Thursday, July 29, 2010

If you won't, I will cry your tears for you.

I will carry your burdens and load them into the river.

You don't have to hurt anymore, I will take your hurt.

All the pain will be mine.

Not out of sympathy but out of love.

Isn't that the ultimate love?

To bear the burden of another and/or others so that they don't have to?

Transfer your fears and all your worries..

I have a better place for them..


Your pain my pain.

Your tears, all mine.

I will carry you.

I love you.

Whether you'd return the favor is irrelevant.

Why?

Because I love you.

Un-conditional-ly.

You deserve the chance..

To live and do it fully.

Your life saved is my living.


So let me bear all of your burdens.

Hurt no more.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

The Dream (Part 1)

“Let freedom ring,

Let freedom ring”

From the bottom of my lungs I wish I could scream

“Let freedom ring,

Let freedom ring”

But I can’t even be heard from the bass that rocks the asses of the masses

What happened to our Casius?

This atlas has no more freedom fighters

No more freedom righters

No more freedom writers

No more freedom wrighters

So everyone is LEFT with UNSPOKEN WORDS that have BROKEN WINGS

And they never get a chance to fly

Or feel the breeze on their faces

Because hell is on their backs

So everyone is out here on the attack

Thinking since it’s a recession that they’ll be progressing if they steal the jewels of homes they’ve never felt

Where’s justice then?

“Let freedom ring,

Let freedom ring”

Do you remember his dream? Or maybe her reality? Or even, our life?

We wait for occurrences to procure instances of instant access to safety

Thinking, lately it’s not as safe as it used to be when I was younger

But don’t you remember there are kids out here too

What about those who know dreaming is just not going to happen so they live in their nightmares?

Waiting for the monsters to break into their homes and deport them to

“Let freedom ring,

Let freedom ring”

We forget that there’s war in our cities

It’s a pity that I have to judge such a person that is human

Like mirrors don’t even work anymore

We’re shattered with broken homes, lost grades, an American Dream

Moms strung to some strong lungs belonging to a loss of longing

Pot popped into pops tops cause of lax influx of taxes

It’s the attacks on our own people that equal no regal doms

Kingdoms trying to stay alive because their profile is young, black, Hispanic, male, that has yet to learn his greatness, his peace, his manhood

Queendoms trying to be reborn with a newborn thinking it will in turn make them that much younger that life has yet to be lived

We all wait for a day when we won’t hear sirens dancing instead of our gratitude

We wait for a day when we won’t hear bullets whispering instead be mute for togetherness

We wait for a day when justice just is what it is when it is justified

We wait until we,

“Let freedom ring,

Let freedom ring”

But maybe we need a wake up call to dial into our responsibilities and take action

Maybe, we need deaths to brings us back to life in order to

“Let freedom ring,

Let freedom ring”

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Hispanish?

Hispanish?

Mis people are misunderstood

Mis people are misunderstood

My jente are malentendido

How can you stand there, I mean, sit there and tell me

That if I look like an alien then I’m not human

What makes you more of an American?


Except that you already live HERE

Land of the free, but we’re willing to pay taxes too

And work minimum wage not because of stereotypes

But, because, have you ever lived THERE

It’s a place called Honduras, Mexico, Nicaragua, Haiti, Ghana

And now, there’s also, U.SA

See, mi Tia calls it U.SA

It makes me wonder how you sir can judge me

By my brown tone of the roots that bore me

The hair that is too strait to get braids

The hard working qualities that are required to stay alive in a place where most people live off of a $1 a day

The four last first names, all from my ancestors

The freedom of speech, libertad de palabra

Tengo poder en este Mundo

I have power in this world, right?

Since our president is Negro

And we’re always talking about colors but at least they all got along in boxes

Now we’re all in boxes, unless we unite

Become encircled in Enchiladas, Tamales, Pollo Frito, muy rico

But the rich never tasted something so delightful

Unless they count their money

It’s funny; a dollar here is 18 lempiras

And I’m still much wealthier when I’m living for my family

I at least have a home and a community that consists of an aunty here, aunty there, tio aquí, tio allá, nieto por aquí, another cousin from a friend, and then most importantly,

My mother and father who taught me to speak up

Especially when languages no oyen don’t hear the screams of help


Ayudame, por favor, y yo te ayudo,

Unless you think of my hand out as a slap in the face

To someone who doesn’t have to struggle with being new to these parts of town