December 7, 2017

The Massage

Filed under: Poetry — migueltio @ 9:24 pm

Making the appointment

she takes him in

she looks at him

he begins to blush

off with his shirt

he feels the rush

caressing his shoulders

he feels the chills

she strips him down

he is wrapped

in a towel starting to

shiver he feels the



She takes him to the table

she lays him down

taking him in her arms

wrapping him snug in her

hold she begins to rub

his belly now on fire

his chest full of goosebumps

as if it was cold.


Slow and long he breathes

in her scent of mango

of coconut of cacao of

cane her hair gliding

over his neck like a tingling

shower of perfect rain.


She is the performer

and he is her instrument

she glides her fingers

over his ribs like a

joyful harp she strums

the many hairs upon

his chest like a beautiful

guitar she fingers around

his belly like tickling the ivories

of a baby grand from within

him a glorious melody is

building up from the depths

of his soul keeping with the

tempo of his heart he wants

to open his throat and

sing out his joy

like a high

Mariah Carey



She leans over behind him

holding him closer

rubbing him deeper

she possesses him he is

thoroughly consumed

by her total being the feel

of her skin so brown so olive

so cinnamon so caramel so

licorice the scent of her so

sugar cane so coconut

so mango so Boricua

so Dominicana so Cubana

so Mejicana so Colombiana

so Bahia so Venezolana

so Italiana so Espana

so Haitian so Indian

so Africana.




November 26, 2017

Small Business Everyday

Filed under: Poetry, Uncategorized — migueltio @ 10:15 pm


El Barrio Music Center

Shopping along the

neighborhood street used to

have and active vibe

a soulful pulse

a spitfire beat that

used to keep them coming

steady on their feet

every business making

competition feel the heat

publicity and advertising

inspiring and energizing

not shy or discreet

bringing in the business

like a newly landed fleet.


It used to be


I say

shopping along

the neighborhood street

now seemingly covered

over by a blank paged

sheet stifling the vibe

muffling the beat

increasing the number

of landlords who cheat

forcing the deals with

their tenants to go

sour after at first

sounding sweet

every store the same

maybe just a different

name making shopping

such a shame a mindless

careless misguided game.


May the unique SURVIVE

and the vibe REVIVE

may shopping for




keep breathing






November 18, 2017


Filed under: Poetry, Uncategorized — migueltio @ 7:12 pm

Walking down a path

on a grey desolate day when

no one seems to be around to

embrace no one around to

socialize no one to witness

the sadness in the eyes

looking at the moments

at the memories at the

shadows flashing that will

not abort no matter how hard

the psyche of the mind tries.


Shadows of who was once there

in a time of greater

affection of what materialized

as greater care shadows of the

many we once walked with

we once talked with

of whose happiness

we tried to share of whose

sadness we tried to bare.


We look at a tree

so stark so bare its leaves

now gone not long since they

were there they day they fell

we may or may not be

aware their absence pricking

with pangs of despair from

not knowing when, how

why, or where.


So many strangers inflicting

so many dangers so many

sad and tragic life changers

so much duress so much

hatred that can only

sadden and depress amid

the denial that there

should be a stress on

the treatment of the many

with mental illness.


Further down the

path a sharp cold wind

sends shivers to the spine

distress to the heart

and tears flooding the

body and soul executing

a longing for the time

never returning.



November 3, 2017

Her Destiny Unknown

Filed under: Poetry, Uncategorized — migueltio @ 4:17 pm

She had it all

the dreams

the styles

the dead presidents

the jewels

she knew the ins

the outs

she knew the business

she knew the rules

she could manipulate

the loyal

she could isolate

the fools.


She could move

she could groove

she could shake it

to the beat

she could foresee

each step she

had to take

to make it down

the street.


But the streets are

never a smooth paved

walk never a straight

focused groove

talk that you can

draw your point A

to a perfect point B

with summer sidewalk



(She knew that)

people around you

screw up people around

you shoot people around

you blow up

people around you

leaving you to never

know when time will

really be up.




(She knew)

you have to focus

you have to work it

you cannot disguise for the

watching eyes

by trying to shamelessly

flaunt it or

twirk it.


She knew it

she could see

it she knew many

who totally blew

it she did not want

to just smell success

she really wanted

to be it she really

wanted to follow

it but with all that

got messed up

along the way she

did not know if she

could swallow it.



October 29, 2017

Complementos Por Belleza

Filed under: Poetry, Uncategorized — migueltio @ 10:04 pm

El dijo a ella que ella es bonita.                                                                                                        El dijo a ella que es Hermosa.                                                                                                           El dijo a ella que es maravillosa                                                                                                      El dijo a ella que es preciosa.

El dijo a ella que se gusta su piel.                                                                                                        El dijo a ella que se gusta su pelo.                                                                                                      El dijo a ella que su escencia                                                                                                                es dulce a miel.

El dijo a ella que se gusta su cara                                                                                                        Se gusta sus cejas y sus ojos                                                                                                               Se gusta su sonrisa                                                                                                                                y sus labios deliciosos.

Se gusta sus carrillos calientes                                                                                                            Se gusta su cuello                                                                                                                                    Se gusta sus amoplatos                                                                                                                        Se gusta sus hoyuelos

El quiere dar a ella muchos besos bellos.                                                                                       El dijo a ella que el quiere dar a ella un masaje y adorer sus pies.                                        Quiere dar muchas cosquillas a sus musculos,                                                                            su barriguita, y costillas.

El dijo a ella que se gusta su ropa                                                                                                        y todos los estillos que ella se pone.                                                                                              Ella es bonita en articulos de cuero,                                                                                              vestidos, y todos sus trajes de bano a la playa.                                                                             Ella es bonita en todas las joyas                                                                                                      que hacen su belleza florecer como una maya.


October 24, 2017

Autumn Time Moves On

Filed under: Poetry, Uncategorized — migueltio @ 7:47 pm

DSC03756Down a trail once covered

in the blossoms of a warm July

he walks to admire the new

stark present as petals and

leaves now cover his path leaving

only the bare of time moved on.


A dark mud leads up to

the pond he spent days having

fished for hours grasping at

the shades above as now the weeds

below have prevailed and the chills

in the air limit the past time.


Stopping by to admire the

pond he still sees a clear water

on a now unsettled day he still

sees a natural wonder even as

the pristine skies and glow of

summer sun have all gone away.


To many, things look very

pale as colors are gone

but those are only the bright

while the darker colors

from a grey by day to a

black as night still inspire

him to take a warm hearted

delight in the natural passing

of time.



October 10, 2017

Live The Beauty!

Filed under: Poetry — migueltio @ 6:34 pm

A Bard Owl on a starry but dark

night sounds like pure

natural delight while

a fire is busily crackling bringing

forth the textures that show

in each layer the beauty

of creation.


So many wonders of

the world we live in are

right before our eyes

yet there are many toxic

energies casting an ominous

toxic disguise over many

weak, twisted, misguided

eyes sucking the stars

out of those beautiful

night skies.


Those twisted tight by toxic

infestation try to take

issue with every social

relation constructing

road blocks and dead

ends cutting off their

families, relatives,

coworkers, and



Toxic sees nothing beautiful

toxic sees nothing practical

toxic sees nothing meaningful

except they, themselves

in their own moment

their own priority

their own obsessions

with their own possessions.


Why does toxic want

to bring down why do

they want to bring down

the whole town every day

there is something beautiful

but they do not want to

see it there is a chance to be

beautiful but they do not want

to be it there is a chance to

let go of an issue but they

do not want to free it.


Those who can see the beauty

keep seeing

those who can be beautiful

keep being

you cannot let the toxins

blind you from the light

and turn the giving of

yourself into a senseless

stressful fight twisting and

turning your positive sight

with a ruthless, rabid,

venomous bite.


Shine the light

build toxin resistance

meet every day’s challenges

with an open minded

insistence that beauty

can be found through

daily persistence to

block out toxins with

open hearted resistance.




October 1, 2017

Levantaras Borinquen

Filed under: Poetry, Uncategorized — migueltio @ 10:11 pm


tu belleza regresara

tu gente perseveraran.



tu energia remendara

tus recursos reavivaran.


Tu deseo es fuerte

no ha recibido su muerte.


Tu destino es en tus manos

con el espiritu sano de tus hermanos.


No seras subvendido

con mal publicidad.


No seras sin los recursos

de tu tranquilidad.






otra vez.



September 30, 2017

They Were Honorable Too

Filed under: Poetry — migueltio @ 9:29 am

A story now to be

told a story for years

left out in the

cold a story now over forty years

old it is time to tell it break

it out of the mold.


The Viet Minh

The Viet Cong

the bureaucrats

against them estimated

wrong singing to their

men an old and outdated

war song having no idea how

to really lead the troops along.




rice paddies




fired upon.


Puppet government

in the south

shooting off his

puppet mouth

persecution in

the name of being

strong constantly

blaming The Viet Cong

even calling

The Americans wrong.


JFK to


the fighting would

not go away more

men more men

still more would

be sent in on each

new day more and

more would make it

better is all the

bureaucrats would say.


The Cong could

fight The South

could not every

move by American

Troops left them

In a bad spot

ambushed before they

could barely get off

a shot The Cong could

move through a terrain

that The Americans

could not but American

Soldiers gave all they got

following orders on the

dot yet still the request

was made for more men

so they sent more men

these men barely men

still boys who just

last week were home

just finished with

the years of playing

with toys

were now watching


fall as fierce as

the A bomb.


M-16s were jamming

short sighted strategies

by the bureaucrats

we’re damming

the brave and the

scared who were given

the order to flush

out The Cong and drive

them back across

the northern border

resulting that The Cong

was determined not

to fight without crushing

as many soldiers as they

could making those surviving

feel as if they were caught

in a giant toilet

constantly flushing.


The bureaucrats thought that

every taking

of every swamp

of every forest

of every hill

no matter how many

brave soldiers The Cong

would kill might delight

those surviving with some

victorious kind of thrill

who instead were left

feeling their efforts

were all for nil.


Every seeming victory had

a great bottom-line cost

a cost on both sides

of more and more

senseless lives lost as

if lives were decided by

only coins being tossed.


Sides became so unclear

as to who was on The

Cong, who supported

Saigon, who was just

a citizen, who just

changed the side they

were on, not trusting

The American presence

as the war pressed on.


Talks in Paris and

Tricky Dicky

southern black

markets and disease

added more mistrust

so messy

so sticky

enemies stayed so

close by so that no

one knew who killed

who and many would

never really know



The war fought there

became a war fought

here and many gripped

by anger and fear

that the bureaucracy

would never be

sincere by getting the

talks and negotiations

in gear the louder they

shouted all fell first on

one then another

president’s stubborn

deaf ear many would

shout many would

jeer to get the

solders out despite

no victory seeming



Much violence

much anger

some testified

of atrocities of

Viet citizens who

died some uncovered

information that

showed past

administrations had

lied veterans fought

harder at home

to make sure their

efforts were dignified

they were treated

only with contempt

no matter how well

they organized no

matter how hard they



They tried

just all the soldiers

tried while sadly

the bureaucrats in

charge of them

only lied throwing

them into a long

war where way too

many over there and

even back here

senselessly died.


Those who died

on this side

let them all

be remembered

with honor

at The Wall.


Those who did survive

let their honor

and bravery

always remain



September 13, 2017

Tomorrow Is In Our Hands Today

Filed under: Poetry, Uncategorized — migueltio @ 10:10 pm

What are we doing?

What are we not doing?

What are our younger

and future generations

going to really and truly

learn to do because

we who once did see

things through became

dependent on someone or

something else that could

just as well do it too.


We have learned to simply

press buttons and simply

look at screens to simply

get what we want

learn what we want

create what we want

even alter information

if it is not

what we want

simply by a gadget’s

ways and means.


Now we do not even

go to the

store we now

shop online more

and more if we have

to actually go somewhere

we want an Uber driver or

self-driving car to

get us there.


So much of what we now

have and so much of what

we now do were originally

developed as aids for those

who could not get out and

do so as more and

more of us who can

get out and about seeing

every day through

we must ask ourselves

when guiding our

younger generations

“Are we enabling them to learn,

and are we being true?”




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