Note to Self

IMG_20171002_184516_854Being mean to One’s heart and mind does not become me
but it is becoming
a habit.

I need to drop it.

And reflect happiness onto broken dreams.

And forgive all the not finishings
and the stooper fantasies.

I forgive my reckless lifestyle.

I forgive every frown
and every wrinkled little laugh line
that exists in the design
of me.

I am happy.

I’m alive.

Patience and gratitude pave the way to peace and I long to find true love there.

I am thankful for the push of the run
and the moments when I push even harder.

I am Jane and Robert’s daughter
and I am mother to a Love brighter than the Sun.

I will always be addicted to fun
but I’ll no longer be an abuser.

I am not fond of being used
and I will not be a user.

And I am not a loser.

I am my own worst best friend and I keep my enemies close.

I wear a lot of masks
and there will always be sides to my story.

But I live in glory
and I reign supreme.

No longer living in a dream.

Tonight just turned into tomorrow
and I
am wide Awake.

Sara Roman – 2017


Beautiful Youth

Life is fun.

Let nothing ever bind you.

Forgive your past
You’re made to last
Mistakes do not define you.

Inquire within
Beautiful youth
You are the only one that will save you

-Sara Roman


Get your hands dirty

and dig.

The timing’s perfect

so dig .

Dig deep


bask in your life source of waves.

Dig beyond bloody root and pulsing vein.

Labor with the Sun

till you dig yourself again

and then just keep digging.

Leave your Monsters in the dirt.

You are here to do work

You’re a hero.

You must keep digging.

Dig that you are constantly changing

and everlasting bliss.

Dig this.

None above or below

compares to the beauty that exists

within the depths of your soul unwinding.

Please keep digging.

The dirt beneath your finger nails

is grit.

And when you work for it,

that wisdom will guide you to glory.

This hole is not the end of your story,

you’ve just yet to see the light.

So dig

with all of your might.

The flowers can not wait to see you.

-S. Roman 2015

Snow White Chicana

Your such a little Guerra.

You must be the mail man’s baby

What you don’t speak Spanish

What kind of Mexican are you?

Questions and statements like these were the words that tormented me

Growing up A little Snow White Chicana

searching for identity in a society who’s white washed lies could not define me

was strange indeed.

My brown eyes

were a symbol of the brown pride

instilled inside me

but it went unseen.

Goes to show

Eyes blinded by stereo types will always deceive

Picked and poked at by friends and family

They made me feel like it was wrong

Like my porcelain pigment was not a gift of European decent

or the diversity that binds this blood

the beauty that bags these bones

the skin that houses my home

It is a gift

My temple is full of pride in my ancestry

the good and the bad in me

and I am aware of my history now

but the battles I fought within myself

to not hate the skin I grew in then

made for a reckless adolescents undeserving of the ignorance

Truth is

I just wanted to fit in

So I’d tease my bangs extra high

and adorn my eyes with lines extra wide

even pierced my skin with them three dots one time

Had to prove it was a crazy life

Because even though my skin was white

I was brown inside

and even I could be a chola

But that was just a phase

I got over it by 9th grade

And that’s just about the time I had my first nightmare with self tanner

Silly Snow White Chicana would rather take the shade Umpa Lumpa

than the tone that she got from her Mama

It wasn’t until my college years that I let go of that drama

took a seat in Chicano Studies

learned to love my ghostly epidermis

and realized the true value of the color I’d been fighting all those years

For there is a truth here

and it slaps reality into the false identity that stares our youth in the face each day

We were not made to poke fun at each other and there is not just one race

And all of these different shades are what make us more the same

And though I am proud of my Raza

the hate that exists within the confines of color is a disgrace

and I am no longer ashamed

The pain, anguish and courage endured to create my Spanish Mexica mixture

and Mestizo culture is something I am proud of today


We have nothing to prove

and to me

Brown Pride means celebrating our culture and educating our youth

and standing up for the one’s we exclude

The greatest thing we could ever do is tell the people the truth

Yet, Chicano history is absent in most of the books provided to our youth

and so they’ve just a small clue of all the colors that they should be proud of too

There’s no running from the fact that Kids’ will always tease kids in the school yard

and we may never know the complete truth

American History will always be askew

and that is why it is up to me and it is up to you

to teach all the little brown ones

little white ones,

little black, red, purple, yellow ones

the reasons they are perfect

Can’t keep a good bird down

I keep letting them get me down

I’m creative so my expectations are sometimes askew
And my wealth of wisdom
does not keep me from longing

so sometimes,
I get sad when I’m alone

Some days,
the loneliness consumes me,
but it is the nights
left with no time to write
that haunt me

and so,
I remain the ghost of my old bad habits

A poor misunderstood soul
always seeking something
never really knowing
never really owning
up to my featherbrained faults

My way is sometimes flighty
yet, I have never truly soared

You know,
I still dream of flying the coup
but tonight
I just want to run

I want to run away from every one that didn’t stay
and every love that didn’t stick
and all my worst mistakes

I want to run through the wall that still stands in the way of my dreams made reality
keeping me from turning the page into reality

Read me well
and I will sing the next time you see me


Bewailing at the Ofrenda

I painted my self a portrait of death for you today
Though it is bone painted flesh that you see
I still breath
I am alive in a dream

And lady death still pierces my ever beating heart
every day that she swallows the stars
like the moment that she snatched yours away from me

Like the moment that I learned to Love the night
look to the sky every time I miss the light
that once shown through your eyes
now floats in the vast darkness of the sky

And I am left here remembering and holding on to these
objects, places and sacred things
They keep you close to me
somewhere beyond this dream

And so safely I lay them out for you my love to see

It is a beautifully painstaking feat
to decorate ofrendas with marigold memories

My heart is singing for you now
This living calavera with bone teeth all smiles
My heart is singing for you now

I will never let go of your love
I will always wish on your stars
I’ll carry your picture till forever never finds me
I walk with you now in my heart

Your death leaves me longing for awakening
though I know it’s not my turn
each day a page that I am left unable to fill with words
words unable to fill the void left by days I still sleep walk without you

Oh how I can’t wait to wake!
Oh how I miss your eyes
and the sounds that your voice would make

I’d tell the cheesiest of jokes if I could make laugh right now
I’d piss you off just to hear you yell
I’d write you poetry to make you weep
I’d do anything for just one peep
of that magnificent roar that is yours

Those that joined you on your journey
to Mictlan
must have been awed by your numinous glory

Dead but not gone
your spirit carries on
Much brighter than the noise I’m bewailing

What I do

this working 9 to 5,
putting in 40 hours just to stay alive
and fed
with roof over head
is driving me lazy.

Head in a daze
mouse in a maze
running out of time
and by the time that it’s time,

I have to give myself pep talks just to cook dinner.

and still,

I stay up too late
playing with words and paint
and biting my lip
with sexy thoughts unattained.
like a good lil sinner.

Mama’s almost winner.

I swear one day
I’m gonna get it all right!

For now,
I reap the stitches
of Manuel’s Mama
and make it so.

All that’s left
is all I need
to get right.

All that’s left
is to remember how to be whole.

And I know just the right
place to go.

Made a room for myself the other day
and dedicated it to all that is sacred.

You were there.

And I go there at least twice a day.
The acoustics are great.
And I say whatever I want to that room.

I pray to the four white walls
like the four directions,

look at myself new
in each reflection
and recognize my soul.

I go in that room and day dream
excitement and happiness for the world.

Those four walls have heard me try to be rapper a time or two.

Those four walls have felt me sing the blues

Those four walls and I sweat and stretch with each other.

Fingers tap keys
voice hits them sometimes

Everything’s a rhyme
when the realm is the reason.

I go here to be free.