"chicano" poems - Hello Poetry

**** the Police Coming straight out the underground Young brother got it bad Cuz I look Mexican and I'm brown Can't forget to do diarrhea on the sheriff deputies Cuz you wear a uniform and a badge think you deserve respect like a G Biggest violaters of civil rights in the ******* land take advantage of everybody cuz you think we're stupid and you can Where are you going? What's your name? Are you on Probation? California is not a stop and identify state How about I cuff your *** Take you to an alley and let out all my frustration Am I under arrest? Or am I free to go is what I ask Boo bop & slit your throat come up from behind with a ******* Chucky mask I'm the worst ******* nightmare there ever has been A conscious, Chicano, 5 percenter Moorish American free national citizen How about next time you **** one of us We hunt you down, home invade your family and launch you all of a cliff in a bus. Quick to leave a pig bleeding left for dead in a ***** ditch ***** sewed to your mouth, you wanna be me punk *** ***** Or we'll cut your head off and stick it to a thousand foot pole start the vampire nation, count Vlad's idea yea I stole. 14th amendment, 85 percenter corporate security guard driving a big *** truck with your undersized ***** and you think your all hard, you ******* ****** You're obvious and pathetic I got no time to play We don't die we multiply and the movement is here to stay. Get off me stupid I ain't signing no autographs Che Guevara reincarnated now who has the last laugh?

0

Sep 14, 2018

Sep 14, 2018 at 6:48 PM UTC

Rabbit57

**** The Police

**** the Police Coming straight out the underground Young brother got it bad Cuz I look Mexican and I'm brown Can't forget to do diarrhea on the sheriff deputies Cuz you wear a uniform and a badge think you deserve respect like a G Biggest violaters of civil rights in the ******* land take advantage of everybody cuz you think we're stupid and you can Where are you going? What's your name? Are you on Probation? California is not a stop and identify state How about I cuff your *** Take you to an alley and let out all my frustration Am I under arrest? Or am I free to go is what I ask Boo bop & slit your throat come up from behind with a ******* Chucky mask I'm the worst ******* nightmare there ever has been A conscious, Chicano, 5 percenter Moorish American free national citizen How about next time you **** one of us We hunt you down, home invade your family and launch you all of a cliff in a bus. Quick to leave a pig bleeding left for dead in a ***** ditch ***** sewed to your mouth, you wanna be me punk *** ***** Or we'll cut your head off and stick it to a thousand foot pole start the vampire nation, count Vlad's idea yea I stole. 14th amendment, 85 percenter corporate security guard driving a big *** truck with your undersized ***** and you think your all hard, you ******* ****** You're obvious and pathetic I got no time to play We don't die we multiply and the movement is here to stay. Get off me stupid I ain't signing no autographs Che Guevara reincarnated now who has the last laugh?

41

I saw the best behinds of my generation destroyed by muffins, strudel hydrolyzed aphids dragging themselves through Chicano streets at dawn for tickets to fix, bagel headed tipsters yearning for flagrant connection to the sorry dim sum macarena nights ... *apologies to Allen Ginsberg

0

Dec 24, 2010

Dec 24, 2010 at 8:58 PM UTC

perig3e

Howl too

I saw the best behinds of my generation destroyed by muffins, strudel hydrolyzed aphids dragging themselves through Chicano streets at dawn for tickets to fix, bagel headed tipsters yearning for flagrant connection to the sorry dim sum macarena nights ... *apologies to Allen Ginsberg

4

Southwestern Dis-United States of Memory Piñon smoke and sagebrush, voice of New Mexico night driving into an Arizona dawn rising over dreaming pueblos, low-ridden plazas, kivas and ruined cities’ rubble traced and highlighted by sunlight, Anglo angling into Aztec toward Zuni over arid zones… A to Z to El Dorado; a voice covers the high hills with a dusting of snow—every word hangs in the notes of the song: music to fall apart to, breakdown to, hurling the soul into the bottomless well of psychotic nostalgia: música de cavanga, falling into the depths. Melody pushing to the threshold of a bar and leaving you there with cash in your pocket and no ride home. The warmth inside beckons—you step across as the song fills, swells, intoxicates, then excavates the wall of the dam until it collapses. The fatal mistake: you read too much into the lyrics of shallow love songs. The deathwish beast of despair arises, the flooded plains dazzle your eyes, the Indian girl smiles on the rim of the grand canyon, the tattooed cholo pulls a knife in the trailer park, the dark waters under the bridge murmur and surge with regret; el río de Las Animas, Durango CO, Aztec calligraphy on the wall: Las Cruces, NM; Clifton, Morenci, Globe, AZ: stepped pyramids of copper tailings, gang-warred walls in fallen barrios covered in Chicano hieroglyphics, the ruined huts of shepherds and cowboys, pit-house dwellings’ flaked arrowheads and pottery fragments scattered forever in the coyote laugh of desert dusk. Crepuscular colors on the names of mountain ranges: Santa Catalina, Sangre de Cristo, Sandia, each one a separate sunset delirium—then you ride through the night to the city of palm trees and the orange-lined boulevards of Heaven. The singer herself grew old but her YouTubes live forever.

0

Feb 23, 2017

Feb 23, 2017 at 9:37 PM UTC

connecthook

Lindísima

Southwestern Dis-United States of Memory Piñon smoke and sagebrush, voice of New Mexico night driving into an Arizona dawn rising over dreaming pueblos, low-ridden plazas, kivas and ruined cities’ rubble traced and highlighted by sunlight, Anglo angling into Aztec toward Zuni over arid zones… A to Z to El Dorado; a voice covers the high hills with a dusting of snow—every word hangs in the notes of the song: music to fall apart to, breakdown to, hurling the soul into the bottomless well of psychotic nostalgia: música de cavanga, falling into the depths. Melody pushing to the threshold of a bar and leaving you there with cash in your pocket and no ride home. The warmth inside beckons—you step across as the song fills, swells, intoxicates, then excavates the wall of the dam until it collapses. The fatal mistake: you read too much into the lyrics of shallow love songs. The deathwish beast of despair arises, the flooded plains dazzle your eyes, the Indian girl smiles on the rim of the grand canyon, the tattooed cholo pulls a knife in the trailer park, the dark waters under the bridge murmur and surge with regret; el río de Las Animas, Durango CO, Aztec calligraphy on the wall: Las Cruces, NM; Clifton, Morenci, Globe, AZ: stepped pyramids of copper tailings, gang-warred walls in fallen barrios covered in Chicano hieroglyphics, the ruined huts of shepherds and cowboys, pit-house dwellings’ flaked arrowheads and pottery fragments scattered forever in the coyote laugh of desert dusk. Crepuscular colors on the names of mountain ranges: Santa Catalina, Sangre de Cristo, Sandia, each one a separate sunset delirium—then you ride through the night to the city of palm trees and the orange-lined boulevards of Heaven. The singer herself grew old but her YouTubes live forever.

3

Me and the crew riding around in the PT Cruiser. Soda oozin' out the cup like the one of Biggest Loser. Don't let the insults be spiky, like the shell of King Koopa. Goin' back and forth : we in the movie Looper. Be chill like the Buddha. Dude, uh, I think you dropped your burger. Electric surger blew up like the Time Warner merger. The inside of our place on fire ; The officer called us liars. Wanted to throw us in the manor on the Cliff of Briar. Yeah, it's an American Horror Story. Being profiled because of ethnicity, We're Mexican, see, But we're not gonna steal something worth $3.50. Looking at us like monsters of Loch Ness. Yeah, we may come from a pool of cess But you're simply too incredulous To think of a time other than 1955. You can ruin our lives And throw us in jail in the blink of an eye. Don't even need to find A shred of evidence to kick our behind. You feel like we're behind your back Cocking our guns with a slight click-clack. About to shoot them off with a ratatatat While we're caressing our "gang tats". But that's not how it is. You think we all give weapons to kids?

0

Mar 14, 2015

Mar 14, 2015 at 3:09 PM UTC

Grim-LK

chicano channel

Me and the crew riding around in the PT Cruiser. Soda oozin' out the cup like the one of Biggest Loser. Don't let the insults be spiky, like the shell of King Koopa. Goin' back and forth : we in the movie Looper. Be chill like the Buddha. Dude, uh, I think you dropped your burger. Electric surger blew up like the Time Warner merger. The inside of our place on fire ; The officer called us liars. Wanted to throw us in the manor on the Cliff of Briar. Yeah, it's an American Horror Story. Being profiled because of ethnicity, We're Mexican, see, But we're not gonna steal something worth $3.50. Looking at us like monsters of Loch Ness. Yeah, we may come from a pool of cess But you're simply too incredulous To think of a time other than 1955. You can ruin our lives And throw us in jail in the blink of an eye. Don't even need to find A shred of evidence to kick our behind. You feel like we're behind your back Cocking our guns with a slight click-clack. About to shoot them off with a ratatatat While we're caressing our "gang tats". But that's not how it is. You think we all give weapons to kids?

28

The lock on my mouth tightens My ears turn red Like the tied knots in my stomach All the dripping sweat… The hard work goes to waste Fear stares me in the face How I dread that bitter taste All I hear is that **** beating Questions and Questions Mexican? American? Hispanic? Chicano? Latino? I say neither The lock on my mouth tightens Insecurities and bruises underneath my skin You’re not good enough or smart enough Stop trying, there’s no such thing as luck So buckle up This road I take isn’t easy I see yellow, brown, and black But I don’t forget the clouds above are White It’s time for change I say Course after course Finding pieces to my key My consciousness now aware I’m brilliant Now I begin to believe and see The lock on my mouth opens I can finally hear my voice breathe I say “It’s interesting you feel that way” Now it’s my turn to speak.

0

Jul 8, 2014

Jul 8, 2014 at 12:17 AM UTC

vanessa67

Hear my voice

The lock on my mouth tightens My ears turn red Like the tied knots in my stomach All the dripping sweat… The hard work goes to waste Fear stares me in the face How I dread that bitter taste All I hear is that **** beating Questions and Questions Mexican? American? Hispanic? Chicano? Latino? I say neither The lock on my mouth tightens Insecurities and bruises underneath my skin You’re not good enough or smart enough Stop trying, there’s no such thing as luck So buckle up This road I take isn’t easy I see yellow, brown, and black But I don’t forget the clouds above are White It’s time for change I say Course after course Finding pieces to my key My consciousness now aware I’m brilliant Now I begin to believe and see The lock on my mouth opens I can finally hear my voice breathe I say “It’s interesting you feel that way” Now it’s my turn to speak.

29

Mano a mano I will help, secure, and respect you. Mano a mano Don't knock me down I won't hurt you. Mano a mano Pompous were your hands reaching up Your pride got you, did it fill that prideful cup. Mano a mano You grew up a chicano Went from man to boy. Mano a mano You kept saying pronto I'm not your debutante rich *** I'm low class, with a poor home. Mano a mano You still haven't grown up Will you sincerely love me, its a must. I need I T N O W. Mano a mano I d o N t Think You Can Handle M E..

0

Sep 3, 2015

Sep 3, 2015 at 7:14 AM UTC

jessica-packer

Mano a mano

Mano a mano I will help, secure, and respect you. Mano a mano Don't knock me down I won't hurt you. Mano a mano Pompous were your hands reaching up Your pride got you, did it fill that prideful cup. Mano a mano You grew up a chicano Went from man to boy. Mano a mano You kept saying pronto I'm not your debutante rich *** I'm low class, with a poor home. Mano a mano You still haven't grown up Will you sincerely love me, its a must. I need I T N O W. Mano a mano I d o N t Think You Can Handle M E..

32

I-I-I want to put her head on a robot's body; I want to be w/ u @ midnight maybe, the sentences white men get is too slight; prisons should be filled w/ them--- Bandy in negligee quite a wide-eyed wonder--- Her eyeballs full of goldfish, the neighbors who walks the hall w/ no clothes on--- in the Pyongyang condo she reads the NYT delivered by the tall, bearded boy who doesn't want to draw attention to his naturally silver hair he wears in a pompadour beneath an American baseball cap; She sits in the stairwell & smokes cigars & he joins her when the lights go out which is often--- Trump's self-sabotage is rooted in his perceived sense of failure; never enough, never good no matter how high, enough---he's made of gold & it's only a black hole--- He's a kook, crazy & mentally unfit 4 office; when cross-dressing her bra can't be **** but u never know--- She's calling outside my window & complains my room is freezing (364 - 58) All the Jews want to move to Israel; from my window I can see the fortress-settlements in the red hills---garrisons of Palestinian girls, A loaded Palestinian girl knocks on the door holding a bottle of gin; I let her in, violating Sharia law she lies down & pets the cat---

0

Jan 1, 2018

Jan 1, 2018 at 6:57 PM UTC

johnny-noiπ

Chicano Cat-Woman

I-I-I want to put her head on a robot's body; I want to be w/ u @ midnight maybe, the sentences white men get is too slight; prisons should be filled w/ them--- Bandy in negligee quite a wide-eyed wonder--- Her eyeballs full of goldfish, the neighbors who walks the hall w/ no clothes on--- in the Pyongyang condo she reads the NYT delivered by the tall, bearded boy who doesn't want to draw attention to his naturally silver hair he wears in a pompadour beneath an American baseball cap; She sits in the stairwell & smokes cigars & he joins her when the lights go out which is often--- Trump's self-sabotage is rooted in his perceived sense of failure; never enough, never good no matter how high, enough---he's made of gold & it's only a black hole--- He's a kook, crazy & mentally unfit 4 office; when cross-dressing her bra can't be **** but u never know--- She's calling outside my window & complains my room is freezing (364 - 58) All the Jews want to move to Israel; from my window I can see the fortress-settlements in the red hills---garrisons of Palestinian girls, A loaded Palestinian girl knocks on the door holding a bottle of gin; I let her in, violating Sharia law she lies down & pets the cat---

42

The job market is a farce, and for the poor, money is always sparse. No longer a child, I have to stop kidding myself - now a dad I have to pass on Santa and elves, the tooth fairy, and the economy, a lineage, and a history. I've been a ******* in more ways than one, America's sociological experiment of a son, whose dream wasn't tied to a flag, a political party, nor **** But I understand it takes strife to fulfill life, an ingredient in the recipe that creates might. El sueño Americano es el mismo Chicano, sueño Colombiano, Asiático, y Africano. Ain't no difference when it's all a Google search away and the world works to pay a debt it never owed. Be free, baby, but before you do - you gotta figure out what that means to you.

0

Mar 22, 2019

Mar 22, 2019 at 3:18 AM UTC

georgemorales

Be Free, Baby

The job market is a farce, and for the poor, money is always sparse. No longer a child, I have to stop kidding myself - now a dad I have to pass on Santa and elves, the tooth fairy, and the economy, a lineage, and a history. I've been a ******* in more ways than one, America's sociological experiment of a son, whose dream wasn't tied to a flag, a political party, nor **** But I understand it takes strife to fulfill life, an ingredient in the recipe that creates might. El sueño Americano es el mismo Chicano, sueño Colombiano, Asiático, y Africano. Ain't no difference when it's all a Google search away and the world works to pay a debt it never owed. Be free, baby, but before you do - you gotta figure out what that means to you.

18

There’s a lot of heat when all eight of us suite-mates get together. I might have mentioned it somewhere. We’re like surround sound, eight car alarms going off together, it’s jabberwocky by an established team. It can get frantic and maybe frightening for the uninitiated or inhibited. Some of us are pretty boy-crazy and there’s a mix-in of twinkling girl-crazy too. We’re basey, bugzee, spaceheads and freaks, yeah, we're the whole emotional spice rack. “She’s a good person to **** time with,” is pretty high praise around here because we have so little free time. But these are good people to **** time with. And we’re portable, we travel, we invade, we’re crazy young women who’ve got it made. So if you’re coming at us, trying to enter our enclave, you better be brave or a situational upgrade. . . Songs for this: No New Friends (feat. Sia, Diplo & Labrinth) by LSD Lysergic Bliss by of Montreal Freedom Is Free by Chicano Batman . . slang… basey = a cool loser, nice but a bit odd, a ****** with style bugzee = slightly crazy spaceheads = people who talk about weird things

0

Feb 22, 2025

Feb 22, 2025 at 1:56 PM UTC

anaisvionet

killing it

There’s a lot of heat when all eight of us suite-mates get together. I might have mentioned it somewhere. We’re like surround sound, eight car alarms going off together, it’s jabberwocky by an established team. It can get frantic and maybe frightening for the uninitiated or inhibited. Some of us are pretty boy-crazy and there’s a mix-in of twinkling girl-crazy too. We’re basey, bugzee, spaceheads and freaks, yeah, we're the whole emotional spice rack. “She’s a good person to **** time with,” is pretty high praise around here because we have so little free time. But these are good people to **** time with. And we’re portable, we travel, we invade, we’re crazy young women who’ve got it made. So if you’re coming at us, trying to enter our enclave, you better be brave or a situational upgrade. . . Songs for this: No New Friends (feat. Sia, Diplo & Labrinth) by LSD Lysergic Bliss by of Montreal Freedom Is Free by Chicano Batman . . slang… basey = a cool loser, nice but a bit odd, a ****** with style bugzee = slightly crazy spaceheads = people who talk about weird things

32

At the LAUNDROMAT / the sign, all in Caps. Time : Midnight at half past It’s like a home for my home-girl And that Chicano Youngblood Cutie with his family duties / in the lateness of tonight, doing laundry: Folding his brothers’ Johns His Tia’s Lacey skimpy's Crumpled like tiny ****** / scrunchies. He’s Methodical, his eyes don’t waver From his work, Tries to not notice mines I feel like I’m in a rap video, My chick being clocked by dark eyed, She does not notice, & while at tumble dry I can’t quit ogling at **** Hanes-shirt white, Mr. homegrown boy / guy. Headphone Speakers have his ears Texting back at spam / females, Smartphone shiny thick ‘uns While I watch salivarily, licking lips **** so Fine! My muffled salutations—hot **** He’s Adjusting himself front faced my window to Things that makes you go hmmm... I feel I should somehow Cater to these wiles inside Aquiver / wrought / A high Willowing / body admonishing the vibrations of deep bass like hard hip-hop rap beats from Impalas riding way low, Tinted windows vs. blind faith Reality vs. perceptions from our Fantasy / briefly close shuddering eyes Awake not a dream spared. (Hello there!) Midnight at the Laudromat, This is some reality at that! Home grown boys And drool drops / swimming in thought From the corner of mouths Words are ***** Past the late of moonless nights In the neighborhood of Twain and Corona beers (hold the virus) We’re all marked by the streets And the big empty inside us... The hunger pangs, Homeless outside chitchat on black Skittering past City Wildlife At Midnight at the Laundromat. Yes ****** & Too **** at That (In all caps.)

0

Apr 7, 2020

Apr 7, 2020 at 6:07 AM UTC

butch-decatoria

At the Laundromat

At the LAUNDROMAT / the sign, all in Caps. Time : Midnight at half past It’s like a home for my home-girl And that Chicano Youngblood Cutie with his family duties / in the lateness of tonight, doing laundry: Folding his brothers’ Johns His Tia’s Lacey skimpy's Crumpled like tiny ****** / scrunchies. He’s Methodical, his eyes don’t waver From his work, Tries to not notice mines I feel like I’m in a rap video, My chick being clocked by dark eyed, She does not notice, & while at tumble dry I can’t quit ogling at **** Hanes-shirt white, Mr. homegrown boy / guy. Headphone Speakers have his ears Texting back at spam / females, Smartphone shiny thick ‘uns While I watch salivarily, licking lips **** so Fine! My muffled salutations—hot **** He’s Adjusting himself front faced my window to Things that makes you go hmmm... I feel I should somehow Cater to these wiles inside Aquiver / wrought / A high Willowing / body admonishing the vibrations of deep bass like hard hip-hop rap beats from Impalas riding way low, Tinted windows vs. blind faith Reality vs. perceptions from our Fantasy / briefly close shuddering eyes Awake not a dream spared. (Hello there!) Midnight at the Laudromat, This is some reality at that! Home grown boys And drool drops / swimming in thought From the corner of mouths Words are ***** Past the late of moonless nights In the neighborhood of Twain and Corona beers (hold the virus) We’re all marked by the streets And the big empty inside us... The hunger pangs, Homeless outside chitchat on black Skittering past City Wildlife At Midnight at the Laundromat. Yes ****** & Too **** at That (In all caps.)

59