I'm that used ****** under the bed that your girlfriend found.                                                                                                          I'm that last breath you take before you drown.                           I'm that raised manhole cover that give you blowouts.              I'm that pothole in the hood that the City knows about.         THEY CALL ME DRAMA.                                                                         I'm the safety on that nine that determines life or death.                                                                                                                 I'm that asthma attack you had when you couldn't catch your breath.                                                                                                          I'm that last surviving egg about to go head on with that *****.                                                                                                         I'm that ***** next door that gave your wife that ****** up perm.                                                                                                        THEY CALL DRAMA.                                                                                I'm that wooden baton when you get your *** beat by the cop.   I'm that SUV the kids jumped out of when they robbed the **** spot.                                                                                                               I'm that sweat tricklin' down your cheek like someone shot ya. 
I'm that quarter pound of **** under your seat when the cops stop ya.                                                                                                   THEY CALL ME DRAMA.                                                                         I'm that Breathalyzer test that test alcoholics.                                I'm that ******* that comes back after you flush the toilet. I'm that **** you took before you realized you ran out of tissue. 
I'm that *** stain left on blouses by government officials. 
THEY CALL DRAMA.                                                                               I'm that cold turkey when you got dope dependency.                       I'm that bottle of pills when you got suicidal tendencies.            I'm that bet your ******* made when you knew you didn't have no money.                                                           ­                                I'm that roach crawlin' cross your T.V. every time you got company.                                                                                                THEY CALL ME DRAMA.                                                                         I'm that hole in your socks when you try on new sneakers.     I'm that ****** up sound that comes out when you got busted speakers.                                                        ­                                               I'm that slippery lane when girls think they're to cute to bowl. I'm that telephone pole when young car thieves lose control.       THEY CALL ME DRAMA.                                                                             I was that dingy *** collar infested with Jeri curl juice.                  I was that crack addiction you had when you noticed your pants were too loose.                                                                  ­                 I was that closet your friend came out of when he said that he was gay.                                                                                                           I was that red spot on those blue jeans when your little girl forgot it was the 28th day.                                                                  THEY CALL ME DRAMA.                                                                          I'm that **** you take after the 3rd day of being burnt.               I'm those dingy thongs when women wear those short *** skirts.                                                                                                           I'm that government cheese that didn't melt in your baked macaroni.                                                                                                   I'm that 10year bid you did all because you didn't rat on your *****.                                                                                                          I'm that long Island ice tea that got you that DWI charge.                                                          ­                                              I'm that slippin' transmission in bank robbers getaway cars.    THEY CALL ME DRAMA.                                                                         I'm that seven you rolled every time you played craps.             I'm that burnin' sensation your girl gave you.                          
**** it. Just call me the clap.                                                            ­                                                 I'm that 300lb. Freak talkin' about "let me get on top boo'.                                                            ­                                                      I was that DNA the cops found that pointed straight to you.    I was that broken crack pipe when you had just brought an 8ball of crack.                                                                                                I was that ******* coke you brought that wouldn't come back.    I was that peanut butter and jelly sandwich after school      when there wasn't **** else to eat.                                                             ­                                                       I was that smell between your toes when you had stink feet.                                                            ­                                                       I was those socks on your hands when you couldn't afford gloves. I'm those bubbles that float up your back every time you **** in the tub. THEY CALL ME DRAMA.  c. R. Mendoza

We were all saddened to hear of the death this week of one of our hardest working citizens. Someone else. When Someone else died it created a huge void in our community that will be difficult to fill. Someone else was with us for many years. Someone else always did far more than a normal persons share of the work. Whenever there was a job to do, overtime to pull or a meeting to attend, one name was always on everyone's lips. "Let Someone else do it". Whenever there was a need everyone just assumed that Someone else would volunteer. It was common knowledge that Someone else was the hardest worker in our neighborhood. Someone else was a wonderful person who often appeared superhuman. In all honesty, everyone expected to much of someone else. So now that Someone else is gone. What will happen to our schools, our children, our churches, our community? Someone else left us a marvelous example for us to follow. But now who is going to do the work Someone else did? Will it be you. Or will it be Someone else.  R. Mendoza

There once was this girl named Betsy who lived on my block. This ***** was so ugly she looked like a rock. She had two crooked *** ******* and a scar on her thigh. She had a big *** nose and only one eye. She use to mess around with this guy name Drew. And this ******* was ugly too. He wore thick *** glasses and had bad *** breath. He had a body odor that smelled like death. Late one night on November the third. Betsy was in her bathroom disposing of a ****. When there was a knock at her door that only she knew. You guessed it right it was that ugly *** Drew. He had a bag of **** and a bunch of crack. All bundled up in a brown paper sack. When she saw what he had she dropped her draws quick. But when Drew smelled her ***** he got really sick. The room got really funky and flies fell to the floor. He tried to make a run for it,
but he couldn't get to the door. When both of their odors hit the air there was a chemical reaction. The coroner said that both of their noses looked like Michael Jackson's. When Betsy and Drew took that breath it was their very last. The moral of this story is you got to wash your ***. R. Mendoza

You are not just only a Father. Your a provider and a king. And as your children we cherish all the blessings that you bring. You are always there for us to lean on and you work tireless to the very end. You are not just only a Father. You are also our closest friend. Your the one we can always count on to make us smile and make us feel glad. You are not just only a Father. You are a proud and gentle dad. We were blessed by God to have you as our dad when we were placed upon this earth. And we will always have your greatest gift. You helped to orchestrate our birth. Proud Father proud dad proud man is always written on your face. You are not just only a Father. You are a man who lives with grace. So today we ask God to bless you and to guide you with his hand. And to always keep you just as you are. A proud and gentle man. Proud Father proud dad proud man. May you walk gracefully throughout this life. And may God bless you with the strength you need to stay faithful to your wife. R. Mendoza

Dear Sister's,
                  I remember when you arrived on that very first day. You looked really sad and had nothing to say. The pain in your eyes told your story all to well. But I knew in my heart you still had a story to tell. When I looked at your face I could your pain. Because what you held inside could drive a sane man insane. You have seen and did a lot of things. Some of them bad. Some of what you did would make a happy person sad. But let me tell you this sister's. Do not despair. Now that your changing your life you are going somewhere. You have told your story and freed your soul. So put the bad things behind you because now they are old. Now you have pep in your step and your swagger is back. And in a matter of time there will be nothing you'll lack. You are beautiful human beings and you deserve the best. And so far lady's you have past the test. So keep pushin' my sister's. Don't stop tryin'. You already shed your tears. So now you can stop cryin'. By the grace of God you have gone through the fire. If someone tells you different they're a bold face liar. So from the bottom of my heart I know you'll recover. Sincerely yours. Your recovery brother.    c. R. Mendoza

Faith and hope are two things that we need. That way failure can't overtake us if we're determined to succeed. Us being here is another chapter in our life. It's part of our trials and tribulations and part of our strife. So when we stop and think, we have to believe. We have to give back some of what we receive. We can't sit around with our dreams deferred. Sulking about things in our life that  have already occured. And we can't sit around idle thinking of the past. We have no time to waste. We need to move fast. So remember you can't feel what you have already felt. So don't let this be the last hand that your dealt. Give life a chance to deal you one more hand. And get a role flush if you possibly can. Because in life if you do what you should. Life will deal you the best hand that it could. So stop thinking about the time that you already spent. You can't get it back so forget where it went. Just think about today and forget about tomorrow. Because time is something we're getting to old to borrow. So if God gave you extra time what would you do? Would you also think of messing that time up to?                c. R. Mendoza

Although we are known as veterans we're still soldiers in our heart. And although the war still rages on, we still remain to do our part. We still remain to carry the burden and the tears of the soldiers who have died. And we still remain to see our wounded friends. That's their testament that they tried. And although we no longer fight on the ****** battle field of hell. We still remain behind for those who will listen to the stories that we tell. We tell of friendships that were forged like a precious diamond in time. And of the  love we have for soldiers that no one can ever define. Our war rages on inside of us for an eternity with no peace. Because as long as our comrades die the war for us does not cease. We still remain to fight our silent battle and to shed our silent tear. But we still remain to show our comrades that we're still soldiers who still care. There is nothing that can silence our battle cry and nothing can ease our pain. Because we will always be soldiers. We are the veterans who still remain. c. R. Mendoza