Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

Voices We are made to drag the weight of ornaments on our skin. We burn for the game. The strength of our amulet is in the blood needed to protect our village, a wasteland of promised tattoos. . Faces slump over to quench their thirst. We sleep in near comfort tightening our belts with our left hand because we have forgotten that Billy clubs and thorns are as painful as the sting of a scorpion. Migrant workers caught in traffic screamed something about a spiraling leaf storm our dreams broke. We found love on an African plateau in Flagstaff Arizona like fishes out of water.

Haraam You’d draw out the necessary patience to stay, watch, and conquer the tin man; a personal allusion   of the vexed macho in drag. Your body oozed contemplating the giving of pleasure.  You knew how to bend, break, and subdue.  At the end of the night you were on top of the most manly queen in the show.  Your only fault was that incessant need to talk. Your audience was  less than four.  So, when you invented  that bit  about a cowardly lion you were one witness short and I got to give the hundred lashes and hang the sign:  Drug Dealer, Police Mafia, Bugarron de Mala Muerte.

*Bengali Red   Tell us mother, who welcomes dawn   in the rice paddies of disease   sweating diamonds like a slave-child? What children fall on the shores  of the Padma River and dance  with their shadows  before you order  the cremation fires  to burn?  I was lost in blood,   an echo of mighty burdens,   anxiously dancing with swords between my teeth.   Mother, where can I find you   performing miracles?   There is a wounded tree on steroids coiled inside my tongue.   It feels like it’s been tacked to the back of my   neck. Mother, who poisoned   our secret rain forest, Cyclops testing napalm? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ * Bangladesh has the real probability of becoming the first country in the world to disappear because of climatic conditions.  Scientist are saying the poor of the country will have to ask for asylum in other countries.  They have asked...

pilares secretos bien guardados deudas pagadas con besos a hombres foutaise vestidos de agua pillars well kept secrets debts paid with kisses to foutai se   dressed in black pilastri ben tenuto segreti debiti pagato con i baci a foutaise vestita di nero pilastra segredo bem guardado debiti paga com beijos foutaise vestidos de preto piliers des secrets bien gardés passifs hommes ont payé baiser foutaise l'eau

She’s a homophobic warlord with a miniature bible carefully tucked in her bra dedicated to WAPA, SuperXClusivo, Cobo Santarosa, and Hector Travieso.  SuperXclusiov; This poem has been published in both the United States of America and the United Kingdom.  We are hoping that the future jingles from WAPA are a bit more specific about attacking the problem of homophobia in Puerto Rico.  The first jingle was a sad and insulting demonstration of how a Television Station is capable of fooling an audience into thinking they are part of the solution by not really saying anything specific about the issue.  We file experiences like this so that they don’t happen more than once. It started before she could read at Sunday mass she’d stare at the faces of immovable angels— La Madonna and byzantine saints in cut-glass windows—imagining herself speaking to the masses. When her boobs started growing the junior high jock, a prodigy bible belt preacher, invited her to Wa...

tus lecciones exclusivamente anacrónicas me quisiste hacer tu esclavo para eso inventaste mitos y fabulas sobre mis antojos callejeros. te pague como paga una marica de vanguardia dejándote mensajes en la interminable cola de una iguana y hologramas de Sarita Montiel pintados en mis labios. Fuiste fuerte. Confabulaste rituales fuertes. Rituales confabulados por chango, fuertes, con la única intención de silenciar mis lápices, acallar mis sollozos, enmudecer mis reclamos, convertir en un chiste mi ultraje. Yo fui el ni ñ o, tu el hombre. Miguel, odio ese nombre. siempre odie tus juegos, tu alcohol, tus canciones.  Tuviste un solo talento en la vida, yo.  Aunque digas que te cambias el nombre, tuviste un solo talento en tu vida. Di que vuelves a cambiarte el nombre y el único talento que has tenido en la vida te pasar á la cuenta. yo escribiré tus mitos y tus fabulas (tus lecciones filosóficas exclusivamente anacrónicas) cuentos de cuna, así tus hijos sabrán quien te...

three Dohkos playing      in my fruit garden                   adventuresome Bengali             kittens born on            the constellation of Libra

This is what the brave Iranian Government does and then calls it justice.  This is the work of a misogynist homophobic society.  I spit on this kind of religions practice, I spit on this government, I spit on the people who standby and watch this atrocity and do nothing but keep their mouths shut.  They are accomplices of the Ayatollahs of death, barbaric inhuman animals that dispense the law in the name of Allah.  I spit on their solided robes, stained with the murder of innocent men, women, and children.

Tal Vez Cada golpe me arrimaba m á s a la guillotina del silencio el sue ñ o se inmovilizo la cama comenzó a esfumarse y el amanecer se revirtió a un enfermizo tal vez  desesperante y cuando no quedo sino el adiós orine parada dentro de tus zapatos. Perhaps Each new blow  brought me closer  to the guillotine of silence my dream shot down  our bed vanished. Dawn reverted  to a maddening perhaps and when nothing  but a definite good-bye remained, I stood up  and pissed inside  your shoes. Forse Ogni nuovo colpo  mi ha portato più vicino  alla ghigliottina del silenzio il mio sogno abbattuto  il nostro letto scomparsa. al alba tornare a un esasperante forse e quando niente  ma un preciso addio rimasta, mi alzai  e pisciato dentro  le scarpe.