To the College Drop-out, Abusive Boyfriend, Cocaine Habit,

2010 February 9
by aleckafoozalem

Do you ever wonder what it would be like,

Had you gone out with me instead?

In California, I’ve also noticed,

2010 February 9
by aleckafoozalem

That if you’re Filipino or Filipino-American,

And you want to make things great for yourself,

You can do anything you want, or be anybody,

And work for it with dignity and sweat and blood.

And you will be righteously recognized for it.

That is unless,

César Chávez also wants to do it.

In California, I’ve noticed,

2009 November 3
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by aleckafoozalem

That if you’re a Mexican

You can stand on the corner

Of a busy street and people

Will give you money in exchange

for roses and oranges

And strawberries and such.

And if you’re an American

You can stand on the same corner

With some cardboard and people

Will give you money in exchange

for nothing.

Boyz

2009 November 2
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by aleckafoozalem

Back home there’s a group of young kids who call themselves Boyz, and there’s a motel called the Motor Lodge. The Motor Lodge has a pool and jacuzzi where tourists can watch Disneyland fireworks that go boom at night, and on the inside it’s furbished with comfy chairs and carpets.

Across the street you can see the Tower of Terror.  When not watching that there’s softcore porn on the tv, fast food, local malls. Of the Boyz there was one kid who had beef.  Not just beef but also a girlfriend.  But the Boyz don’t stand for beef.  The Boyz don’t stand for girlfriends, or softcore either.

The girlfriend one day was lured to The Motor Lodge, which is really just a motel but they call it the Motor Lodge to make it sound nicer. The Motor Lodge is respectable, brown brick styling, luscious landscaping.  It’s close to the convention center. It’s close to small shops where one can buy Mickey

Mouse souvenirs.  The Boyz had a mother named Connie.  On paper her name looks cute because it ends in an “ie” and not a “y”. Connie has a son named Carlos.  Carlos was a virgin before the other kid’s girlfriend was lured to the lodge.  Connie was embarrassed about this and that’s why the police think she

Participated .  The girl was lured by her friend Jolean, not really much of a friend at all. When the girl arrived she was surprised to see so many people there, Jolean, Connie and Carlos included, as well as the others on the police report – Jesse, Randy, Keizzy, Adrian, Raymond, Luis and lastly Gilbert, who was 15.

Expensive Chocolate

2009 November 2
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by aleckafoozalem

I bought a pack of Reese’s today and

Laid them on the coffee room table.

My roommate asks if he can have one,

I say they cost two fifty a cup.

 

He say’s how do I reckon that, and

I tell him a story about how

The woman I bought them from

Knocked and fidgeted and waited

 

Outside our gate, her dress, her clip

Board, her makeup, her sunhat.  She

Came representing a battered

Women’s shelter, saying that the

 

State had cut their funding, that for

Them to stay open she and other

Representatives have been aksing

For the neighbors of the community

 

To donate twenty dollars.  She says

That the shelter gave her hope in a

Time when she had no dignity.  That

It helped her get off drugs. Gave her

 

The strength to leave the good-for-

Nothing asshole who beat her and made

Her feel like shit for years.  She also said

That she’s been clean and happy for

 

Four years since then and thanks God

Every day for that shelter. When she

Was speaking I saw the vulnerability in

Her body language, her eyes, I thanked

 

Her for sharing when she was done.  Then

I lied and told her I only had ten dollars.

She said that would be ok because every little

Drop counts.  And then I felt bad and told her

 

My grandma always said the same thing and

She thanked me for the money and said

That I should thank my grandma for raising such

A nice young man.  And in the end she gave

 

Me a pack of Reese’s with four cups in it,

Which is where I reckoned two fifty per

Cup.  Then my roommate ate one of them

And said, that’s some expensive chocolate.

And I said, yeah I know.

Fool’s Gold

2009 October 29
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by aleckafoozalem

Our temple is a giant rosy cactus

Worship harsh, dry prayers

Stinging particles in wind, glass gritted

Peeled adobe – Litany cracked, splitted.

Smelling rosy and sandstone,

Atop the alter, Jose Cuervo is the best man,

There is sour his speech says

One thing but means another, clanged

The bells from every mile teaching honey

Mooners that doggie style is not part of God’s plan.

Panning for polymer, we the dearly beloved find

The pieces lay lodged in the stomachs

Of eagles and seagulls, cut one open you will

See suffering in the form of pay dirt.

Synthesized diamonds from tequila

They are. Roamed and of speckled plastic pyrite and

Privilege, hungry ghosts them all-  Eureka, I found it.

 

Poor Christian People Don’t Have Existential Problems

2009 October 19
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by aleckafoozalem

A Country Song

*
Poor Christian people don’t have existential problems

They don’t spite God, they just believe in him

They don’t bite the hand that feeds ‘em

Even if all they eat is bread and water

They are still sons and daughters of God.

*
My next door neighbor has a little girl

She can’t walk, she can’t talk and now she has diabetes.

She was born right into her wheelchair

But when I look into their eyes there’s no bitterness, just peace.

*
That’s because poor Christian people don’t have existential problems

They don’t spite God, they just believe in him

They don’t bite the hand that feeds ‘em

Even if all they eat is bread and water

They are still sons and daughters of God.

*
I ran into my old friend Luke the other day

He’s had problems with drugs and alcohol since the day he could swallow

He told me that he’d made a turn-around since he’d found God

And so whatever the bible says now he will follow.

*
That’s ’cause poor Christian people don’t have existential problems

They don’t spite God, they just believe in him

They don’t bite the hand that feeds ‘em

Even if all they eat is bread and water

They are still sons and daughters of God.

*
I’ve been facing problems since becoming learned

Such as who am I, how did I come to be, and what on earth am I going to do?

But poor Christian people are just happy working for what they have

And lordy I’d give all the money in the world to feel like that.

*
Because poor Christian people don’t have existential problems

They don’t spite God, they just believe in him

They don’t bite the hand that feeds ‘em

Even if all they eat is bread and water

They are still sons and daughters of God.

This La Jolla Man

2009 October 17
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by aleckafoozalem

This La Jolla man is so full of pride

His new car matches his mail-order bride.

this la jolla manFor Stevie

 

Perfect Days & Grownup Things

2009 October 16
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by aleckafoozalem

The day outside is a perfect day.

But I would rather have it a shitty day

where my mom has a job and where

my grandma doesn’t have cancer.

But because I’m an adult

and because fate trades for keepsies

I’ll be damned before I become

no godamned good-for-nothing takerbacker.

Undesirable Things

2009 October 15
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by aleckafoozalem

There’s an orphan down in Mexico

Who blows her little boogers on my sleeve,

And through tears she begs, “Alec, please don’t leave.”

 

Her mother, when she was very young, taught her a language

That’s older than Jesus.  Before she died she sold trinkets

And bracelets of saints and other beaded things.

 

And on the wall of the little orphanage there’s a fresco

Of Jesus, brown skinned brown eyed like the rest of us.  He reaches

His arms, benevolent murals, he looks out and he sees us.

 

Surrounded by painted orphans, They reach

To him.  And my orphan says he and I have similar haircuts.

The news reports only stories of diseases, kidnappings,

 

Drug violence, it scares the mommies and daddies away so they never

Adopt, while customs catches the drugs and fruit flies at the border so they don’t cross.

And so that the undesirable things stay on their side.  I would cross myself

 

Often when I was my orphan’s age, and talk outright right out loud to Jesus as if

He were my best friend.  Now I worry about talking with friends

Who are imaginary and who probably don’t hear me.  Since I’ve become an adult,

 

I still sometimes say his name, when I’m angry or when I orgasm, or when it’s god-

Damn Monday.  Then I prayed for girlfriends and video games, but now when alone

I’ll sometimes catch myself saying, Jesus Christ, please find my orphan a home.