My love is like the wind
Jordan is born
My mother cries
Fearless
Jordan is born
Motherhood
Fearless
Quincañera
Motherhood
Coffee
Quincañera
Borinquen
Coffee
Music
Borinquen
My home
Music
Dreams
My home
Visitacíon
Dreams
My mother cries
Visitacíon
My love is like the wind
**was born at an Acentos Workshop
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Friday, March 12, 2010
La Llorona, 3.12.09
For the Women of Juarez
Listen… hear my cry
I have lost my child
He has wandered into the desert
He, lost himself among men
He, found himself among men
He, forgot how to love his mother
He, had no hair to mark his age
He, was a child, now transformed into a monster
His muscles swelled
His teeth sharpened
His grip tightened
His skin perspired
His mouth salivated
He licks his hungry lips
Secretly trained in the art of misogyny
Mi’jo, I have lost you
What is a mother without her child?
There is darkness now, where my son used to sit
Listen… hear my cry, it pours like the rivers
I wander night to night, rom every pore of
Of my vacant and wilted body, searching
Listen… hear my cry
I have lost my child
She, has wandered into the desert
She, lost herself among men
She, was just a girl
She, had never been kissed before
Her breasts were barely full
Her hair worn in a school’s braid
Her eyes were chocolate kisses
Her skin was sun kissed brown
She felt his steaming breath on her skin
She winces as his claws grip her arms
Her skin begins to burn with every gash
Her nipples were gnawed off her breasts
Her vagina was shredded
She, cried out for her mother
Her womb would never carry a child
Her heart ceased to beat
Mi’ja, I have lost you
What is a mother without her child?
There is darkness now, where my daughter used to sit
Listen… hear my cry, it pours like a the river
I wander night to night, from every pore of
My vacant and wilted body, searching
Thursday, February 18, 2010
March 2010 Performance Calendar - UPDATED
Thank you for your continued support in my growth as a performing artist!!! See calendar below... there may be some adjustments to the calendar, I will send those updates as I get them.
Monday March 1st 6:30p
Poets & Writers Cross-Cultural Reading
at Cave Canem
20 Jay Street, Brooklyn NY
Tuesday March 9th 7p
Tato Laviera Tribute
Nuyorican Poets Cafe
236 East 3rd St, b/w Aves B & C NY NY
cover $7
Friday March 12th 7p
Femicide Art Show
Abrazo Interno Gallery: Clemente Soto Velez
Cultural Educational Center
107 Suffolk Street, New York, NY 10002
Thursday March 18th
Palabras Poetry Showcase
Binghamton University
More information to follow
Saturday March 20th 6:30p
Yes We Can!/Latinos NYC
Nuyorican Poets Cafe
236 East 3rd St b/w Aves B & C NY NY
Cover: TBA
Friday March 26th 6:00p
LoveMiOnline Glorious Sex Showcase
Monday March 1st 6:30p
Poets & Writers Cross-Cultural Reading
at Cave Canem
20 Jay Street, Brooklyn NY
Tuesday March 9th 7p
Tato Laviera Tribute
Nuyorican Poets Cafe
236 East 3rd St, b/w Aves B & C NY NY
cover $7
Friday March 12th 7p
Femicide Art Show
Abrazo Interno Gallery: Clemente Soto Velez
Cultural Educational Center
107 Suffolk Street, New York, NY 10002
Thursday March 18th
Palabras Poetry Showcase
Binghamton University
More information to follow
Saturday March 20th 6:30p
Yes We Can!/Latinos NYC
Nuyorican Poets Cafe
236 East 3rd St b/w Aves B & C NY NY
Cover: TBA
Friday March 26th 6:00p
LoveMiOnline Glorious Sex Showcase
Nightingale Lounge
213 2nd Avenue (@ E 13th Street) NY NY
Cover $15
Saturday March 27th 10p
Urbintel presents Verses w/ Helena D Lewis
featuring the HerStory cast
Nuyorican Poets Cafe
236 East 3rd St b/w Aves B & C NY NY
Cover: TBA
Saturday March 27th 6:30p
Latinas: Let's Get It Straight
La Pregunta Arts Cafe
Latinas: Let's Get It Straight
La Pregunta Arts Cafe
1528 Amsterdam Avenue NY NY
Cover $8
Saturday March 27th 10p
Urbintel presents Verses w/ Helena D Lewis
featuring the HerStory cast
Nuyorican Poets Cafe
236 East 3rd St b/w Aves B & C NY NY
Cover: TBA
Tuesday March 30th 7p
Celebrate Cesar Chavez 2010
Nuyorican Poets Cafe
236 East 3rd St b/w Aves B & C NY NY
Cover: $7
Celebrate Cesar Chavez 2010
Nuyorican Poets Cafe
236 East 3rd St b/w Aves B & C NY NY
Cover: $7
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
If I Could
If I could teach the world religion
I would say that I have seen God's face
in the eyes of children and heard His
voice in their laughter
If I could teach young women
the true meaning of beauty
I would take the mirror from their faces
and hold it up to their hearts
If I could teach my father pain
I would show him my bruised soul
the one I used to shield my mother
after she had become his punching bag
If I could I would teach humanity love
I would allow them to discover it
in the sound of my mother's voice
and see it in the look of my mother's face
If I could teach adults to look upon
the world as children do;
playing in curiosity and discovering
the very beauty of - what is
If I could teach myself to love again
I'd look for it in the depths of my heart
I would learn to be brave enough
to share it with you tonight
If I could teach the world how to love
I would take orphaned children
and protect and nurture them
in my vacant womb
If I could I would teach the world that man
is my brother and woman is my sister
I would teach that loyalty is rooted in unity
that together we can coexist in hope
If I could I would teach the world
that labia are not meant to be sewn
clitorises not meant to be cut and
honor not meant to be taught with showers of acid
on a young bride's face
If I could I would teach man
that an act of violence upon my sister
is an act of violence upon me and
I refuse to be the subject of that violence any longer
If I could I would teach the world
that the blood coursing through my veins
also runs through the veins of the children of the Diaspora
and that I see Haiti when I look into the mirror
If I could teach the world empathy
I would ask that we not look upon our lives in woe
But instead see the power bestowed upon us
to aid the world in change
If I could I would teach the world
that every moment, good or bad
has brought you here; to this very place
to share in this unique moment
I would say that I have seen God's face
in the eyes of children and heard His
voice in their laughter
If I could teach young women
the true meaning of beauty
I would take the mirror from their faces
and hold it up to their hearts
If I could teach my father pain
I would show him my bruised soul
the one I used to shield my mother
after she had become his punching bag
If I could I would teach humanity love
I would allow them to discover it
in the sound of my mother's voice
and see it in the look of my mother's face
If I could teach adults to look upon
the world as children do;
playing in curiosity and discovering
the very beauty of - what is
If I could teach myself to love again
I'd look for it in the depths of my heart
I would learn to be brave enough
to share it with you tonight
If I could teach the world how to love
I would take orphaned children
and protect and nurture them
in my vacant womb
If I could I would teach the world that man
is my brother and woman is my sister
I would teach that loyalty is rooted in unity
that together we can coexist in hope
If I could I would teach the world
that labia are not meant to be sewn
clitorises not meant to be cut and
honor not meant to be taught with showers of acid
on a young bride's face
If I could I would teach man
that an act of violence upon my sister
is an act of violence upon me and
I refuse to be the subject of that violence any longer
If I could I would teach the world
that the blood coursing through my veins
also runs through the veins of the children of the Diaspora
and that I see Haiti when I look into the mirror
If I could teach the world empathy
I would ask that we not look upon our lives in woe
But instead see the power bestowed upon us
to aid the world in change
If I could I would teach the world
that every moment, good or bad
has brought you here; to this very place
to share in this unique moment
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Mujeres Latinas Somos
Mujeres Latinas Somos
we are of the earth, brown and rich
ever connected to our roots
we give birth to humanity
our bodies grow like the limbs of a tree
ready to embrace the world
history is written into the lines
of our faces; our eyes tell the stories
of the past, we are our mothers
we are our daughters, we are the
women warriors of our ancestry
strength is in our blood
Mujeres Latinas Somos
we are the water, Yemaya
embraces and cleanses us
in her familial waves, teaching us
the rituals of motherhood
guiding us as we guide our young
Our mothers, once daughters
Our daughters, soon mothers
the cycle of life keeps to the
beat beat beat - beat beat of our hearts
their spirits urging us forward
Mujeres Latinas Somos
we are of pride and knowledge
we feel with our minds and
think with our hearts; we are strong
and sensitive at our cores; we defend
and protect
We are of iron, withstanding
the abuses of our society
we continue to raise our
fatherless sons practiced in
the fine art of patience and love
Mujeres Latinas Somos
we are of work; knowing the
the burdens of the domestic
we take flight from our parents
and create new traditions
We
are of art and poetry
We
are of song and dance
We
are of culture and pride
Mujeres Latinas Somos
we are of the earth, brown and rich
ever connected to our roots
we give birth to humanity
our bodies grow like the limbs of a tree
ready to embrace the world
history is written into the lines
of our faces; our eyes tell the stories
of the past, we are our mothers
we are our daughters, we are the
women warriors of our ancestry
strength is in our blood
Mujeres Latinas Somos
we are the water, Yemaya
embraces and cleanses us
in her familial waves, teaching us
the rituals of motherhood
guiding us as we guide our young
Our mothers, once daughters
Our daughters, soon mothers
the cycle of life keeps to the
beat beat beat - beat beat of our hearts
their spirits urging us forward
Mujeres Latinas Somos
we are of pride and knowledge
we feel with our minds and
think with our hearts; we are strong
and sensitive at our cores; we defend
and protect
We are of iron, withstanding
the abuses of our society
we continue to raise our
fatherless sons practiced in
the fine art of patience and love
Mujeres Latinas Somos
we are of work; knowing the
the burdens of the domestic
we take flight from our parents
and create new traditions
We
are of art and poetry
We
are of song and dance
We
are of culture and pride
Mujeres Latinas Somos
Nuyorican Tales
Kan kan kan kan-kan…
My heart beats to the rhythm of the clave
Caribbean sun-kissed skin
Mi piel… café con leche
Evidence of a tainted ancestry
Coffee bean colored…
These are the eyes of my mother
Raised by the Bronx
Musing on medleys of salsa
Pouring Celia, Hector, Frankie &Ruben
From apartment windows
Inspiring spontaneous song and dance
From locals watching games of domino
On city sidewalks
Childhood memories of the syrupy sweet
Tamarindo piraguags and
Playing in pompas to cool down
On heat drenched summer city days
We eagerly anticipated the
Puerto Rican Day Parade
With our banderas held high
We shouted WEEEEPPPPPAAAAA
Que Viva Puerto Rico
Isla Del Encanto
Amor de mi alma
Never questioning whether our pride
Was innate or instilled
We were raised to love all of who were are
Mamí didn’t tolerate ignorance
Our bodies fed on strict diets of
pernil, arroz con gandules y yuca
Barrio frituras – alcapurias y bacalitos
Jugo de Guayaba in Goya cans
Christmas meant pastels y arroz con dulce
An extra present for leaving grass under your bed
Para los Reyes Magos
Annual pilgrimages to Borinquen
Island of my mother’s birth
Island of my soul’s content
A moment to become one with
Con nuestras raices cultural
Schoolgirl choruses of
Alegre vengo de la motaña
De mi cabaña que alegre esta
Y a mis amigos les traigo flores
De las mejores de mi rosal
We sang bright eyed and hopeful
Looking forward time spent
With Mamî Panchita, Tios
Titis y mis primo hermanos
I miss my grandmother’s eyes
Knowing Papito Kique from
Old tales y Mama Chonga a testament
To an ancestry rooted in slavery
A return to New York City
Nueva York where school buildings
Are named after Julia de Burgos,
Tito Puente y Felisa Rincón de Gautier
And we hang images of Don Pedro
Albizu Campos in our homes
We were fluent in Spanglish
Raised on a mixed bag of
Grease, Gone With the Wind and Marry Poppins
El Chavo del Ocho and watched Iris Chacón
shake her cadera on television
Este orgullo born in me
Rooted in my mother's journey
Grounded in a New York's cement
Spiritually bound to my ancestors
Divine inspiration, I pen my history
This is my story
A tales of two cultures
Two countries, two languages
One idenity, one Nuyorican
One me
My heart beats to the rhythm of the clave
Caribbean sun-kissed skin
Mi piel… café con leche
Evidence of a tainted ancestry
Coffee bean colored…
These are the eyes of my mother
Raised by the Bronx
Musing on medleys of salsa
Pouring Celia, Hector, Frankie &Ruben
From apartment windows
Inspiring spontaneous song and dance
From locals watching games of domino
On city sidewalks
Childhood memories of the syrupy sweet
Tamarindo piraguags and
Playing in pompas to cool down
On heat drenched summer city days
We eagerly anticipated the
Puerto Rican Day Parade
With our banderas held high
We shouted WEEEEPPPPPAAAAA
Que Viva Puerto Rico
Isla Del Encanto
Amor de mi alma
Never questioning whether our pride
Was innate or instilled
We were raised to love all of who were are
Mamí didn’t tolerate ignorance
Our bodies fed on strict diets of
pernil, arroz con gandules y yuca
Barrio frituras – alcapurias y bacalitos
Jugo de Guayaba in Goya cans
Christmas meant pastels y arroz con dulce
An extra present for leaving grass under your bed
Para los Reyes Magos
Annual pilgrimages to Borinquen
Island of my mother’s birth
Island of my soul’s content
A moment to become one with
Con nuestras raices cultural
Schoolgirl choruses of
Alegre vengo de la motaña
De mi cabaña que alegre esta
Y a mis amigos les traigo flores
De las mejores de mi rosal
We sang bright eyed and hopeful
Looking forward time spent
With Mamî Panchita, Tios
Titis y mis primo hermanos
I miss my grandmother’s eyes
Knowing Papito Kique from
Old tales y Mama Chonga a testament
To an ancestry rooted in slavery
A return to New York City
Nueva York where school buildings
Are named after Julia de Burgos,
Tito Puente y Felisa Rincón de Gautier
And we hang images of Don Pedro
Albizu Campos in our homes
We were fluent in Spanglish
Raised on a mixed bag of
Grease, Gone With the Wind and Marry Poppins
El Chavo del Ocho and watched Iris Chacón
shake her cadera on television
Este orgullo born in me
Rooted in my mother's journey
Grounded in a New York's cement
Spiritually bound to my ancestors
Divine inspiration, I pen my history
This is my story
A tales of two cultures
Two countries, two languages
One idenity, one Nuyorican
One me
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