He will be missed (in memory of Tiny)

He was the middle one, in our gang of three
There was Ronnie, Lawrence and third was me.
From early on, trouble we were
just ask Sis, we tried burning her.
I was to young to remember that time
Mom tells it well, and how she made us three whine.
I do remember some times we had
like the brothers three; at the lake with dad.
I hope dad greets you, when you arrive
then you'll both have love by your side.
Lawrence will be missed by more then me
He was loved by more, then just family!
I remember too when I got shot
The gun in his hands, believe it or not.
he dropped the gun, and off he ran
Because I'd kick his ass, and you know I can.
Yes dear brother, we had some times
So in your honor, I write these rhymes.
I will miss you, truly I will
Tho sometimes we fought, I loved you still!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

dedicated in honor of my brother who passed away at 9:42 am on 01/01/2013
Goodbye Tiny...

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Noah's Ark

La familia

Noah's Ark


There will always be men
For years they've come & gone
Father figures, lovers, friends
Never there for long

Then God blessed me with you
Knowing that I was in need
Of your smile & slanted eyes
& humor of new breed


There will always be men
Cousins, nephews, older brothers
But none could ever be
What we are for each other

Hence God blessed me with you
Knowing the pain in my heart
He created you in his image
So I could find refuge in your ark


There will always be men
Lessons, regrets & mistakes
But you're there when I close my eyes
& greet me when I wake

So I know God blessed me with you
Knowing that in the end,
I'll always be your big sister
And you: my best friend

Author's Notes/Comments: 

To the boy who's man enough to complete my day with a simple look & doesn't even realize it. I love you my little darling.

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Daniela; Your Quinceañera Poem

Every now and then a princess is born,
with time the princess becomes a Queen
of hearts.
She grows into a beautiful woman, who
is desired by many, but she only gives her
heart to those trustworthy of her love.
She is more than a friend, and will be there
for her loved ones, when they need her the
She is gentle, humble, and full of joy. When
she cries, her tears are diamonds that shine
Her passion for life is full with family memories,
which she will always cherish.
She is more beautiful than the stars above,
her smile is radiant like the sun, and gentle like
the moon.
Her ambition is to succeed, take care of her
family, and enjoy every moment she spends
with friends.
The princess I know, is becoming a Queen, she
took my heart the minute I saw her.
I am blessed to say that this young lady is my
family, my dearest cousin, which I love from the
bottom of my heart and miss daily.
She is in my thoughts everyday, I wish I could
be there with you my dear, hold you close and
tell how much I love you and how proud I am
to have met you, and say...
"That beautiful lady you see there, she's the
Queen of my heart and everyone else in our
Today the princess that was born 15 years ago,
is becoming a Queen...becoming a young woman!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

For my cousin Daniela Merino!

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The process of up Growing up without a Father

Cold nights, stary skies
Tears flow with unanswered cries
It hurts to watch everyone else
through there daddys eyes when mine is gone

I am lost in the process of growing up
beacuse I want to be daddys little girl

He left with no answers
Not even a hi or goodbye
Mommas love was a lot
but nothing can fill the love of a Father

I am lost in the process of growing up
because I am left in the pass

LUllabys and music notes can take away my pain
but not forevermore, not eternally because thats
what growing up without a father dose.
Everthing sooths the pain for a little
but when Im alone the tears start to flow

I am lost in the process of growing up
beacuse I am alone

I think about all the things that you will miss out on
and all the things that I have missed out on
because you walked out the door
BUt I relize that everything is going to be okay
because I am not alone
I am not in the pass
and I may not be daddys little girl but
I am mommys little girl and
shes helping me threw
the process of growing up

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote this poem to get my feelings out, about how it was growing up without a father.

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Wake UP!

Wake Up! Wake UP! No more sleeping in bed
Little Peter is crying he needs to be fed

Angie is failing she can’t even read
This problem exists because she is poor- that’s what her teacher now believes

We are failing our children while we lie asleep
Our family structure is failing and is proven to be weak.

Wake Up! Wake Up! Mother while Peter is being raped
By the same man you love and claim it’s you that he dates

Wake! Wake Up! Dad your daughter is growing old
She needs a man in her life – so she sleeps with the addict who treats her cold…

Wake Up mom and dad no more thinking about you
But instead of our children whose thoughts are misconstrued

The alarm clock has gone off- No more sleeping in bed
Let’s save the children we have left
‘Cause half of our children are already dead.

Wake Up!!!!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Wake up is a powerful piece screaming the needs of some of our children. Wake up has been described as the perfect wake up call for those caring for children. It is a great gift for someone in the social services field; teachers or any persons providing the needs of our children

her family, her sky

she was looking at the sky
looking at the bright spot
thought will get what she lost

but she was inside the thin paper wall
can only talk to wood and chalk


in colorless of this colorful world
trying to pretend , says that's her

in the streets
just a few meter away
life was blowing
which could fill her thirsty heart


remembered a stories that she knows
forgot her own part

her feelings drained from deep to above
and here they came, pain of her life
" you smutty, where are you looking?
stopping wasting time"

with anger and tear on her eyes
she fired up and threw it all out
" your relative,
not your property
you love money ,not me
so go, get lost and leave me "


"oh dear! listen to us"
my ambitious, my interest
whatever i wanted you took all
you converted all into hatred energy
and now you are saying

Author's Notes/Comments: 

story of a girl who live with her relatives

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The not so meaningless soccer jersey

There has not been a Sunday in Veracruz in which I have missed a soccer match of the local team, our beloved local team… I’ve been to almost every game since I have use of memory and me and my uncle wouldn’t change a soccer afternoon for anything. I may have lost one or two games, but not him, not him and his old and red jersey of our team, well it’s supposed to be red but not anymore after a million washes. That jersey may have witness an enormous mixture of feelings, no matter if it is happiness or sadness it has been always there. It’s impressive how he can forget everything, his cellphone, the keys or even his wallet but not this “meaningless” old jersey, his most beloved possession. I wouldn’t have understood the meaning of a team or the love for the colors if it wasn’t because this shirt. Behind it, there is not only the mixture of feelings, happiness and tears , but now, a new full story about a love for a team, which was the only thing he would have cared about, someone who may take the jersey to the stadium with another purpose, with commitment. I’ve seen many soccer fans, many people who may not have money for eating but they may have for a match ticket and many other situations, but this is not only a passion or behavior, it is a way of life. A way of life that he has transmitted me, not even to his sons, neither to his friends but to me, to his “grandson”. I didn’t have the opportunity to know my actual grandfather, but he is even more than that and that is the most valuable thing he have taught me, this unique and commit way of life and now I’ve understood what he wanted me to learn. I’m sure he was not willing to make me support his team which for me is impossible there is no team like ours, but the real meaning of commitment and desire. The true way to enjoy sports but the most important one, to learn how to enjoy the things you love with someone you love. This may be a very general “try” of the meaning of this shirt, and there it is still hanging in his closet and beside it, all those new ones that everyone has given to him getting old because he will never use them, only that red meaningless jersey…

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Windows to reality

Every two or three days I used to see them, that couple of flattened squares of him. Summer or winter, no matter, he always wear those little windows to reality over his nose. With them he saw beautiful wonders, but he faced bad and sad things, too. Two distinct elements fused as one single. That’s the story of my uncle Ruben and his loved aviator sunglasses. He used them since I have memory. It seems like he always had them. It seems like always been there, over his nose. As inseparable friends, it was impossible to think of my uncle without thinking in their sunglasses or vice versa. Every birthday, every Christmas, in all the celebrations my uncle’s sunglasses were present. Those sunglasses were here, were there, as watching us, as part of the family. In the golden anniversary of my grandparents the sunglasses observed us from the pocket of my uncle´s shirt. Indeed, the shirt´s pocket was the second favorite place of them. When they weren’t in the pocket is because they were protecting my uncle’s eyes, covering them. This pair of sunglasses has accompanied me on many special moments. My uncle took them every one of my birthdays. I still remember that time when he even gave me a pair of sunglasses. A pair of aviator style sunglasses. That present was my way of be connected in a very new way to my uncle. I used them daily; I used it until it broke (yes, that was sad). Those sunglasses were part of my uncle, and my uncle was part of the sunglasses. Guess, who was the perfect companion for my uncle, for family roasts in sunny days? Yes, that metal frame with little windows similar to fly eyes. Roasting beef, preparing paella, playing soccer or monopoly, the normal fact is to see my uncle Ruben with sunglasses. But his favorite situation for use them is in every poker play. As he says ¨Excellent glasses for an excellent player¨, and there we had a poker face for all the game. He has lost his glasses only a few times. However, he always recovers them. Years have passed and my uncle´s enjoyment for their aviator sunglasses is not gone. It seems that it has become more jealous of their tradition of carrying with him that accessory to cover his eyes. Undoubtedly, the sunglasses are part of my uncle’s personality and all other people associate it with him. For this and more, those sunglasses are one of the most prized possessions of my uncle Ruben.

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My father's books.

My father's books

If there is one memory that I will always have of my father, it is the one of him reading a book; he will read at all times: during the day, at night, while traveling or even during vacations. Before breakfast, he reads his book placed in a chair at the side of the dining table, before sleeping, the one located at his side, in a night table by the bed. He does not have a favorite topic; he will read whatever he enjoys and finds interesting at the moment. I will never forget the "Angels" phase, during which he, not being religious or spiritual at all, decided he wanted to learn everything about them. Or the philosophical phase, during which he discussed what he was learning every morning at breakfast (In my opinion, 7 am is not the proper time to be philosophical); the Marx phase, or the children's classics phase (when he ruined all the Disney stories for me). Or the Machiavelli phase, the Poe phase, the classical name it; I think we've been through every phase you can imagine. You see, my father loves books; he has loved them since he was a child, and he has tried to foster our love for them as well. Every week, when Sunday came, my brothers and I did not get an allowance, instead, we were taken to one of the many bookstores here in Monterrey, to pick up any book that we liked; so ever since I can remember, books and stories have surrounded me. Although I did not dislike the fact that I had books instead of money, now, in retrospect, I think that I did not appreciate and value it that much at the moment. The perseverance gained with the habit of reading at such a young age has influenced my life tremendously; and my father's constant desire to always be learning something new and different still amazes me. But the most important thing that he gave me, and that for which I will be forever grateful, is the opportunity to experience the feelings that only a good book can give you; something that everyone should have in their life. If it were not for him, I would have never gotten to know my favorite books and authors. Clearly, reading the amount of books he has is an outstanding challenge, but as long as I live I will keep trying.

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