Salsa Man
By Arnoldo Juarez
I am called the salsa man
Here in the dorm
Almost every Sunday morning I
Cook up my salsa in the hotpot
It’s fiery and tasteful
I use 4 type of chilies for the
Impressive salsa
Fresh jalapenos, sweet mini peppers
Crushed red peppers, and sizzling
Hot whole Chile pods
And I also use a squirt of
Sriracha hot chili sauce for taste.
Almost every Saturday we are
Served with red gleaming fresh
Tomatoes on our breakfast tray
I chop the tomatoes to fling em
Into the hotpot
And I use the ingredients that
Gives it the savory flavor.
Lemon juice, garlic powder, seasoned
Salt, diced onion and goyas the
Perfect total seasoning.
But if I’m able to obtain fresh
Giantro it becomes an impressive
Tasty salsa.
My spicy and delicious salsa goes
On every tasty grub I make.
Charred burritos, tamales, tacos, nachos
And including sandwiches.
And my spectacular salsa also gives
Life to our bland and unpalatable
Chow hall meals.
Last time I cooked up the aromatic
Salsa my acquaintances came in from
The yard and said to me in a delightful
Tone “salsa man, as soon as
I walked in to the dorm from the
Yard I smelled your salsa”
Danger Signs on My Cell Door
By Arnoldo Juarez
There are immense danger signs across my cell door.
But a pleasing garden in the cell is vibrant and flourishing.
Bright yellow sunflowers, sleek purple orchids, and delightful tulips that decorate extravagant palaces furnished an aesthetic appearance to my domicile.
An overstretched American flag on the wall is visibly scattered behind the crowded abundance of sunflowers.
I will reside in the declining old cell erected of callous concrete for the remaining of my 297-year sentence.
A pleasant soothing brook runs through my cell that aids me to slumber in tranquility.
Officers with caution leave my cold meals on the door slot on a soft paper tray.
Vitalized and bustling bees, butterflies, and hummingbirds keep me in amusement.
My cheerful dulcet singing sweetens the florid scented florid garden.
A red gleaming sign with Spanish wording “peligro” warns everyone from my cell.
The brimming moon at night with bright glistening stars gets near my bar window to serenade me with a musical tenor.
When I elevate my hands to heaven and worship the living God, sparrows join me with glee.
Branches with foliage from hefty sunflowers overspread around the warning sign to obstruct it.
Even though I was condemned two decades ago, my loving mother sees me as her baby boy.
At times in the somber night when I weep from loneliness, fluttering white incandescent butterflies surround me.
My reflection in the tarnished lack lustered mirror is of a precious son of God.
The peligro sign on my bar door is decorated in fresh fragrant flowers every morning.
I hear a myriad of plodding from officers with cocking of their impressive long guns and of clanging sheen shackles; they escort me with clasped shackles to a cage in the famished prison yard so I can get sunshine on my tender pale skin.
Loving letters to my family arrive with red “danger” and “peligro” stamped on the middle of the envelopes.
One day I made a greeting card to the prison warden.
I used fresh cut flowers, smooth pebbles from the brook, vigorous green foliage, and for the letterings I used a calligraphy pen dipped in honey.
When the warden opened the card he gasped in amazement for in the card existed a living and blooming garden.
Aztec in An American Prison
By Arnoldo Juarez
There’s an Aztec warrior.
Bold, strong and determined.
He is confined to a cell for 297 years in an American prison.
A majestic jaguar lives with him.
In his cell flourishes a bountiful of fragrant and diverse flowers.
The florid extended plumage on his headdress is immaculate and shimmerous.
His rigid right hand clutches a weapon of emerald green obsidian blades.
And his wide and powerful left forearm always wields an embellished priced shield.
A golden eagle squeals in melancholy and hovers endlessly around the stronghold.
Every soaring guard tower has an extended gleaming American flag.
The brown Aztec, for fortitude, dances and chants in his prison cell made of callous concrete.
One day the mighty Aztec warrior contemplated about his adoring Indian girls.
He buckled and wept.
But the flowers in his cell inclined on him to console him.
And the jaguar roared strenuously to remind him of his birthright identity.
Teddy Bear in My Cell
By Arnoldo Juarez
I have a teddy bear in my cell.
I don’t feel lonely.
He makes me feel like a boy.
Before I go to sleep, I hug and kiss my soft plush teddy bear.
I’m playful with him.
Sometimes I think he acknowledges me.
He warms my heart.
I offer my teddy bear Honey Buns.
Even though I know I will not get an answer.
I read touching letters from my family to Uriah, my teddy bear.
One day, I wept from sorrow in my heart.
And noticed tears coming down from my teddy bear’s eyes.
No Comments