It kinda ***** to be hispanic.

Because apparently,
my ***** tastes like salsa.

and my calves are not strong as a result of exercise,
it’s because I’m hauling pounds of marijuana across the borders.

and I’m automatically dumb,

you know your people have been brainwashed when even they start to believe that they’re dumb.

that’s what I learned when the Mexican girl next to me in math class leaned over to me and said,

“You’re really smart for one of us.”

if a white woman has my skin color, it’s beautiful.

when my naturally tan skin is pictured, i’m now wearing “too much bronzer.”

I’m a fake.

I “don’t belong in this country.”

Because my ancestors looked up to this country as a place of refuge and stability, but I tend to disagree,

I gotta leave now?

Take a moment and live in my home. Live in my country. Know how my life works.

And then tell me oppression isn’t a thing.

If only his hatred
Was as transient
As her love
His rage burns with passion
Yet all her love
Is lost.

They stood within,
The garden of old
Forgotten to time;
Left to unfold
The lily-bush bidden,
To grow wayward free
Birds of paradise dance,
With no eyes to see.

The candle sits awaiting its charge;
Alas, I remain in darkness.

Once my soul takes leave,
I implore no mourning.  
I float free and liberated,
In the empty expanse of eternity.

Candle flames flicker

As life does so burn

Those lost to the abyss

Do rarely find return

Noli Me Tangere
Do not touch me
I am the deer that eludes the hunt.
The thick beating drum that rests by my lung,
Is no ones to scoop out or to conquer
Round’ my neck droops -a necklace of daisies,
Withered off-white six-seasons sun-bright
A gift from the Artist;
Whose soul twined with mine,
Deep roots and thick vined.
Our fruits once plump ripe, now lie rotten
Plucked from my presence, forgotten
The essence of Wild & Free- we ran rapidly,
From, institutions, illusions, dogma, delusions
I am he and he is me. a painting, verse, a memory
& now I flee alone, paintbrush tail, no home
To hunt me is in vain.
I am the bohemian- I am never tamed
Noli Me Tangere
Do not touch me

If Latin is the root of modern words
And Latin is a dead language
Then does that mean that
The words we use now that have flowered from Latin
Are dead too since the roots are so-called 'dead'?

Scrape the safety out of my eyes
Let the tears wallow, watch me cry
She saw my wrists and laughed at me
I've "cursed myself" is what she believes

She never understood
My favorite type of art
Tells me it's evil work
And I'm breaking her heart

Ancient tongue we no longer speak
Upon my skin in chants to preach
Simple font in words concrete
I write about the things I've seen