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emanuel-martinez
Mexican Born in my native country and forced to transition into a different culture as a child. Today, I see life through a very unique perspective that is full of humanity and struggle. It is something about the human condition which I try to capture in my writing, before it escapes my consciousness.
Psychobabble tryna be All da answers that we need For da pain we got inside tryna understand thinkin bout our thinking yes its powerful tool but it's not enough It's a cage It's a stage Full of rage Its da boss Not da wage What's da problem Mama was depressed Daddy left Anger and resentment Always got her pressed Medical professionals Trained to say/ half da truth We got truama From our exploitation/ poverty Tellin us: Yo mama ****** you up Its a pity now you growin' up On medication Wit so many limitations Numb a worker/ when she's hurtin From the bosses' system Being okay with workers killing each other RIpping her son's life away Why they hold us back From the real mental healing preparations Cause does conversations Mean talkin bout revolutionary confrontation
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Apr 24, 2021
Apr 24, 2021 at 10:17 AM UTC
Psychobabble
I am red clay I am not lost Because everywhere, I am Stretching out to you To keep me grounded So I myself won't be eroded By whitewashing
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Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 5:32 PM UTC
Red Clay
I am worth being valued for existing Not only in the moments That I become relevant, necessary, or useful For lustful, celebratory or inspirational insanity I am not a lollipop or an exotic destination Stop exploring me ************* Because you salivate over this Hispaniola Beautiful island desecrated and decimated How many beautiful spirits will you make savages How many pure rivers will you **** blood on How many conquests will you claim a stake in How much balance will you disturb and subjugate to the trauma of your transitory exploration There's no impunity for conquerors Who taste, plunder, disguise disapproval in their apologies and move on There's no impunity for conquerors Who pick and choose who's worth Of validation, when, & how There's no impunity for conquerors Who play with men and women Hierarchize their prey But fail to acknowledge Their man-child whitewashed Hidden agendas & rigged market values Conquerors haunted by the trauma they've caused Will not be absolved by the revolution Neither will the revolution be the breast That heals conquers who are traumatized By the realization of their own fuckery
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Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 5:29 AM UTC
Conquerors Shall Not Be Absolved by the Revolution
What is it about this chase that eludes me That runs away from me That seeks to experience and then flee me Until I get hijacked by another Consenting to my own free fall into ignorance and bliss Conditioning myself to transmit Abundance without reservation Until shot at the knee But dragged along for a while longer By the chains I so genuinely let bind me And even before the wounds have healed I don't stop running, I won't stop running Resolute in a chase that targets me I do so unconditionally But you can't hijack my senses I am not an experience or experiment worth having I am not a temporary treat to be improperly digested and defecated I am not an amber that ignites upon initial contact To then be mediated or extinguished if the temperate is not right I am not the holy water that you colonize And shower with to cleanse you To then invalidate that sanctity When it falls down the drain I am not a barometer that reliefs the labor Needed to challenge the aberrations Of your colonized and colonizing tendencies I exist Physically insignificant As the earth that birthed me and will bury me But eternal in essence I am a permanent presence I am an unforgettable imprint I am your equal, no less, no more The moment that we mutually acknowledge Each other's existence I have bound myself to you From that moment...loved you unconditionally and eternally And expect no lesser commitment From you to me, or any other person you meet And even after the wounds have healed I don't stop running, I won't stop running Resolute in a chase that targets us We must unleash our abundance unconditionally And when we leave We will have given Absolutely everything That we had to give During that time of our existence
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Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 8:07 PM UTC
Polyamority and the Practice of Abundance
What is it about this chase that eludes me That runs away from me That seeks to experience and then flee me Until I get hijacked by another Consenting to my own free fall into ignorance and bliss Conditioning myself to transmit Abundance without reservation Until shot at the knee But dragged along for a while longer By the chains I so genuinely let bind me And even before the wounds have healed I don't stop running, I won't stop running Resolute in a chase that targets me I do so unconditionally But you can't hijack my senses I am not an experience or experiment worth having I am not a temporary treat to be improperly digested and defecated I am not an amber that ignites upon initial contact To then be mediated or extinguished if the temperate is not right I am not the holy water that you colonize And shower with to cleanse you To then invalidate that sanctity When it falls down the drain I am not a barometer that reliefs the labor Needed to challenge the aberrations Of your colonized and colonizing tendencies I exist Physically insignificant As the earth that birthed me and will bury me But eternal in essence I am a permanent presence I am an unforgettable imprint I am your equal, no less, no more The moment that we mutually acknowledge Each other's existence I have bound myself to you From that moment...loved you unconditionally and eternally And expect no lesser commitment From you to me, or any other person you meet And even after the wounds have healed I don't stop running, I won't stop running Resolute in a chase that targets us We must unleash our abundance unconditionally And when we leave We will have given Absolutely everything That we had to give During that time of our existence
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48
I'm a menace, baby, menace Mess with me I'm a furnace Come near Imma put you in flames I **** baby, **** But you still adore me Rather fill yourself up Then give me up You're a zombie I'm the poison That's keeping you there You're lustful for everything in the world My seeds plant desire in your mind Keeping you hungry for more Money, baby, money Your god, your mandate, your sacred script
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Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 10:25 AM UTC
A Love Letter to the Capitalist
The revolution will not take place in McDonald’s Born out of lethargic, flaky or fickle bodies Words and actions, powerful ammunitions But vessels, our bodies, control those manifestations An armament, the body Matter without which revolution cannot happen Us who struggle, while we waste away Those invested in maintaining power and privilege Don’t only safeguard their money They protect their bodies too And only that of the offspring Invested in perpetuating power and privilege They not only monopolize learning and leadership As mechanisms of dominance and control They run and eat to fuel that constant fight Man, wealthy or poor May give into the vise of fast food and intoxication But those invested in control Conscious of power and privilege are no fools Fortified not only by lawyers and henchmen But by doctors, fitness trainers, fresh harvests Having the choice and access to fresh produce Us colored children from the hoods, the barrios Our moms, or dads, or single parents Working month to month Frustrated because we don't eat fruit and vegetables Instead eating frozen, canned, chemically enhanced Microwaveable dinners and junk foods Skinny, chubby, or obese Eating our twinkies, doritos, and coke Can’t even run a block without running out of breath Diabetes, heart disease, cholesterol, asthma, obesity Not even looming in the back of our minds We need youth to represent our communities We need youth to fight for our communities We need youth whose minds and stomachs are filled Not with fodder and capitalist waste But with food, ideas that fill them, fuel them Not out of a temporary desire for satisfaction Rather a prolonged political exercise to fortify themselves As agents of a transformative process in the world Frozen, canned, chemically enhanced lunches at school Soda fountains, fried food, fast food, junk food May always be subsidized, marketed, made affordable To be part of your breakfast, lunch and or dinner Still never reject an apple, orange or pear Those with power and privilege May not even have to think about Their regimented diets With endless fruits available to them But for us, a single fruit made available to us Has to be a daily reminder An act of defiance To chose to strengthen our bodies with it A slippage of those invested in our chains When the owners of industry Have socialized us to think Coca cola, pizza, and burgers Are parts of our cultural identity A modern industrialized upgrade Our diet decisions driven by capitalist consumerism There may be no specialized fitness trainers Expensive equipment Lush parks, jogging tracks, bicycle lanes, or bicycles In our neighborhoods But there is a space right next to your bed Or a piece of floor where you live And you have your body Just do a few jumping jacks, push ups, sit ups You need to have the patience and love To protect and fortify not only your mind But your body To know that the more you fortify yourself The more you are going to be able to fight exploitation The more you are going to protect and fight The ones you love, and even the ones You won’t even realize you have saved as a result We may not always have the access to healthy food But we have the choice to request it collectively In educational spaces and to take the initiative to exercise
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Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 5:38 PM UTC
Healthy (As Act of Defiance)
The revolution will not take place in McDonald’s Born out of lethargic, flaky or fickle bodies Words and actions, powerful ammunitions But vessels, our bodies, control those manifestations An armament, the body Matter without which revolution cannot happen Us who struggle, while we waste away Those invested in maintaining power and privilege Don’t only safeguard their money They protect their bodies too And only that of the offspring Invested in perpetuating power and privilege They not only monopolize learning and leadership As mechanisms of dominance and control They run and eat to fuel that constant fight Man, wealthy or poor May give into the vise of fast food and intoxication But those invested in control Conscious of power and privilege are no fools Fortified not only by lawyers and henchmen But by doctors, fitness trainers, fresh harvests Having the choice and access to fresh produce Us colored children from the hoods, the barrios Our moms, or dads, or single parents Working month to month Frustrated because we don't eat fruit and vegetables Instead eating frozen, canned, chemically enhanced Microwaveable dinners and junk foods Skinny, chubby, or obese Eating our twinkies, doritos, and coke Can’t even run a block without running out of breath Diabetes, heart disease, cholesterol, asthma, obesity Not even looming in the back of our minds We need youth to represent our communities We need youth to fight for our communities We need youth whose minds and stomachs are filled Not with fodder and capitalist waste But with food, ideas that fill them, fuel them Not out of a temporary desire for satisfaction Rather a prolonged political exercise to fortify themselves As agents of a transformative process in the world Frozen, canned, chemically enhanced lunches at school Soda fountains, fried food, fast food, junk food May always be subsidized, marketed, made affordable To be part of your breakfast, lunch and or dinner Still never reject an apple, orange or pear Those with power and privilege May not even have to think about Their regimented diets With endless fruits available to them But for us, a single fruit made available to us Has to be a daily reminder An act of defiance To chose to strengthen our bodies with it A slippage of those invested in our chains When the owners of industry Have socialized us to think Coca cola, pizza, and burgers Are parts of our cultural identity A modern industrialized upgrade Our diet decisions driven by capitalist consumerism There may be no specialized fitness trainers Expensive equipment Lush parks, jogging tracks, bicycle lanes, or bicycles In our neighborhoods But there is a space right next to your bed Or a piece of floor where you live And you have your body Just do a few jumping jacks, push ups, sit ups You need to have the patience and love To protect and fortify not only your mind But your body To know that the more you fortify yourself The more you are going to be able to fight exploitation The more you are going to protect and fight The ones you love, and even the ones You won’t even realize you have saved as a result We may not always have the access to healthy food But we have the choice to request it collectively In educational spaces and to take the initiative to exercise
Continue reading...
80
My sky's only bright when you shine Your smile is my vitamin When you're happy, I'm fine Today, thought about you again Spent whole day alone You were all I could ascertain Die before causing you pain My life depends on you Your peace of mind, I wanna gain Ain't no trophy, career, or transformation If it doesn't involve you by my side Ain't no way else, only you're my revolution I've got our contract on my heart Promising you forever and ever Waiting for you to own this work of art Let it fill you up, every part From your head to your toes Pumping from your heart Through to the tiniest flows Breathe in, close your eyes Hush don't say a word Feel my love give you butterflies
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Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 10:40 PM UTC
(My Love) Gives You Butterflies
No home, no less No ruse, no truce, no stress Just kind of mindless Children playing in the wild west Ain't no army, no fighting there Only slides, swing sets, starring our best No fear, no less No lies, no cries, no sadness Just the tireless Kid president makes his address Ain't no nations, no half-breeds Only humans, planet earth Where everyone the best
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Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 7:29 PM UTC
Everyone the Best
Being human can be incredibly painful But to be human...to truly feel like a realized human being is to feel powerful...is to feel an out-of-body experience because we realize that we are beautiful, brilliant... and deserve to feel what it means to TO BE FULLY HUMAN and nothing less. That our dreams, our aspirations, and our capabilities cannot be restricted by artificially constructed restrictions. And because of that we cannot allow under any circumstance for the humanity of anyone to be negated. That every inhale we take without helping legitimize the humanity of one more, Is further securing the chaos which threatens our own. That to love another human being, no matter how strange or familiar, difficult or easy Is to really understand the profoundness of our own humanity... Is to love ourselves. And because of that we cannot fathom a world Where anyone is negated the ability to love. Whereby the consciousness of our fullest potential Understands no artificial restrictions Knows no terror, war,or attack that can silence the eternal soul of its truth And can only conceive of a world where everyone's humanity is legitimized
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Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 1:13 AM UTC
To Be Fully Human (Nothing Less)
500 years of conquest 500 years of oppression 500 years of struggle 500 years of resistance 500 years of globalization 500 years of plundering 500 years of capitalism I am a child, of the children, of the masses Rising from Latin America Of the and in alliance with...the oppressed of the world White brothers and sisters haven't you seen your chains, too? Because us colored children have long forgotten ours But I'm tired of the chains...searching...where's my liberation gone? Afro-Caribbean Afro-Latino African American African Indigenous Asian Middle Eastern My people of color Why can't we come together Because we continue to be lied to We continue to be denied We continue to be subjugated To the fact that we are subordinate To something that is not us That we are devoid That we are empty That we are workers and masters With no mind or soul We are the people without license No legitimate place, in the periphery Outside the margins A threat to the safety of societies Always the other, never part of we within discourses We are the black slaves In your blood and heritage Caribbean children Your negation of us has been your ploy to secure your servitude to white supremacy in exchange for your economic stability. We are the indigenous That harvested and nurtured these beautiful Americas Pests of conquest, you exploited our black brethren because we were not suitable for your exploitation. Instead you massacred us. Ever since confusing us with your mestizaje fodder. We are the peasants, the servants, the broken families, the broken communities, the displaced peoples, we are the casualties, we are the unmitigated collateral damage: Of revolutions, of wars, of conquests, of western civilization, of capitalism, of profit, of misanthropy We are Trayvon  Martin, we are the 25 million families affected by Texas decision on abortion, we are the masses being left out by the recent reversal of the Voting Rights Act of 1965, we are the LGBT binational couples fighting for our rights, we are the undocumented community in solidarity asking TO BRING THEM HOME, we are the Brazilians demanding to be heard over the government's preoccupation with the preparations for the world cup, we are the everyday poor and homeless From our peripheral places we are the ones that resist because otherwise we will die. We are the ones that cannot afford to oppress anyone, because we are the most oppressed Living in a system that pushes even those who are the most oppressed to mimic the system's usage of oppression When there's no one else to oppress, still being aware of ourselves, we try My Latin American brethren don't tell me that Haiti's silenced past does not pertain to you They fought for the universal rights of everyone, doesn't that include you? And because of that its revolutionary past has been dismantled within history discourses So that other colored children of the world like you would not dream to resist their own oppression My Latin American and Caribbean brethren stop negating your blood, culture, history...Don't you see it has been deliberately silenced so that you cannot understand yourself? Because to understand yourself, is to love yourself, is to realize the potential of you, is to resist anything that doesn't allow you to be you African, and indigenous historical actors laid down their lives so that you could exist The puddle that formed out of the rivers of indigenous and black blood is all red. Isn't that enough for you to understand that our oppression is tied, that we must defend each other. Our tool against oppression is not money or guns. The greatest fortress of the oppressed is our mind. History is our weapon. Our histories are powerful Granting us consciousness Giving us bravery Dispelling lies and shattering the silencing of our power. Let us nurture our colored children to love their histories That they may understand the common experience of oppression of the masses the world over That they will be ready and able and accountable To the continued act of resistance of the oppression of any human being. We are the ones that cannot afford to rely on ourselves, we are the vulnerable ones, we are the ones with targets on our backs, we are the ones in constant threat, we are the beautiful middle eastern peoples being targeted as terrorists and extremists, we are the poor with undiagnosed PTSD, we are the undocumented parents and adults with lost dreams, we are the inner city kids who have been lost to drugs, crime, and STDS, we are the ones that let others decide our rights We are ones that must form alliances with each other, we are the ones that find strength in numbers, we are the ones that need allies in positions of privilege, we are the ones that must create the revolution through the power of our minds, not the wars, tool of the oppressors. We are the hopes and the dreams that have faded from our parents, and grandparents, we are the revolutions that never came for the slaves, the servants, and the peasants of our heritage We are the most dangerous obstacle to oppression. Dormant in us is the promise of the liberation I've lost.
0
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 6:36 PM UTC
Where's My Liberation Gone?
500 years of conquest 500 years of oppression 500 years of struggle 500 years of resistance 500 years of globalization 500 years of plundering 500 years of capitalism I am a child, of the children, of the masses Rising from Latin America Of the and in alliance with...the oppressed of the world White brothers and sisters haven't you seen your chains, too? Because us colored children have long forgotten ours But I'm tired of the chains...searching...where's my liberation gone? Afro-Caribbean Afro-Latino African American African Indigenous Asian Middle Eastern My people of color Why can't we come together Because we continue to be lied to We continue to be denied We continue to be subjugated To the fact that we are subordinate To something that is not us That we are devoid That we are empty That we are workers and masters With no mind or soul We are the people without license No legitimate place, in the periphery Outside the margins A threat to the safety of societies Always the other, never part of we within discourses We are the black slaves In your blood and heritage Caribbean children Your negation of us has been your ploy to secure your servitude to white supremacy in exchange for your economic stability. We are the indigenous That harvested and nurtured these beautiful Americas Pests of conquest, you exploited our black brethren because we were not suitable for your exploitation. Instead you massacred us. Ever since confusing us with your mestizaje fodder. We are the peasants, the servants, the broken families, the broken communities, the displaced peoples, we are the casualties, we are the unmitigated collateral damage: Of revolutions, of wars, of conquests, of western civilization, of capitalism, of profit, of misanthropy We are Trayvon  Martin, we are the 25 million families affected by Texas decision on abortion, we are the masses being left out by the recent reversal of the Voting Rights Act of 1965, we are the LGBT binational couples fighting for our rights, we are the undocumented community in solidarity asking TO BRING THEM HOME, we are the Brazilians demanding to be heard over the government's preoccupation with the preparations for the world cup, we are the everyday poor and homeless From our peripheral places we are the ones that resist because otherwise we will die. We are the ones that cannot afford to oppress anyone, because we are the most oppressed Living in a system that pushes even those who are the most oppressed to mimic the system's usage of oppression When there's no one else to oppress, still being aware of ourselves, we try My Latin American brethren don't tell me that Haiti's silenced past does not pertain to you They fought for the universal rights of everyone, doesn't that include you? And because of that its revolutionary past has been dismantled within history discourses So that other colored children of the world like you would not dream to resist their own oppression My Latin American and Caribbean brethren stop negating your blood, culture, history...Don't you see it has been deliberately silenced so that you cannot understand yourself? Because to understand yourself, is to love yourself, is to realize the potential of you, is to resist anything that doesn't allow you to be you African, and indigenous historical actors laid down their lives so that you could exist The puddle that formed out of the rivers of indigenous and black blood is all red. Isn't that enough for you to understand that our oppression is tied, that we must defend each other. Our tool against oppression is not money or guns. The greatest fortress of the oppressed is our mind. History is our weapon. Our histories are powerful Granting us consciousness Giving us bravery Dispelling lies and shattering the silencing of our power. Let us nurture our colored children to love their histories That they may understand the common experience of oppression of the masses the world over That they will be ready and able and accountable To the continued act of resistance of the oppression of any human being. We are the ones that cannot afford to rely on ourselves, we are the vulnerable ones, we are the ones with targets on our backs, we are the ones in constant threat, we are the beautiful middle eastern peoples being targeted as terrorists and extremists, we are the poor with undiagnosed PTSD, we are the undocumented parents and adults with lost dreams, we are the inner city kids who have been lost to drugs, crime, and STDS, we are the ones that let others decide our rights We are ones that must form alliances with each other, we are the ones that find strength in numbers, we are the ones that need allies in positions of privilege, we are the ones that must create the revolution through the power of our minds, not the wars, tool of the oppressors. We are the hopes and the dreams that have faded from our parents, and grandparents, we are the revolutions that never came for the slaves, the servants, and the peasants of our heritage We are the most dangerous obstacle to oppression. Dormant in us is the promise of the liberation I've lost.
Continue reading...
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