Today I smiled at the thought of deserts consuming entire cities.
It’s not up to you to fix what you did not break. It’s not up to you to chase what does not want to be followed nor to lose your peace for those with no peace in their hearts.
What you’re meant to do is to live well and freely without shackles imposed on you by others. You are meant to cut the threads connecting their words to your head so that you may think truly without their hidden agendas influencing your actions.
You don’t deserve a half-baked innocence.
I too was naïve in the way that girls are, feeding into romance novels thinking that things called love could be unconditional. There are always conditions and those that say otherwise are lying. It is based on your genetics, your fundamental beliefs, or your culture. If “love” were truly unconditional then you wouldn’t have endings to beginnings. Terminating great love is never easy, yet compromises cannot be reached always. Some things will “break the camel’s back” as some say, yet I believe that orgullo is behind that saying and many more. It was naïve of me to think that the things I loved someone else would love the same. My little moon, staring out the window. I don’t know if animals are capable of unconditional love, but I know that I will not give reason to doubt. Perhaps my error is in my honesty, it is so blatant that if you don’t peel back the layers you’ll never get to understanding.
Bitterness is in my garden for blood and sweat were not enough to make roses grow out of this dirt. I cut myself wide open and let my waters flow through the rivers of within me, yet dams blocked seeds from saturating and the sun just beat down too damn hard. The leaves in the trees rustled lies, lies, lies and I heard from miles away without ever having to have been in the room. My energy took me to the ocean once again, where I could dip my toes into the salt so that I could build up my reservoir of tears for later on when Cubans cross the ocean in bathtubs in the downpour of the deep dark sky. To me came Mother Mary and she spoke to me to let it be, but my ship has never capsized without a fight and I fought, first myself and then you.
Like Warsan Shire, I dimmed my light and crawled into myself so that I would take up less space, but my mouth couldn’t stay shut and what little space I tried to not occupy, my body rebelled and grew big and full. I hoped that I was enough when I was picked up like the serpent that I am, sharp, poisonous, and headstrong. I was never welcoming to meek mice, for I needed to feed and lick my fangs every time someone uttered hate in my direction. My paralyzing toxins are those that you cannot see and now I am angry because I protected the pack during my time as a wolf, but the vipers still snuck into my snake nest as I transformed.
Have you lost track of time? In moments I will only be a figment of your imagination and you will ask, was she real? The dust particles in the air will hint that I was, as the volcano within my soul erupts one last time to clear the path. I will forget one day: you, me, him, her. See how I put myself second there? That will be the only time.
We’ve got something that they don’t
And its in the way we trrrrrill,
Our tongues, tastefully like our sweet and viscous honey dishes.
Our mouths forever speaking caramel candies, pirulí, that you wish you could stomach.
They’ve called us exotic, well we think you are
Strange, in the way you never learned how to purrrrr,
And in how you pervade language so beautiful with drawling accents
Into our Spanish-Indigenous-African words without accrediting the luscious lips that spoke them first.
Mud water is your game while we exfoliate our thick skins with salt
From oceans and lakes that rrrrrripple in waves,
Blanketing our shores in nutrient crystals imbued within
The lands you stomped your muddy feet onto because you’ve always known your selfishness was never enough.
So you tried to steal our gifts and found that you could never stomach such quality beings. Because we are made in all colors of the rainbow and in the ancestral darkness that within illuminated secrets rrrrrelished by humankind. With your malicious intent you excluded yourself from the only race that ever existed and I can’t even call you extraterrestrial. It’s not about “us versus them”, but I’m showing you what its like to appropriate your language like you did mine.
She has long and pearly features—a statue made out of stone. She’s all cheekbones that stab the air around her, breaking the tiny wind currents. Upright, she transforms into a scare and a cube when encased within herself. Those hips will never be able to encase the world in her womb. With narrowed eyes she glares at her wood-colored friend without warmth. Her eyes are icy blue and shatter bone. She maintains her “friends” in chains—those very same ones she pretends to “save.” She has a smile that never reaches her face, much less her eyes… That smile is too busy… Dying in her imagination. I asked her, “Comrade, did you learn nothing from your mother?” I referred to the cruelty of the planet she lives in, and the diversity of features and thought that seems to seep into this world from a heavenly outer space. This is just another work focusing on the oppressor rather than the oppressed.
School to prison pipeline
Kids as criminals because they live in a white-male dominant society pushing them off of the corners of the college ruled paper that creates legal systems.
It’s insane to think that the very system that is supposed to educate us perpetuates systems of oppression. The system pushed kids out and the few honestly good teachers are insufficient to outrun the rate of isms.
We live in a society that connotates a humanitarian movement–feminism– as negative because of an ending associated with beating people down. How can we teach our children to analyze the world around them if in our instructional methods we make ignorance fact.
Be revolutionary and seep into an unfair system to destroy the foundations that place one group above the other. They can only keep you down if you don’t fight.
I am the liberated daughter of the 21st century sitting on the table sipping my cafecito while my head throbs. My scent is of fancy perfume contained in a naked woman’s body from the streets of Paris. I wear white to purify, but the pink of my sports bra still shows through. I’m a liberated sexual prisoner getting my fix at any hour of the day. I get pleased and please a little in return because those assholes that pricked my “heart” had it coming. I have nightmares of being broken by sadistic fucks in all of my favorite places, but when I walk through the waking world I stride with a power overflowing my palms. It’s the same power that makes me crazy inside my head while the rest of me floods outward. I French kiss the numbers 2 and 1 as I blow a big fuck you to my audiences as they wait to watch me fall.
I’m so tired of society, I’m tired of it for telling me that I am not good enough, that my body is not nice enough, and that my class predisposes me for less than enough. I hate that about society. So what if I’m not perfect and if I’m small and have some belly fat? So what if I come from a poor background? Why do those things matter, am I not human enough?
I hate that people in society are so unkind, so displeasing, so misleading. They take me to hell; they burn up and scratch my ego until I’m nothing more than a scatter-brained mess. How is that fair? Why does everyone insist on expecting perfection? My professors want A material, my parents want some crazy success, my friends want me to have a good time all of the time, my lover wants me at his every beckon and call, but does anyone want me?
Could you love me with my imperfections and my uncertainties? Would you deal with me through the mess just because you are happy that I am me, that I am in your life? Will anyone ever expect me to just be, to breathe happily and peacefully?
Yeah, we’re all me.