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Vickie Ortiz Vazquez Poem
Denied, 2010
Vickie M. Ortiz Vázquez
Human
Human am I
So, I hear I am human
Therefore, human rights by nature are mine
Who have spoken of these?
Martin Luther King, Jr
Cesar Chavez
The Black Panther Party and the F.L.A.N
Human am I
Born female with a path
Grown to a woman with a guilty mark
So, I hear I am human
Therefore, human rights by nature are mine
Grown to a woman
Human still am I
Yet, simple human rights have been denied
To brothers and sisters of mine
Still human am I
Therefore, human rights are being denied
By those who can’t understand
What nature can’t denied
Human
Human am I
So, I hear I am human
Still a human am I
A woman with human rights…
DENIED
Copyright © Vickie Ortiz Vazquez | Year Posted 2010
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Vickie Ortiz Vazquez Poem
If I Tell You, 2011
Vickie M. Ortiz Vazquez
If I tell you, Puerto Rican I am
What comes to mind?
Morena of “el barrio” or Blonde woman of “el barrio”
Better yet, pale skin-blonde from up north
That one, the straight English-speaking wanna-be
“Con su pelo lacio”
If I tell you, Puerto Rican I am
Could you describe who I am?
Woman controlled, subjected by Welfare
Carrying on the poor women cycle
You know, the one imposed by the few rich white men
Shackled
Would you think of me in a bright light; dim light?
If I tell you, Puerto Rican I am
Do you envision an immigrant, alien?
A woman once taken and brought at age 15
Beginning of her womanhood
Tormented by loneliness, isolation, ignorance
Frustrated by the never ending question, “Are you mixed?”
Misunderstood by her citizenship
Seen as unfair by many
Slaved island, unrealized
Are you able to narrate which Puerto Rican woman am I?
If I tell you, Puerto Rican I am
Puerto Rican I am
“Café con leche,” Afro-hair, big lips, small nose
Distance between what I was and inspire to be
Clinching to her African heritage
Searching
If I tell you, Puerto Rican I am
Can you explain the injustice my hair endured?
Constant search for assimilation
Assimilation
To break free
Impacted by those with similar skin color, Afro hair, big lips
Different
If I tell you, Puerto Rican I am
Do you paint two contrasting siblings?
Light, dark complexions
Tall dark father with short light mother by his side
If I tell you, Puerto Rican I am
Do your pages bleed from inspiration?
Disgust?
Stereotypes?
Would I read between the lines, a woman becoming her own?
Struggling between many worlds
Or, do you spell the notion of loud, submissive, sex symbol
You know, the one portrayed in the media
If I tell you, Puerto Rican I am
Can you decipher, WEEEEPA
Copyright © Vickie Ortiz Vazquez | Year Posted 2011
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Vickie Ortiz Vazquez Poem
Labels, 2010
V. Ortiz Vazquez
Girl, teenager, young adult, woman
Hispanic, Latina, Puerto Rican
Sister, aunt, godmother
Lesbian, woman of color
How important are these labels?
Why use them to define myself?
Better, use to be boxed within brackets
Brackets many times use to oppress me and those a like
Box me
Reduce at time, close to nothingness
Trap within groups
Recycling stereotypes, unfairness
Idiotic
Other times, forgotten
I am a woman
A Puerto Rican woman that is
I am a daughter
A Puerto Rican daughter, know this
Born to privileges that do not really exist
I am a Puerto Rican woman who loves another woman
Rights denied
Ignorance still prevail in 2010
I am brown skinned
How important is this? I don’t know, Do you?
Yet, I will not trade the following:
Daughter, aunt, godmother, woman of color, Puerto Rican
They provide an experience taken for granted by many
At times an understanding that others dream off
A strength given, passed down
Not forced or taken
I am the labels you love to hate
I am the labels you hate to love
Copyright © Vickie Ortiz Vazquez | Year Posted 2010
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Vickie Ortiz Vazquez Poem
Fairytales, 2012
V. Ortiz Vazquez
A vast void
Nothing like the Alice in Wonderland hole
Where a fall reveals mystical creatures
An adventurous journey to find one’s self
Whishes bounce between hollow walls
Descending into nothingness
Nothing like Aladdin’s life
Where his every whim are granted
With no consideration of those around but himself
Selfishness
To break from tradition, he falls for the one beneath him
Her life guided by a magical wand
Yet, the one I possess grant short, temporary relief
A time when my story become a fairytale like Cinderella’s
Picturesque time fill pages with pain, lost, doubts
A half empty glass with cracks towards the top
Gates of hell guarded by a four headed creature
A tale of self-sacrificed, ultimate love story
Beautiful damsel awakes his innermost strength
While the blind-ugly-decrepit three some hideaway foretelling his destiny
A destiny I am yet to know
A third of the equation known to me
I am part of the 50% of the world
Yet, no fairytales embody a character like me
Heroism, fortune, live happily ever after endings reserve for the other 50% of the world
Never to forget about the few with powers such as thunder, lightning, love, war, strategy
List goes on and on
Invincible, no weakness except the thirst for more
Betray at times by natures’ beauty
Human kind
Body shifters, creeping to take what is not his
Awaken jealousy, war declare upon us by his mate
Nothing like a woman’s scorn
Sore by the constant doubts, lies, hurts
“So much potential you possess,” they unanimously sing
To aspire, dream
Fictional storytelling
Depiction of a different race, parallel to society’s beliefs
No main characters resembling my skin
Tertiary characters subjected to ridicule, hardships
There I lay
Through the outer glass seeking for more
Grains of sand, so many to sooth un-satisfaction
For only a fool, dream
Waiting to be rescue like Sleeping Beauty
If only Fiona’s fortune decent upon me
Dispel the costume which has become my prison
Not to confuse my life with the undead
I do grow old
Bleed and heal, yet not the same
Scars are left to not forget
X, marks the spots
One lucky forceful strike
Not to vanish beautifully, bursting of fire
But quickly coming to my demise
Reaching for Aladdin’s magical lamp
Wishing to forever fall asleep like Cinderella
To later be rescue and become whole as Fiona has done
Copyright © Vickie Ortiz Vazquez | Year Posted 2012
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Vickie Ortiz Vazquez Poem
Self-Portrait, 2011
v. Ortiz Vazquez
4’9” or 5’0”, never quite knowing which
Brown eyes, black Afro hair
She Hercules strength within
34 years old wondering where times has gone
A second, minute, hour; days, weeks, months
Young morena, carded at times
Few gray hairs basilan between wisdom and just time passed
Time spend recording images, words
Hidden ideas within pages
Pieces behind doors, question of “Am I an artist when no one except me sees my
humble images?”
Energy transfer in a moment of passion where soul, thoughts merge
Written words waltz between lines wondering “Am I a poet when no one except my
girl listens to the movement within my writings?”
Quote-on-quote educated yet ignorant
School smart, whatever that means
Socially dysfunctional, quietly listens to the cacophony-story telling time
Not my story but hers, his, theirs
Commonalities, none
Fearful she hides behind her home’s walls
Pages hide her thoughts
Agony bleeds every time she wakes
Capture by her moving hand yet stored away
Aching, waiting to break through
She turns and walks
Sanctuary, solitary times
Lingering questions, who am I?
How to survive without knowing
Knowledge eludes me
To find a different host
Jealous, envy; no, lost
Floating through time, space
Looking to land yet not knowing where
Falling back to old tricks
Seclusion
Time to put thyself asleep
Lights out
Copyright © Vickie Ortiz Vazquez | Year Posted 2011
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Vickie Ortiz Vazquez Poem
World Justice: Ward, Jennifer
2010
W to the J, J to the W
Voice crackle to the sound of unfairness
Question your place within the white world of today
Your community privileges
With pen in hand, contemplates to write the notes of despairs
W to the J, J to the W
Concern by the brothers and sisters of yesterday, today and tomorrow
Voice crackle to the sight of classicism, sexism, racism
Ism to the reason of wrongness
Lift your sword, write the notes of desolations
W to the J, J to the W
Yesterday, today and tomorrow bullshit shut down
Voice crackle to the vocalism of the nonsense, ignorance
Stand against the personal struggles, write the notes of accomplishments
W to the J, J to the W
Open your voice
Let it sing with the rhythm of the goddesses
Athena, the goddess of war will be by your side
So, lift your sword
Write the notes of struggle, despair and resilience
Vocalize for the brothers and sisters of yesterday, today and tomorrow
Shout
Holler
Scream
And your sword never let go
Copyright © Vickie Ortiz Vazquez | Year Posted 2010
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Vickie Ortiz Vazquez Poem
Half Empty, 2011
Vickie M. Ortiz Vazquez
To describe oneself, what question must be asked?
One driven by reality?
Philosophy?
To speak of the physical beauty that resembles humble being
“Beauty is where you find it” sings Madonna
Should I bomb descriptive words which stop at physical characteristics?
For while my cup is half empty, hers is half full
Driven by beauty standards
Unheard off
Reality just to those with wealth
Illusionist balancing individual’s self-esteem
Through the cut
Thread together; million dollar hands
Is my glass really half empty?
“Beauty is where you find it” sings Madonna
Should I painterly describe the beauty walking alone?
The one not understood
Unique
Hidden behind leaves, thorns
Casted aside because she lacks size zero
Trying to fit in yet not in her clothes
Trap
To be or not to be
One’s self that is
Casted aside because she speaks her lingo
Forceful to protect
Hidden behind hurtful words, thoughts
Survival skills gone
Or, is it?
Social interaction forgotten
Silenced
Casted aside because she mirrors society’s wrongfulness
Body scan reveals six distinctive colors
Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Purple
Blues streaming constantly
A cut
Deep red spills
So, I ask; to describe one’s self what question must be sought?
Copyright © Vickie Ortiz Vazquez | Year Posted 2011
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Vickie Ortiz Vazquez Poem
Self -Censorship, 2011
Vickie M. Ortiz Vazquez
Shut up
Stop, just shut up
I am asking you to shut up
SHUT THE HECK UP
Not again, how many time before you stop
Don’t give that look; as if you don’t understand
Left, right, back, forward
Constant persecution, non stop
Cállate
Para, solo cállate
Te estoy pidiendo que te calles
Cállate
MALDITA SEAS, QUE TE CALLES
Nonstop today, tomorrow and yesterday
Yesterday, denied basic amenities
Tomorrow, waiting for the new oppression
Today, constant denial by you and those like you
Yours, the color of your skin
Number one weapon
Forgetting we are all made after HIS image
Modernization, lynching without whips
Shield, the color of your skin
Guilty, the color of my skin
Let’s not forget the ascent
Shut up
Stop, just shut up
I am asking you to shut up
SHUT THE HECK UP
Yesterday, there she was
Tumor the size of a banana
Guilty, the color of her skin
Her language
Health care denied, hiding behind her low resources
Today, can’t help but wonder
How do you sleep at night?
Tomorrow, would you strike?
Take a holiday?!
Celebrate one more day of oppression
Yours, the color of your skin
Mine, the color of my skin
Reasons for your hate
Misunderstanding
Hiding the truth for your constant persecution
Cállate
Para, solo cállate
Te estoy pidiendo que te calles
Cállate
MALDITA SEAS, QUE TE CALLES
Tug of war
You against me
Lies cannot decipher, yours
Hope, a fool’s wealth; theirs
There they lay, bodies
Pointing the white fingers, accused
Never mind how we got to this
Years, decades of the white man’s supremacy
Constant fear; thought of losing
Mended empire hidden behind stories
Constant fear; thought of losing
Power
Control
HE paid for you and I to be forgiven, believe
What is there to forgive?
Forget
Design after HIS image, your skin
Synonymous to hate
Not what he had in mind
Yet, scriptures you spit as you strangle every reason for my living
Guilty, the color of my skin
Don’t forget my ascent
Shut up
Stop, just shut up
I am asking you to shut up
SHUT THE HECK UP
Cállate
Para, solo cállate
Te estoy pidiendo que te calles
Cállate
MALDITA SEAS, QUE TE CALLES
Wait, hold on
Here, take it
Don’t worry
What?!
If I give you consent is not the same, the rage against my skin
Come on, grab it
Forget the new age, ways
Let’s go back to the cold blooded actions, the whip making contact with the dark skin
Not televised, yet a well known factor
Quite
Copyright © Vickie Ortiz Vazquez | Year Posted 2011
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Vickie Ortiz Vazquez Poem
La Historia-101, 2011
Vickie M. Ortiz Vazquez
Imagine, I cannot
To feel their lost
Longing for the return home
Rejoicing behind closed doors
Criminal act
Propagate servitude with miserable pay
Runaway between breaths
Hunted
Capture, captive
Criminal act
Rape once again, over again
White women turned the other way
Power instilled by any means necessary
Emancipated January first 1863
Imagine, I cannot
Overseas journey, long nights
Not knowing what awaits
The other side
Driven by hate, broadcast faith
Golden Goose displays false imageries
Selective stay, citizenship
Manipulations to project extreme dislike
Plant self loathe
All in the name of supremacist tendencies
Reached land
Meenay, miny, mo
Criminal act
Los Marielitos, 1970’s
Imagine, I cannot
Under the hot sun
Vast land of sand, predetermined path
Self-sacrifice in the name of family prosperity
Uncertainty
Dreams fuel by promises
Human trafficking, lottery
Slavery
Death
Destiny
Either way, criminal act
Imagine, I cannot
Whispers of sterilization
Population control
Blinded by land’s riches
“I must have” translated to ‘let me help you prosper”
Fed ideas of growth
Second guessing labor intensive industry
Rise of unemployment, 1960’s
Restless machetes stored away
Land’s fruits stolen
Justify
Criminal act
Under false pretences, little you give lots you take
Migrant float picture of your lies
Grasp in the hand of the devil
Imagine, I can
Two thousand eleven is the year
Headlines a fluke, mostly ignore by news
Recent voices speak of fear
Fear to seek an education
Fear to seek shelter
Fear to seek food
Fear to roam about
Inhale life’s smells
Capture life’s colors
Tattoo life’s experiences
Criminal act
Imagine, I can
Flickering lights getting closer
Fused back light
Finger print attempt for a burned out back light
Tif for Tat between Blue and Morena
Unnoticed the color of his skin
Minutes after, does it really matter?
Blue soldier with a license to destroy
Destroy without questioning lives of those tricked
Brought under false pretenses; full of hope
Penniless
Left to die
Wrongfully accused
Dreams shattered
Hopeless
Copyright © Vickie Ortiz Vazquez | Year Posted 2011
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Vickie Ortiz Vazquez Poem
no Artist, no Poet
Vickie M. Ortiz Vazquez
I am not an artist
So, I doodle
Play with shapes, colors
Juxtapose
Yet, I am no artist
Inscriptive, descriptive visual symbols come about
Recognizable shapes, not what it seems
Misunderstood at first glace
Driven by a part of me you do not know
I am not an artist
So, I doodle
Play with shapes, colors
Juxtapose
Yet, I am no artist
Lines meet to reveal a thought
Experience
Fuel by what has been heard
Watched
Felt
Syllables merge to form words, sentences
Beliefs
I am not an artist neither a poet
So, I write
Use words to paint my thoughts
Yet, I am no artist nor poet
Black book to grey notebook
Symbols meet; apart by soft-hard covers
Thoughts described
Driven by the woman, teenager
Childhood memories
Stitch by a common thread
Me, myself and I
I am not an artist
So, I doodle
I am not an artist neither a poet
So, I write
Yet, I am no artist nor poet
I am life’s fool
Touch by moments of inspiration
I am nature’s creation
Design to loose and gain
I am society’s product
Branded by many labels
Constricted, tormented by my “brothers” and “sisters”
I am not an artist
So, I doodle
Play with shapes, colors
Juxtapose
Yet, I am no artist
I am not an artist neither a poet
So, I write
Use words to paint my thoughts
Yet, I am no artist nor poet
Work in progress
Life’s path
Unfinished piece, lifetime work
Brush strokes, wide-simple yet complicated
Narrow path full of passion
Torture
Bristled brushes with primary colors
Endless possibilities
Motifs floating about
I am not an artist
So, I doodle
Play with shapes, colors
Juxtapose
Yet, I am no artist
Expressive words delineate motifs
Continuous mark with an end
To express what cannot be said
Mumble within me without escape
I am not an artist neither a poet
So, I write
Use words to paint my thoughts
Yet, I am no artist nor poet
I am life’s fool
Touch by moments of inspiration
I am nature’s creation
Design to loose and gain
I am life’s fool
Touch by moments of inspiration
Copyright © Vickie Ortiz Vazquez | Year Posted 2011
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