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TV Family Portraits: The Sorros
Joaquin Sorro - Spoken Word Poet
 Four Poems by Joaquin Sorro
Our Table
The Rhyme Is On
One Day
My Good Friend
Our Table
©
2002 Joaquin Sorro
Our Table
Our table is the Filipino-Italian version of soul food
Revolution recipes
Pasta pancette poetry
Marinated since the I-Hotel was on Kearny Street
Now our table got history.
Our Table
Our table where tales are told
From young to old
The City's being sold
The movement we behold
At the end of our rainbow lies a pot of adobo
'Cause baby, our table is gold.
Our Table
Our table fits four
But we fit eight
And you know you sit with
Lucia if you come late
But that's when my dad says
'Hey brudda sit down and make yourself a plate.'
Our table is love, not hate.
Our Table
You hear us down the street
These pots cook underneath musical beats
The way I speak, dream, laugh, love and think
It all comes down to times like these
Our table feeds.
Our Table
Our Table in il tavalo
from Manila-town to North Beach. Ilicano Italiano
united in peace
under falafels, nacatamales, pupusas, and collard greens
Giulio, Jordans, and Joaquins
at our table we come together like Martin Luther King Jr.'s dream
'Cause our table means free.
Our Table
Our table before you bite into that chicken
My mom's having you sign some port petition
Mat Collation and Down with 21 and Pete Wilson
'Cause at our table we're really politicin' with that chicken
Our table is resistance.
Our Table
Our table from Dolores Huerta to Angela Davis to Kendra Alexander to my Uncle Richie
Revolutionaries, poets, cooks, pool hustlers
Black, white, old and young
Choppin' it up in one hundred tounges
Stories of Chinatown, Chow Su Ma buns
Someday on Sunday we'll get some
Because our table is love.
The Rhyme is On
©
2002 Joaquin Sorro
We come from the staircases
Garages parked cars
And underground basements
Times are changing in the city by the Bay
The spirits never left
They never will go away
From rap, rock and reggae
Jazz and Blues
You know you can't kill the San Francisco Old School
Cultural, historical, political, and spiritual
Cultural, historical, political, and spiritual
Cultural, historical, political, and spiritual
The rhyme is on
From dusk 'til dawn
We must bring on
And sing these songs
So that our struggle moves on
It's been so long
I almost forgot where the time has gone
In the system of wrong
It's hard to stay strong
Hit hit from the bomb
Along with Marvin Gaye's song
The only way some can stay calm
Without blowing up like a bomb
Support from my Pops and Moms
Ex-coms in the system of the con
UNITED STATES NATION
A different motivation
From the dominant one
I was raised in the '80s
Singing we shall overcome
Someday
If you've never heard the San Fran basements play
In neighborhoods where the working class used to stay
Jazz and Blues they used to play
Like back in the days
In the heart of the J-Town
Jimbo's Bop City
Where they came to get down
Have a little food
And flow with the best
Fillmore Street was the Harlem of the West
San Franciscan spirits never rest
Creeping through the cement
Of the '70s Re De Velopment
Drumbeats stomp out of the concrete
Like an elephant
Pipes in the basement
Laced like instruments
New residents that don't understand
The culture and the history and the soul of this land
I saw Jerry Garcia last night in a hippie van
Sippin' on whiskey and singing verses with Janice Joplin
Golden Gate sparkin'
Then they flew away with a perved flock of birds that were rockin'
To Bernal Heights
Where Carlos had a party that was poppin'
So they stopped him
All them spirits
Were still city boppin'
Black C and Tupac were droppin'
Flows with Janice Joplin
And nobody knows
We come from the staircases
Garages parked cars
And underground basements
Times are changing in the city by the Bay
The spirits never left
They never will go away
From rap, rock and reggae
Jazz and Blues
You know you can't kill the San Francisco Old School
Cultural, historical, political, and spiritual
Cultural, historical, political, and spiritual
Cultural, historical, political, and spiritual
One Day
©
2002 Joaquin Sorro
It's the mad Mestizo
Italian, Pilipino
Came to drop a little lingo
'Cause we know
We can't get our peace
Individually
In the belly of the beast
'Cause he will never cease
From keeping us from having our peace
Among race, religion, ethnicity
Women and men
Patriarchy
Prisons and schools and communities
Black, white, Arab and Vietnamese
Samoan, Latino, Pilipino, Portuguese
Accepting gays in families
Now all of these things
Dangerous to their economy
"People before profit!" my Pappa screams
Martin Luther King's dream
Caesar Chavez Elementary
On 23rd and Folsom Street
Where these children play
Water fights on a hot day
Got us all acting a little bit crazy
This unity is amazing
That's what we keep on saying
And it's only going to get louder
The people united, together we got the power
Oh this voice of ours is so strong
Something on Shotwell Street sparked me to sing this song
Against the wrong
The lawyers and the landlords who rob
Then talk about God
Hopefully one day you'll all be gone
'Cause one day
It all started off when the wolf came to town
Wolfin' a lotta of shit
Until one day she found
The community around the block
Every Thursday night in the bungalow
The buffalo they talk
Still like bison in Golden Gate Park
A good victory in San Fran was sparked
Pizza and beans
And it's after dark
These are some of the things that keep us from fallin' apart
I see the next generation of active youth
This is what resulted from this computer boom
Started on the block but we brought it to the room
Brought it back to the block to bar-b-que
Music and food
Caminando tunes
Raccoon even came through
Without the brew
Kept it cool
Said he hadn't seen it like this since the old school
No fool to this game
But he remained hopeful in a sober way
And I can still hear him say
That some day
He would raise his kids where he used to play
The price he'd pay
To once again lay
In the house where his abuelita used to stay
'cause we all got dreams that end with 'One day.'
My Good Friend
©
2002 Joaquin Sorro
Here we are
Once again
It's been a while since I've seen my best friend
She cries at night
'Cause her kids are all gone
And ever since then she sings this same old song
"There's a man in a golden dome
He made a lot of money stealing poor folks homes
No pity was shown
The city has grown"
Until this day I can still hear my good friend moan
It's the feeling when you rise
Golden glittered streets
Open your eyes
Right beneath your feet
History lies
It's the inna-city surprise
Clouds cover the sky
That couldn't cry
Ranelle asked her Grandpa
'Did they die?'
Evicted on the 4th of July
No one knew so they told a lie
And I'm sitting here asking myself 'Why?'
I see you every day and you don't say 'Hi.'
Sprayed high
Stay high
Lights remain in the sky
From prehistoric times
Laced these vega blunts
With rhymes
Young minds run blind
To find
Emperor of the last kind
Sometimes
Sublime
Sometimes
Love mine
Here we are
Once again
It's been a while since I've seen my best friend
She cries at night
'Cause her kids are all gone
And ever since then she sings this same old song
"There's a man in a golden dome
He made a lot of money stealing poor folks homes
No pity was shown
The city has grown"
Until this day I can still hear my good friend moan.
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