It looks and feels against my skin

Every day
I display a different matching set
This fetish makes me wet
And sometimes gets me into debt
Cause I just cant resist how my body is embraced
By animal prints, and lace
That I take with me everywhere
And every place
And when I really really like a pair
I buy two of each
So I can have a spare
Just incase
In the heat of the moment

My panties tear
Or somehow my underwear
Gets lost or stolen
And one set is always a bigger size
I like to wear
During the times of the month
When my hips are swollen

This is a gift that I give to myself
It is for no one else’s pleasure but mine
Makes me feel divine
This treasure I keep from the world

Only very few and selected people know
About my leopard print panties cut low
Adorned with a hot-pink bow
Covering only three quarters in the back
I also got these in velvet red and embroidered in black
With a 34B cup push up Bra to match
That would give any healthy boy a heart attack
And attract the attention of both womyn and men.
But I don’t wear it for them,
I do it for me!
I get aroused at the thought of embroidery
And granny panties are just not meant for me
I only wear those occasionally
Cause what’s the point of functionality
If it’s repressing my sexuality?
Cause you cant go wrong
With a lacey thong
In deep colors or delicate pastels
That propel a sweetness
That makes me think of cake
Strawberry meringues and honey
So I spend all my money
On this weakness
But this fetish is a part of my uniqueness
I love to be out in the street taking care of my business
Only to remember halfway through my day
That underneath it all
I am wearing the cutest lingerie
That only I will get to see later
And knowing this, makes me walk a little bit straighter
Brush off all the haters
With my head up high
I don’t walk, I glide
With a lot more confidence in my stride
Like I got nothing to hide
Though I do
Cause I know something the world doesn’t know
But sometimes I like to let my bra straps show
Just a little
To give a hint
Of my favorite print
Not to please
And not to tease
But just cause, that’s a part of my steeaz
So please
Don’t think my cleavage is an invitation for you to flirt
Cause you can see marks of red lace across the top of my shirt
And the line of my thong from the back of my skirt
Believe me I’m not doing it to give you an erection
Or to have you throw pick up lines in my direction
Its just one of the many ways in which I practice self-love and affection
It’s not an excuse for you to question my feminism
The Revolution has nothing to do with my underwear
Or the cut or the fit of the clothes that I wear
And my lingerie addiction
Is not in contradiction to my role in the struggle of my people
I am grounded in strength for the things I believe
And will fight to the death till my goals are achieved
But I am both humyn and womyn
And as much as I got love for my people
I also got love for myself
So whether I’m fighting with the Zapatistas in the mountains of Chiapas
Or having clandestine meetings in Palestine to bulldoze the Apartheid wall
Whether I’m performing for young Latinas in East LA
Or I’m teaching literacy in Juvenile Halls
Whether I’m marching with students down the ghettos of South Central
Cause they don’t feel their school takes them seriously at all
Whether I’m at a garment worker’s monthly meeting
Or guest speaker at a rally against police brutality outside City Hall
Know that when the Revolution comes
I will be prepared in green fatigues, combat boots with a top of the line AK
And underneath it all….
my favorite set of matching lingerie

The Latino Forecast

Mi gente is passionate like the weather
So whether we are passionately Cool, or we’re Hot passionately
We are never in betweens
So when we’re Hot…we burn
When we Rain…we pour
When we Blow…we are winds of revolution
And like the sun, we exist eminently
Like rain, we love passionately
Like wind we prevail
And like fog, you never see us coming but we’re always there
Like our climate

HOT
From the marrow in our bones
To the fingerprints we leave on this earth
We were hot before our birth
Children of Heat from the moment of conception
Our warmth is a gift
That comes directly from the sun’s radiation
So mi gente is HOT

Hot like Mama’s Hot Tamales and Tortilla Soup
Like the sweat of the saxophone player in a Latin Jazz group
And like the little gordita from Pico Rivera dancing with her brand new Hoola Hoop
Mi gente is Hotter than the 720 Rapid Bus as rush-hour
Like coming home to a Hot Shower
And like the flour my grandmother bakes into bread
We’re hot like Cinnamon Big Reds
And the fist that bled in Resistance
Hot like our parents, in Heat, making love to summon our existence.

Mi gente is Hot like Atole de Elote y Champurrado
We’re Hot like the road to El Dorado
And like the perritos calientes rolled with bacon y cebolla and sold on the corner of 6th and Alvarado.
I told you mi gente was HOT
Like my mother’s room after ironing our clothes all day
Hot like an afternoon at Jose’s Mechanic shop in South LA
And like Designer Pumas on layaway
Hot like the burning of sage, incense and copal
Mi gente is hot like sweatlodges and native fire rituals
Mi gente is Hot
Like the Viejito’s cart with pupusas y empanaditas
Hot like a piñata filled with caramelos pica pica
And chile verde con papa fritas
We’re hot like the streets of Tijuana
Hot like the hips of the mujer cubana
We’re Hot like our natural tan
And like the farmoworker who’s gloves are too thick for his hands
We’re Hot like the herbs from the medicine man
And like the fire went out
And we can’t turn on the fan
Mi gente is hot like candlelight
Like Oscar de la Hoya after a fight
Mi gente is Hot
And passionate
And Cool
Though our personalities are never glazed over with ice
And we do not melt into stereotypes
We are fresh like morning dew
And high school party crews
We so cool
Like the equinox
Like margaritas on the rocks
Like all the children on my block after the abuelo wet them with the garden hose
Cool like the tropical breeze on our face as it blows.
We’re cool like that Esa they nicknamed la Gata
Like blended Mojitos
Ice cold Jarritos
And a tall glass of Horchata

We’re cool like Tia Chucha’s Cultural Café
And like the inside of a cathedral where grandmothers go to pray
Por sus queridisimos nietos y nietas
We’re cool like a bowl of ice cream with galleta
Like the ocean at dusk and the desert at night
Like the way he talks to me so smooth, makes me feel so right
We’re cool like agues frescas
De Tamarindo, Jamaica y Melon
And the fresh frutas off the freeway con sal, chile y limon
Mi gente is cool
Like an air conditioned room
And the beer in the hands of the construction worker on a Friday afternoon

Cause mi gente is cool
And passionate
Like the weather
Like our hips
Shaking for an instance
Can put any gringo in a trance
Enthralled by the passion in the way we dance.
The way we worship our patron saints
We’re passionate like Frida’s use of paints.
Passionate like my great-grandmother making a living off the clothing she would sew
Or like two Cubans talking politics over a game of dominos
Passionate like my pockets struggling to make it through times when I am broke
And like East LA Cholos so cool in the Locs
Passionate
Like Puerto Ricans in New York and Mexicans in Cali
And like my friend’s cousin’s sister’s quinceanera in the San Fernando Valley
Mi gente is passionate like the condor as it flies
Like my people’s voices as we rise
And the large dogs in our yards barking at passers by
Like toddler’s crocodile tears when their mother’s try to take them away
From the jungle gym where they have been playing all day
Mi gente is passionate like the taste of mango, guayaba y maracuya
Like the ocean humbled in reverence of Yemaya
We’re passionate like Maradona whose kicks are so slick
We’re passionate like Chola make-up and Chicana red lipstick
Passionate like the DJ’s turntables in the mix
And student walkouts from 68’ to 2006
Our culture is a tree that is nourished from its root
Mi gente put the passion in the fruit
Cause we are passionate like the weather
And whether we are passionately Hot or we’re Cool passionately
We are never in betweens
So when we’re hot…we burn
When we rain…we pour
When we blow…we are powerful winds of revolution
And like the sun, we exist eminently
Like rain we love passionately
Like the wind we prevail
And like fog, you never see us coming but we are always there
Bringing life to every place we go
Sharing our culture wherever the wind blows
And planting roots anywhere the rain falls
And the sun shines
Like our climate.

The Hustle

I am a hustler
I don’t steal
I hustle

I play the system with quick deals
Hustlin free meals
And back door VIP entrance to Little Temple Bar
I got the hook up on Thursdays at Zanzibar
Best prices in town for Cuban cigars
I smuggle in from Beautiful Havana
$300 or best offer
Tony Montana got nothin on my hustle
I hustle parking tickets with letters
Exchange Marshall’s at Macy’s for something better
I hustle free flights if my plane gets delayed
I told you Im a hustler and I gotta get paid
No justification for bad service and negligence
I outsmart big corporations with my intelligence
Teach Spanish to rich white folks for $45 per hour
While I empower my people for free
I charge a fee for written translations
Hustle my craft
And artistic creations
Sell my poetry for $5, $7, $12 and $15 donations
I make altars for the Gods and the Deities of your desire
I make paper prints and I pass out flyers
I sell study guides for final exams
So students can cram the night before the test
I take American Apparel bootleg shirts
And I stitch designs on their chest
Sell them for $25 a piece
So I can be at peace
With my student fees
See
I hustle
Just to get thru college
Hustle to find truth within institutional knowledge
Hustle to get where I am going and not forge where I’ve been
While I am stuck in this in-between place of higher learning
That makes me feel out of place
Amongst mi gente
They are hustlers too
Slangin fake ids and papers at the corner of McArthur park
Not quite 21…cant get in the club?
No worries…we got you covered
Like the tarp canvas that we spread across the top of our pick up trucks
To keep the frutas clean
And the flores dry
Hustle like cable black boxes that give us 110 channels
For the price of 2
No electrical engineering degree required
Just Juanitos plyers and a little ingenuity
We hustle
Like $100 bank accounts trying to cover 1st of the month expenses
Rent is due, checks ain’t come, either homeless, or hustle
So we hustle
Mi gente
The true hustlers of this nation

That are beat down and kept down by million dollar corporations
See…my people’s resistance is my inspiration
So I hustle
Hustle like Paisanos hustling naranjas on Crenshaw and the 10
Like Familias indocumentadas hustle for rent
Like Senoras on their porches selling pupusas
Like Madres in sweatshops sewing blusas for 8cents a piece
Like my students hustle to survive the police
We hustle
And when all odds are against us
We survive
Because hustlers somos los que luchamos when we have nothing
And turn nothing into something
Like magicians
Miracle workers
Shahman
Healers
Curanderas
Santeras
Connected to the earth
Our sweat births miracles
We see visions of la virgen in food and shelter
Yemaya manifested in clean water
Tonantzin crafting warmth on winter nights
Our ancestos feeding out spirits to fight oppression
In this new world order
Building new world borders
Fear of deportation
War zones en la frontera
Porque dicen que de este lado la vida merece la pena
Nuestra gente expulsada de su tierra
Families no longer emancipated by a labor of love
For the land where they once harvested Maiz, Café, Azucar
Now big companies justify displacement from our ancestors with free trade agreements
Justify stealing indigenous lands with privatization
And justify our people’s exploitation
With illegal immigration
We no longer work to live
Now live to work
On orange groves and grape fields
Mothers are relocated from their sons and their daughters
As they hustle their way up north
Hustle past border patrol
Dodging bullets
Trying to make it alive all the way across the rio grande
To send money back home
And hope for one day reuniting
Yet we keep fightin and we keep hustling
To keep our families from drowning in poverty
Flooding our cities
Destroying our homes
Now bones
Covered by Wallmarts, MacDonalds and Coke
Choke our brothers and sisters
In India and Colombia
Where 8 union organizers were shot dead for wanting enough bread to feed their children
And how can we not hustle
It is written in our DNA it runs through our feet into hands into action
It is not a fraction of being but our whole
It is engraved into our soul like the shahid that will fight till we regain everything they stole
And we will not hold back
We will hustle like Iraq hustled US soldiers
Like Palestinian Homes hustle bulldozers
Like Cuba hustles the Embargo with Pride
Like South Africa hustled Apartheid
We will hustle
Because it is innate to rise and uprise against
Their institutions of hate
Must be destroyed
Before we can create
So resist
Keep Fighting,
Get with the program
And get your HUSTLES ON!