It takes two pillars
  to build a foundation.
    as one rots and decays,
     the other cracks, bends, creaks and cries.
Then we have one. . .
  longing for support,
     only to find the world avoids the "broken" foundations.

-
b̵̪͈̙͚̪̞̗̱̅͒͘r̴̡̝̻̫͙̺̮̟̾͊̅̋̅̄͘̚͜͝ͅọ̴̲̓̈́̃̎̓ǩ̴̫̟͕̲͔̂̽̏͛͜͜͝e̵̋̎̔͠­̮̼͐͜ǹ̶̤̖̲̭̘̿́ ̴̨͖͇͍̦̯̤̐̅͋͘͘͜f̵̜̜͕͔̫̹̫̹̎̾̅͌͊̕͝ͅò̶̲̻̣̑͋͗̃͒̒̍̄ủ̵̮̪͍̼̳͔̗͉́̃̓n̶̦͘͜­̮̦̝̻̱͜d̶̫̲͒͌ā̴̡̛̭̭͘t̴̡̳̪̯̖̣͗̿͛̄̍̌͝ͅi̶̲͑̅ơ̶̮͇̼̹͜n̴̢̢̤̭̜̹̙̹͓̆̔ŝ̵­̢̛̙͙̗͗́̽͗̕̚

I traveled the world,
       got three degrees,
         with a fancy title to not skip the beat,
yet I long for yesterday. . .
   not a dollar to our name,
       a 99 cent burger and a coke was our tiramisu,
        full of sweaty palms that gripped reassurance.

what a cruel game life plays. . .
  I'd give up everything to my name,
     only to be laughed, scoffed, and told
           to give up the stars. . .
                in this never ending cruel fate.

I'd give up my life to see those ardent eyes,
  only to be reminded of the coward I am
     not able to let go
         & be with you once more. . .

Forgive me lover,
as I pen this regret. . .

-ʀᴇɢʀᴇᴛ

Sweet troubles of melancholy far removed,
     Ardent blight tattered heart,
        whimsical memories of yesterday. . .
           two young souls which loved and played,
              broken heartbeats in perfect synchrony,
                  old cigars and 3 a.m. faded masks,
                         you begged me to stay.
                               longed for love,
                                         but loathed your touch. . .
                                     when did I stray?

-Stray

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