MENSES

Guess I’m that kind of dyke
with the 1930’s curly cues
in 2013
sometimes slicked
dark, slippery
thoughts, down my noggin
talkin’ about my period.
Oh menses!
Me traes mensa
not like the geniuses either.
My body, the things you
do to it.
Each year, sharper with age
each childless year,
just one more reason to be
sharper, like RAGE.
My monthly drag
have me wrapped in herbs
warm wraps,
my midsection mummified,
have me stiff in bed
afraid of the cold,
afraid to be out
and about since that one time
…weak.
Had me driving like a cholo,
down the 110 South,
when you kicked me
in my gut.
I slouched down in my seat
grabbed my guts.
No better time to have them!
I kicked into control
my emotions
like ANGER
you blurred my vision
like heat on a road.
One hand on my guts
the other on the wheal
I navigated my vehicle
played it cool.
“Focus, stay in the moment,”
like with ANGER.
I cracked my window
the wind dried my brow
then I felt hot
my lips cracked
yet I shivered.
Cranked the heat up
Ahhhh
Breathed a little
cause my heart
you cranked that bitch up.
“Stay in the moment!”
Hair, my whiskers
shivered under my exhales
controlled the vehicle
looked down the road,
an exit
stop, coming up.
Almost there.
There there
my ovaries there
my throbbing vagina, there
the sweat, so much
sweat caught in my hair.
Gurgle, gurgle my guts
about to erupt.
So fucken confused.
Up my throat?
Down my butt?
Explosion…
pulled to the side of the road.
Woooo!
Woooo!
“Remember, it’s all perception”
I remind me
Calm
Feel
“What am I feeling?”
I lean over and dry heave
Calm
Feeling better.
Away,
I move on like ANGER.
I got you menses!
“You and I are right here,”
I arrive
You’re home
to find the bathroom in repair.
My face got paler
the old repair men
inch their way
OUT OF MY WAY!
She’s here, La Lupe
my menses
me traes como mensa.
All pasty my cheeks
so I wipe


my brow on my sleeve.
I feel tired
so I wipe
then flush and wash.
My clean hands guide
me to bed.
I crawl in breathing slowly
count to 10
like with ANGER
then I’m out in a cloud
of fatigue, passed out
from passing pain.
Severe, my ovaries
feeling nipple-clamped
my uterus feels grated
not sexy like
nails down my back.
My back, you get it all
tight- pinche corset!
Crisscrossed
muscles, nerves
my wires all crossed.
Assume the position!
Hands clasped.
Knees to my throat.
Eyes…tight, shut
down my system
in penance to you.
Lupe, my menses
bring me to my knees,
I am weak
with your force.
For you I bleed
but suffer no more
like ANGER
no more.
Oh, menses.

Bus Stop

It was hot outside, the air was thick with the kind of heat that warps roads when you look down them, the kind of heat that makes Las Doñas keep cool by balancing objects on top of their heads- they way they did back in their homelands. It was the kind of heat that makes peoples ignore two women holding each other, displaying their love publicly. But to me the heat was like a million pins piercing my skin. Your hair was up in two ponytails that said little girl inhibition but the Baby-T you were wearing framed your tetas with a deep smile and shouted out your lust with every inhale. At least that’s what my hunger heard. You caught my eyes buried in your cleavage and flirtatiously pressed your chest against me. Had you put your hands down my pants your fingers would’ve discovered that my pussy had already licked its lips in anticipation for yours. With one bite I injected my cravings for you into my bottom lip paralyzing my urges till we got home. We looked down the street to catch sight of the graffitied- ghetto chariot that would take us back to our apartment. Back to our bedroom- the trenches of our lovemaking, where we left a queen sized bead looking disemboweled, the linens strewn about like flaccid limbs and some red, lacy, sticky underwear speckling the floor.

When finally saw it coming, our chariot, and our hearts like our clits did a big flip with joy. We saw its bug and dirt smeared eyes full of desperation as it struggled to make it over the hump in the road. It stopped before us and let out a drawn out wheeze from its tires and engine as if it understood the sadness, tiredness, hunger, frustration and now our yearning, it carried in its entrails. We clasped our fingers around each other’s so we wouldn’t get separated on the battle to get on board as people pushed and shoved diving for available seats. I saw two free seats and headed straight for them. As I walked towards the back I hit my knee against some guy’s suitcase and tripped over a ladies bag of groceries sending her onions across the gummy floor of the bus. The lady looked at me with crinkled eyebrows that looked more like a writhing caterpillar, not until you came up behind me and picked up her onions dusting them off on your jeans did she flash a jagged coffee stained smile.
From the back of the bus, our shirts stuck to our backs with sweat, peoples heads bobbed back and forth as if they were jamming to the same tune inside their heads but really they were asleep- soothed by the bus rocking in the bumper to bumper traffic. You traced your finger over the palm of my hand silently weaving my love line and present line into a future line with you. I pressed my nose to your head and wished to be forever braided into your thoughts. It seemed like an entire day had gone by and even though globs of people spilled out at every stop more filed in and still our stop was nowhere in sight.

Finally arrived at our stop! We busted out of the double-doors and stretched out the stiffness in our joints like two lazy cats and walked home. But with each step our home seemed to be getting farther and farther away and my legs felt like I was dragging two wet mops. I couldn’t wait any longer and the packets of spit on the sides of my cheeks exploded flooding my mouth with the memory of being next to your naked body. So I took off running. I wanted to catch up to our house, to stop it from running away with our bed. You took off running after me, and the wind played Double-Dutch with your ponytails. I heard your tenny -shoes slapping the pavement behind me as I reached for the air in front of me with each stride. I pounced onto the front steps. Panting I dug in my pockets for the keys and got the door open. I wrapped my arms around you, pressed my sweat streaked face to yours and gave you a kiss that was more breathtaking than the sprint we had just completed. Within minutes we were naked, our clothes melted off with the heat of our craving for each other. We wrestled to our bed where we remained glued together for hours by the juices of our lovemaking. We fell asleep with our bodies throbbing with satisfaction and woke the next day with love bites tattooed over our breast, thighs and backs- sheltered in our bedroom.

Compton O.G.

How many words?
A thousand is what they say.
And what say you
this picture says?
Can you tell I’m listening?
Growing like Alice before your eyes?
My chest
limp
hot air balloon
gets bigger
each bag I drop.
ABANDONMENT,
CruTches,
don’t want to be lame.
Enough with the bottoming
coming on top
like an immigrant
Amalia.
Daughter of an immigrant
work till you lose
your home
your family
roots
humanity
self
Amelia
mind.
Work to get that flame
going higher
gets me higher
happy
deep as smile lines.

Epiphany
opening like a drawbridge
rusted with years
of tears
for fears
now rosebuds open in my chest
ideas pop like stys before my eyes
and I feel.
I feel it stinging
hangnail
and I feel.

I can say it all
I’m a Compton O.G
Oh GirL
Oh geez!
Orale Guey!
O.G.
from Compton
Original Genius
descendant from
the line of OG authors
from Compton
Oh Gosh!
Wait no descendants?
Def not as long a list
as the physically gifted
star ballers’
we’ve produce
I must ascend.

But you don’t see
all that
in this picture that’s worth
a thousand words.
Just dropped 192
still owe you…

Moving on
with the story
my life as a storyteller
constant theme.
Next season on Compton’s OG…
whatever I want
whatever
I want.

Do I ruin it all
for yall?
I
Compton’s OG.
Original Genius.

35 Capas

Me gano
Megalo…
Me gano
Megalo…
Me gano, mano
la tercera es la vencida.
So, hay les va!

Caducidad
deshacer con el desperdicio
como dead skin.
Como se dice?
35 capas
talla duro, raspa
esa capa
como coreana.
Convierte piel
liviana,
como se dice “rice paper”?
Resbalosa.
Brillosa
como recién nacida.
Talla!
Vuelve a nacer
a lo mas básico
1 + 1 son 2.
Talla!
Hay mas que pulir!
Pulir es vivir.
Todavía mas que borrar.
Pero como ARDE!
Te hace recordar
actos pasados…
toma DOS.
Te hace recordar
actos pasados disque pa borrar
el pasado.
Tacón
como rompehielos
rompe piel
cercas de mis costillas
siento escurrir
un chorrito de sangre.
Despacito
como la verdad revelada.
Pero nada revela
carne blanca
como unos chicotazos.
RAPIDOS!
Dejando sus huellas calientes
como un cerillo.
Rápidos, como le vida de un cerillo.
1- chicotazo
2- chicotazos
3- para encender mi espalda
No me estorbes
mis pensamientos
mis emociones
me estorban.
Se ponen en mi camino
les doy la vuelta
y mi vida es un ciclo
vicioso.
Talla, mas!
Ya mero
como cofre
tu piel
un espejo.
Talla,
ya te puedes ver.
Capa 36
la unica que cuenta
usala como traje de emperador!
Veelo! Si no lo vez
es por ignorante-
mejor se sincera.

Good Sub: Part II

“Let’s see, what else is left for me?” B scanned her to-do-list “wear your leather bodysuit .”
B giggled at the idea of her suit being a “full-bodysuit” it looked more like a bunch of leather strips masterfully braided together by Daddy’s best friend and leather extraordinaire, Pig. No one designed leather gear like Pig who managed to make those strips of leather look so good, sexy and fashion forward. Daddy loved the bodysuit and B loved getting him all wet and hard. She got him hard and he fucked her; win-win situations excited her. The truth was that the bodysuit was also one of B’s favorites. The suite exposed so much of her skin, looking more like an “outline” of a bodysuit. Thick leather strips covered her nipples, with a built in ass-lift, the bodysuit was not quite crotch-less but framed her pussy lips perfectly; keeping them under pressure as if bound. She felt fucken nasty in it and desirable, always ready and open…always for her Daddy.
“I’m ready for you,” B would say looking straight into his eyes. B could pinpoint the second Daddy was fully turned on- something about the way his left eyebrow twitched. “I’m ready for you,” B would repeat just to see the twitch again. B liked to Top, but not in a snap-a-wrathful-whip-slashing-skin type of way but she used her words, her looks snapped at Daddy to the core. TWITCH.
Her bodysuit was just another way that B took a snap at Daddy. She liked that it was bare in the crotch, it saved time, he was always so hungry for her cunt and B loved letting him have it. He wanted her so much, B could tell the way he fucked her pussy as if it was going extinct, he fucked her as if his dick would be forever out of commission. No one had ever made B feel like that before, like her pussy walls were collapsing onto each other, like her soul was being expunged. For good or for bad Daddy always fucked her the same.

Good Sub: Part I

B looked at the clock, the tiny multicolored brackets flashed with vigor, it was her alarm reminding her that Daddy would be home in thirty minutes. Her nipples wet, cold and hard peered from the clammy water. She dreaded getting out of the bath. She loved to soak in hot water seasoned with mint and lavender scented Epson salts- just as Daddy had taught her to do. He stressed the importance of self-care to B, “how can I expect you to take care of my needs if you don’t know how to take care of your own,” he insisted.

B couldn’t refute, it took a lot of hard work to please Daddy. Today alone she had already shined 4 pair of boots, cleaned his chaps and vests, untangled floggers, set up the play room:
1. candles lit,
2. Daddy’s toy chest unlocked.
3. lube
4. gloves
5. First Aid kit
6. water and snacks
7. music set at the appropriate level

She stepped out the tub and checked her cunt in the mirror and admired her recently trimmed pubic hairs; a fine layer. Not too fine nothing too, prepubescent for Daddy. He liked his little girls to look grown. She trimmed herself right over the trashcan her brown shavings flaked right on top of the white crumpled tissues, in plain sight for Daddy to see, just a little something for the pig in him. Twenty minutes and counting, B needed to hurry. Knowing Daddy, he had packed his brief case, grabbed his coat, walked out of his office, locked the door, jiggled it one, two, three times to make sure it was locked, wished his Program Assistant a good afternoon, grabbed his sunglasses out of his left breast pocket and skipped out of the office at five on the dot.

Her Daddy, so handsome so ritualistic she loved his discipline. Daddy’s rules, everywhere she turned. The bed always nice and tidy, slippers peaking out from under the bed, floors vacuumed every third day, boots never scuffed, his favorite cock along with his other “pieces” stored in the third drawer of his dresser. Always stored ribbed red condoms for his brown cock, the one he liked to fuck her with the most, and the underwear he bought her always crotch-less if she was going to wear any at all. B was rewarded, deeply, sinfully painfully every time she followed Daddy’s rules. Ssss fuck! Time was ticking and she was so wet from daydreaming, pussy throbbing she took a deep breath, trying to control her cunt’ s pounding. Cunt pounding! Cunt pounding! Cunt pounding. Seventeen minutes to get ready and counting! She exhaled, and read over her list of tasks, she had a few yet to complete.

Hating on Proposals

Dear Selection Committee,


You want me to tell you
why I deserve the money
what I’d do with the money?
How will I grow you, money?
I’m going to use your money
and make you look good.
Oh yeah, make you look
so fucken good.
Cause I’m good.
We good?
People gon’ say
“Damn, how did they know
she was good?”
And that just means you gooder
than me.
You’re GOOD.
You’re a mother FUCKING

genius
putting this genius on stage.
Yeah, I said genius….
who else does your institution
represent?

I need to puSh thiS Shit out!!!!!
Ssssss, but it hurts
brain like
impacted glands
have me dragging my ass around
Pinch!
Pinch that shit tight, squeeze
like a penny pincher.

Come now, give me that money.
Let me show you how loud I toot
toot, toot, toot-a-loot
a lot of praises
and raises of the bar
going up to it and ordering
falling in that order
and getting mine…
Bartender!
Me, Goaltender!
Tending my goals,
can’t have them dropping
like chickens in the heat.

Cause, see I’m from the hood
100%
from a working immigrant
to working like an immigrant.
Don’t you like to hear that?
How come we haven’t met?
I’ll have that money coming in
I’m talking gross
not net.
All this talk about money
gross.
Give me the money
and I’ll show you how it’s done.
1500 words?
What time is it?
Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit I’ve already won.

Before you know it,
you’ll have me
judging
3 or 4
your proposals.
You know it!
Asking me to do it again.
Great expectations
like a champion.
I’m a winner.
I’m a winner!
Enough with this word play.
Approve my proposal
I call it “Pay Day”!


Yours sincerely,