Growing up a pirinola was gold,
  watching it in spin ,was elation on earth.
        Seasons pass and an adult is measured by his worth,
             Cars,
                 homes,
                    dollar signs,
looking back I was fine,
     I was richer then,
         and poorer now.
        

-PӨӨЯ

I used to find shame,
   in the great staple food of the tamale,
      drinking poor atole,
          and presenting a plate of mole to our guest,


I used to find shame,
   being the son of two "aliens"
        how it plagued me. . .

but like Jarabe Tapatío dancers,
  I found pride,
        in our dances,
            in our culture,
               in my family.
                   for it is me,
                       I am me.
                         I am proud. . .

-ᴘʀɪᴅᴇ

Forgive me for my anger idealistic fools,
  advocating for equality for all ( but only for some)  
    while our people are pinned by the rage of distant past,
       the trusting Campeche a warrior of great who opened his heart,
         while his body defiled for human greed.

Where is equality when our mother weeps,
   for the land of blood, pillage and ****,
   where is equality for the children murdered by plague and disease?
     When our heritage becomes an attraction written on the marquee

when do we weep,
   for my people,
      who opened their heart
  only to find torment and hate.

-ɪɴᴅɪɢᴇɴᴏᴜꜱ ʀᴀᴘᴇ

Heed my call,
  within the state of unutterable purgatory
     weight of damnation,
           demonic sins dance by ardent flame
                  in synchrony on a brittle back. . .

Alone,
   echo's reverberate
       from the night sky,
          tears stream the very essence of the soul itself
              longing for intoxicating paradise so out of reach

Take my hand,
   pull me out
     of the raging mental sea,
       cleanse and purify a damaged soul,
          hear me, see me, choose me
              please . . .
                     please . . .
                        save me from the world living in apathy,
                          let me find elation. . .



-ΣᄂΛƬIӨП

when he asks
   to still be friends
      remember the strong take pity on the weak,
        the lion hunts the prey,
            if the lion bites,
                it will bite again.
- ㄥ𝒾σ𝓝

the irony of life,
we come from dust and bone,
     only to die from bone to dust.
in a shared cycle.

-IᖇOᑎY