Story Archives 2000

by Felicita Pedroza

You can tell I'm Boricua by my long, curly, dark hair

When you look into my eyes you see culture in my stare

My tongue taste like adobo my mouth like rice and beans

I am the Taino goddess you have never seen

My hips sway with the Salsa my heart beats with the drum

I'll have you drunk off my love, like dark Bacardi rum


Touch the arch of my back and feel my ancestors load

My kisses are dynamite, to make you explode

The dimple on my cheek is a pool of delight

Touch my feminine arms, feel my culture’s might

My eyes, like the stars that lead the Tianos to shore

My powerful touch any sickness can cure

Taste my thighs; you'll taste my culture’s glory

Grip my palm to read the Tiano story

My steps are so great it cannot be measured

Dig into my Boricua soul, you'll find buried treasure

You'll find abundance in my breech

But no decrepitude in my reach

My tongue utters efficacious words

So meaningful, so smooth just like my curves

You can tell I'm Boricua by the beauty in each strand of hair

Look into my eyes; find the culture in my stare.

by Staff Writer

As a poor people led/indigenous people led organization we are extremely worried about the thrival and survival of our brothers and sisters in South Africa, Samoa, The Philippines, Malaysia, amd beyond.

The loss/decrease of land, water, air and other dire impacts of Global Climate Change on poor communities of color is one of the most important issues we are concerned with as indigenous peoples in relationship with Mama earth and each other.

Many of our local indigenous staff writers and scholars have family members struggling in Samoa and the Philippines therefore we are gathering contributions and working with local grassroots folks to support their relief efforts.

To help Samoan folks POOR Magazine is collecting donations to give to a local Samoan congregation (Assemblies of God where one of staff writers is a member-) Please send your donations to POOR Magazine and make them in care of "Samoan relief" at 2940 16th street #301 San Francisco, Ca 94103

To Help Filipino folks - please donate to one of the following locations listed above. For more information go on-line to www.sfchrp.org

by PNN Staff

The United Nations Plaza Homeless Project is comprised of dedicated homeless folk who are attempting to make change for themselves and other low income people who have been dealing with poverty and homelessness for several years without much help from the San Francisco city government, a city government who usually resorts to criminalizing homeless citizens rather than helping them. Check in for future development of this ambitious project.

Contact Manuel Morales at (415) 608-8406 pager ( 415) 208-8406.

by Joe. B.

Who are these Assholes?
Do They realize, be they made of grass, glass, steel, or diamond-they're melted cheese in our Global Oven.

Ours Nation and all Freedom Loving Nations all over the world grieves for families of lives lost in the four high-jacked jet planes and in New York’s World Trade Centers.

Our National hurt and healing will take some time as generations young and old have simultaneously are in mental, physical turmoil.

This will take time but we as American’s and as Global Community will
get through this horrendous catastrophe made by human beings to hurt, maim, and kill other human beings–to dehumanize makes them victors.

THEY ARE MORTAL AS WE, BLEED AND DIE AS WE.

Either by Tribunal or death on the run, they will be judged.

21st CENTURY WAR! Is a hard concept to handle but I guess we’ll have to fight this one so the centuries to come will be truly a peaceful world.

May this not be World War 3.

The terrorist‘s have wounded us attacking our shores, may Allah forgive them because their collective asses belongs to America.

As much as I rail against our countries rights and wrongs I will not forsake Her/Him, Uncle Sam – to many boatloads of African ancestors died in slavery, in every war of American independence – this will be no different except maybe this time all rainbow american’s will finally be seen as plain, ordinary, extraordinary, American’s. That’s a legacy worth giving to our descendents whatever, race, religion, sex, sexual orientation, class, or national origin.

If any readers would like to add to this or be my quest.

Sorry, if this seems like a meaningless column I may not have expressed my views strongly enough but I got to get a flag to place at my window in my humble SRO. [Single Occupancy Hotel or Sleeping Room Only] Got to go, stay strong, live long.

Contact: POOR Magazine

255 9th street San Francisco, Ca.94103

askjoe@poormagzine.org

by Joseph Bolden

I do not like getting out of a warm bed where my pills, cough syrup, hot tea ‘n honey is, because going on an assignment sick is bad form for both the interviewer and interviewee. Mr. Allan Ball is around somewhere on San Francisco’s sunshiny day. I feel miserable today as people all over the city, across the Bay, and across the street from that blinding golden dome atop City Hall.

Many speakers are suffering and continue to suffer from the stigma of mental illness but since the Reagan Administration [1980 -’84-1984 to1988] when most of the hospitals, sanitariums were closed, mentally ill persons are on the streets or hidden away as if they are crimi-nals. I lay on the grass, feeling queasy and feel as if I’m about to throw up my split pea soup on those red christmasy plants. After the rally/protest on the grass all the organizations converged in an orderly if loud march to-ward the Department of Public Health on 101 Grove Street in San Francisco.

Inside the building the physically challenged use the elevator while the able bodied use stairs entering a meeting of commissioners al-ready in progress.

Of course it only seems like political theater but many people in the march are really pissed off and angry at how many S.F. Health Department Policies do the exact opposite in stead of help persons with mental illness, physical disabilities, elderly, or people with on-going slow debilitating diseases. Someone called the cops even as voices lessened.

After more chants, speeches, public speaking from real people suffering under these policies, and a protest version of “The Twelve Days of Christmas” Everyone stayed longer than the some of the health commis-sioners, cops, or seated citizens in the meeting deemed equitable.
Translation: [Protester left when they deemed their voices were heard and not before.]

The Commission leave before the protesters only then did every-one protesting in The Department of Public Health in San Francisco. My flu broke as my nose bled profusely, and where’s Allan?
He slipped out when the police entered.

It’s satisfying seeing cops try to arrest people doing legitimate civil disobe-dience and a commissioner or two being steadfast stubborn on it not hap-pening. Has it helped, Did other commissioner get the message, will poli-cies change?

I have no answers to these questions but focused heat must re-main on the health system until the very people affected can show how po-lices and be change, improved, and become a more fluid process and not set in stone, unchanging, and blind to answers coming from the very vic-tims of this system. Bye.

by Joe B.

Well, almost Easter, Mother Mary, Mary Madeline, the Apostles, and Jesus resurrected.

Heady thoughts to be sure but as usual mines turned to those first pre chemists that may have died breathing in mercury fumes or blowing themselves up in accidents.

What would a modern Alchemist be today?
Answer: A Molecular Nuclear Physicist working with molecules that make up the atoms that's part of all living or inorganic material.

I might night not have time to think this through so folks have a safe and exciting Easter.

Meanwhile I must get out of the city and visit family before returning and I’ll finish my long thoughts on Alchemy, Alchemists, and the good and evil of it.

See you all and stay alive don’t do no stupid bull moves guys, young men, young wimin. Bye…

Please send donations to

Poor Magazine or in C/0

Ask Joe at 1448 Pine Street,

San Francisco, CA. 94103 USA

For Joe only my snail mail:

1230 Market St.

PO Box #645

San Francisco, CA 94102

Email: askjoe@poormagazine.org

by Boys and Girls Club of the Southern Ute Indian Tribe

Maylon Newton (Chickasaw/Southern Ute)

age 14


Slam Bio

My Color is green

My taste is spicey

My touch is soft

My smell is lavander

Im a tiger that roams the quiet lands

I belong to the southern Ute tribe

They are as gentle as a cats fur

I live with my dad. He is the Cat’s meow

My struggle is my life, I just moved from Oklahoma

And my pride and joy.

It was like I was running in the waters of my own sorrow

by Leroy Moore, Darla Lennox, Maria Palacios, Zilwood, Tiny

Krip-Hop Kripmas Karol will be an international project and that means artists, writers, poets and musicians with disabilities and allies from around the world are welcome to send in their pieces.

Kripmas Karols form Around the World by artists, poets & musicians with disabilities and allies. Throughout 2010 Krip-Hop Nation will be asking for more poets, writers and musicians with disabilities to send their poems, songs lyrics, jingles etc to us to make a small pamphlet for the 2010 Holiday season. This is why, how it will work and what we’re looking for:

Why: Every Holiday season (December) mainstream media uses a charity frame to make people give and most of the times it is people who are poor, elderly and people with disabilities that are caught up in this frame with no voice. We have all seen it: “Serving the Homeless!” or “Toys for the Disabled!” And the list\framing goes on. So Poor Magazine & Krip-Hop Nation wants to help in taking back that frame with our own Christmas carols what we call Kripmas Karols. You don’t have to be a person with a disability to be involved with this project but u do need to spit/write some activist lyrics, poems, jingles ect.

What to submit: Original poems, songs, jingles, short stories with an hardcore activist message about the ways we are used as pity and charity during the holiday season are welcome. The goal is to flip the pity/charity message with our own Christmas carol, song, poem, story and whatever. Email them to Leroy Moore at kriphopproject@yahoo.com. Although this project will be ongoing there are two deadlines: 1) The end of Jan. 2010 to promote through the Internet to get more artists and (2) September 2010 to go to print for the 2010 Holidays. Krip-Hop Nation will try to send each artist a copy of the small pamphlet. The pamphlet will be used for education purposes and not for sale. Your rights to your piece stays with you and you can publish your piece elsewhere. Krip-Hop Nation only ask if you do publish your piece elsewhere just to mention it was printed for Krip-Hop Kripmas pamphlet of 2010. With your permission Krip-Hop Nation & Poor Magazine would like to also post your Krip-Hop Kripmas Karols on social network sites like Face book, MySpace and on Poor Magazine Site.

If you’re down then drop me an email at kriphopproject@yahoo.com Include your name, title of the piece, your email address and date when the piece was written and where are you located.

by Coalition on Homelessness

The Mayor’s office released a count of homeless people today, claiming a 42% decrease in the street count, and the overall number of homeless people in the City dropping from 8,640 to 5,642. Homeless advocates are up in arms, as this number is impossibly low.

"This outrageously low number is either politically motivated or a result of gross incompetence." According to Jennifer Friedenbach of the Coalition on Homelessness, "There is a lot of pressure on the Mayor to demonstrate success in solving homelessness, and to say this number exaggerates that success would be an understatement."

The Coalition on Homelessness sent volunteers on the street count to observe the undertaking. Our reports state volunteers were instructed not to enter parks, not to talk to people, nor to enter abandoned buildings. (Supposedly, park and rec staff counted homeless people in the morning but this could not be verified.) There were many neighborhoods that were not covered. In addition, it was raining, which makes it particularly difficult to count homeless people.

The City is able to account for part of the decrease in the numbers of homeless people, through housing several hundred homeless welfare recipients, but this accounts for only a portion of the 1,880 decrease in homeless street count numbers. Homeless advocates find this discrepancy troubling.

The Department of Human Services is also claiming great victory--more than 73% decrease in single adult homeless welfare caseload. However, they have no documentation regarding what happened to the homeless people when they left welfare. The Department of Human Services is making baseless assumptions that homeless people left town.

The Coalition on Homelessness conducted a comprehensive analysis of Care Not Cash, based on data gathering from Department of Human Services and interviews with homeless people and service providers. We found mixed results. While there was success in getting some homeless people housed, other homeless welfare recipients reported increased hunger and non-welfare recipients reported displacement from stable shelter as a result of Care not Cash.

by Tony Robles/PNN

It’s one of the most beautiful sounds, maybe the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. You go through life working jobs and navigating through the nonsense and the real and sometimes the lines separating them are so blurred that you can’t tell one from the other. A great writer once said, “Men have ways of showing their petty biases and prejudices”. One doesn’t have to be a great writer to draw that conclusion.

I sit at work (and occasionally stand) and I hear the other officers (I work as a security guard) talk about black people—mostly black men. They say, I saw this black guy the other day and he did this and that and that and this. I listen to how the words black guy roll off their tongues and onto the floor. I watch the way they spit on the ground.

This one fellow with whom I share a common employer talked about how a black guy came into the supermarket that he’s hired to guard…just the other day…and got offended and belligerent when asked to produce his receipt. I asked the guy if the customers at Safeway in the Marina are asked to produce their receipts. He didn’t have an answer. I could tell that it got him thinking but in the time it took to bat the lash on one’s eye, it was back to “I saw this black guy and he…”

I listen and know that black guy is code for nigger. I figured that my co-worker would know this, being ½-Raza. But somewhere along the way this got lost; somehow the dirt from the hands of his ancestors that carved life into the faces of mountains, that planted and fed a civilization disappeared in the wind that set the colonizer’s boats sail. Towards the end of our shift he offered to buy me a tall café mocha (and showing much class, asked me if I preferred white or regular mocha).

When I was growing up, there were no black guys, only brothers. My father was Filipino and the blood in his veins was black, like soy sauce rivers that the Issei and Nisei saw on their way to the concentration camps. I used to hear the laughter of the brothers in my dad’s room listening to records—Miles, Smokey, The Temps—and drinking Ripple. I would sit and listen behind that old fashioned wooden door with the dark brown shellac that separated my father’s room from mine, and the laughter of black men would hit the walls and shatter the glass and rise like the tide on the most beautiful Sunday morning. It was life, it was the flow, it was love and tragedy and music and poetry and everything I ever needed to know—the sound of their laughter.

And I see brothers who are suffering, been through it all. Ask them for their receipt? They’ve paid with their lives, their hearts, their tears many times over. I say, ask them for their laughter. Ask them to tell a story that will bring the laughter from their mouths and the sun and the world to its knees. Give me their laughter. Give me the beautiful laughter of black men