“My Little Angel (Mi Angelita)”

daddy’s little girl.

look at you, all grown up.

(ok, ok, you’re still only four years old)

but, i can still remember when i would

hold you in my arms and feed you

your little baby formula.

you would look up at me, and smile.

then you would hold onto my

pinky-finger while going to sleep.

i guess you wanted to make sure

daddy was still there.

when I married your mom,

it was actually you that had me wrapped

around your tiny little finger…

mija, que linda eres.

que nunca olvides que tu papi

te ama con todo su corazon.

siempre estare aqui para todo lo que

tu necesites en tu vida.

mira que grande estas.

mi angelita.

© Mauricio Rincon 2006

“Brainstorm Explosion”

As I sit on my throne

I have been known

To postpone

The depletion of the ozone.

Two scoops of abstract

A dash of actual fact

Keeps my sanity intact

As poetry leaks out my urinary tract.

I’m highly skilled

The strongest willed

Main attraction top billed

Fuck with me and you may get killed.

Get bodied on paper

This is my latest caper

Send you to meet your maker

I’m known as the dream taker.

Let bygones be bygones

Love women in little thongs

My words poke like prongs

Someone should turn my words into songs.

© Mauricio Rincon 2015

“Naughty Poet”

I will lyrically molest,

Them tig ol bittys on your girls chest.

While you shave your birds nest,

Notice that you ain’t blessed.

So, I must confess,

I’ll leave you a bloody mess…

No stress,

As I rip off your girls dress.

I could care less,

Even if she smells like Zest

Tell her to brush with Crest…

I’ll take care of the rest.

© 2014 Mauricio Rincon

“State Of Mind”

I stared deep into her two suns.

And saw the fires of passion burning within.

I glanced down at her two moons,

And marveled at their magnificent form.

I went down in my rocket to explore her earth,

And could smell her freshly trimmed grass lands.

I landed my rocket near a moist,

Dark cave…

And discovered a flowing river inside.

I next flew my rocket around to the other side of her cave,

And discovered two hills, smooth to the touch.

Then I looked up again and stared deep into her two suns,

And realized, I was in a total euphoric state of mind.

© 1993 Mauricio Rincon


“Rally Around Your Family”

Predator drones.

Ice cream cones.

Scientifically designed sheep clones.

The depletion of the ozone.

Middle Eastern war zones.

Decomposing body bones.

Garden variety decoration gnomes.

No-knock search and seizures of homes.

Cellular devices are easier to trace than pay phones.

Universities bury you in deep student loans.

While the Government forces us to live like Flintstones.

Swim or sink down to the locker of Davy Jones.

And prepare to hop on a ride aboard the cyclone.

Use green smoke to signal the landing zone.

Rally up at the extraction before it gets postponed.

© 2014 Mauricio Rincon


My poetry is tougher than leather,

Yours is soft and fake like pleather.

I’ll even recite your wack ass poem or whatever,

And make that shit sound a whole lot better.

Go ahead, try and make yourself sound clever.

You’re just a butt pirate fool, you ain’t even on my level.

Any last words, before I make you walk down that plank?

I can either shoot you with a musket, or pull out my shank.

I’ll make you famous, like Billy The Kid or Doc Holliday;

My poetry stay more gangster than yours, on any given Sunday.

You really should go home and pray,

Pray I don’t tap that ass and we both turn gay.

And yes, you are welcome to sit at my table;

As I pour maple on mable that just might enable

You to become stable, ready, willing and able;

As I share with everyone, your falsified fable.

© 2013 Mauricio Rincon

“Heavenly Divine”

There are no parallel lines above me
So I stand perpendicular
An amazing amount of fortitude
Resides in my testicular
I’m the shepherd
That leads you lambs to the slaughter
The pied piper
That ran away with the Sheriff’s daughter
I’m one of a kind
You can say one in a million
Don’t let me win the lottery
I’ll build homes for the homeless by the billion
Upon my death
I will tap dance like Fred Astaire
And boogie dance
All the way up Heaven’s stairs
But where
Where is Heaven, do you know
I guess knowing is half the battle
Like they say in G.I. Joe
© 2014 Mauricio Rincon

“Ghost Writer”

As I sit on my throne,
I have been known,
To postpone
The depletion of the ozone.

Two scoops of abstract,
A dash of actual fact,
Keeps my sanity intact
As poetry leaks out of my urinary tract.

I’m highly skilled,
The strongest willed,
Main attraction, top billed.
Fuck with me and you may get killed.

Get bodied on paper.
This is my latest caper.
Send you to meet your maker.
I’m known as the dream taker.

Let bygones be bygones.
Love women in little thongs.
My words poke like prongs.
Someone should turn my words into songs.

© Mauricio Rincon 2015