Felicita Pedroza - Poverty Scholar and Boriqua Poet: A Poem

Felicita Pedroza
Saturday, March 13, 2010


I want to blast the resonance of your voice to dance on your lips
I want to jump on your breast and glide down to your hips
Let me unwind on your cheeks and leap over your pores
Let me dwell deep within your heart’s core

I want to bathe in the flush of your cheeks
I want to be your valor when you feel weak
Let me roll around on your tongue
Let me breathe my passion into your lungs

I want to climb up your spine
I want to leave traces of kisses behind
Let me taste your neck and collarbone

Poema para pachamama/Poem for Mother Earth 2010: Marlon Crump's Poem

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

The Sun you clouded, the Sons you ousted

It was all here for you to feast

But you shared your crops and lives, even died for the nature of the beast.

fruit from the poisonous tree

Replaced by sons hung who grew land

Every single seed in it sad, sullen, and

Seething by the misdeeds, and acts of man

Seeds of man, seeds of woman

stricken with sicknesses to slow death

Health in the greeds, in the hands of wealth

The sun you clouded, the sons you ousted

Round ray of light for existence,

in great peril from the fires ignited

Poema para pachamama/Poem for Mother Earth 2010: An indigenous healing in honor of Earth Day 2010

Ingrid de Leon
Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Que rico olor de la tiera agradable porque esta mojada

Me recuerda al campo que me vio crecer

El olor incomparable .cuando cahe la llubia en primabera

Los arboles se sienten cortesudos y moroñosos

!como se siente la tierra por las mañanas cuando caee el llelo!

Escucho el aire por las ramas de los arboles y veo como las hojas se mueben de un lado a otro . con un silbido suabe .

Me recuerdo de aquellas lindas tardes .

Sin contaminascion! en el bello campo!

A Delicious Dinner: a coupla' low income cats... Talk Back!

Lester the Cat And Dee
Monday, September 18, 2000

Well, well, well, imagine me, Lester the cat, writing about pigeons- whatever I know about pigeons could go in a cook book, along with all of the other tasty things that I’ve eaten.

Hands tells me secretly, Why don’t we invite those pigeons over for dinner sometime soon?

Good idea, I tell him.

The reason I’m writing about pigeons is that this guy named Joe sent me something that he wrote about pigeons taking over the world (not with us cats around, someone should tell him). This Joe wrote to me and Hands:

Una Opera Muerta/Dead Opera: PNN reviews Imperial Silence: Una Opera Muerta/ A Mariachi Opera in Four Acts

iny aka Lisa Gray-Garcia/PNN- ReViewSFoRtheReVoLutioN
Saturday, November 15, 2008

The colores shimmered from their jackets... the glow of pinks y amarillos, golds and greens filled my mind as my ears and eyes wrapped around the son and the ritmo of the deep , rich sounds of mariachi that filled the stage of the Brava theatre at the opening of Imperial Silence: Una Opera Muerta/ A Mariachi Opera in Four Acts.


Friday, May 25, 2001

Incarcerated for crimes of
That's being homeless,
on welfare
and poor in this
capitalist SociEty

Currently at-risk of
fallin back
in the Cracks

Did I say At-Risk?
I meant at-risk of
tellin the truth to the
wrong people
at the RiGht TimE
and the WroNg PeoplE at
at The RiGhT TiMe

Currently on this eArTh
To SaVe tHe WorLd
ThroUgh the WoRD
and in the ProCess...
Maybe, Me and MineS

Carlos y Elegua – a road that noone knows how to begin or to end: A Poverty Hero Series Story

Lisa Gray-Garcia and Rodrigo Jimenez
Monday, January 1, 2001

Ibaro Ago Juba (Song for Elegua)

Eshu Eshu – his body felt wet – wet and yet covered –wet and cold in a new way – in a dead way – was he awake? …. The orisha Elegua was waking him up.. Eshu Eshu Layiki. he heard the first words, the praise name for Elegua- a road that no one knows how to begin or to end….

Unseen People: a PNN ReViewsForTheReVoluTion of Dirty Pretty Things

Tuesday, September 2, 2003

"We are the people you don’t see.. the ones who clean your rooms, drive your cabs and suck your (cocks)" the actors steady gaze crawls up each syllable and in that one moment 10 years of low paid/no paid jobs and demeaning hustles were wiped from my working poor brow.

Sheltered in the Wings of Heaven: Ms. A. Faye Hicks, Po Poet Laureate

Tiny/Po’ Poet and Co-editor of POOR Magazine
Tuesday, February 11, 2003


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