I.
The armless maiden was your favorite bed-time story.

He ties my hands behind my back while my heart sings:

Here he comes! My king of the Nile!

For whom I will fight the gods with my womanly magic,

the spells of a women who’s eager to wield away

swollen lips and stained sheets

and her stained soul.

Let me tell you a tale of consumption,

of the flame and the burnt child:

He shoots an arrow into the darkness

and I beg to run after it.



II.

Cinderella is hanging from the ceiling. Her body dancing in crystal light.
Funny,
how it reminds me of the pink tutu still somewhere in my closet.

Never the graceful ballerina or the mother of the falcon,

only the princess in rags, even clumsy in my desperation,

even unable to make you smile a little.

My shakal faced God, my butcher,

you who giveth and taketh.

Ingrato nieto mío,
"ven a saludar"
la voz de abuelita
me empieza a gritar...
desde el cuarto donde duerme
y donde siempre está.

Ingrato si lo soy porque
no la voy a ver
tan pronto como llegó
a su casa a comer

Escarbo en la nevera
algo frío pa tomar
y me siento con mis primos a reírme y charlar.

Pero esta vez lo juro Dios,
voy a hacerlo bien ....
"Buenas tardes abuelita,
cómo está su Merce?"....
pero al tocarla no se mueve
y helada está también.

Ingrato siempre fui y siempre lo seré

Remember man; when you were young; a helpless baby
And its uncertain; if you will survive or die young maybe
You want a good posture but you couldn’t sit yourself
You wet and excrete on your nappies and you couldn’t clean yourself
Your bones and muscles are weak; with low resistance
There’s nothing you can do on your own without assistance
When you’re hungry; you can’t tell or feed yourself
You can’t concede a solid food; there is no teeth in your mouth
Then you start growing up and you start to crawl
And every time you stand up; you can’t move; you’re scare to fall
He’s scare to take a step; he needs a help to walk
Now this kid is developing and growing tall
Now this kid is grown up and he is mature
He walks around, dine along through sea and shore
He boast around and regard himself independent
He goes up and down thinking he’s something special
He act like he made himself and forget his origin
His earlier age of stand and fall; he’s forgotten everything
But soon you’ll get to a stage of trash and no road
If by chance you live long and has the chance to grow old
And once again you will be dependant and weak
You won’t be able to stand or move unless you’re supported by stick
And once again you can’t stand you’re scare to fall
You can’t take a step forward; you need a help to walk
Upon your bed lying helpless; unable to perform your role
Death stood by your head; waiting to take out your soul
And that’s his end; now again your soul is relaxed
Just like a kid; now again they give him a bath
His body is under the ditch; six feet and his soul on the other side
Now he understand the reality of living under the sand
Your wife, children and friends and wealth are all gone
That’s when you will understand the concept of life is not fun
You’re alone on your own under the last mansion
And the company that remain is your good and bad actions.