LATIN GIRL

You are the ones with the brown cocoa skin,
the milky white flesh, la piel de morenita  
the Spanish eyes and the wicked smiles
With hands on your cinturas featuring finely polished nails
Amongst yourselves, the loud exaggerated laughter  
echoing defiantly from the back of the bus

You enjoy the sweet taste of lollipops
and the rebellious look that chewing
fantastical pieces of bubblegum
leaves imprinted on your quinceñera face
popping and snapping until the teacher finishes talking
about whatever he or she is talking about

You are the ones with overcrowded closets
jewels glistening brightly like lip gloss against your innocence  
with secret diaries and heart-stamped journals
hidden underneath pillowed beds
jotting down memories of your youth
which will ignite your passion somewhere down the road
inspire the humble words of poets
and the songs you croon to on the radio

Boyfriends- entertaining yet unnecessary
like your vast collection of muñecas and stuffed animals
which decorate your poster-wallpapered rooms
a trail of broken hearts held tight
until you meet the right one,
the one who respects and truly loves you
the one who doesn’t treat you like his property
offering you his hand in marriage
to wipe away abuela’s lagrimas
after a long struggle for independence
from the oppression of old-fashioned machismo

When I see one of you with a baby carriage
my heart breaks
flooded by the memories of my once teenage mom
and the hell I’ve put her through

You will grow up to fuss even more about your make up
fidgeting over pints of ice cream and pastries
which will leave you with Mami’s or Titi’s legendary hips,
hips that are hip to the Latin culture
on women who age gracefully if unknowingly
while religiously watching favorite telenovelas

Mira nena...
Never lose the beauty of your spirit
never forget your freedom to pursue your dreams
for that freedom no longer belongs to men alone
Sigue soñando...

Copyright 2002 by Emanuel Xavier for Suspect Thoughts Press. Taken from AMERICANO by Emanuel Xavier. All rights reserved. Used by permission of the author.

A SIMPLE POEM

I want you to continue writing
because I will not always be around
 
With lips that will never touch mine
read your poems out loud
so that the words are left engraved on the wall
make me feel your voice rush through me
like a breeze from Oyá
 
I want to hear about Puerto Rico
about sisters with names like La Bruja
about educating youth about AIDS
I want to hear about life in the Boogie Down Bronx
surviving on the Down Low
don't leave out stories about men
you have loved and still love
 
I want you to write poems that you will never read
press hard on the paper so that the ink runs deep
hold the pen tight so that you control the details
prove to me that I inspire you
reveal yourself between the lines
hear my praise with each flicker of the candle
Write a poem for me
 
Do not choose a fresh page from a brand new journal
use paper that has been crumbled and tossed
thrown out by a spineless father only to be recycled
Save a tree for future poets to write under
 
Rewrite me into someone more attractive
stronger than life has made me
make me tough and sexy, aggressive like a tiger
stain the pages with cum, lube, the arousal you find
at the sight of naked boys, draw me sketches
bring the words to life with images
make me a man with this poem
 
Read it in front of the audience
with hidden messages just for me
be real and tell me why
I am only worth a haiku
 
Your epics are meant for others
I already know,
use red ink to match the blood from these wounds
with brutal honesty
let me die with your last sentence
 
Then resurrect me with rhyme
read from your gut
let me hear the wisdom of mi abuelo in your voice
let me find my father in you
remind me of all the men that left me broken promises
 
In your eyes I want to see a poem
when you bring me to tears
with painful memories
buried beneath your thick skin
 
Between teeth gapped like divas,
I want to hear quotes from books
I never read
 
Make me believe you want to be a poet
 
Make my heart break,
tell me why you could never love me
with just a few words
leave me lost and insecure
feel the admiration of others
bask in their desire
forget that I am there
 
Pound your fists in the air with passion
go off about politics, poverty, machismo and hate
scream poems that don't give a fuck
about traditions, slamming or scores
save your whispers for those who make love to you
 
Write a poem for me that makes me want to puff a joint
 
A poem that loses control
unafraid to be vulnerable
for once just make me believe
it is all worth letting go
when the smoke clears
I will understand
the reason
I am just another face
in the crowd
 
I want you to continue writing
because I will not always be around
 
Copyright 2005 by Emanuel Xavier for Suspect Thoughts Press. Taken from BULLETS & BUTTERFLIES: queer spoken word poetry edited by Emanuel Xavier. All rights reserved. Used by permission of the author.

AMERICANO

I look at myself in the mirror
trying to figure out what makes me an American
I see Ecuador and Puerto Rico

I see brujo spirits moving across the backs of Santeros
splattered with the red blood of sacrificed chickens
on their virgin white clothes and blue beads for Yemaya
practicing religions without a roof

I see my own blood
reddening the white sheets of a stranger
proud American blue jean labels on the side of the bed

I see Don Rosario in his guayabera
sitting outside the bodega
with his Puerto Rican flag
reading time in the eyes of alley cats

I see my mother trying to be more like Marilyn Monroe than Julia De Burgos
I see myself trying to be more like James Dean than Federico Garcia Lorca

I see Carlos Santana, Gloria Estefan,
Ricky Martin and Jennifer Lopez
More than just sporadic Latin explosions
More like fireworks on el Cuatro de Julio
as American as Bruce Springsteen, Janis Joplin,
Elvis Presley and Aretha Franklin

I see Taco Bell’s and chicken fajita’s at McDonald’s
I see purple, blue, green, yellow and orange
I see Chita Rivera on Broadway

I am as American as lemon merengue pie
as American as Wonder Woman’s panties
as American as Madonna’s bra
as American as the Quinteñero’s, the Abdul’s, the Lee’s,
the Jackson’s, the Kennedy’s
all immigrants to this soil since none sound American Indian to me
as American as television snow after the anthem is played
and I am not ashamed

Jose, can you see . . .
I pledge allegiance
to this country ‘tis of me
land of dreams and opportunity
land of proud detergent names and commercialism
land of corporations

If I can win gold medals at the Olympics
sign my life away to die for the United States
No Small-town hick is gonna tell me I ain’t an American
because I can spic in two languages
coño carajo y fuck you

This is my country too
where those who do not believe in freedom and diversity
are the ones who need to get the hell out

Copyright 2002 by Emanuel Xavier for Suspect Thoughts Press. Taken from AMERICANO by Emanuel Xavier. All rights reserved. Used by permission of the author.