He will answer...

For the victims of the Connecticut school shooting. All of my heart and prayers. 

Dear Santa

A common conversation starter

Around December

As carols are sung

And little angels scribe dreams

On lined paper

To someone they’ll never admit

They put right next to God

As they address heartfelt wishes

But we live in world

That intercepts Santa

By mixing up Christmas with the dates of Manson murders

Because the sicknesses

Have only become mental

Killing the world

 the black plague of imaginations

We are plagued

With those who believe

That our children deserve to see

Deathbeds before bunk beds

We are plagued

With fathers who believe that bullets

Are the only way to get to a child’s heart

We are plagued

With unanswered Santa letters

Or were they letters to God?

Because the purity of heart and mind

The innocence is being eaten alive

By insanity

Instilled in adult psyche

We have laid to rest Roosevelts and Kennedys

Voices that could’ve colored black and white

We have laid to rest common ground

Because with each lost dimple and dance on tiptoes

We have laid to rest life

Mothers who will never dress daughters

Daughters who will never steal lipstick from mothers

Fathers who will never play pigskin in the park

And sons who will throw to themselves

As more puzzle pieces disappear

Till the big picture is full of holes

And adults don’t write Christmas letters

Because all they can think to do is argue

Over the root of the situation

The left

And the right

Is it really worth the fight?

Because when it comes down to it

The only thing we’ve gained

Is loss

Children who will never floss

The two front teeth they wanted

As they watch a red Christmas

Instead of the white they’ve dreamed

Because Red is the only color that can comprehend to be seen

As their families decorate trees an empty green

Kicking themselves for kisses

They didn’t give on Friday morning

And never knowing Christmas spirit again

Because it will only be an

Anniversary

A Red Christmas

Cruel reality

And those little angels

Will meet the man they’ve been writing letters to

Long before they were meant to

And he will answer.

Lovelines

an original song

I wanna walk on your tightrope
without bringing your down
I wanna jump all the stories
without seeing the ground
and I could be your shadow
you'd never know I'm there
but I want you to want me
to be more than your air
'Cause I wanna be in every pocket, every dime store locket
of your mind
'cause I wanna be
the girl who keeps you taking your time
'cause I wanna be
yours and mine
not just a state of mind
I wanna color inside your lovelines
I can see it in you
your tragic tendencies
baby, you don't know me
I've sailed ever sea
though your heart may be freezing
chattering teeth
I'll be right beside you
with heart handled heat
'Cause I wanna be in every pocket, every dime store locket
of your mind
I wanna be
the girl who keeps you taking your time
I wanna be
yours and mine
not just a state of mind
I wanna color inside your lovelines
and I've never known love like candied apples or carnivals in fall
I've never known love like holding hands
or anything at all
I've only known love like
empty promises
and unanswered calls
hurting through it all
But you already are in every pocket, every dime store locket of my mind
you are the boy
who keeps me taking my time
you are every single state of mind
you are the color inside my lovelines
you are the color inside my lovelines*

For real this time.

I am lingering on a kiss

In an attempt to seem less teenage

Because in moments like this

My old soul and my young heart

Get tangled

Tripping each other

Coinciding power lines and lightning strikes

And I have lost service

Because with every daydream

I am rendered disconnected

Because my eyes paint themselves glassy

Unopened windows

Where anyone who might peer in

Can see a frenzy of feeling

Played in concertos

Of Chicago street choruses and

the faint swing of the zipper on your leather jacket

as it accompanies each move you make

because your hands began to paint me

extremeties covered in compliments I swore I’d never hear

as you hand crafted each description of me

and spelled it out letter by letter

My heart had its first birthday

As it began to grow with each new hope

That we could entwine fingers

like stitches

keeping everything together

and I was over joyed in that brief second

when we laughed because

you finally got to bite my bottom lip

like you’d dreamed about over morning coffee

and in that moment I realized

that your eyes were glazed like mine

I looked into windows

That were tinted the same shade

And I had to contain the fireworks

To make them a small burst

Because my soul and my heart had argued

Until the moment you kissed me

And reckless abandon

Had a nice ring to it

Your arms

Had space just for me

And your eyes

Could only take polaroids of my posture

Stars spoke sonnets in my ear

and your fingers drew constellations between shoulder blades

I lost and found myself 

in one brief existence of forever

as time proved its brevity

and I found myself writing love poetry

for real this time

because in a situation like this

I could over-metaphor a kiss

or I could simply state this

I found home in your smile

and peace when we were chest to chest

you held me like a rag doll you'd kept since you were a child

precious

for the first time in my life

 And I never wanted to leave**

What's In a Name?

My name is Gabriela Esperanza Yolanda Guajardo

Syllables proudly scrawled on scholarship applications

As my parents claimed they did it on purpose

Because they knew that someday I’d need to be Hispanic and poor

So that colleges would knock down my door

Claiming to help the quote-unquote “underprivileged youth”

Expecting to interview a girl with drawn on eyebrows and a bedazzled tooth

The best place to use the word uncouth

Because yes

Latina blood runs through my veins thick like fresh tomato chunked salsa

I am spicy like the jalapenos that stains nose hairs

Because potency is something I’ll never be bad at

I can remember Christmas tamales and Linda Ronstadt records

As I’d pretend I was full enough to cry to the moon the way she did

I was a Selena kid, what can I say?

I’d do the washing machine like my hips were made for the spin

And sing “Ay ay ay Como me duele”

Repeating lines like rosary prayers I never learned

Busty-caca-delamente! It’s a bra!

I suck at buying pants

Because much like Jennifer Lopez in Selena

This ass isn’t fake

People often mistake me

For a Kardashian from behind

My curves leave them blind

Because they can’t find an answer

Because my paperwork claims that I

Am a Spanish Queen of the desert

Wearing red and waving fans

Dancing flamenco like I was born in solea

Being raised on beans and tortillas

And born with two tongues

All the while

I am a redheaded white girl

I love Taylor Swift and chai tea

I read Ginsberg and write poetry

I wear converse shoes

And have barely built up enough a tolerance for green chile

I can’t dance

And beans are still a very musical fruit to me

I am latina but it’s not all I can be

Because I believe that my culture

Is me

A culture of my own

GiGi

I didn’t change my name because I was ashamed

Because I wear Angel of Hope like a creed

Tattooed on my heart

I changed my name because in those four letters

I am art

I am the best picture in the year 1958

I am whoever I create

Gabriela as my soul

GiGi as my fate

I am disappointed

In my lack of culture

As teachers call roll and expect me to answer in Spanish

Looking like ghosts when I raise my hand and claim my name

Wearing regular clothes and pink berets

I am no different

Yet I am glared at by bandana brothers

Who are sure I don’t deserve to wield heritage when I know nothing about it

Yet they were not there

On Saturday mornings

When the smell of oil and potatoes hit the pan

And my Granny

Would throw hot dogs in

Saying that this is what a real Mexicano eats

Because they were not there

When I explained to fourth grade friends

About Ninas and Ninos

And Uncle Nono

And how long it took me to keep them all straight

Because although I am not a Garcia or a Martinez

As common as Smith

I know this

My heart is Burquena at least

Though I laugh at Lynette

I know that I’ve called every soda Coke at one point and time

I know I always have a Burque state of mind

Because I may not go to every Lobos game or sing the national anthem for isotopes fame

But I am Gabriela Esperanza Yolanda Guajardo

And a person is not a name**

All in the Timing

A poem for the cast of the freshmen showcase. You guys rock. 

It's all in the timing
a foreign concept
bereft. unkempt
until I realize that I haven't stopped
since Coyocan in August
Because I am a creature of no change
I am a bell ringer
changing futures
and asking for the opposite
because I am constantly repeating myself
typing with my toes
shitting on Malboros
because I haven't figured it out yet
that life is not a sure thing
and I won't know the day I die
though I won't cry
I will live for 2 am Entenmann's crumb cake
I will live for someplace
I will live for loving someone once
and never forgetting
because you live every day
with an axe in your head
clouding your mind
so you can't think to stop
the nasturtiums are very beautiful today
the paradise is just a classic away
and even though you might miss
Casablanca and a desk and books
it'll be because you never looked
because life is about
fre faling & fynding iff heven waitz
Geronimo
or you'll be late for fate
because everybody has to be someplace
De anda
De palma
on the door handle
to the rest of our lives
whether you're buying bread
or you're a political figure's wife
life is timing
timing is life
and heven waitz
so just take your time*

the children raise the village.

I am worried about my little sister

With each miniature push-up bra

I see her tuck into her mahogany drawers

I am worried

With each brush stroke

That shadows eyes

And hides lips from their innocence

I am worried

With each facebook comment

From eighth grade hormones

Boys playing out her picture

Like filthy magazines

They stole from dad and hid under their boxspring

I am worried

For the world she will grow up in

They say it takes a village to raise a child

But now our children raise our villages

As they pick them up

From underneath

As they’ve rooted anguish deep

And suddenly tables are turned

As brother and sister sit at the head

And mom and dad fight over green beans

The children cry out

As their parents tune out

And their only solution is

To let their friends outsource love like it’s a drug

Selling a hug for a blowjob behind the portables after school

Because this is what love means to them

Because attention is a hot commodity

So they sell it like smuggled imports

Staining white fabric and hoping that they

Can fix futures with Clorox bleach pens

But they’re too young to know that it doesn’t work that way

That if you do something because it feels good

Then end up raising a child while you are still a child

The children raise the village

That if you do something because it feels good

And you end up with elephant imagery

As a large trunk pumps your stomach

Because your time on earth just went backwards

The children raise the village

That if you do something because it feels good

And put down that little girl by telling her she’s ugly

By telling her to go die

As she sits lonely at lunch time in libraries

The children raise the village

Because the village gives up

Because the village is corrupt with self-taught hatred

We will not stand for anxiety

That our children will create suicidal holocausts

Because we must dig them out from the wet ground

Like malformed seeds

We must tend to the garden and stamp out weeds

We must water the children with love that feeds

We must begin to raise the children again

Before they raise us.

I. Regular.

I have always been a side street away from normal

But I never knew it as a condition

Until the day the doctor’s clipboard

Labeled me like a prescription I didn’t ask for

Plastic bracelets slapped on wrists too many times to count

Reminding me of my own name in case I forget

In one of those small moments where my internal rhythm is absent

Because this seemed like a sentence to life on death row

Because it started with ‘no more caffeinated drinks or sleeping late’

And ended with bloody self portraits while just trying to get ready for school

My heart is romantic without being logical

Skips steps one through five

And goes to straight to six to get my fix of emotional ecstasy

Because it believes in romantic comedies

And Gyllenhall fantasies

And skips one beat

My heart is an army general

Ordering drum lines to play empty cadences

Because I feign for peace leaf victory

But skip the battle

If the other man knocked me down I’d stay on the ground

Because my heart is peaceful sound

And skips two beats

My heart is suicidal each time it cuts me from the inside

Because it won’t let me be normal for two seconds

And it fulfills the duties on its job application

By reminding me of feelings wasted

Each time it skips a beat

Irregular

i.                     Regular.

Ireg. Ular.

Me .

I live in this obscenity

With a heart that takes control of me

Until I finally found the beauty

My heart is a notebook filled with unlined paper

 and my blood beats through each line; an aortic rhythm.

 I am poet. Check my cardiology.

Because in each kilamanjaro line

You’ll only find

That I exist on irregular beats

That my flow comes from inside of me

Inward cardiology

That without irregularity

My rhymes would be common time

Because I possess a poet’s heartbeat

And beauty comes from

I.                    Regularity.

Queen.

I am the queen of the friend zone

I am Watts from Some Kind of Wonderful

I am Goofy to Mickey and Minnie Mouse

I am Duckie Dale to Andie Walsh

(that’s from Pretty in Pink, by the way, and if you haven’t seen it you’re a certifiable shithead)

And I only know that reference because

I spend my weekends on dates

With Jake Ryan, Lloyd Dobbler, and Ferris Bueller

I am the kind of girl who’s a great listener

But not in the Labrador dog kind of way

I’ll memorize everything about you

From your traumatic 5^th grade hair cutting incident

To the pattern of your lucky boxers

And at the end of the conversation

I’ll go in for a big hug and

You’ll punch me in the arm

And say

Thanks friend, you’re so great friend, I’m so glad I have I have friend like you, friend

And then I’ll jump on my bed re-enacting Taylor Swift’s music video for you belong with me

I’ll watch Titanic in 3D

I’ll have a threesome with Ben & Jerry

And then I’ll go back again tomorrow

Even though

You’ve highlighted my name

In my neon yellow shame

As “the friend”

Because you have defined me just like Lizzie McGuire defined Gordo

You have defined me like a cat in a dog show

Because to you I am

The girl who pays for your food, tells you you’re rude

Practically dresses you and acts like a dude

And yet you strategically pigeon hole

And look right past me toward a false goal

You can kick that soccer ball but honey

You’re kicking it to the wrong team

Because she is way out of your league

And so am I

Even though you see me as a bro

I don’t want to fart with you, ok?

That’s never been fun to me

I hate playing Halo

Because I have to concentrate

And sometimes I feel like

You’re the one who menstruates

Because your male-pattern mood swings

Drive me up the wall

Because I could name each girl by complaint

I’ve heard it all

Because you don’t even see how much I tolerate

Each time you verbally masturbate

By saying the same thing over and over and over again

Because it makes YOU feel good

Newsflash! The rest of us just think you’re disgusting

Because you refuse to let it go

And look at what’s right in front of you

I may not be boobless blondie

But try, for once, to see what I can be

Because I have been loyal to you when you weren’t to me

If you read off my resume

You’d find a perfect compliment to your theory

And I as I run into your arms

While it rains

Under a sunset

In Puerto Rico

On a Wednesday

With the wind in our hair

And you’re a little taller than me

And your facial hair’s growing out

And you look a little more like Johnny Depp than usual

You’ll pick me up

And kiss me and we’ll run away happily

Despite the fact that

None of this can happen because before we even touch

A force field would knock me to the ground

Because I am locked out

By the friend zone

So I’ll be here on my own

And hope that you find some other pals to cry to

As for me, I’ve got a hot date with Anthony Michael Hall and a cannoli

And I’ll rule proudly from my throne

As you whine and you drone

And I’ll continue to spend Friday nights alone because honestly

I don’t know why I wanted to be with you in the first place.