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spysgrandson Oct 2013
I do not know why you moved to this side  
long ago, before your city became a **** zone  
maybe you knew something I did not  
you knew many things I did not, which I discovered
when you politely corrected my grammar  
though it was my native tongue,
and one you learned reading our newspapers,
watching our television
listening, more carefully than most,
to what the gringos said  
you told me tales of the arena,
usually after dinner, on your back porch  
when the shadow of the mountain covered our houses
like a quiet blanket, blocking out the blistering heat
of the desert day  
you would offer me a soda, always  
before my questions began  
your civility was strange to me at first,
the adults in my family barked and cackled  
your words rolled out like sweet liquid  
and left me wanting more  
I never asked why you had no woman,
you were as handsome as any man I knew  
later, years later, years of name calling later
I guess I understood,  maybe
that was why you left your home  
though the blind blood of bigotry
ran freely on both sides of the Rio Grande
and I knew you to be courageous
for when you told me the stories,
as the desert sky became violet and cool,  
and the few cicadas began their song,  
you boasted not of your dangerous dance
in the packed dirt of the ring,
but of the art it took to silence the beast  
the lost look in its red *** eyes
and the silent sadness you felt  
as the crowd cheered
another beautiful death
Ottis Blades Dec 2009
Look at me in the eye
I will slay you, turn you
into human flesh
and much to my dismay
you will be coming back charging
while my eyes are blood-shot red
like the disdain infiltrated in your lungs
nowhere to hide, impossible to run
they say I drink too fast well,
they drink too slow
so let my ****** steel sword
allow me to valiantly retort
time to grab the bull by the horns
like the most gracious Matador
either we make it out alive
or do battle until we are both comatose
like a coward trying to breathe
his way out of a room full of thugs
I am going to see you at the morgue
since I don't fear death
alas, death fears me
I am beyond everything that stands
and I stand above everything that breathes
life has built me a shrine
to illuminate every last day that I live
even if I never die at your hands
for better or much likely for worse
like so many others before
I am taking you with me.
Marieta Maglas Jun 2012
This poem is composed by: a Nonet, a Kyrielle Sonnet, a Free verse part, a Terzanelle and another Free verse part:
In a juerga there’s nothing around
But  voices,  flamenco guitars ,
Dancing bodies in moonlight,
Vibrant  gypsy  dresses,
Passion, obsessions,
Bullfighter’s blades,
Silk shawls,
Dancers,
Capes.
Old men have faces scorched and cracked,
Flamenco women  to attract,
Like  barks of olive trees in night.
Shirts dazzle white in the moonlight.

Girls have boot heels  and  huge  roses,
Men clench their  teeth ,  step  opposes,
Hands clap  and shout in a dance fight,
Shirts dazzle white in the moonlight.

Guitars  are beaten at high speeds,
Castanets scratch  the music’s seeds,
Rhythmic fingers  snap air to bite,
Shirts dazzle white in the moonlight.

Old men have faces scorched and cracked,
Shirts dazzle white in the moonlight.

Hands  becoming  wings
In their shadows  on the wall,
Red  becoming black and
Black becoming white,
Motion vibrating the guitar's string,

Cubic movements  of colors,
In their dance ,
Shadowy  wings becoming  scarfs,
Flamenco woman arching her body,
Showing  her passion…

From the  soul to dissolve
The dancing sounds detach
From the soul to dissolve

When the movement they catch,
They may change all around,
The dancing sounds detach.

Drums and tambourines’ sound,
Exotic  wrists  and swirls,
They may change all around.

The weightless grace  makes  girls
Steal treasures from the air,
Exotic  wrists  and swirls.

With beautiful  black hair,
Rise like birds , fall like leaves.
Steal treasures from the air,

Having tricks up their sleeves,
From the  soul to dissolve,
Rise like birds ,fall like leaves
From the  soul to dissolve.

Spicy slippery steps
Waiting for a clue,
Picking up  portions of pink
Of hyper-femininity ,
Overflowing  screwy sounds
In heavy  red  chromesthesia,
Morphing  themselves into glamorous ,
Red  feminine movements,
Men looking  like marble statues being alive,
Seemingly  cracking.
Slowly diminishing their dancing rhythm,
Steps  sickling  sweet  sounds
To hear the horn of  some lost happiness.
Israel Ortiz Jr Jul 2013
The Bullfighter!
He is unfazed by the size of the beast.
Standing in position he crosses himself
and the beast is at the ready. The
sun is aglow and the women with
their white roses, and exposed fears.

How would Picasso paint this scene?
Dying in public view - the souls.
Clearly occupied by the fate of
instant glory or tragic goring.  The
war in the ring between man and
beast. The dance begins.
judy smith Dec 2016
Fashion has no shortage of characters, but China Machado was arguably one of the most vibrant among them. The industry veteran, according to reports, suffered cardiac arrest this weekend and died on Long Island reportedly at the age of 87, leaving behind a powerful legacy. A muse to Avedon and Givenchy, Machado spent decades at the nexus of fashion and entertainment, experiencing the business from all sides first as a model, then as an editor, gallerist, designer, and television producer, before cycling back to where it all started and signing a modeling contract with IMG Models in her early 80s.

Machado’s firebrand personality matched the outsized events of her life. The daughter of a Chinese mother and Portuguese father, Machado spent her childhood in Shanghai until World War II uprooted her family. Traveling through Argentina and Peru in her youth, Machado romanced the famed bullfighter Luis Miguel Dominguín until he left her for Hollywood star Ava Gardner. Relocating to Paris after the breakup, she eventually found herself modeling for Hubert de Givenchy and Cristóbal Balenciaga.

As one of the first nonwhite models to gain prominence on the runway of Europe, Machado opened doors for the generations of women of color who followed. Her refined good looks quickly made her an in-demand face, but it wasn’t until she joined forces with photography legend Richard Avedon that her career became iconic. When a magazine refused to publish Avedon’s images of Machado due to her race, he threatened not to renew his contracts and sent shock waves through the fashion world. Machado went on to become the first nonwhite woman to grace the cover of an American magazine, setting the stage for a representation of beauty that was considerably more inclusive than the blonde-haired blue-eyed standard of the 1960s.

As well as being a trailblazer, Machado was a master of reinvention. In a business known for discarding people, she stood the test of time by doing things her way. Switching gears to serve as senior fashion editor and fashion director of Harper’s Bazaar, getting shot by Andy Warhol, designing a namesake line of wraps, or resurfacing to pose with the likes of Steven Meisel—whatever project Machado took on, it was done with a respect for fashion. Speaking with Vogue earlier this year regarding her exceptional career, Machado chalked her successes up to one thing: the constant search for happiness. “Someone like me is a bit of a vagabond,” she said. “I like to experience every aspect of life. I think it’s crucial to be happy.”Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
Ryan D Jan 2020
Send your signals and take them back.
Give subtle dismissals and wrench my latch.
Strip your beating red curtains away,
Elucidate what I once perceived to the fray.
Wind me up, watch me charge.
Let me down as I fall apart.
They cheer you on, they truly believe.
Because in the end, they want me to bleed.
You’re going to shove your knives in me,
And I soon will cease to be.
But, your roses will still be cast
And your cheers will still be amassed.
As your swords are stuck seizing and bleeding my back.
False poet Feb 2021
Rationality is that human capacity that allows us to think
To evaluate and act through the use of reason
This characteristic is supposed to be what differentiates us from animals
But the reality that my eyes see makes me keep asking myself this same question over and over again
Who are the real animals here?

Isn't it animal abuse?
You ask a bullfighter who thinks it's normal to **** for money
You will say that animals do not suffer, right?
Stick a sword in your back and maybe then you can talk
I'm glad when I see a goring all over your mouth

I shot everyone who beat a seal
To then go-to fashion and not crazy would you tear your skin to dress even if you were masochistic
And this goes for the one who threw puppies into the river, will you be able to do the same when you grow up with your children?

Today violence is fun
I would make myself a ***** coat like you but not mink
The poacher deserves the gallows, it is not for survival,
So we are the most primitive beings
There is talk of evolution and every day I see the news the cold blood of the one who has no heart

In Spain, bullfighting is art, for me a torture
What a disgusting country that considers its culture
Based on real events just why we exist
Rational animals you can call us killers

How much ******* is on the loose
Anyone who mistreats an animal deserved to be dead
Or away from the world killing each other
The most dangerous on this planet is us

Your inferiority complex is bigger every day, they would never do it to you, coward!
If you abandon him, it is because he is no longer a cute puppy as before
You disgust me and it makes me sad to see so many human beings without blood in their veins
I ask for more condemnation, the man between cages and chains

Sometimes I think I wish we were their dinner
Trained, caged, exploited in circuses
As easy to see as putting on Tele Cinco, for you entertainment and fun
Torture, suffering is morbid and morbid sells on television

Stuffed heads are a trophy in your living room
I ask for salvation for the whales of Japan
We don't deserve forgiveness, our extinction is my wish
Rational animals, humans I don't think so

How much ******* is on the loose
Anyone who mistreats an animal deserved to be dead
Or away from the world killing each other
The most dangerous on this planet are us

I am fed up and manifest, I suffer when I see an animal suffering
That we are able to do all this of our own free will

Multinationals that test their products on animals that cannot defend themselves and it is not fair
Be well informed of what you buy, because the blood spilled will be on your hands if you support them
Public executions if they escape from the slaughterhouse, no tranquilizer darts?, it is an unnecessary waste of money

I call for us not to think that we are not capable of doing anything
For that very reason I write this poem
I want to make the most ******* animal reflect
Whoever tortures for fun, the human being
Reflect! If you are with me, just raise your hand

— The End —