Tagged truth

I Believe in Living

  i believe in living.i believe in the spectrumof Beta days and Gamma people.i believe in sunshine.In windmills and waterfalls,tricycles and rocking chairs;And i believe that seeds grow into sprouts.And sprouts grow into trees.i believe in the magic of the hands.And in the wisdom of the eyes.i believe in rain and tears.And in the blood of infinity. i believe in life.And i have seen the death parademarch through the torso of the earth,sculpting mud bodies in its pathi have seen the destruction of the daylightand seen bloodthirsty maggotsprayed to and saluted i have seen the kind become the blindand the…

LIAR!!!

LIAR!!! You call yourself an activist Fighting for injustices You say you’re in touch with your feminist side YET……… Behind closed doors you’re a lying, cheating, whore You cruelly lie and pretend You play games You claim to be a hard core Xicano Fighting for OUR cause How is it then….you can bring a fellow comrade down You deceive and lie about yourself Pretending to be into me Only to let me down Lied about having a girl friend Lied about being available Lied about your calls and texts You made me promises you didn’t keep Then excused yourself behind…

Narratives of Silence

I fail to fear the consequences of exclusion, for those who cannotdeal with the fact that I spit truth and fire with my tongue, werenever meant to be a part of my life In the battlefield of narratives we can make a conscious effort totell truth from our perspective or alter it in our private interest.The narrative is always in relation to the past and it continuouslyreaffirms our identity no matter how tarnished it is. Meaning that inorder to survive, find strength, or safety, we modify the reality ofour past to fit our present needs. However, in modifying our narrativewe…

A Message to All History Robbers in My Life

I will battle anyone who tries to take away my history; those wanting to evaporate my stories into thin air All because in truth’s narrative they are the oppressors Oh, diplomatic history taker of mine. History robber. And your grave digging tools are a silence so thick the darkness builds a second home around your vision and the very sound of spoken words make you shake with unease. Yes, I am speaking to you, Oh America, the beautiful- stealer of my land and mother tongue- calling it “Progress.” Leaving memory of whips and chains, a ghost on my body passed…

Eve Who Ate the Apple

I am that black velvet blue ink sky of silent solitude. Yes, my whisper is that toneless breath on the wind. A truth speaking louder than words. And yes, my night will swallow you. Devour you, whole. The unspoken song of a woman confined by the roles placed upon our bodies by men. By those without sight, wisdom, nor intuition. Yes, we see this all, a shadowy, hazy vision, and stand by to make way for your falling stars Captured in our open hands, still swollen from the endless throb of our taboo sexuality.

To My Daughter

Mijita,   we are the in between neither black nor white   we are the mud the mix between the menstrual flow of the planet and the machismo ground beneath our feet   we are the brown the piece of construction paper that is thrown away the ugly created when mixing too many colors the only crayon chosen when coloring Martin Luther King or dirt   we are the cockroaches despised and disgusted but even with the bam of a stomping manly foot we refuse to die   we are the voice of the wind loud and undesirable yet never…