Beautiful women and beautiful girls,
Your hips were made to rule the world
To knock it off center with one switch in your step
The power you possess many people forget
Including yourself, other women and too many times men
We build ourselves up, they try to break us down again
I just got one question for them:
What happened to chivalry?
To women of the 21st century
You were their heart always worn on their sleeve
And a man that cheated but he didn't leave
To many young girls you were nothing more
Than a broken frame on a kitchen floor
Mixed with their mothers tears
Because that's the only form that their fathers appeared...

Tear down the walls that make your word night
And look to the sun and make darkness into light
All you need in your life is a beautiful smile
Only to know that you're worthwhile
You're so much more than your ass and your breasts
You are defined by your intellect
You are not the measurements that lyricists impose
You are not correlated with the amount of skin you show.
But rather when you show what you know.

Beautiful Women and Beautiful Girls
Your hips are made to rule the world.
Challenge the world with your beautiful mind
Words of wisdom as numerous as stars that shine.

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Friday, December 24, 2010 Posted in | , , , , , , | 0 Comments »


I wish that you believed in love, so then maybe you could see the love I have to give. Like a trap star, I got so much I sell the shit. But nobody wants it, all having been scorned by the one before. So I'm sellin mine in bulk at a discounted rate- lacking conversation and maybe a second date. Always only half invested, I keep having to get myself tested to see if something's love or lust, and always saying "In God I trust" but trust less in the dollar bills that are leaving people unfulfilled like a bad trip on a half ass stash. Like a junkie out of rehab, you swore off love because her lies tied the belt around your arm as her breath fueled the fire of her kisses that cooked and were injected into you veins, that was the only pain you knew of love. Left strung out on the bathroom floor your hopes and dreams went down the drain along with your hope that you'd get another hit of her. Her love was your drug and it turned into addiction- a daily procedure, she'd tell you lies of pride and leave you alone to seizure. You checked yourself in to the nearest center for rehabilitation and you made gettin clean your obligation.
I'm sitting here wondering if there's any hope for a relapse cause you've seemed to have swept off my feet and I'm standing on my kneecaps. I'm not saying I want you to fall back to the track of what backtracked you, but the feeling that comes when something you're in is the truth. I want to be your natural high. Trippin off life and all the little things. Let me hold your hand so can feel the beat of my heart pulsing through your veins. I don't wanna make you blind, I just want to open your heart so you don't see the end before the shit ever starts. That was my problem too, but I had to live in the moment. I knew that they'd be gone, I just couldn't have shown it. I just want to make you breathless, remove your fear like articles of clothing and shed this..
They say if you want to stay alive, don't get high on your own supply... unless of course you sharin- that's better, then you can get high together. John Legend said we on cloud 9 together. Let my kiss send you to another place while my hair that falls around you is the only way to find your way back. Lay me on my back and rest your head on my chest and exhale your stress. I'll inhale the lies and believe me when I tell you "everything's going to be aright". Everything's going to be alright.

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Friday, December 17, 2010 Posted in | , , , , , , | 0 Comments »

"Just once before I die
I want to climb up on a tenement sky
Dream my lungs out till I cry
Then scatter my ashes through the Lower East Side."

Where babies cry and hands collide
Whether givin dap or throwin die.
We are the first in a line of many
Who made something out of nothing: a dream and a penny.
Like a phoenix, they rose from the dust of defeat
And brought the rhythm of their home back to the streets.

The scraps of culture that America ignored
Became the boat of what got us ashore.
Jazz from Harlem mixed with Rhythm and Blues
Became acquainted with the drums that Tito Puente used
To create a music that refused to die
Salsa: established on the Lower East Side.
So many legends and have come and gone until today
But we will always remember “Aguanile.”
The music that played through the day and night
Can still be heard on the Lower East Side.
Lavoe and Puente, Palmeri and Colón
Celia Crúz made her voyage alone.
As a platinum selling Latina in a white man’s world
She kept singing with her head up and her tongue curled.

The same blocks that gave us beats to abide
Also have a darker side.
With gunshots and sirens- like Piñero said:
“The streets are hot and feed off those who bleed to death.”
We took our own lives when violence was brought upon us
Too many children grew up fatherless.
If walls could talk they would tell you
Of all the pain that they’ve been though.
Boys and men who were smashed against the pavement
Ones that screamed and others that will never breathe again.
Hot like ice and cold like fire
Signs that read “gunman for hire.”
Read between the lines of a “Help Wanted” sign
Outside a legit business with a ringleader inside.
Kids stopping by on a daily basis
Lookin for work as a foot soldier in case this
Thing that they call school don’t get them nowhere
Cause remember- they’re not from around here.
But they makin their way on the Lower East Side
Where all eyes on you- can’t even the rats hide.
Cause its survival of the fittest just see another day
And in order to get in good you gotta play the game.
Your mothers and aunts are worried to death
But you gotta eat- so forget about the stress.
You gotta play the game whether you like it or not,
But there’s gotta be a breaking point where this all needs to STOP.

If you go down to Third street, between avenues B and C
People walk to a different beat.
A place that’s an escape from the world outside
Where fingers snap and words collide. 
It was in the year 1975
Where you could see a generation strive
To find their souls on the city skyline
Amidst the smallest of confines.
Tongues spit metaphors and air filled the lungs
Of the poets that paved the way for many more to come.
The stage that was built by (Miguel) Piñero and (Bimbo) Rivas
Was blessed decades later by Lemon Andersen and Beau Sia.
The place filled to capacity, bodies filling every space
Not an empty seat in the house, yet even more people found their place
Posted up against the wall all eyes fixed forward
Because when a poet raised their hands, no eyes were lowered.
They were free to clap, snap fingers and call out
In accordance with what a poet spoke about.
The Utopia that I speak of exists until this day
We call it the NuyoRican Poets Cafe.
Where all are welcome bring yourself and your freedom
A dream and a wish and the desire to achieve them.

Let us be the first in a line of many
To remember out culture and give it to our babies.
The English and the Spanish
As much as their tongues can manage.
Let's not be so quick to go against one another
Because in order to survive, we all need each other.
I want to live in a world where we all from the block
And we gotta support each other whether we like it or not.

"So please when I die
Don't take me far away
Keep me nearby
take my ashes and scatter them thru out
the Lower East Side."


In memory of Piñero, and all the pioneers of the time...

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Friday, December 10, 2010 Posted in | , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comments »