7 Siblings Together Again

For Lexi, Breydon, Gabe, Serenity, Zoey, Zane, and Zyla – Auntie loves you so much. I can’t explain how much you fill my heart with love and joy.

Tears rush down my face.
My pen continues to write
as tears drop onto the page.
I look up and see the apples of my eyes.
3 brothers brought together.
4 sisters reunited with their brother.
I wish I could hold onto this moment forever.
They patiently waited to be united with each other.
Brothers instantly form a bond.
Big sister make it clear she’s the boss
and I put my hand and thanks to God
the 7 siblings are no longer loss.
After so many years they’re together again.
My tears are from intense happiness.
So with this damped paper and pen
I can write down that this is what my happy is.

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No Metaphor 

For my nephew Gabriel Isaiah Mattison. Auntie loves you so much.

My soul is torn
I try to use metaphors
to describe the hurt I feel
Sometimes I have to stand still
because my chest gets tight.
I have to bottle the pain inside
Once I cry I go from morning to midnight
I can’t breathe.
You’re my favorite person to see
but you don’t recognize me.
Tears stay still
I can’t breathe
from all the pain I feel
I miss my nephew.
That little boy that had to be with auntie.
From the moment of your birth you had me.
I was wrapped around your little fingers.
This is why this pain so intensely lingers.
I can’t think of any metaphor
to describe the pain anymore.
It just hurts so much to not see you.
For you not to remember you’re my nephew.
Seriously if I could just hold and protect you
There’s nothing I wouldn’t do.
If I could take your pain away
I’d add it to my own
just so you could smile and feel safe
God the way things had to unfold
I’ll never understand.
Once upon a time you were my right had man
Really the only thing I had.
I can still feel your sticky little hand
wrapped in mine.
Passed has so much time
and she’s washed your mind.
She lost her mind.
Manipulative and using you as a little kid…
I just don’t get it.
I just don’t get it.
You deserved so much more…
I wish I could use a simple metaphor
but it’s all been used before.
There’s just no longer a metaphor.
I’m sorry I can’t say much more.

Hooves And Feet

Dedicated to my Unni G. Last night I was suicidal and she wouldn’t stop texting and calling me until I answered and could prove I hadn’t followed through with my plans. She’s an advocate, a hero, and so much more. I love her so much. She’s saved me from myself a few times but last night was intense. We talked about the earth and universe. Being connected to it. She then challenged me to think of the weakest animal. I said “me” and she told me to open my mind a bit and really think about what she’s asking me. So I sarcastically said “the ants that are sucking up poison in my traps and bringing it back to their queen.” She laughed and told me to next think of the strongest animal I could think of. I’ve always loved buffaloes. They represent so much. I have one tatted on my forearm. So she told me to think about buffaloes for the night and she wanted me to write a poem about them and post it to her FB wall. So I did. Here it is.

Hooves on the ground
Calvary all around
Not a warrior to be found
Just as policy planned out.
No more sacrifice for the hungry and cold
Piles of skulls photographed as proof to be shown
the Indians and buffaloes
will die together from genocide on land not sold
but stolen by treaties broken leading D.C. to now control
the land privatized and now own.
Hand and hoof travel forever over land covered in blood and gold.
However the strength of both
came back around to show
their survivors and descendants will always find a way back
No matter the railroad tracks
that plague the way they can’t cover the sacred.
The hooves cannot be exterminated
by any single nation.
To this day the buffalo is proof that we too can make it.

Afterward: GG – I love you for the countless times you’ve been there for me and making me answer my phone last night. You always make sure I’m okay even if it’s been months since we spoke you shoot me random texts checking on me and post jokes on FB for me to see to laugh at. A few years ago I realized you actually have the same initials as my brother, Gabe Gonzales. I think he made sure you got into my life. Before he was the only one who could ever talk me off the ledge and would drop whatever he was doing to make sure I’m okay. Neither of you can ever be replaced. I’m just very lucky when it comes to double Gs in my life. 

Old Rhymes

2015

I have nothing to say what’s on my mind
So I connect the lines
of my old rhymes
previously pushed aside.
From politics to Korean pride
From Oppa Gabe to nephew Gabe
So many things before I wanted to say
but the rhyme scheme went away
so the old rhymes once pushed away
Come back to life
While I keep what’s on my mind
deep inside
and just write
feelings from the past
until my finger develops a callous
from love to malice
now passed.

Words

Gift with the words

I got a gift with words

So when does pinpointing the right word occur? 

I guess I’m not sure 

but until I do my gift with words will be insecure

Wrap my mind around every thought

But it’s absurd 

My mind gets obscured 

waiting for the right word to occur

It’s as if my brain burns 

waiting for that damn word… 

I got a gift with words. 

I got a gift with words. 

Problems of a Militant 

Militant minded


Blinded by blood diamonds 

Hollering at the silent 

I can’t stand being quiet

and seeing the world 

just twirl

in blood knowing we’re all behind it. 

Kids fleeing to be reunited

with their mothers trafficked by the Chinese 

So for them to flee to be free

finding the mothers for so long they hadn’t seen 

was futile

and bounty hunters pray on a starving child. 

And this hasn’t just been a short while 

But long and worsening. 

How can money be the first thing 

on the mind instead of human lives? 

It makes me sick inside. 

Countries war torn 

Held captured either by capitalist or ISIS 

Fuck who started it but who profits from behind it!

They got you terrified 

that every Muslim or Arab you walk by 

is a terrorist with some plot in mind

to take your life. 

The reality is it’s so flipped. 

They’re targeted by the paranoid and bigots. 

Refugees burning off their finger tips 

on electrical barbed wires

trying to escape the bombings and fire. 

Only to be in a refugee camp set on fire 

by those who make it difficult

to see they are not the individuals

behind the terror 

They’re the ones surviving the terror. 

Rather it be Syria or France. 

 It’s like no matter the matter they have no chance 

to feel relief and freedom at last. 

Children drowning on the shores of Greece. 

You read and hear these stories then go to bed in peace. 

How does it come down to this? 

The tragic this truly is

I know, like you, how it did come to this. 

The Oklahoma Bombing first described 

the spotting of two Arab guys 

seen nearby. 

How wrong the news outlets were! 

I mean, did it truly ever occur

that the Arab men they identified first 

were on their way to a coffee shop? 

Finding out it was a white man, oh what a shock! 

People of Color fear the police because most likely to be shot. 

People with mental illness fear the police because they’re just as likely to be shot. 

But please, ignore me for being so militant minded. 

For not being quite so blinded

to the fucked up world we people reside in

and practice their right to not give a fuck and to remain silent.