Nowadays,
If I really love someone,
I don't want to try to possess her.
I don't want her to feel obligated
Towards  me.
I just try to broaden horizons
That's what the most virtuous
And most beautiful women
Really want.
Rob Cochran Jul 8
Temblando al borde de la locura
Tratando de encontrar un centro de gravedad
Cortando mi circulación para hacer esta declaración
sobre mi habilidad natural como reina nacida
a caminar con tanta fabulosidad.
Aunque este vestido es una monstruosidad,
mi cabello es una curiosidad,
hay mucho acerca de este alto paso que no anticipé.
Por ejemplo cómo el balanceo de mis caderas
contrarresta el movimiento de mis dedos.
¿Quién sabía que habría tal orquestación?
Un cuerpo en concierto: ¡una ovación de pie!
Y cada paso otro encore,
Gritando delirantemente: "¡Más! ¡Más! ¡Más!"
Y de repente, el mundo es nuevo.
Nunca lo he visto desde este punto de vista.
Me sorprende la diferencia que unas pulgadas pueden hacer
para cambiar la realidad que ahora crea yo
Y aunque mis pies están apretados como tocones
en estas bombas de tacón de aguja de seis pulgadas,
un testimonio que debo profesar;
Qué maravilloso es ser
un muchacho en un vestido.
A recent translation from my poem "Birth of a Drag Queen" about a young man dressing in drag for the first time.
Elsita,
I am must praise your beauty
Just as my Zayda
Felt obliged
To recite his berakhahs
On Shabbos.
Other men
Are blind to your charms.
Their colonial hangover
Distorts their perceptions
More than
A hundred glasses of tequila
Could ever distort
Mine
They can't appreciate
The beauty of a woman
They can't control.
I can see
That your virtue is always evident.
Nudity
Only reveals that virtue
Even more.
For you,
There are no separations
Between matters of the spirit
And matters of the flesh.
I have no desire
To become your love.
Because you live in Oaxaca,
I doubt that I'll ever become
Your friend.
I just wish that more women
Here in Denver
Were more like you.
As long as  they continue to chase
The American Dream,
Their beauty is concealed
By  a Veil of Ignorance,
As the Sufi Sheikhs
Would say.
It is much better
To wear nothing
That would obscure  the Spirit
Or defile
The flesh.
This poem was influenced by a photo of Elsita by Misael Castro on 500px in Oaxaca, Mexico as well as the music of Flaco Jimenez and Los Texmaniacs on Smithsonian Folkways recordings
I was taking a nap on the futon my ex, Terri, gave me,
And was listening to my Nawang Khechog/Carlos Nakai Flute CD
When,
Suddenly,
I received a call
From my cousin Roberto Rodriquez.
When I picked up the phone,
Roberto immediately exclaimed,
"Daniel,"
"Your Uncle Sam just attempted suicide!"
"You need to get over here immediately, and try to convince him"
"Too cooperate with the staff!"
I was still feeling groggy from my nap,
But tried to respond to Roberto.
"What hospital is he in, Roberto?"
"St. Joseph's, Daniel," was the rapid response.
"The hospital where you were born."
"You need to get over here quick!"
"Your Uncle is out of control!"
"Oy vey," I thought as I put on my Chaco Sandals.
It was such a damn hot day....definitely evidence of Global Warming.
I took a Toasted Almond Coconut Sugar-Free Bhakti Chai out of the Fridge,
Walked down the stairs,
And headed towards Franklin Street and St. Joseph Hospital.
When I arrived at the Emergency Ward,
The nurse,
Elsita,
Who I thought I had seen do a Nude Photo Shoot in Oaxaca on 500px,
Was hysterical.
"Mr. Moskowitz!" she exclaimed.
"You need to try to get your Uncle Sam to stop using so many derogatory racial epithets!"
"He just swallowed a Whole Bottle of Viagra with Jack Daniels Whiskey,"
"And he's gonna' die if we don't pump his stomach!"
I tried to reason with my Uncle Sam.
"Sam,"
"Can't you see that this lovely lady, Elsita,"
"Is trying to help you?"
"She's trying to save your life."
Uncle Sam sounded more like Yosemite Sam in his response.
"Tell that Brown-skinned bitch to hop back across the Rio Grande, Jewboy!"
I was shocked!
I had never heard language this vulgar or crude in a hospital!"
"For God's sake, Sam,"
"Try to cooperate."
"This is not an immigration issue."
"This is about your health."
Sam turned his attention to me.
"Oh, your Jewgod is a false god, Jewboy!"
"The only real god is Jesus Christ."
"That's why I buddied up with Netanyahu."
"To make room for the Savior."
Now,
This sort of blasphemy was too much for Elsita.
"Dios Mio!"
"How can this horrible man"
"Claim to know anything about theology?" she asked.
Sam's response was even more crude.
"Listen, you brownskinned bitches have been opening your legs"
"Ever since the first Europeans landed on these shores."
"That's why you're always getting raped!"
After my Uncle Sam uttered these incendiary remarks,
Two tough-looking Arab orderlies entered the room.
They both looked as if they had escaped from Guantanamo Bay!
"Okay, Sam!"
"You're coming with us!" an especially mean-looking one named Abdul said.
I became extremely fearful for the well-being of my Uncle Sam!
What were these crazy Arab Guys gonna' do to him?!
"Sam is the only Uncle I have left since my uncles Isaac and Shea died."
"Please don't hurt him, Abdul!" I pleaded as tears escaped my eyes.
Abdul's sidekick,
Mohammed told me the Truth.
"We're going to waterboard your Uncle Sam, Mr. Moskowitz."
"That's the only way we can get him to tell the truth."
"Why don't you write an email to your friend, Diana Yohannes?"
"Tell her what it's like down in Cherry Creek."
"Let the experts handle National Security Matters."
So,
Abdul and Mohammed dragged Uncle Sam away screaming.
"You taco-eating vermin!"
"Get the hell out of here!" he screamed.
I was in a powerless position.
So,
Reluctantly,
I put on my headphones,
And turned American Recordings by  Johnny Cash
On my Mp3 Player.
"The Beast in Me"
"Is caged by frail and fragile bars."
"God help"
"The Beast in me"
Of course, "The Beast in Me" is a famous song by Johnny Cash off his American Recordings CD.
When I arrived at the bus stop,
Heading South from 14th and Federal,
I bumped into my old friend,
Juan Garza,
Who I hadn't seen  for quite awhile.
I was so excited to see him
That I asked him if he wanted to join me for Lunch.
"Hey, Juan," I asked him.
"Want to go have some mole at Tarascos?"
"I'm heading down there for  lunch."
Juan was very polite as always.
"No thank you, Dan," he responded.
"I'll ride with you on the bus as far as Alameda,"
"But I'm gonna' go grab some pussy."
I sort of knew Juan's ways already.
So,
I just asked him,
"Oh, where you gonna' grab your pussy, Juan?"
Juan was very comfortable informing me.
"I just go to the Geisha House, Daniel."
"They get fresh pussy shipped in from Asia each month."
"After sex, I'm going to eat some sushi at Nikko's,"
"But I don't imagine you'd be interested in joining me"
"Because you will have already had"
"Your mole."
Ain't no point
In pushing it too far.
You chatted
With an incredibly beautiful young woman
From Colombia.
You had an
Incredibly flavorful meal
Of Carnitas Mole at Tarascos.
You had a
Euphoric hike
On the steep hills
On Knox Court.
For God's sake,
Don't come home
And test your skills in the kitchen
When you really need to rest,
Thus,
Sabotaging an otherwise  beautiful day!
Be proud of your skills.
Share What you know with others,
But know your own limits!
Know when it's time
To just rest.
mikumiku Apr 17
When we fuck I shout: s. o. s. la vida
‘Cause our bed is more like a corrida
But when I stare at my ring with a pearl
I ask myself again, am I that girl?
When I take Mexican tic tacs with Corey
I feel like Christ is sending me that glory
But when I’m on the ground and start to curl
I whisper to myself, am I that girl?
And when I’m dancing topless on a bar
I feel like killer sexy movie star
I finish twenty lemon drops and swirl
While crying to myself, am I that girl?!
Gloria Martinez
Loved to go on photography missions
In Downtown Denver
With the Canon Camera
That her grandmother, Margarita,
Gave her for her Quinceañera.
While traversing the streets,
It was common for Gloria to receive catcalls.
"Hey, baby!"
"Where you goin' with that nice camera?" a fellow fifteen  years older than her asked.
"I'm doin' a photography project," Gloria calmly responded.
"A photography project!" the catcaller exclaimed.
"If I had to do a photography project, I'd take a thousand photographs of YOU!"
"I prefer to photograph the Elderly," Gloria calmly stated.
"The Elderly!?" exclaimed the shocked catcaller.
"Why would you want to take photos of 'The Elderly', baby?!"
"You've got all the assets in all the right places!" the catcaller seductively assessed,
"A billion people around the world would want to see everything you've got!"
"Senior Citizens have a certain beauty which I lack," Gloria asserted.
Now,
The catcaller was shocked.
"Beautiful......but humble."
"Dios mío!"
"You're the type of Package who might be too much for me!
"I'd better let you get on your way."
"But, if you ever change your mind,
"And want to be photographed by a Professional,"
"You know where to find me, baby."
"I'm generally smoking a joint here on 16th and Arapahoe"
"After I'm done with the Ritz-Carlton Hotel morning shift."
The voice Mar 22
I stand in the middle of the room
My classmates are commanded to listen to me
I am the 14th person to present and so far, everyone has done a good job

I stand in the middle of the room
I begin to saw the name of my project
“My Poem”
I cannot remember what it was about
I do remember, what I felt

I stand in the room,
Hoping that everyone feels what I felt when I was writing it
I felt excited, my stomach had ‘butterflies’ I think
I felt the heat in my heart and the cold on my shoulders.
I felt the tingles all over my body, and the air escaping me

I stood in the middle of the room
I stand in the middle of the room
I was in the middle of the room and said
“My poem”
I heard a chuckle.

I ignored it because the ‘in love’ heart in my chest was more excited than It should have been
I continues and my voice began to play tricks on me
And the r’s rolled and the words were suddenly in another language
My mind still ignored it and continues
Because I felt I could write, and read this and everyone could love it

I stood in the middle of the room,
I waited for the, applause, the smiles, the congrats, or even a simple ‘good job’ like everyone else
Instead…
My teacher said, work on pronunciation. She said it again. Pro-noun-ci-a-tion
Ok. ‘Work on grammar.’ ‘Work on sentence structure’
“Work on being American” the chuckle said
Or the person who chuckled?

It didn’t mean much, you know
I loved writing so much that it did not matter
I would be a writer, I would continue to
STAND in the middle of the room and share my talent
And when I did, he chuckled
She chuckled, I was Mexican

Not a writer. Writers can’t be Mexican
Unless you write in Spanish and in Mexico
But I was too American for that at this point…

SO the next time I wrote I was ashamed,
Maybe if someone else wrote my writing?
But it didn’t matter,
When the teacher began reading,
The chuckle reminded the class it was the ‘Mexican’ who wrote it

“Mi nina” My mom would say
She reminded me that no only was I Mexican
I was a woman,
Only men thrive in this world
I believed it
And that is why my name is ‘The Voice’
Not my actually name,
Disclosure: I accept criticism on how to better my writing
NOT on what to write or on my background
Thanks, for a lesson I will never forget:

I make my own destiny!
The voice Mar 17
I couldn’t wait for my class to end so I could run outside and find
el carrito (Stand)
I fell in love with the feeling and the taste before I even knew what love was.
I stood outside holding my mother’s hand waiting for her to ask
the times she did not ask I would pull on her plaid, decently long skirt and looked over towards the man selling raspados

She knew what I wanted and she knew how much I wanted it.
I focused on ...
el carrito
as if looking at it would be enough to call the gods of raspados to have mercy over me

They cost $1.50. My mother gives me the money
I run over
The man says

te faltan, no es suficiente (not enough)

I was devastated, I began to take step back slowly, I dared to not look at my mother with this disappointment.
I barely noticed the lady standing behind the man, she was the boss

I noticed she was looking towards my mother
Maybe she saw in my mother’s face something convincing, or maybe my confusion triggered a mother instinct
Whatever it was, it was enough

As I walked away slowly with my first heart break,
the lady behind says,

tiene antojo, tu daselo (She has a craving, give it to her)

I thanked her with my smile and with a slight flitter in my heart of happiness and even more with my taste buds having a celebration just by looking at how this raspado was being made

The beautiful sound of the mountain man, holding a metal, rectangular shaver of ice
containing it all inside until it was ready to be placed in the cup. The small stones pile one by one when crushed
Just big enough to hold shape and small enough to enjoy

Then the miel con sabor a tamarindo  being delicately set on top, like a creamy blanket in liquid form

Si, con limon y sal, porfavor, y poquito chile (add salt and lemon, and a bit of spice... Please)
because my mom taught me how to be polite
and then, to my surprise the actual fruit
tamarindo on top, a light brown coloring with a soft cover on the hardened seed inside

It decorated with grace and delight, the treat awaiting for me
I felt the richness


There I learned my first lesson of kindness
It is part of a longer piece... It is Nonfiction.
Raspados are similar to icecones but very Hispanic. I suggest trying one. They vary in flavors (guava, pineapple, lime, mango, etc...)
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