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Born in classic white suburbia, The most American Dream of cities. Gifted with white picket fences, Highly rated schools, And a Mexican population of 3.2%.
"marry someone who can give you what you want" They say jokingly, but it stays on my mind. "Why are you so uptight, live a little more." My parents fled for me, and looked back one last time.
Young me didn't know you were going to leave, But you left. You didn't leave on purpose but forcefully taken away. You left us for two years and I didn't know what would've become of us.
Life, so sunny in my home country but yet at times so gloomy born in poverty, better is seeked forced to immgrant to a alien country but better it is, learned the language my kids will not suffer
To the person I once was,
Dear Brown, You always follow me You always stay with me Like the sun in the summer And the cold in the winter. My brown is not your brown My brown is not his brown
Build a wall! Our brothers and sisters of the South have thrived Under the shadow of oppression, located In the "land of opportunity," now fear for their future as they are
When I saw my dad cry I was lost, the male role model who held back tears when nothing would hold back for him. Who looked challenges in the eye and smiled.
Lively soul, from the house of ocean and heavens, vibrant, ephemeral. Plagued by malady at every turn, pierced by cupid's arrow, bones crushed by conveyance, blossomed ardor,
This past year has made me more of who I want to be I am more confident in my own skin I have become more open with people I find myself doing the things that make me a better person
I think it's been almost four years I've gone through and counted the days, months, years in poetry I think it started with this urge of expression from the quiet girl who listened to the calling
Yo te quiero, Abuelita! The smell of freshly baked tortillas Drifts through the small home Old and well-worn chairs are scattered Throughout the living room
It was a myth that held me back, a stubborn kid, ready to be "mature". Forget Doctor Seuss, I wanted to go Wilde. I wanted to paint a picture, not say Trees are green,
Es un trabajo de pura dedication, del cuerpo, para la tierra que ya no te pertenece. Y para estar mas seguro,
Do I look like a criminal or rapist? I'm not a criminal and I'm not rapist I am angry. I am angry that people who support Donald Trump are proud of it
Racism is what we make of it. It is not a problem. We make it a problem.
To the love in my life, mi cultura querida: You feel like Latin soul, Baby let that music play,
Fuck it man, do it.
Breaking not so new news: a young Mexican boy was shot and killed by an older white male.
Abused freedom. What has this country become ? Looking around. Abandon & filth is all that I found. What Happened ? From colorful, joyful, musical, Hopeful,
i raise my hand but the bitch doesnt see i have to go to the bathroom but she says others are out but what does that have to do with me? i have a different bladder a different life but what does she know?
Somehow I am strong; They fear my total being. My brown skin makes murmurs In crowds where they can see me.
Mi patria Mi gente Mi raza Derrama sangre, Como la Corriente Pintando las calles. El vino bendecido
Just dust I am, but God did mold my soul I saw the light but I was born in war My place of birth, no food it bore only war The crops did die; the men did die and die My mom did flee, my dad as well and I.
Everyone says two is better than one A couple of treasures is greater than none They say, "You're so lucky, you can do both" encouraging, empowering, influencing my growth
Up ahead, amid the dirt lies the fence. Tall and wide, black and tied it stands. It's forbidden, it's inhumane. For it separates people, and people's pain.
(poems go here) Four thousand soldiers marched Exhaustedly, unceasingly Through blizzards and desert, Through thick and through thin. They starved. They froze. They perished of thirst.
Imagine the Hunger Imagine the hunger Of a child so longing For a pinch of pepper Or a smidgen of salt Imagine the hunger Of a child so longing For a hug from strong arms Or a kiss of soft lips
Did you know? Did you know that right now, in this very second, there are people crossing? This very second, people running, walking, stumbling, falling… maybe never to get up again, all the water, all the life,
My mom knows how to make tamales, Yours does not. My mom knows how to shred the chicken with such grace Yours does not. My mom knows how to pound the masa with such pace Yours does not.
His skin looks old, brown, and wrinkled; scarred by the Mexican Sun; His wrinkles are a chronicle of his life-long Wisdom. His hands are rough to the touch; toughened by years of toil on the Fields;