Song Lyrics

You can tell me, little girl
All your fears, you can tell me
Little girl, why your eyes
Fill with tears
You can tell me
Little girl, why you scream all night long
You can tell me
Little girl
Little girl
And I'll come help you fight
It's a far far trip from here
This place they call happiness
But if we try, we can get there
Little girl
Before they give away all the smiles
We'll get one for me
And two for you
And that'll be
Enough for we
Little girl...little girl

Only Fiction

man is not meant to be a god
which is why he can kill and not create
the power of death is a lie
intoxicating like wine
for a moment you are free
limitless, seamless,
but blood, like wine, wears off
until there is only death
that you cannot end, your power
is powerless and you hate it
it reminds you that you are worthless
fragile, you can fall apart
the poisoned apple has not made you divine
but maybe the next one will
to kill again will set you free
and so I do
I touch heaven as it turns into hell

The Numbers of US-for my grandparents' anniversary

The Greeks had 4 types of love
Yours, like most, started with 1 or 2
Then gradually grew to all
Necessary for the 60 years of you and he
21,900 days of unity
2 lives turned into 29
9 children became 14—
Grandchildren, resulted in 6—
Great-grandchildren
Equals the sum of
A love story begun
6 decades ago
Off the coast
Of 1 continent away
On a 2-island nation
Population 636,000, as of 1950
Funny, that he should find she
That these 2 became 1
Under the Trinity of Holy Ghost, Father, Son—
Granter of innumerable blessings
To bear this pair from day 1 to eternity.

We're not as related as before, you and me
I am a synthesis of multiple ethnicities
From the way that I walk
To the way that I talk
You are my brother--
Down to the very last strand
Of your DNA
But I am mixed, and you are not
For eight years we shared a classroom
Sometimes a bedroom, the experiences
Of our trans-cultural childhood—
The stories of our heritage.
Then you forgot.
The foods, you grew to dislike.
The mother/father lands, you didn't know.
I am not American, and I am,
But you always are.
You have been this and then that
While I am always those and these
"I am Mexican," you might say
"I am not just," I would think
"Don't you remember," I might ask
"Remember what?" you would answer
That Tamar of Genesis is our mother
And Judah is our father
That our great-step-grandmother was a Trini witch
That Zapata was our comrade
That your blood is European, your skin Indian
While your hair is French, your eyes Chinese
"I am me" you would say
Not wanting to be taken apart
"And I am me, but these are us, "I would know
Liking the pieces
"We’re just brown," you'd say
"Not just," I'd answer.
Which is why we are less related now
Than then
Because I am mixed
And you are not.

Mixed Girls

Trace my skin:
White and black and brown—
Indescribable, I am all the colors in between.

Look in my eyes:
Slanted, big and small—
They’re all the shapes of round.

Feel my hair:
It’s curly, kinky, nappy
Sleek and straight and soft.

Kiss my lips:
Full and wide, small and thin.

Run your hands—
Down the sides of my pear-shaped,
Hourglass, will-o’-the-wisp hips.

I am tall and short, old and young
Beautiful in my own way.

Wrap me in your arms
Embrace the history
Of the seven continents of me.

Don’t ask—
Don’t let the details matter.
For now, just let it be me and you.

I have written a picture of me
In ballpoint black and blue
I have typed it in Calibri
And shown the world and you
These are things I will not say
Things I know are true
That I will deny every day

Thou shall not lie, I think
But I am not strong enough to do
I will make confessions in ink
On pages white and new
Reflections clearer than glass
Forgiveness, God, I ask of you
Please hear my silent mass

The shame isn’t mine alone
Or the nakedness I might bare
A better, could silence hone
My weakness makes me share
Though strength lets me hide
I beg, appease the guilt I fear
In no one else can I confide

Excuses are not cared for
But I’m broken as you know
Healed by your blood and more
Not whole, I still must grow
I’m a ways from perfect ten
A writer, waiting for the Word to show
In Jesus’ name, Amen

Role Reversal

I don’t want to hear your secret thoughts,
And I do.

Every piece of you,
Will cost a piece of me.

I have enough to spare,
But then no more.

Just seeing you,
Is taking more than that.

You must understand,
We never can go back.

It should be my decision,
I have more to lose.

You can’t see it,
But I’ve given you the choice.

You don’t know it,
Or you never would have asked.

It’s better,
If I know you didn’t know.

I can still love you,
If I can feel it this way.

Silly, I will always love you,
Even if you knew.

You have always loved me,
When I was you.

Tops

spin
spinning
spun
the top keeps its rotation
not of its own volition
poor top,
somebody set it in motion
and has yet to say stop
gravity will intervene
the top will careen
up or down
into the nearest object
scraping it brightly painted sides.
that somebody,
who began its circulation,
will put it away,
a chipped and damaged toy
better left on the shelf--
collected
than on the ground rejected
spin
spinning
spun

The Conclusion

They were talking, not understanding

Going through motions long rehearsed

The words had lost their meaning

But not their function

Love is a thousand actions

But a thousand actions are not love

She said she was just tired

And he said they had seen better days

But all the days led to this one

And this one came a hundred times

Duty-bound--

The last three decades had been slow

Slow enough for her to see

Slow enough for him to know

He was not the man she chose

And she was not the woman—

Who chose him

Details, easy to ignore

Between driving children to school

And picking them up after sports

Gone now and only the sound,

The necessity of conversation left

Her kisses cold with irrelevance

His-- hot with remembrance

Together lukewarm--

From bliss born of ignorance

I Am Mixed

Multicultural, biracial, mixed, mestiza
Ethnicity, ethnocentric, anomaly
Race, culture, identity
Your blood mixed with mine
The historiography of my parents' sexuality
The power play between two shades of brown
Descriptions, constructions, definitions—

I am not a conglomeration of labels
Races put on like cloaks
Stripped down into stereotypes
Condensed for people who are not me.
Not just two halves of what you can’t see
You want to know me?
Then ask.

I am the only one with eyes that see this view
You don’t know what my hands can do
Your heart has never loved who I loved
Your brain never thought the thoughts I think
Your feet don’t plod the path I trod.

I am multidimensional, multi-intentional, multi-generational
So much more than multiracial
Yes, my blood is multinational
It may be rich but it’s still red
So much more than a statistic
Of colored people who shared a bed.