"martinez" poems
I Will Never Give Up on You
By: Miranda Martinez-Perez
I've been to a place "they" would consider "the top,"
And it felt great... that was.. until I fell.
It was a long way down. Would it hurt? I thought not;
And I was wrong, cause it hurt like H*ll.
I've hit rock bottom with an awful THUD.
Took me a while to realize I was still alive.
I wondered if it'd even be worth it to get back up..
Then pondered if I should just accept this is how I would die.
But something inside of me wasn't ready to fail.
I wasn't ready to give up the fight.
In my mental prison, I chose to make bail.
I can't change my wrongs, but I can make them right.
So I got up, though it took all that I had left inside,
Went to that place that for so long I feared.
I knew the first one with whom I had to make things right,
that one was the one looking back in the mirror.
"I'm sorry," I said, "your expectations were not too much.
I admit I've just let myself get in the way.
I never took it into consideration that I alone am enough.
And all the extras in life were only for show and play.
You are perfect, I love you, and I am going to change.
I don't deserve for you to believe me, but I swear it's true."
The response I got.. I never expected to hear MYSELF say..
That was, "I will never give up on you."
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 4:22 AM UTC
Poema Code Switching
By Aylin Soto-Aleman, Mercedes Caballero, Jesus Martinez, Marta Silva, Alex Alejandre
16.4.15
El final de una etapa
The end,
The beginning of a new journey
un camino
A un mundo extranjero
Un deseo, un sueño
A dream
Haciendo mi propio path
un camino
rostros nuevos , new failures
historias nuevas , new experiences
a sequel to my story, con hojas rotas
y mojadas
INMIGRACION
La memoria es un salto
entre continentes
crossing invisible borders
swimming in the rios
corriendo debajo del sol
La memoria es los abuelitos
ancestors cooking arroz y frijoles,
flan, driving through for hamburgers,
popcorn, sipping on horchata
Basilica
No todo lo que brilla es oro
not all rainbows and butterflies,
Clarita y sus cien años
Ruben y sus Tacos del Camino Real
El rancho
Midnight movies
Quiero a quien me quiera
It’s been a long day, without you my friend
Mexicanos al grito de guerra
Oh, say can you see by the dawn’s early light
Tepechitlan, Jerecuaro, Guanajuato
Long Beach, Argentine, KCK,
Chihuahua,
A Distance Between Us
El puente, the bridge.
Three Little Pigs en casa, at home,
don't step out marranitos,
la llorona te va a llevar
Memory is a leap
between continents
Cruzando fronteras invisibles,
Nadando en los rivers
Running under the sun
Born in different places
Pero las mismas intenciones
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 1:39 PM UTC
When she was seven, my grandmother suffered from fever and swollen glands. The doctors believed her tonsils were inflamed, that she needed surgery. Instead, she went to a curandera. The curandera divined that a jealous relative had cast a curse on her and, now, her language of kindness was bound to her throat, the unspoken swelling her glands.
As a child my grandmother spoke to santitos with a voice like a chestnut: ruddy and warm, seeds dropping from her mouth. The santitos would take her words into themselves, her voice growing within them like grapevines.
During the tonsillitis, when the words no longer fell like seeds from her lips, the santito's vineyards of accent and voice grew vapid, dry as a parched mouth. They went to her tongue and asked why silence imprisoned the words of the child, why lumps were present under her chin, why tears drew channels down her cheeks.
I asked my grandmother how her tongue replied. After touching my cheek, she told me she had a dream that night: She was within her lungs and she rose like breath through the moist of her throat. She remembered her tonsils swinging before her like fleshy apples, then a hand taking them into a fist, harvesting their sound. She told me her throat opened in two spots like insect eyes and the names of her children came flying through her wounds like peacocks.
Patting my thigh, she said, "That is why the name of your mother is Maria, because she is a prayer, a song of praise to the Holy Mother."
She told me this, then showed me two scars on her throat—tiny scars, like two eyelids stitched closed.
st - 20 mar 14
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 7:52 PM UTC
"A" is for Abuelitos left back in Mexico who are
Heartbreaking knowing the moment,
they see their children leave home
to cross a dessert they might ever cross.
Heartbreaking knowing once they do arrive al Norte
decades might pass without seeing eachother.
Heartbreaking knowing that they might not get to know
their nietos because their salud esta muy delicada
Heartbreaking knowing that their would be a chance
of someone dying in either side
and wont be able to say the last goodbye.
"A" is for Abuelitos left back in Mexico who
I have never got the chance to meet.
Abuelitos who I loved since the day
I saw pictures junto a mis padres
Abuelitos who I share sangre y caracter and face feautures.
*Habra un dia donde nos reuniemos como la familia que somos.
Pero hoy escribo un poema en sus memoria.
Tambien para los abuelitos que me siguen esperando,
Los quiero mucho y sean fuertes*
In memory of Memorio Covarrubias y Cecilia Martinez.
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 3:42 PM UTC
“I Hope Your Happy Now Your Free”
Free from the eternal feelings
From the bleeding heart
the one I played before you
Those words are now cut
short of what was to be said
But be happy this was all a game
like its always been
This all was foolish
I became the fool
believing
believing that I was all you see
I was blind to my mistake
your heart was not mine to take
so go on
I’ll get out of your way
“I Hope Your Happy Now Your Free”
Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 5:21 PM UTC
I usually hate
putting the word I
when writing
because
I don't like writing for me
but on few occasions
when inspired by music
frustration
and tears
and Melanie Martinez blasting in the back
I don't care
if my heart is too big
My eyes
I have no control over
and I'm tired
of being ridiculed
because of my tears
I show my families lies
and try to make them see
That crybaby
is not longer part of me
but in my room
on some time late in night
the faucet in my eyes from melanies song
can't take anymore.
And so I cry
So what if I'm a crybaby?
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 1:14 PM UTC
You pull me by my hair so I don't go nowhere
Tell me you love me, but you treat me like I'm never there
You say the cruelest words, you used to break my heart
'Cause I'm over here working my *** off
Why is it so hard to see? (Why?)
If I cut myself, I would bleed **** me)
I'm just like you, you're like me
Imperfect and human, are we?
Show and tell
I'm on display for all you ******* to see
Show and tell
Harsh words if you don't get a pic with me
Buy and sell (buy and sell me, baby)
Like I'm a product to society
Art don't sell
Unless you ****** every authority
You beg and cry for more, he had 'em on the floor
There are strangers takin' pictures of me when I ask "No more"
It's really hard for me to say just how I feel
I'm scared that I'll get thrown away like a banana peel
Why is it so hard to see? (Why?)
If I cut myself, I would bleed **** me)
I'm just like you, you're like me
Imperfect and human, are we?
Show and tell (show and tell)
I'm on display for all you ******* to see ******* to see)
Show and tell (show and tell)
Harsh words if you don't get a pic with me
Buy and sell (buy and sell)
Like I'm a product to society
Art don't sell
Unless you ****** every authority
Show and tell
Why can't you ******* hear me?
Show and tell, um
Are you listening yet?
Show and tell (show and tell, baby)
I'm on display for all you ******* to see ******* to see)
Show and tell (oh)
Harsh words if you don't get a pic with me
Buy and sell
Like I'm a product to society
Art don't sell
Unless you ****** every authority
Dec 3, 2019
Dec 3, 2019 at 3:01 PM UTC
"Baby Brianna was five months old when she died...she had multiple broken bones. Over thirty bite marks. She was beat to death..." "Susannah Martinez (campaign ad)
Doe eyed ghosts
Y los ninos mi corazon
Mall haired mamacita with the lined lips
505 madonna meant nothing to you
Bust that cap while she sleeps
Represent
And leave the little ones behind
Curled up against her cooling breast
Black blood and coffee grounds under their nails
It took them weeks to starve to death
Abuelitas they lament
Light the candles in Torreon
Would you buckle under the weight of tiny bones
Small hands that clutch the sky
Sightless eyes
Fragments of a smile stopped by a single shot
Gangstas gunning the wrong house
Little girl lost in poppi's arms
would her whispered breath against your neck
bring one tear
Baby Bartholemew in his car seat
choking to death in his own blood
Head lolling back crying for mommy
One last time
The sound...the stench forever resonant
Cuz teddy bears cant stop a bullet can they
Wrong place
Wrong time
Hand the grieving parents a tissue
And straighten her hair
For the cameras
This indignation will rise
Bile in your throat
for the next 40 minutes
Until you return to the blur
Of your regularly scheduled lives
We're so casual with our offspring
But Brianna, Bartholomew
and the ghosts in Torreon
they haunt these tears I cry
"It took us three years, but we fought to make it a death sentence. Baby Brianna's picture still hangs in my office." Susannah Martinez (campaign ad)
I will not forget....
TL Boehm
December 2010
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 2:44 PM UTC
I’d love to pour out all of my anger
Tell the whole world who you’ve been dating lately
Tell the whole world who you’ve been cheating on baby
In what filthy things you’ve been participating
Should I remind you I embraced you daily
And now you’re acting shady
And kind of shocking and maybe
I *********** with a wrong person
But I was
Completely into our friendship
Indeed, I loved you
You said I ruined it
I say you ruined me
I helped you out a thousand times
Now will you help me out of all this ****
Who’s now a piece of crap
Who’s now to blame
Why didn’t you tell everything?
You’re struggling now for your fame
That’s why you’re so late
With all your blames
And when your so called diva moment comes down
You’re gonna understand how much you were wrong
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 4:38 AM UTC
A RAY OF LIGHT IS WHAT HER VOICE.
It BRINGS IN TONIGHT,
BUT MISSING THE BREEZE THAT TOUCH
HER CHEEKS.........NO CRY, NO LAUGH, NO TEARS.
SHE IS SEARCHING IN THE SHADOW.
THAT LIMITS THE HORIZON,
UNKNOWN TO HER SOUL.
AND IN HER SORROW, BREATHING WITH DIFFULTY,
MOISTERING HER DORMANT LIPS, SHE MUMBLED....
..........................................WHERE ARE YOU?
BEGGING TO HER SILENCE, HOPING TO HAVE THE ECHO,
HER HAND POUNS ON HER BREAST, SWIFTLY EXCLAIMS.
.....................................DOES YOU DWELLS IN ME?
SLOWLY RAISING HER HEAD DELIRIOUSLY, SHE, FAINTS AGAIN!
IN HER SUDDEN DREAM SHE, PAINTS AGAIN A TEXTURE
CONNECTING A TORRENTOUS FEELING,
OF HER SOUL AND THE FLESH, PORTRAYING HER VOICE,
IN AN INTIMATE FINALE OF LOVE!
Mario J. Martinez (c) 2010
[email protected]
Oct 14, 2010
Oct 14, 2010 at 2:09 PM UTC
Me David and Jake
Jake's guest room
and an Iron Maiden CD
"You've gotta here this David"
"It's going to change your world"
"Whatever Martinez"
It was like that
I always carried my Mexican heritage around
a suitcase filled with stereotypes
I put the CD on
and the music pumped through me
so powerful
so raw
so real
everything everything is not
Even David was hooked
It was music to destroy by
to destroy everything they made
that they thought was so pretty
so perfect
so permanent
It wasn't long before we advanced
to heavier metals
and before long
me and Jake
were burning bibles
and turning my parents's
crucifixes upside down
a society based upon
spitting in societies face
what's not to love?
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 1:20 PM UTC
She was hurt before
She’ll be hurt again
She said it was love
But her friend called it pain
I tried to tell her don’t fall in love
But she didn’t listen
She said it was real don’t worry
But I feel like if she’s hurt I am too
I tried to fix her
I tried helping her grow up
But all she need was a true friend
But no her “friends” left her there to rot
Then came these amazing people
They fixed her up
They helped her grow up to be the person she is today and……..
I am that person
I tried to fix me but I needed someone to help me on the way
I was torn into pieces, they taped me back together
I’m not perfect but I’m just a person
I have to take little steps so I can be the person I’m supposed to be
But all I ever need was a true friend to help me with the cracks, with the ups and downs
They told me never fall in love because everything that falls breaks
Friend are temporary
But true friends are forever
I may not be perfect but I’m just a person
-Sarah C. Martinez (I’m just a person)
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 2:07 AM UTC
The grass smells sweet.
The breeze blows a warm wind,
Leaves floating from the trees and ground.
A beautiful day indeed.
Lightly moving a hand side to side,
The softness of the grass giving a sensation Indescribable.
A conversation so just and pure as a newborn.
Feeling safe and unworried.
Moments of happiness in a depressed mind.
The one thing known for sure.
A glance down.
“Gabe”
Dog print
LCHS
GABRIEL ISAIAH DION MARTINEZ
In the arms of his family Mar. 18, 1998
In the arms of Jesus Apr. 08, 2018
Grey and black granite block with a black and bronze plate on top.
Her safe place.
Feb 3, 2021
Feb 3, 2021 at 1:13 AM UTC
I sit on the hill
seeing Martinez light up
as the sun passes behind the cusp
of Mt. Diablo
this dirt witnessed me turn old,
has stories to tell,
a well of sorrows spent and sorrows kept
it's seen the laughter
along with emptiness
my souls settles like dust
after a gust of unrest, turbulence
while the Great Plains call
my name rustling through the grass
my heritage, past lives pushing
pulling
controlling, unbeknownst to me
sitting silent with the
Bay Area
trees
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 8:45 PM UTC
*My children are always on my mind
The God
The evil
The aluminati
The government
My relationship status
Dinner
Laundry
Clean the house
Loneliness
Go to work
grocery shopping
Feed Chika and Spike
I wish my best friend loved himself
Why won't my girls stop fighting
I wish Mickayla respected me as I taught her to respect others
I wish Nathan was closer
I wish Nevaeh could be greatful
I wish I could know true love
why can I think of nothing
why do I feel empty
I love my friends
I miss my friends
I want to go to Zims
I want to have a good time
I need a vacation
Why do I have to fight with my kids for help
Why won't Brian help himself be happy
I can't I help myself be happy
I'm always up and down
I'm pretty today
I wonder if I work the bar this weekend
What is so wrong with me I'm undateable
I have so much **** to do where do I start
**** I've a dysfunctional crazy family
I wish someone would take me by the throat throw me down pin me to the bed and **** me like they can't help but want me so bad
I miss some of my old friends
I love long hot baths
I wish it where summer all the time
I wish I saw my parents more
There's never enough time
Why am I so alone
Why am I so uncontented
I want to cut but I wont
What is my porpoise
I hope I don't **** my kids up too bad
I want to die but cant
God, I know you can hear me; please help me
I wish I was good enough
I wish I was loved as much as I love
Frogs are cool
I'm Batman
I'm Edgar Allan Poe
I'm Tim Burton
I'm Melanie Martinez
I'm so **** shy
Why can't I let any one in
Why am I broken
I hope my kids make it further in life than I do
I wish I had all the answers
I wish someone could tell me what I need to do and help to do it
I wish I where on a kayak right now
I don't want to be single anymore
I'm over whelmed
I'm under-stimulated
I'm empty
I'm a slob
I have too many shoes
I'm a very fortunate and lucky person
I have more than most
Will anything ever be enough to make me content
I just want to be left alone
I want someone to cuddle
I'm such a **** contradiction
I wish my brother... Many things starting with that he wasn't such a fool and that he wouldn't have alienated the family
I wish I had some candy
I think I'm tired
I hope my girls had fun at the game
I'm going to bed now
Maybe I'll have more to tell tomorrow
I doubt it though
I never finish anything*
Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 8:24 PM UTC
As the windows
glide down
the scent that is
this town
pours into my nose
making me remember every
second on its streets
every pain but also
every joyous
memory
Oh I missed you
little Martinez
oh I missed you
Bridgeport Way
oh I missed you
old friend
and I'm glad to be back
for Thanks Giving Day
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 2:21 AM UTC
You were my quiet chaos
Calm storm in the heart of a girl
You led me skittish
Ungainly beautiful
Like a newborn fawn for you
Lose me in this wilderness
Reminisce that kiss
Lips parted never met
Would you have lingered
Hot and sweet in my mouth
Like green chile praline brittle
Your idiot savant I played
serious for you
Danced in my dreams to your beat
stacatto pulse alone together
But like real magic
You disappeared
Rumors of you
Sleeping under your daddy's truck
same jeans and tees
worn at the knees
Curls tangled around your face
Your eyes that fevered chill
Where earth...
and stars...
and forever collide
I could see beyond infinity
Yet you'd look at me
Soul empty the well dry
was it the **** the speed or the need
Casual intimacies
I was totally partial to you
Wild inside but you never knew
Left me parched in the pouring rain
The last day
Breath on my cheek
Words you didn't speak
My skin craves you hugging me fierce
Dreams broken they slip away
Aching for a second chance
Stinging question lingers in my brain
Will you kiss me
You'll never ask again...
TL Boehm
091409
for Chris Martinez
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 11:25 AM UTC
Gone you may be,
But forever in my heart you will stay,
December nights will no longer be the same,
And I’m partly to blame,
These memories I’ll carry until the day I die,
Now if we ever speak it will be no more than a solemn, hollow “Hi”
I would be heartless if I didn’t make one of these for you one last time,
If you come across this, smile a bit, because it sure can light up a room,
I hope your heart heals and you find what you are truly searching for, thank you for everything one last time,
So here’s to you, my first, and only true love, thank you.
-Matthew Martinez
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 2:07 AM UTC
All my old friends are vessels
sailing away from the Bay
leaving the Martinez Harbor
or they are cars taking I-680 South
stopping at the last Kinder's
before driving out
flying the nest, hoping for the best
chasing paper
will we come back later?
will we return to the place
that watered us till we grew?
will we come back to nest?
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 2:24 PM UTC
And she's dead now
And when my moment came in the procession of faces all I could muster was, "I'm sorry it is under these circumstances that I am finally seeing you again"
And you managed, "Better now than never again"
And my eyes are dry but my heart is in a twisted knot of emotion
And I can't decide whether you have played yourself the fool or have spoken the profound wisdom
And I let one tear drop and decide you've done both
Aug 5, 2019
Aug 5, 2019 at 10:36 PM UTC