Friday, October 31, 2014



- - ----------Trick & Treat

Death at the door,
----or lurking among the leaves,
death itself is the inevitable trick;
the only treat worth the having,
----to love fearlessly,
------------------------and well.

--------------© Rafael Jesús González 2014

(The Montserrat Review, Issue 7, Spring 2003;
author’s copyrights)


-----------Chasco y Regalo

La muerte a la puerta,
----o en emboscada entre la hojas,
la muerte misma es el chasco inevitable;
el único regalo que vale la pena,
-----amar sin temor,
------------------------y amar bien.

-------               --------© Rafael Jesús González 2014

Overthrowing Capitalism, A Symposium, Saturday, November 15

 We cannot keep a world 
that destroys the Earth 
that birthed and sustains it. 

-------------------~ Rafael Jesús González 

You are invited

& World Poetry Movement


A Major Literary and Cultural Event

A Symposium in Poetry, Dialogue and Song

WHAT: Speakers, Poetry, Music on the theme  
Emerald Tablet Gallery 
80 Fresno St., 
San Francisco, California 
 Saturday, November 15, 2014, 
2 PM - 9 PM



4 pm:   Kiilu Nyasha, Jerry Mander, Arnoldo Garcia

7 pm: Tony Serra, Nancy Mancias, Sandy Perry


Dorothy Payne, Sarah Menefee, Mahnaz Badihian, Gary Hicks,

Jack Hirschman, Doren Robbins, Karen Melander-Magoon, 

Dee Allen,  John Curl,  Rafael Jesús González,  

Martin Hickel,  Agneta Falk,  J.Vern Cromartie, 

David Volpendesta, Virginia Barrett, Kirk Lumpkin, 

Steven Gray,  Judith Ayn Bernhard, Nina Serrano, 

Kristina Brown, Yolanda Catzalco, Lincoln Bergman, 

Neell Cherkorski, Robert Anbian, Melba Abela,  

Mark Lipman,  Kathleen Weaver [reading Nancy Morejón]


Colin O'Leary, Carol Denney, Ngaire Young,
Daniel Averenga, Francisco Herrera, Mauro Fortissimo


On November 15, 2014, poets, speakers, and musicians will gather in San Francisco in collaboration and celebration on the theme Overthrowing Capitalism, organized by the Revolutionary Poets Brigade in conjunction with the World Poetry Movement.

We expect it to be a day filled with sophisticated and inspiring visions, insights, ideas, exposés, and analysis from artists, thinkers, and activists who are serious about the work ahead. Words that unmask capitalism and raise our consciousness to hopefully lead the world into a more cooperative society. What is capitalism? Might it be reformed into a constructive force, or can we move beyond it only by overthrowing it? What does overthrowing capitalism look like? How do we know when it's overthrown? What might a post-capitalist world look like?

This century is issuing in an era of unprecedented planetary crises, and we have only a short time to transform these many looming disasters into a powerful movement for a constructive revolutionary future. We call on all poets and all people to join us in making a new beginning, to reach deep into your center and bring forth the energies that can lead humanity and the natural world into a bright future, and we call on you all to become visionaries.

This event is also a book launch for a new poetry anthology, OVERTHROWING CAPITALISM, edited by Jack Hirschman and John Curl, of the poems to be read at this event.

OVERTHROWING CAPITALISM, A Symposium of Poets, published by the REVOLUTIONARY POETS BRIGADE, 2014, 150 pages, $9.95, Kallatumba Press ISBN-13: 978-1502304520

 eBook Kindle $2.99



Kiilu Nyasha  is a revolutionary journalist and former member of the Black Panther Party. She currently writes for online publications, feeds the internet, and produces/hosts the bimonthly program, Freedom Is  Constant Struggle on BAVC Commons TV.

 Jerry Mander is an activist and author, best known for Four Arguments for the Elimination of Television. His most recent book, The Capitalism Papers, is about the momentous and unsolvable environmental and social problem of capitalism.

Arnoldo Garcia is a poet-organizer and human rights artist, building power for community, land & the natural world answering: what is to be done?

Tony Serra  is a so-called radical criminal defense attorney.  He has represented anti-establishment ideologies embedded in his cases for more than 50 years.  Further, he describes himself as a “de facto” Marxist.

Nancy Mancias is an anti-war advocate and a  campaign organizer for CODEPINK. She has been actively trying to bring the troops home has been part of the movement against torture  and for accountability for war crimes, overseeing the Justice For All campaign.

Sandy Perry is an activist for housing justice, economic human rights, and a more just world. He is Secretary of Housing for the Green Shadow Cabinet, and an organizer for the Affordable Housing Network of Santa Clara County.


You can find more information the Revolutionary Poets Brigade at our web sites:   and

Cosponsored by the World Poetry Movement



Friday, October 24, 2014

Feast of St. Rafael Archangel

---------En la fiesta antigua
-------de San Rafael Arcángel

Ángel, un poeta me dijo
que tu raza era terrible,
-----pero tus dedos son suaves
-----sobre mis cicatrices,
---------tu bálsamo de luz de pez
---------en la luna plena de octubre
---------escurre dulzura.

Tal vez sea porque
ya no me importa
luchar —
----------consolar, en vez,
----------acariciar las plumas ojosas
----------de tus alas.

-------------------© Rafael Jesús González 2014

------------On the Old Feast
--------of St. Rafael Archangel

Angel, a poet told me
your kind was terrible,
----but your fingers are gentle
----on my scars,
---------your balsam of fish light
---------on the full moon of October
---------drips sweetness.

Perhaps it is because
I no longer care
to wrestle —
---------------caress, instead,
---------------stroke the eyed pinions
---------------of your wings.

-------------------© Rafael Jesús González 2014

---(Metamorfosis, vol. III no. II vol. IV no. I;
----------------author’s copyrights)

Na festa Antiga de S. Rafael Arcanjo

Anjo, um poeta me dissera
que tua raça era terrível,
-----porém teus dedos são suaves
-----sobre as minhas cicatrizes.
------------Teu bálsamo de luz de pez,
------------Numa lua cheia de outubro,
------------escorre doçura.

Talvez seja porque
já não me importa
-------consolar e sim,
-------acariciar as plumas com olhos
-------de tuas asas.

-------------------- © Rafael Jesús González 2014

© Clevane Pessoa de Araújo Lopes 2007
Belo Horizonte, Minas Gerais, Brasil.


Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Alameda Island Poets reading November 5th


a reading featuring
Jannie Dresser


Rafael Jesús González

 Wednesday,  November 5, 2014

7:00 - 9:00 pm

1344 Park St.

Alameda, California

  An open mic  follows featured readers.

Admission Free

parking is available in the public lot corner of Oak St. and Central Street 


Tuesday, October 21, 2014




El alacrán
---en sus ojos de ópalo
---guarda los secretos
---del agua inmóvil.
Eleva, tenaz, su cola de hierro
y su aguijón de topacio
refleja las luces rojas de Marte,
---las luces obscuras de Plutón.
Se esconde detrás del palo erecto,
------en la cueva húmeda;
y sabe los secretos del alma.

----------------© Rafael Jesús González 2014


The scorpion
-----in its opal eyes
-----guards the secrets
-----of the immobile water.
It tenaciously raises its tail of iron
& its topaz sting reflects
----the red lights of Mars,
----the dark lights of Pluto.
It hides behind the erect pole,
---in the moist cave;
it knows the secrets of the soul.

-----------------© Rafael Jesús González 2014

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Richmond Poetry Action 10/24

Richmond Poets & Artists in support of the

Richmond Progressive Alliance

featured poets include

Daniel Ari, Rebecca Auerbach,
Rafael Jesús González,
Rachel Levy, Alan Phillips
& Lincoln Bergman

Richmond Poet Laureate

Open mic to follow featured readers

Friday, October 24, 2014

7:00 - 9:00 PM

The Bobby Bowens Progressive Center

1021 Macdonald (near Harbour)

Richmond, California 

Your suggested donation of $10-15
will help elect Team Richmond:
Gayle Mclaughlin, Jovanka Beckles,

and Eduardo Martínez

No one turned away for lack of funds

Art by Richmond and San Francisco Bay Area artists
will be displayed and available for sale
with sale proceeds supporting the RPA
Battling the dirty giant

Sunday, October 12, 2014

Día de la Raza / Columbus Day

El 12 de octubre es fiesta conocida en varias regiones y épocas por muchos nombres: Día de Colón, Día del descubrimiento, Día de la hispanidad, Día de las Américas, Día de la raza, Día de los pueblos indígenas.

En México en 1928 a la insistencia del filósofo José Vasconcelos, entonces Ministro de Educación, se le nombró Día de la Raza, denominación de la Unión Ibero-Americana en 1913 para declarar una nueva identidad formada del encuentro de los Españoles y los indígenas de las Américas. En 1902 el poeta mexicano Amado Nervo había escrito un poema en honor del Presidente Benito Juárez (indio zapoteca) que recitó en la Cámara de Diputados, titulado La Raza de Bronce alabando a la raza indígena, título que más tarde en 1919 el autor boliviano Alcides Arquedas daría a su libro. El bronce (metal noble fundido de varios metales) llegó a ser metáfora del mestizaje. Según el pensar de Vasconcelos una Raza Cósmica, la raza del porvenir, es la raza noble que se forma en las Américas a partir del 12 de octubre de 1492, la raza del mestizaje, un amalgama de las razas indígenas de las Américas, de los Europeos, los Africanos, los Asiáticos, las razas mundiales — en una palabra, la raza humana compuesta de una mezcla de todas las razas que Vasconcelos denominó la Raza Cósmica.

Pero no se puede ignorar que esta raza ideal se forma a gran costo de los pueblos indígenas Americanas (y de la gente africana traídos aquí como esclavos). Desde 2002, en Venezuela se le llama a la fiesta Día de la Resistencia Indígena.

Sea como sea, por cualquier nombre que le demos, de cualquier modo que la cortemos, es la misma torta — la fecha conmemora la llegada de los Europeos a América (que para ellos era un “nuevo mundo”), no una visita sino una invasión, un genocidio, subyugación de las gentes de ese “nuevo mundo” que hoy conocemos por el nombre de un cartógrafo Europeo que apenas pisó el suelo sagrado de los continentes que llevan su nombre. Lo que marca la fecha es una continua colonización, explotación, abuso, ultraje de los pueblos indígenas de las Américas que escasamente ha menguado, que ha persistido estos quinientos años y más.

Bien se le pudiera nombrar Día de la Globalización. A partir de ese día se comprueba concreta y definitivamente que la Tierra verdaderamente es redonda, una esfera, una bola, un globo. Y desde esa fecha se les trata imponer forzosamente a las gentes indígenas del “nuevo mundo” una cosmología, actitud bastante extraña hacia a la vida, hacia a la Tierra, hacia a la economía, hacia a lo sagrado, hacia al ser humano mismo — una sola verdad estrecha e intolerante, un desdén rapaz hacia la Tierra vista solamente como un recurso para explotarse, un concepto del progreso difícil de distinguir de la codicia y el hambre del poder.

La causa de los indígenas clama por justicia: se les sigue robando sus tierras y terrenos, se los destruyen por sus valiosas maderas y minerales; sus creaciones agrícolas, tal como el maíz y la papa, que han salvado del hambre a gran parte del mundo, se modifican al nivel molecular y se controlan por corporaciones rapaces; sus medicinas tradicionales se patentan por esas mismas corporaciones; el agua sagrada misma se privatiza y se les roba; aun no se les respeta el derecho a sus creencias y culturas. Aun poniendo al lado la justicia, todos deberíamos aliarnos a las gentes indígenas de las Américas (y del mundo entero) en su resistencia contra tal abuso porque lo que los amenaza a ellas nos amenaza a todos en el mundo entero — y a la Tierra misma. Tienen muchísimo que enseñarnos acerca de una relación sana del hombre con la Tierra.

En una Tierra, mucho más chica y frágil de lo que imaginábamos, nos encontramos en plena globalización y pugna contra la imposición de un capitalismo desenfrenado y del fascismo, su lógica extensión, que lo acompaña. Sigue la resistencia indígena que jamás ha cesado durante estos cinco siglos y algo a pesar de una represión brutal y ahora todos nosotros de la raza cósmica de mera necesidad debemos aliarnos a su lucha, pues esa lucha es nuestra de todos si hemos de sobrevivir en la Tierra, bendita madre de nuestra estirpe, la estirpe de la raza humana — y de toda nuestra parentela los otros animales, las plantas, los minerales. En la Tierra redonda y sin costura son ficticias las fronteras y lo que amenaza a unos nos amenaza a todos. Pensar al contrario no es solamente inmoral sino locura.

Berkeley, California, 12 de octubre 2007

© Rafael Jesús González 2014


-October 12 is a feast-day known in various regions and times by many names: Columbus Day, Discovery Day, Hispanic Culture Day, Day of the Americas, Day of the Race, Day of the Indigenous Peoples.

In Mexico in 1928 at the insistence of the philosopher José Vasconcelos, then Minister of Education, it was named Día de la Raza (Day of the Race), denomination of the Iberian-American Union in 1913 to declare a new identity formed by the encounter of the Spaniards with the native peoples of the Americas. In 1902, the Mexican poet Amado Nervo had written a poem in honor of the President Benito Juárez (a Zapoteca Indian), which he read in the House of Representatives, titled La Raza de Bronce (Race of Bronze) praising the indigenous race, title which later in 1919 the Bolivian author Alcides Arquedas would give his book. Bronze (noble metal amalgamated of various metals) came to be metaphor for mestizaje (the mixing of the races.) According to the thinking of Vasconcelos, a Cosmic Race, the race of the future, is the noble race that is formed in the Americas since October 12, 1492, the race of mestizaje, an amalgam of the indigenous races of the Americas, the Europeans, the Africans, the Asians, the world — in a word, the human race made of a mixture of all the races which Vasconcelos called the Cosmic Race.

But that this race is formed at great cost to the indigenous American peoples (and to the African peoples brought here as slaves) cannot be ignored. Since 2002, in Venezuela the feast-day is called Día de la Resistencia Indígena (Day of Indigenous Resistance.)

Be that as it may, by whatever name we give it, however way we cut it, it is the same cake — the date commemorates the arrival of the Europeans to America (which for them was a “new world”), not a visit but an invasion, a genocide, a subjugation of the peoples of that “new world” which we know today by the name of a European cartographer who scarcely set foot on the sacred ground of the continents that bear his name. What the date marks is a continuous colonization, exploitation, abuse, outrage of the indigenous peoples of the Americas that has scarcely lessened, that has persisted these five-hundred and some years.

It could well be called Day of Globalization. Since that date, the Earth is concretely, definitively proven to be truly round, a sphere, a ball, a globe. And from that date is imposed by force upon the indigenous American peoples a quite strange cosmology, attitude toward life, toward the Earth, toward economics, toward the sacred, toward the human being him/herself — a single truth narrow and intolerant, a rapacious disdain toward the Earth seen only as a resource to be exploited, a concept of progress difficult to distinguish from greed and the lust for power.

The cause of the indigenous peoples screams for justice: their lands, their fields continue to be stolen from them, destroyed for their valuable woods and minerals; their agricultural creations, such as maize and the potato, which have saved a great part of the world from famine, are modified at the molecular level and controlled by rapacious corporations; their traditional medicines are patented by those same corporations; sacred water is privatized and stolen from them; even their right to their own beliefs and cultures is not respected. Even putting justice aside, we should all ally ourselves with the indigenous peoples of the Americas (and of the entire world) in their resistance against such abuse because what threatens them threatens us all throughout the whole world — and the Earth itself. They have a very much to teach us about a healthy relationship of humankind with the Earth.

In an Earth much smaller and more fragile than we imagined, we find ourselves in full globalization and struggle against the imposition of an unbridled capitalism and the fascism, its logical extension, that accompanies it. The indigenous resistance that has never ceased these five centuries and some continues in spite of a brutal repression and now all of us of the cosmic race, of pure necessity, must align ourselves with their struggle, for that struggle is ours if we are to survive on the Earth, holy mother of our race, the human race — and of all our relations, the other animals, the plants, the minerals. On the round, seamless Earth all borders are fictitious and what threatens one threatens all. To think otherwise is not only immoral but insane.

Berkeley, California, October 12, 2007

© Rafael Jesús González 2014


Friday, October 10, 2014



---------Rezo a Huehuecóyotl

---------------(al modo nahua)


 Señor Coyote Viejo,
-----Señor del regocijo de la carne,
levanta tu flor de jade,
---------------tu sonaja de oro;
luce tu penacho de plumas,
-----tu manto bordado;
a la luna levanta la quinta copa.
Señor del canto, Señor de la danza,
-----Señor del deleite sensual,
sálvanos de la prudencia cobarde,
-----máscara opresiva
que pretende ponerle buena cara
-----a la prudente cobardía.
Señor del exceso,
---------------------Señor del festín,
-----deslúmbranos con la vida.

------------------© Rafael Jesús González 2014

-----Prayer To Huehuecoyotl

------------(in the Nahua mode)


Old Lord Coyote,
-----Lord of the flesh's rejoicing,
raise your flower of jade,
---------------your rattle of gold;
sport your headdress of plumes,
-----your embroidered cape;
raise high the fifth cup to the moon.
Lord of the song, Lord of the dance,
-----Lord of sensual delight,
save us from cowardly prudence,
-----oppressive mask
that pretends to put a good face
-----on prudent cowardliness.
Lord of the feast,
---------------------Lord of excess,
-----overwhelm us with life.

---------------------© Rafael Jesús González 2014


Wednesday, October 8, 2014

full moon: Revelation


¡Cómo odié Patmos! ¡Al demonio con Domiciano! Esas noches interminables y solitarias, especialmente cuando de luna llena, despertando súbitamente con todas esas voces farfullando dentro la cabeza — ¡Escribe esto! —. Si se dijera la verdad, yo siempre tuve esa disposición para visiones extravagantes, el balbuceo de voces y de profecía y de disparatar acerca las maldades de Babilonia cuando a lo que me refería era Roma. No engañé a nadie y ni mucho menos al emperador.

Y todos esos números, siempre precisos, parte de mi obsesión. Especialmente siete por alguna razón: siete candelabros de oro, siete luceros, siete lámparas, siete sellos, un cordero espantoso con siete cuernos y siete ojos, siete ángeles con siete trompetas, siete truenos, dragones rojos con siete cabezas, siete casuelas de oro llenas de ira, siete reyes y siete plagas, siete montañas, y no sé que todo.

Y cuatro; cuatro criaturas con ojos por dondequiera y muchas alas, cuatro ángeles, cuatro vientos, cuatro jinetes causando desolación y cuatro de esto y cuatro de aquello. Y múltiples de ello: una mujer coronada de doce estrellas, doce puertas con doce ángeles, doce frutos del Árbol de la vida. Y esos veinticuatro viejos vestidos de blanco brincando arriba y abajo con su cantar, sus arpas, sus “Aleluyas” y “amenes” y haciendo barullo a cada oportunidad.

O, ciertamente se incluyeron todos los números, algunos bastante grandes tal como los 144,000 que fueron salvados (mísera suma en comparación con las 200 millones de tropas llegando de quien sabe donde.) Todos esos números de objetos, de criaturas, de gente, días, meses, años. Quien sabe de donde vinieron, esta obsesión mía de contar. ¿Culparé a mi estricto viejo tutor de matemática?

Se dice en el viejo libro que temamos y amemos a Dios y en efecto creo que le temía más de que le amaba. Sin duda en mis visiones, mis alucinaciones, él sentado sobre el arco iris, la Tierra su banqueta, flores saliéndole de un lado de la boca y espadas del otro era mucho más colérico que amable. Y aunque el ángel me aseguraba, no puedo pensar mas que dudaba yo que fuera entre los salvos.

Poco a poco, con la edad, dejé mis alucinaciones, las voces gradualmente menguando, haciéndose tenues y el terror disminuyendo. Empecé a ver la belleza de Patmos, sus amaneceres rosados, sus días tranquilos, sus puestas de sol sobre el mar, sus noches de luna llena perfumadas y tibias. Y la compañía ha sido buena; mis compañeros exiliados aquí tienden a ser instruidos y amistosos. Los años me han traído la paz, el Señor ha crecido en dulzura y ahora creo que le amo más de que le temo.

Pero se ha hecho el daño. Lo escribí como lo saben, como insistían las voces. Esas siete iglesias lo tomaron todo a pecho y divulgaron la palabra — y el temor. Me he enterado que algunos dicen que soy el mismo Juan Evangelista, el amado de Jesús, algunos me llaman “el Divino” y algunos aun nombran un sitio fijo para Armagedón, dando fecha específica para el Apocalipsis, el Rapto, La segunda llegada, el Fin.

Temo pensar a donde todo esto lleve. Hay tantas almas temerosas dispuestas a vestir su terror en el atuendo de la fe, aplacarlo con la penitencia, la mortificación — no, aun la persecución. Fue mala experiencia — y la es aun con todos esos necios tratando de encontrarle sentido a mis disparates.

Pero me encuentro contento y he encontrado mi paz y las voces se han hecho quietas, se han pacificado. Temo que lo que ahora escribo no es tan emocionante y será ignorado, descreído, suprimido. Como son las cosas en el mundo hay más ganancia que hacerse del temor que del goce. A las palabras de Jesús no se les hace caso y temo que mis delirios ahora lleven más peso que sus enseñanzas. Tal es el mundo; hay tantas revelaciones.

© Rafael Jesús González 2014

How I hated Patmos! Damn Domitian! Those endless, lonely nights, especially of the full moon, waking suddenly with all those voices jabbering in my head, “write this!” If truth be told, I always had that propensity for extravagant visions, the babble of voices and prophesying and ranting on about the evils of Babylon when I meant Rome. It didn't fool anyone, much less the Emperor.

And all those numbers, always precise, part of my obsession. Especially seven for some reason: seven gold candlesticks, seven stars, seven lamps, seven seals, a weird lamb with seven horns and seven eyes, seven angels with seven trumpets, seven thunders, red dragons with seven heads, seven golden bowls full of wrath, seven kings and seven plagues, seven mountains, and I know not what.

And four: four creatures with eyes all over and many wings, four angels, four winds, four horsemen wreaking havoc, and four this and four that. And multiples thereof: a woman crowned with twelve stars, twelve gates with twelve angels, twelve fruits on the Tree of Life. And those twenty-four old guys in white jumping up and down with their singing, their harps, their “Hallelujahs,” and “amens” and carrying on every chance they got.

Oh, all the numbers were included to be sure, some pretty large, like the 144,000 who were redeemed (a piddling number to be sure compared to the 200 million troops coming from who knows where.) All those numbers of objects, of creatures, of people, days, months, years. Who knows where they came from, this obsession of mine for counting. Should I blame my strict old tutor in mathematics?

It said in the old book to fear and love God, and indeed I think that I feared him perhaps more than I loved him. Certainly in my visions, my hallucinations, he sitting on the rainbow, the Earth his footstool, flowers coming out from one side of his mouth and swords from the other, he was far more wrathful than kind. And though the angel assured me, I cannot but think that I doubted I was among the saved.

Gradually, with age, I grew out of my hallucinations, the voices gradually fading, becoming dim, and the terror abating. I began to see the beauty of Patmos, its rosy dawns, its tranquil days, its sunsets over the sea, its nights of the full moon perfumed and warm. And the company has been good; my fellow exiles here tend to be learned and congenial. The years have brought peace, the Lord has grown in sweetness, and I now believe that I love him more than I fear him.

But the harm has been done. I wrote it all down, as you know, as the voices insisted. Those seven churches took it all to heart and spread the word — and fear. I've heard that some are saying that I am the same John the Apostle, beloved of Jesus, calling me “The Divine,” and some are even naming a fixed site for Armageddon, giving a specific date for the Apocalypse, the Rapture, The Second Coming, the End. 

I dread to think where all this will lead. So many fearful souls willing to clothe their dread in the garb of faith, allay it with penance and mortification – nay, even persecution. It was a bad trip — and is still, what with all those fools trying to make sense out of my nonsense.

But I find myself content and have found my peace and the voices have grown quiet, pacified. I am afraid that what I write now is not as exciting and will be ignored, disbelieved, suppressed. As things stand in the world, there is more profit to be made from fear than there is from joy. The words of Jesus are not heeded and I fear that my rantings may now carry more weight than his teachings. Such is the world; there are so many revelations.

© Rafael Jesús González 2014