Ako ay isang pulis,
Natangal sa Serbisyo dahil sa paniniwala kong mali ang naging paghusga sa aking pagkatao,
Naglingkod sa bayan ngunit nauwi ang aking paghihirap sa hindi tamang pagpataw ng parusa,
Sa aking serbisyo, Sa aking pagkatao, at sa pangalan ko.

Kayat nagawa ko ang desisyong ito,
Wag niyo akong sisihin dahil tao lamang ako,
Nasasaktan at humihingi ng katarungan sa sistemang di makatarungan ang dahilan,
Sino ba naman ang matutuwang mapagbintangan,
sa mga krimeng pinaniniwalaan kong di naman ako ang may kagagawan?

Mga turista ang aking ginawang pananga,
Dahil di naririnig ng binging sistema ang mensahe ng sarili nilang mamamayan,
Kayat sila ang napili ko upang maintindi ako at magawan ng paraan,

Bitbit ko ang aking baril,
Hawak ko ang aking kutsilyo,
Ngunit wala akong balak na gamitin ito upang masimulan ang pagkakagulo,
Isa lang naman ang hiling ko,

ANG MAPANSIN AKO NG BULOK NA SISTEMANG PINANGALINGAN KO.

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

Saying your name is like singing a melody.
Through grace and rhythmic harmonious symmetry.
Easing every moment in posthumous remedy.
Printed in the stars, your face and your name my lady.
Here I stand, beside your golden throne.
As if the moment will soon be gone.
No single lifetime is more than enough.
If you won't be here with me, in times so tough.
Each moment is like forever, so please leave me, never;

Momentous in your presence, is my heart;
Enchanted, still hoping, though we're worlds apart.
Night may come and dusk may arrive,
Dawn will appear after, and I'll be alive.
Only for one moment in such little time.
Zestful and beautiful may even rhyme.
And you my girl, my woman, my lady, would forever be mine.....

By daylight,
they sold
burgers & chips,
the atmosphere
a bit chill,
touristy.

But at night,
things heated up.
The dance floor rocked,
the tiny rooms rolled.
They sold something
tastier than
meat and potatoes.

Many a ******
lost their pesos
to such festivities.

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

The family tree is dying
Everyone seems to be lying.
The tree is falling apart,
Everyone stops caring
My family grew from the same roots,
But our branches are growing so far apart.
Everyone is letting this demon into their heart.


I am planting my own tree.
This tree is going to grow in upmost care,
With no one to stare at us.
This tree
I will call my own
Will have strong roots,
Values and traditions.
While the old tree dies away with every bad omen.


This tree will grow with care.
It will grow with every emotion to spare.
I will feed my new tree with genuine love and understanding,
No more fighting.
No more judging.
Just pure patience
Our branches will grow intertwined.
The roots go deep into the ground,
Tons of people in so many places.
But the past is dying.
The traditions are dying like a malnourished plant.
I cannot believe how low this tree is coming.’
These roots which grew deep
Are soaking in poison
Feeding the poison through the tree,
And affecting the modern members.
Anger the only root.
These roots are becoming ghosts.
They watch us.
Our moves.
Our actions.
My family is not a family.
These roots which was so deep are killing us at the top
Our lives falling like leaves in the fall.
I know that I want to make a new tree.
But let it not be in vein.
I will learn from this old tree,
An old mentor,
Who lived a life most unsatisfied.
This new life starts at 18,
Carving my name at the beginning,
And as I live,
I will see the sapling grow,
While watching the other tree die.
Its pain is my gain,
Because I am learning the tricks of the trade,
I am learning how to escape the grips of anger,
The accuser who condemned my family for generations.
I will break free,
Grow with the tree.

My family’s branches are high, but alas far.
They are becoming separated, but I am young and watching.
They say that your life is set by your parents,
But I am not fueled by abusive fire,
I have grown past them,
I have thrown this virus of the tree away.
I am not going to fix their problems,
But I am growing my own success,
My future.
This sapling here,
The seed to be birthed,
It is going to grow,
So tall.
These notes I have scribbled,
Will lead to the happiness of my child,
The contentness of my wife,
The success of the spawn of us.
This tree is going to take a long time to grow.
It will learn from its mistakes as its predecessor did not.
It will be tall.
Making this broken tree nothing more than a shell,
This life,
This tree.
It is going to be free.
The sickening evil for blood with dry up,
The new tree will feed on smiles and happiness,
And out will sprout
The family,
I have always hoped for.

But this hope started somewhere.
This hope I birthed had pain.
It is a spawn of abuse.
Which seems to be the main cause for the old tree to dig so deep.
The anger of the leader spread somewhere,
And though not everyone is the cause,
We were ALL effected.
It took our values
Pushed them to the depths of hell
And left a chilling heat of anger and hate,
And though this is a debate,
Our family’s trajectory is going straight to hell,
Back to the man who gave us anger.
I cry today,
For those who were consumed by the darkness.
I feel sorry for those in the tree who did not reach for the sun,
Who did not fight for the family,
Who did not fight the urge to inflict pain.
A sad thing indeed,
But this is why I have the need
To start again.
This is why this life,
This current tree
Just isn’t working.
I’m tired of being fed hate.
It not too late.
My tree is going to grow strong.
It’s starting now,
Here
Today
It always has been.
I was superglued to someone else’s tree.
Taught their values.
Taught their insecurities and told they were my own.
But the forbidden word.
No.
Is becoming my advocate.
I will reach for the sun.
I vow to encourage
I vow to take what is rightfully mine.
I vow to start anew.
Make this tree reach high.
This new tree will never know the “Mendoza” way of things.
This new tree
Started by a sad situation
And a definite resolution
Is becoming truth.
I may have grew up in the poison,
But more and more ii have found a cure,
Immune to anger
To hate
I have found that these roots of their tree,
Which has poisoned each twig,
Has one fault.
It never tried to reach for the sun.
So I,
I take this,
And I make this my own.
This house is not my home,
But things will bend
And I will break,
And start anew.
I will live to see my family flourish.
As its predecessor did not

Quiet are the fields
with ghosts
from pennants past
the aces
and cutters
set idly away
from the maple
spread fall
soft sounds
of Sunday
(chilling on the boneyard)
telling tales of
validated stars
and wheel house legends
the rally cap sluggers
with mahogany eyes

Mustard colors
in floating mists
give a bite
to sublime skies
scattered walkers
trip to the hole
their spit buckets
and spigots
pressed into
pure life form
bikers and loners
and curious coffee goers
mill about the horn
whispering numbers
from an old
Keelman heaving

Alley lookers
and Mendoza lines
screachers, bleachers
from years gone by
dancing fingers
and cracks at the bat
moonshots
(from the big time Timmy Jim)
the 9th inning gunner
with sinker
and slider
and imposing
brush back *****
the game day citizen
and dugout warrior
who lit it up
in Rockwell fame

LINES WRITTEN WITH TEARS
Gp Capt Matloob Bokhari



In the midst of corpses without arms,
In the midst of corpses without heads,
In the midst of corpses, drenched in blood,
In the midst of corpses, without coffins,
In the midst of corpses, stood the pride of Islam.
On a corpse pierced with arrows, Zainab  screamed:
“I cannot identify, are  you  my brother Hussain?”
My friends, Have you read a tragedy  darker than this?
A sister unable to recognize her brother, so ruthlessly slain!


COMMENTS  :  LINES WRITTEN WITH TEARS

Farzana Altaf: Very touching indeed, a poet who can feel, taste, weep, laugh his poetry in his reader's heart and soul has accomplished much...
Kristine Nicholson: This is a poignant expression of sorrow, Matloob. War is always ugly. Sincerely,  Truth survives, although human life is ephemeral. Ken
Arkay Evans:This is truly beautiful; it reads as a river of tears begins - flowing and healing to the sea...I pray you are well, lifted and comforted on your journey. Blessings
Xpuaa : Indeed lines written with tears. Moving! and congrats this poem needs courage and sincerity to be written!!!!
Iulia Gherghei :very touching!!!!..that is the measure of humanity!!!
Kristen Scott: Zainab suffered and bore it with strength and dignity . it's amazing and heartfelt Matloob ~  K.
Sandra Delussu:  Matloob. you go on touching my heart..
Michael Edward Clearman: May the message of this poem water the earth with its truth.
Sandra Delussu: a knife in the heart! and it is but a drop in the ocean of suffering what we try to feel...  dear Matloob the figure of such a great woman comes shining in the souls of those who didn't know her! go on telling us! Enmity starts in frustration. frustration starts in ignorance! taking along pretending serving God's will!!!!...such blindness only can speak to blindness...but we're not blind!
Shareef Abdur-Rasheed: REEEEEAAALLLL!!!!This is no joke,WORLD!! This bloodshed, carnage got to stop!!How can the world turn their back and shut their eyes?? akhi This piece and others addressed to this critical issue are vital to raising awareness in a preoccupied world who are "Numb, deaf, dumb, blind to genocide until it knocks on their door! Jazak Allah Khair for raising consciousness!!
Alma Delacruz Gossman: We are not blind! We just simply refuse to really see! Excellent  your compassion and dignity are unshakable...and I so admire your conviction and belief in the greater good...we mustn't ever give up...and the messages of those who truly see, like you, must continue and we ALL need to hold that torch up high, as many remain in the dark by choice, often swayed in the wrong direction by those led by their ego, rather than their hearts and souls. Thank you for shedding your loving light and make so many aware that just refuse to see or who are shut off from the truth! Bravo! Thank you for writing the harsh reality, that many a man had truly blown it for far too many!  You create an awareness that truly needs to resonate in each of us! If only more would take their blinders off and really see!
Sophia Brownie :I CANT EVEN BEGIN TO IMAGINE SEEING THIS.
Shahzia Batool : though i always think that the best comment on any poem is "SPEECHLESS" ,but as i am the student and  teacher of poetry  so i always try to use words of appreciation and the just words...i read the poem twice and read the comments as well . it's a very consoling  and comforting thing that you have a strong voice ,and people listen to your voice...symbols  and allegory are your tools and you know how to weave images. You are loyal to the promise of existence...matloob sb  it is divinely ordained to expose the evil forces...by any substantial effort ! May you be blessed and heard !
Isabelle Black Smith:  Cannot even begin to imagine the depth of sorrow, loss and helplessness. You make us stop and think.
Maurin Alessandro :Good words my dear friend. So sad, but is a true history .. I am from Brazil and has a  musical group.  Can I sing this  awesome poem?
Gail Wolper :terribly sorrowful. I am sad.
Gary Leikas:  sounds like you were with Krishna and Arjuna at Kurukshetra .
Carole Semeniuk : NO.. I cannot imagine not being able to recognize my brother in life, or death............. very searing poem to the heart my friend . Your words cut through the heart... and make one appreciate the pain and agony of this moment................................... well done . Such a tender compassionate Soul you are!
Karyn Walker: Beautiful lines, Matloob  'Why good suffers and evil prospers?' It does for a reason Matloob. But you and I both have seen them fall. Sad part is that sometimes it takes so long. Evil provokes Evil that's a paradox in itself. That's why we pray so much because that is what it ends up taking: Prayer.
Jennifer Long: oh my..... So powerful the imagery and the punch of the rhythm, and the words. this is a great piece of writing!
Satyender ParkashAas:  Progressive, fine personification of darkness, cloud.  Matchless!
Lone-elisabeth Berg Jakobsen: I read it twice, and I love it so much I had tears in my eyes, I am very sensitive and it is very strong and beautiful.
Jeannette Mendoza Dalling : no words to describe the sadness this cause's me , that so many live like this .
Leo Riccio :sad. beyond words



Blessed-Heart - Hi my friend, may your day be filled with joy, peace, and much harmony. And your heart filled with love and kindness. Enjoy your rest of your day. Moved to read these moving lines!!!! Nancy

Although I met you long ago it seems like we just met. I remember it like it was yesterday. It's a day I'll never forget. But now your here back in my life and it seems just like a dream. But the one thing I always remembered about you were your eyes. They still have that gleam. So now it seems like time stood still so we could meet again. And now this feels just like the beginning of a love that will not end. So I often wonder about this feeling of love that I feel for you. And I often crave for that beautiful feeling of your love that feels so true. But there are days when reality hits and I realize that your not mine. And that maybe the love you had for me has suddenly run out of time. Because some days its not enough time it seems. For us to laugh  and joke and share our dreams. And there's not enough time for us to be. Just a man and a woman. Just you. Just me. And there's not enough time for us to kiss. Or for me to tell you things like this. So if I could. I'd find a way to stop all the clocks on earth today. And then maybe even that won't do. Because I need an eternity for loving you. But if I could love you just for today I think may be then I would be ok. And then when you kiss me I'll know it's right. Because our rekindled love will last all night. 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

How the hell can you go to rehab and leave there with a habit. You must have ate a bowl of trix because your one silly *** rabbit. You been in rehab for almost a year and you still gettin' high? You need to just go to the cemetery and lay your *** down and die. Just save your family and friends from anymore of your hurt. Go jump your *** into a grave. Someone else will throw on the dirt. We all know addiction can really be tough as hell. But you have only yourself to blame because only you can make you well. You are constantly playing with your life time and time again. And the one thing we all know about life. It does come to an end. The crazy thing about addiction is that other addicts know when your high. Because the one thing we all know about drugs. The effects do not lie. Stop letting the devil make you feel like you no longer have any worth. Don't give him the pleasure of being the one who helps you leave this earth. Whether or not you believe it. You are a child of God. And God gave us special powers. So we should make the devil's work hard. Your life is worth a whole lot more than any amount of gold. So give your family and friends the pleasure of watching you grow old. You can take the devil out of your life. You can make the devil leave. Just tell God you use to lack faith in him but that now you do believe. R. Mendoza

Questo matrimonio balla la linea tra giardino e rustico ;prendendo la bellezza naturale di una cerimonia all'aperto e abbinamento con la bellezza industriale del Sodo Park.dove da pranzo in stile familiare regna regina .E piegato in graziosi dettagli è abiti da sposa on line l' abilità di progettazione di McKenzie Powell .belle immagini da Bryce Covey fotografia e un video di nozze da Super Frog Salva Tokyo che è andato virale per una buona ragione .Date un'occhiata qui ancora di più.

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Da Sposa .Così molti dei nostri amici e parenti viaggiato incredibilmente lontano per essere al nostro matrimonio a Seattle .quindi abbiamo davvero voluto tutto il giorno .non solo per essere una festa.ma sento come una grande cena di famiglia in stile .Abbiamo tirato un sacco di ispirazione dai terrosi .cene comunitarie avevamo sempre adulato in Kinfolk .così abbiamo messo l'accento su avere lunghi tavoli comuni fattoria .una tavolozza di colori neutri / caldi .e un sacco di verde e di fiori .Abbiamo anche un colpo con un bellissimo spazio di accoglienza con soffitti alti e travi a vista che non richiedono alcun fluff supplementare .

E 'stato sorprendente vedere i pezzi si uniscono il giorno - di .ma onestamente .i nostri amici e parenti hanno giocato il ruolo più importante nel rendere tutto il giorno al di là di quello che mai avremmo immaginato .Abbiamo avuto così tanto coinvolgimento da parte di tutti - dai progetti bricolage e materiale stampato .ad avere un caro amico ci sposare .e tutta la mia famiglia che canta presso la nostra reception Von Trapp - style - ognuno ha lasciato la propria impronta sulla nostra giornata .( mio cugino èun panettiere ed effettivamente volato nostra torta tutta la strada da Toronto !) che ha reso incredibilmente memorabile per noi .La ciliegina sulla torta doveva essere la festa da ballo che seguì .Abbiamo avuto un incredibile equipaggio di amici e parenti per festeggiare con abiti da sposa on line .nessuno escluso .e venditori di eccezionale talento che ci ha aiutato a tirare fuori tutto il giorno !

nostro slow motion stand era il sottoprodotto di tasking una agenzia creativa per fare un video di nozze .SFST non sono video di nozze .ma mio marito .Quang .è un maestro nel convincere le persone a fare cose che normalmente non farei mai .( E probabilmente aiutato il fatto che egli è un co -proprietario di SFST . )

L' idea per la cabina è nata dopo aver realizzato un paio di cose : Ci sarebbe voluto molto tempo per loro di modificare il video completo di nozze .ma ancora più importante .abbiamo voluto provare e sfruttare alcune delle cose che SFST è in realtàbravo a - come fare le cose belle vanno virale.In verità.era quasi un dopo pensiero .Dalla realizzazione di idea era forse dieci secondi.

hanno suggerito di mettere una telecamera RED in una sezione della sala ricevimento e sparare tutto ad un frame rate elevato .Ma il successo del video è nel modo in cui è stato eseguito.e gli amici e la famiglia che hanno partecipato .L' uomo dietro la macchina da presa .Blaine Lundy .ha avuto la personalità perfetta per indirizzare la gente e ha fatto un lavoro incredibile modifica del pezzo .Anche i più timidi ospiti sono stati persuaso a taglio sciolto davanti alla telecamera .Re-



guardare il filmato per la prima volta .e vedere tutte le imbrogli che sono andati durante il nostro ricevimento è stato un momento davvero divertente sia per noi
Fotografia : Bryce Covey Fotografia | Videografia : . Super Frog Salva Tokyo | Event Design :Mckenzie Powell | Floral Design : McKenzie Powell Designs | Gown : Jenny Packham | Cake: The Cocoa Cakery | Cerimonia Luogo : Greg Giardino presso l'Università di Washington | Banco Luogo : Sodo Parco By Herban Festa | Bridesmaids Dresses : Amsale | Catering : Herban Festa |Calligrafia : Esque Script | Giorno di coordinamento: Get Stuff Done Group | Dress Boutique : La Teoria Dress | Trucco E Capelli : Erin Skipley | Photo Booth : Usnaps | Supporto Stampato : Katrina Mendoza | Veil : Sara GabrielAmsale e Sara Gabriel sono membri della nostra Look Book .Per ulteriori informazioni su come vengono scelti i membri .fare clic qui .McKenzie Powell Floral \u0026 Event Design e Bryce Covey Fotografia sono membri del nostro Little Black Book .Scopri come i membri sono scelti visitando la nostra pagina delle FAQ .McKenzie Powell Floral \u0026 Event ... vedi portfolio Bryce Covey Fotografia VIEW abiti cerimonia on line
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I miss my baby, he told lies maybe
Left me thinking, got me drinking
Told him: You won't notice me for I differ a million miles from your eyes.
The first time I saw him in Mendoza, Between the bars
He's wise and tall, I couldn't resist him at all
Now he's the axis and I have totally lost control
He's in my viens.
God,  I'm going insane
He's everything I've been looking for
And maybe a little bit more.

I walked through Harlem just the other day. The Harlem I knew as a child has totally gone away. I use to play hooky from school and I ran those streets at night  But now you can't even find a decent street fight. We use have soul food joints all over the place. But now Harlem New York has a different face. Don't get me wrong. I think change is ok. But now there's other people livin' where I use to lay. 125th street just don't look the same. Now all the stores have a different name. There use to be A.J. Lester's and the Record shack. Now all the stores have names that are whack. Now I see an Old Navy store and a Chucky cheese. Can someone tell me where Harlem went please. What happened to the movie theater between 7th and 8th?  Now it sits there just an empty old place. But the Apollo theater still looks good. It's always been the crown jewel of our neighborhood. But I remember when Harlem World was open night and day. Now even that spot is a **** Conway.  Don't get me wrong. It does look nice and pretty. But Harlem use to be its very own city. You knew you were in Harlem when you walked down the street. Because Harlem use to have its own heart beat. But now we can't even afford the rents that they charge. Because everyone knows our pockets ain't that large. I'm afraid I'll go to sleep one night. And when I wake up Harlem will be all white.         c. R. Mendoza

How do you count all the blessings that are sent from God.        
It becomes to difficult and it seems so hard.                                   You can never count all of his pain when one of us dies.            Or the amount of his tear drops every time he cries.                  You can never measure his smile when a child is born on earth. Or even come up with an amount of what his smile is worth. You can't measure the look on his face or see his scorn.            And we can't measure his hurt when his heart is torn.              We can't count how many times he has picked us up from the ground.                                                          ­                                              
Or all of the hugs he gives us whenever we're down.         There's no way of counting his love or his eternal grace.            Or even how many beautiful stars he has put into space. There's no need to count his blessings or measure his love.    
But it is really important to be grateful for the things that are sent from above.                                                           ­                          The bright green grass and the beautiful sunflowers.                 All the hot summer days and the cool sun showers.                   The subtle spring breeze and the cold winter snow.                  And the beautiful colored leaves when the Autumn winds blow. All the wonderful sounds when the little birds sing.                 And the twinkle in the sky that the night stars bring.             These blessings are endless and they go on and on.                These blessings have been with us since the day we were born. We can never count Gods blessings, but we should be grateful that their here.                                                            ­                     Because God gives us these blessings to show us that he cares. R. Mendoza

I've left my heart in different places,
it's been slowly chipped away at.
In La Paz,
it was the chicha
& in Mendoza,
a Malbec at Azafran,
nice warm saki in Kyoto,
some anejo in Ensenada
& cheap beer in Seattle.
Now all I have left
is enough for shots
of fine whiskey...
I'm still ticking Darling,
cheers.

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

The glorious morning
The peaceful night
Why anticipate for the paper view fights?
These guys aren’t Mohammed Ali
unless they got better records than I see
He would knock them out like one, two, three
He wouldn’t even have to have his eyes open
But why won’t theirs open?
Oh now he marks his territory for the millionth time
But sometimes you have to reiterate yourself again and again
That’s how he felt
From the days of early youth to the day he could wear his own belt
You can’t surpass him easily
I’m still looking for a contender
You can tell by the looks of the Bartender
Waiting for the old tapes to render
He shakes his head while he wipes off the ***** cups
Wishing he could make up
For his past mistakes
On quitting boxing
His grades were below the Mendoza line
He reassured his Mama that he would be fine
But little did he know this would set him back further than a state fine
Reading between the lines and not over them
He became one of the common crayons in the box
But a little darker than what we hoped for
And now he’s got the memory of the Prison Guard knocking on his door
Letting him know he can come out for recess
But all he wanted was to be the best
He hated the white walls so much he redefine the word detest
He just ended up like the rest
That at that moment, he wished the prison guard would shoot him dead
Numerous attempts of trying to take his gun
The consequences were the antonym of fun
He had miles and miles to run
Before they let him go easy
But that whole time was far from it
He just thought heavily while he heard the horrible sounds
Why do I feel like I deserve to be worse off than the people laying underground?
Will anyone bother to play a game of lost and found?
Just like those kids in those cliché films?
It was great relief to him when he was starting to think better thoughts
But he knew he had a lot of ocean to cover
It was the space time continuum for him
The Enterprise had more to bargain for than the high prizes
Seeing his own waters rise
Not to any of his surprise
He woke up franticly in the middle of the night
Hyperventilating, panicking
Knowing it wouldn’t be alright
The nightmares were wrapped around his mind so tight
It felt like two anacondas gripping him stiffly
He could escape
All those transgressions he made
Were coming back from the graveyards he once dreamed of in his wake
Right from the lakes
He couldn’t even eat the smallest portions of Frosted Flakes
Without breaking down like an old building
It’s thrilling for the mind
But only for it to let it all out
It wasn’t easy to overcome
But it took plenty of years of therapy to rewrite the story that he really wanted to tell
Telling the world how hard he consistently fell
No big deal, just a few scars and small quiet thoughts
But nothing worth a horror plot
It seemed like his worst days were behind him
To take that literally would be logical
A word many of his peers did not understand
They were either locked up or already dead
He overlooked the warnings of his teachers in school
But he just became another victim of Mr. T
I pity the fool, he chose to be an inept tool
Not the dull ones you buy at a department store
But the ones that need repairs and somehow make their way out
With no improvement at all
It can be pretty apparent why our proposed empires fall
The pitfalls can engulf us extremely
If we don’t handle things supremely
If I never had the guidance I received, where would I be?
Not writing these rhymes
Not telling you the times
Regardless of my previous struggles, I think everything will be fine
He went from prisoner to bartender, which may seem like it’s crossing the line
But knowing his past, the way he was doing time
He was just thankful he had a job
Now, who wouldn’t?
That’s the question I want to see answered
It’s going to be crickets for a long time
So I might as well stay here until I hear one
Because there’s no chain to be undone
Nowhere left to run
Let’s rebuild the lives of those who had nothing to begin with
Because if you were put into that place, I don’t think you would handle it too much better than them
Your life is amazing compared to them
But it’s not the cleanest gem
There’s still a few black holes here and there
But you shouldn’t mark out the reasons to care
There’s a lot more wisdom to be shared
The rest is up in the air
I don’t expect anything from the world
But I just expect better from people
That’s what encourages people to become teachers
So you can do better than they ever could
Instead of being caught in the middle of the hood
Being dangerous, mental and misunderstood
That’s the worst way to be as a human being
We’re just looking to help
Hoping to make an impact
More so than a meteor if it wiped out Earth entirely
But these kids do so when they decide to slash a cop’s car tirely
What’s that under your shirt?
A gun?
Well, Momma isn’t going to like this
You should be thrown in jail but I’ll bestow a probation
And an immense amount of community service
This isn’t a play, so I won’t rehearse this
So tell your Momma like it is
And change your life today
Because with this type of activity going on, there won’t be a Sun to look up to
There won’t be a freshly cooked meal by someone who deeply cares for you
There won’t be anyone who can take you to the Zoo
On days and weeks repeat
There won’t be a fresh batch of wheat
Sliced for you
In the requirements that must meet
Or the brand new sheets replaced weekly
What life will I live if I continue to play with fire?
Will I be unemployed and be stuck from hire?
Because that’s what happens when you play with fire
You get burned
Not from these verses
Not from these lines
But the way you go about your actions
You’re paying a permanent fine
That won’t ever wash away
So choose the lighter side today
Maybe people will overlook the bad choices you made today
And go along with their days
Like nothing happened, still entrenched in the back of their minds
Seemingly impossible to find
Going onto their morning grinds
But nowhere close to what you’ll be doing when you pay for your poor choice
The game of chance isn’t forgiving
It will take you over and pay it’s bidding
Keeping the smokers from quitting
The cheating players from winning
The happy pill participants from grinning
And the aspiring cookers from grilling
But I know that’s not the biggest culprit
But as long as I know it
I’m not going to bring it up again
We’ve seen that printed before
My central themes pop out galore
Not giving the other side too much more
Now I’m trying to experiment a little more
And not be the broken tools in those department stores
And trying to find what excites me more
Than the same old drag
That floats in a plastic bag
I’m starting to loathe people who think I’m a couch gag
I’m really not into shows like JAG
They just don’t resonate with me like they should
Some things are triumphant and grab me more than what most things ever could
And I reference them like I should
I don’t always follow the classic formulas
It’s not like I never could, but I see it as I never should

Many years ago I went around the world to travel.
At will I stepped on every boulder, on every rock and stone and on every sand and gravel.
Into every concrete jungle.
Navigated every ***** with every stroke that I can handle.
Explored every place, with all the phase I kept my pace, to keep my face.

Moving restlessly from one county to another.
Every country had a different currency from the other.
Night and day I kept on going.
Dove into every water that was flowing.
One voyage to another.
Zeroed down to my bed, I thought of the weather.
A tree outside my room was about to wither.

We should meet God in the morning and go with him through the day And in the stillness of the night, before our sleep comes we should pray. We should pray that God will take over all the problems we couldn't solve. And  that in the peacefulness of our sleep. Our problems will be resolved. We should pray that when we open our eyes to greet another day. We will find ourselves renewed in strength, because Gods grace has come our way. We should pray that whatever seemed impossible for us to solve alone. That once again we'll be assured by God that we are never on our own. Because if we try to stand alone. We are weak and we will fall. But God is always with us when we feel hopeless lost and small. So no day is unmeetable if we wake up with this thought. We should think to thank God for all the blessings that his loving care has brought. We can never be a failure. Even if we're hopeless unsaved sinners. Because God is the only one who can loser's into winners. So we should meet God in the morning and go with him through the day. And thank him for his guidance each morning when we pray. If we follow faithfully. This daily way to pray. We will never in our lifetime face another hopeless day.               c. R. Mendoza

Thank you is not enough for all that you do.
Because you do so many things for us and you never think of you. No one can ever say thank you Mothers because thank you is not enough. And no man can ever do what you do because no man is that tough. Without you Mothers what would we do? We probably wouldn't survive. And if not for you dear Mothers we would not be alive. So on this day we bless you and thank you for your love. Because we know you were given to us by our thankful God above. God has blessed us with your presence and your eternal loving grace. And you always fill our hearts with joy when we see your endearing face. When we were young you held our hand and kept us safe from harm. And when things go bad we come to you because you always stay so calm. Throughout the years your wisdom has kept our lives on track. And we always knew we could depend on you because you never turn your back. So one day is not enough for you. You deserve a whole lot more. But for now our hearts say thank you. You are the one that we adore. So happy Mothers Day dear Mothers. May you have many more after this. And may we always be blessed with your beautiful smile and your wonderful Motherly kiss.   R. Mendoza

A snakepit, a lion’s den,
a second-hand shark cage.
The Big Apple, the Little Rascals,
everything after the Victorian Age.
These things scare me on sight,
but not as much as
Veronica Cartwright.

The Trix Rabbit with a gun,
The Dodgers winning a World Series.
Parallel parking with Mark Hamill,
Sesame Street conspiracy theories.
These things make me shake at night,
but not as much as
Veronica Cartwright.

The White Album, the Black Plague,
toenail clippers, salad bars and Disneyland.
The Richter scale, the Mendoza line,
Any and every last teenage boy band.
These things give me such a fright,
but not as much as
Veronica Cartwright.

Television reruns of H.R. Pufnstuf,
An opened jar of Miracle Whip.
The names of Frank Zappa’s kids,
vacationing on a Carnival cruise ship.
These things horrify me alright,
but still not as much as
Veronica Cartwright.