History In My Eyes

Life is but a book
The writer is but a politician
History is repeated
Just like any other book
The difference
Is the writer
The politician behind the pen
The plot is always the same
Sometimes well outlined
Sometimes lazy pillars
Either way
They both collapse 
In the reader’s eyes
Either at the middle
Or the end
But it’s always the same.
I see sickness of the mind
In these troubling times
I’ve seen how people
Get greedy with opportunities
I’ve seen a lousy storyteller
Light the last firework
To incite violence
And distract
The local readers. 

A mere copycat
Trying to rewrite
History’s thorn past.
Lost souls
In flames
In despair
Hunger of hatred
Is what he seeks
Filming second-rate movies
For the world to see
Idiocracy at its full. 

And yet
I can’t seem to understand
The ignorant
I still can’t understand
The greedy
Much less
The influence
Of a mere liar. 

Is it sweet
yet stupid whisper?
Is a movie maker
More important
Than a leader?
Is a barricaded coward better
Than peaceful confrontation? 

Wake up America!
Terrorism is within
Is covered in fur
Doesn’t matter the softness
It was still teared from the prey!
Don’t shut your eyes
Don’t cover your ears
Don’t be distracted by lies
Don’t lose yourself in the fog.
Please just don’t…


By Rosalva Ruiz SuperNova

There is a legend
That only a few know
About this mysterious woman
Who’s face is still unknown
Yet her feats
Are recorded
In the Odd family scroll. 

A chivera from la frontera
Who passed from electronics
And some other tonteras. 

The one and only wedding aide
Who didn’t give access
To this celebrity fave
For the simple reason
That Fito Olivares was not written
In that page
Of course
Who would have known
That Rodolfo Olivares
Was his real name
A VIP guest
At least
that’s what’s written there. 

And well the list goes on
Array with beats
And souls that begin to flow.
That was her last job as such
That is for sure. 

Now let’s not forget
Of the many recorded
Falls from filming
“The one in a lifetime events”
Such as the time of that wedding
Where the bride’s arm
Suddenly arose
Trying to hold
something in the air
Their lips
As well as their eyes
Saying “Oh no!”
Then a white ceiling
Of the church
Came into view… 

This other time
Where instead of a white ceiling
It was the face of Jesus
With his arms wide open
Kind of saying pobrecita
Ahi va de nuevo otra caida… 

Fret not
That gave her the best idea
Pictures taken from the floor
She’s got quite a few
Of those.
The kiss in the air
From the groom and his bride
The funny faces from friends
And quinceañeras
Enjoying their time. 

The groom leaning
The dazed eyes
Anticipating a love song
And the fallen bow
Giving the perfect
Memory for years to come. 

While in the cloud
Makes one remember
That this woman
Is a dragoness in disguise
When the time comes by.
A whisperer of love
When the need is more.
A clown in the cloud
When the kids are around.
And last but not least
A cast speller
In an invisible town
When she holds
Her feathered pen
And writes in the air.


By Rosalva Ruiz SuperNova

A primera vista lo sentí
Cuando a tus ojos amielados
Desde aquí yo vi
Como si endulzando sueños
Fuera tu existir.

Tu presencia…
exquisita sensación.
Labios tiernos y sensuales
Arrogancia deleitable
Dando tu sonrisa angelical
A cualquiera que vez pasar.

Que entre tanta gente
La puedo detectar
Esa silueta difícil de olvidar
Con esa figura escultural
Le quisiera abrazar.

Pero mas odio
Mi sed de tu ser
Apetito insaciable
Miedo indomable
Inquietud por verte
Inclusive Idolatrarte.

Esta parte de mí
Ya que solo
Una vez te vi
Y al instante
Me enamoré de ti
Más no existes
Te conozco
Mas eres un extraño.

Te busco en muchas personas
Mas solo existes en esa historia
Solo existes para esa persona
Tinta y papel
Simple garabato imaginario
Y mi corazón
En delirio inadecuado.

Eli, Paco y Seb ( En Español)

LA FAMILIA ODD por Rosalva Ruiz (SuperNova)

Eli es el de 8 años, es el mas callado, el que mas trabaja sin que nadie lo vea. Es responsable, tambien tiene lo suyo. Es un niño que disfruta su niñez, mas es serio y más adulto cuando es necesario.

Como ya sabrán, el momento mas ameno para mi es ir en camino de la casa a la escuela y viseversa. Es el momento en que Eli y Paquito me hablan de lo que piensan. Me refiero a cosas serias, no a lo normal de un niño. Eli como de costumbre, me saca unas preguntas que en algunos momentos son muuuyy difíciles de contestar. Mas que nada porque intento contestarle con sinceridad, y en ocasiones, las respuestas se contradicen en mi pensamiento, y es ahí, cuando se me hace difícil.
El día de hoy fue uno de esos días o mas bien dicho, una de esas preguntas…
La pregunta fue, de porque Dios es mas importante que Santa? Hmmmm
Le dije que es mas importante Dios porque la navidad se celebra por la natividad de Dios. Se que según la religión, es cuando nació su Dios. En mi religión, Dios nació el día 25 de Diciembre, y esa es la fecha que le estoy enseñando a Eli, según NUESTRAS CREENCIAS. Y le dije que Santa vino mucho tiempo despues, cuando había mucha hambruna y problemas en cierta ciudad. Un hombre decidió dar comida a los mas desafortunados y ropa o juguetes a algunos niños. Que en su momento se le hizo llamar Noel. Le dije que Dios nació en el año cero. Mas Noel o Santa nació en los 1700 (Creo, no recuerdo muy bien las fechas). Y como todo Dios vino primero. Y ahí me dio la pregunta difícil”Y mama, porque pasan cosas malas a las personas, si Dios nos esta viendo y esta a nuestro alrededor?”… este niño como me da dolores de cabeza de repente con sus preguntas… La respuesta que le iba a decir me hizo sentir culpable y a la vez frustrada. Digo, quien en su momento, no le ha preguntado a Dios, porque a mí Creo que todos en algún momento de nuestra larga vida, nos hemos preguntado eso. Y todos los días, se ve alguna que otra noticia de las injusticias que hay por todos lados. Como puedo contestar algo tan sencillo y tan difícil de explicar? Claro me fui por que es que existe también el diablo y que es una lucha constante que tiene Dios y el diablo… Pero honestamente, es algo que aun cuando he dado la respuesta mas sencilla, queda ese mal sabor de conciencia

A Piece of Mind

During these days of the month I tend to be an observer.  Not that it helps on my daily life. It’s just that there is no other choice, either I do that and sit or stumble on anything, or become dizzy and fall. It’s just those type of days. I give a big praise to the doctors and nurses and anybody that has to deal with blood on a daily basis. I can’t even fathom the idea of smell of blood from my own body, much less from other people. I guess it gets stronger as my age advances.

On these days, I’m so happy that I was able to give birth to boys only. They won’t have to deal with this mess during all their life. Well they might get to deal with their spouse’s period cycles, but at least they won’t have to deal with the change of emotions, the hammering on the head, the pulling and itching of your breasts, the swelling and almost bursting of your fingertips, the tachycardia, the feeling of an infection in your most private part, the extra feeling of smell and hearing… Oh, and to top it off with the constant nausea and colic before and during those days. Now some women have it easy, they literally bleed for 3 to 5 days. But not me, no Sr. it has to be from 8 to 14 days.

So yes, it’s not justa a single itty bitty thing, it’s a conjunction of things that leaves no room to be happy, much less enjoy an active life during these days.

Hence, I do as much as I can before these days, since I know that during these days I will be like a lazy animal. In fact, I have instructed my kids on what to do during these days if by any chance I pass out in a dangerous place. The eight year old knows that he needs to call his dad first, and if it’s necessary, after calling his dad, he needs to call 911. The 5-year-old knows that he needs to take care of his 3-year-old little brother, you know, not getting things that might harm them or things like that. The 8-year-old is in charge, so he needs to take care of his 2 little brothers. Unless that his dad, grandma or aunt comes and pick them up they can’t go with anybody else. Otherwise call immediately to his dad, or his aunt and follow instructions from them.

I know it’s a big responsibility for an 8-year-old, but unfortunately life doesn’t give us a heads up. It just comes and gets what it wants when one least expects it and boy if I know.  If it weren’t for my sister’s information when we were in an accident several years ago. I don’t know how much time longer would we be in the hospital without a family member; and she was only 9. (Just in case, if anyone is interested I wrote about that accident a while back. It’s called “Angel with a gum.”)

Since I know that  this happens to me every month, I am in a way training them like how the schools do a fire drill. Is best to let them know ahead of time, than for them to panic and god knows what might happen. Wouldn’t you agree?

The Show Has Got To Stop!

By Rosalva Ruiz (SuperNova)

The Lady has fallen
When it comes to bullets
The target has never been white
They are ghosts
Coming and going
wherever they like
As if they are exempt
Of life
Not even national security
Dares to defy.

The torch has fallen
No more fire
It’s extinguished
By the very first man in power.

A ripped book
No laws seem to exist
Spilled democracy
Stained honor
No security
Scarlet letters
are sent through images
Let the whole world
A buffoon is in office
An easy target is our nation.
What a big act
Has been shown.

It makes you wonder
What is brewing
behind curtains?
What is the next act?
What is he hiding?
This show has got to stop!

*originally posted in the gnashing teeth publishing.

Here is the link

The Show Has Got To Stop By SuperNova

Eli, Paco y Seb 2


He’s a bit of a parrot
Hence me calling him
Paco Pacorro is a given.
He’ll be a great politician
There is only white or black with him
Either you go to the right
Or the left
There is no in-between.
He is what we call
“Gente de raza”
In other words
He is from the hood
He may be 5
But sometimes
It feels like
He is 15
One either adores him
Or hates him.

But the core of it all
He is humble
And although sometimes
He looks like a troublemaker
He’ll stand for what’s right.

This is the introduction of the 5-year-old.

A few days ago
Seb, the 3-year-old
Came running from his room
And as soon as he saw Paco.

He stopped and practically commanded
With a playful voice,
“Paacooo, open your moudth and say aaahh!!

Paco who was playing with legos
Looked at him and followed along, “Aaaaahhh.”

Seb started laughing and saying, “haha you missing a toodth! Hahaha”

Paco turn his head towards me and shouted,
“Mooommm, tell him to stooopp!”

I just couldn’t stop laughing
I wasn’t expecting that.
It was hard to stop laughing
And be showing anger…

Shut Eyes

By Rosalva Ruiz (SuperNova)

I guess I knew
But I shut my eyes
I’ve imagined every excuse
You could think of
But never the color
Never the heritage
Never the roots of it all.

Thinking back
There was a time
When I lived at a small town
I was but seven
And fascinated with magic
Funny enough
A family of five
Came into town.

They were witches
The grownups said
They might put a spell on ya
They said and with that
Voiced barriers were made.

But I wanted to learn magic
Due to circumstances
I wanted to cast a spell
And protect myself.
I wanted to be invisible
To the masked people.
So either I died trying
Or never be able to.

And yes
A magic spell was cast
The most beautiful there was.
I learned so many things
But never magic.
I was invisible to some people
Since they thought
I was stained
Which didn’t really matter
Since I was having other
Much more troubling affairs
At that time.

I once asked them
Why is everyone saying
You all are witches and yet
You all don’t know any magic?
Antonio’s mom answered
With a pained smile
“Well, it just came to be that way.”
I couldn’t understand why
She answered that way.

In fact I couldn’t understand
How his dad was always
Looking for a job
He often was fired
After a week or two of getting hired.

He was a loving father
He never drank
I never saw him raise his voice
He could do just about anything.
In my eyes, he was such a good guy
I just couldn’t understand it.

After a year
They left town
I never saw them again.

I didn’t get it back then
They were having a hard time coping
Getting acknowledged despite their looks
They barely had money for food
Yet they always invited me
To whatever they had in the table.

Why was I so naive back then?
Why didn’t I see the injustice?
Why did I shut my eyes?


There was no God
To be spoken to…


No miracle
No magic casted…


Just one strand
That one freaking strand
I hung to…


No matter how beaten…


No matter how deep into soil…


Even when crumbled…

I clung

Clung to that
one shining strand…

And I

Depended of
That one and only…


Today is a broken day…


Yet tomorrow will be
another page…


This one insignificant strand…

Sanity combined with faith.

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