| No make up
No censor
No implants
No Botox
No tummy tuckers
No gel
No perm
No lies
No Dye
Artificial does not exist on the map of my skin
ACNE
STRETCHMARKS
WRINKLES
My face will show expression
Fat hangs from my sides
I am as flawless as nature has made me
I AM A FREAK
and loving it.
|
| |
| Nope
Nope
Nope
No- Here we go.
Thank you guide, you have yet to forsake me.
Hey Frank?
Frank?
Frankio?
I will pretend to erase my mother's moans across your face
Now would you pass me a beer?
...What?
Why is your head moving left to right.
The fat under your chin has spoken.
By God! What is that red light?!
Oh mother..It's you.
Your lipstick...its quite charming..
Are you shaking your head too mother?
Nope sorry.
I don't understand blah.
But I do understand the language of the door slam.
PEACE.
Guide, day old milk, dusty couch
What would I be without you?
Lets deprive the man.
One less movement.
One less brain wash.
We shall free load together.
|
| |
| Fried salami knocking on my nostrils.
My lids have open the door to Saturday morning.
The sun cheers behind the shades, but the light escapes from the barrior of good days.
The hallway was so inviting.
It took a peek between the doors and began to sing saturday morning cartoons.
I grooved to the tune.
Toes tingling to move.
Passed the door and walked down the youth draining hallway.
"Bendicion mami"
"Dios te bendiga"
My mothers 40 hour working hands smashed away at the platanos, mushing my brothers in the stainless steel pot.
They died in piece as the water muffled their screams
A hint of vinegar was a drop of passion and love that lured our tired bodies to a unity.
This is to the good ol' days.
Cheers to the Mangu that will never taste the same.
|
| |
| Her eyes fell back to the ends of her sockets, sheltered in a hollow cave.
Dried-crackled lips
Dark- sunken- cheeks
Still as her fate
Her body laid as a map on the un-rocking rocking chair, where her history laid on her skin.
The detailed misery in the crows of her eyes
47 years of the decending creak of her chair.
Music stolen with time.
The window will not serve as a painting.
It is the mirror with no reflection.
What has happened to the bodega on 50th st?
What is "Starbucks"?
|
| |
| HEY YOU!
YEA YOU!
CURLY-BLOND HAIR-BANANA BACK- MUFFIN TOP!
bumping and grinding on the dance floor,
the lip liner on your lips will not guide you to the natural beauty that you are.
The booty that you have is a gift from your heritage, but why must you showcase it as a calling card?
You are a platano like I, but if you were peeled, removing the foundation one by one, you are nothing but artificial like the perm that you strut, lost in the idenity of teenage life.
" Conio" is right, I am as mad as you are, but as you continue to let that man pinch your ass, I am going to tell you once:
STOP RUINING OUR CULTURE.
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