"frijoles" poems
[PART ONE]
xeroxed, RT'd and plagiarized
so many times on so many blogs
tween blogs to republican blogs
to blogs in Russia and
blogs no one ever scrolls though...
original content is prey
but I have a warning for they:
overrated, over-shared
content aggregators beware
the lines you swap can
rot and ware
the World Wide Web
does not care.
[PART TWO]
original content
original contests
original continent
original controversy
original coordination between strangers
original calvary riding their connection into the battlefield of internet memes; creating nothing and sharing everything
[COMMENTARY]
original nothing, nowhere, nobody except facebook "Funny Vidoes!" & "Cool Quotes!". 'Like' pages whose sole originality lies within their own existence but nothing they share. They steal from the rest of the web and re-post what they find for out-of-the-loop troglodytes; often done so in inferior context and with no perspective. The 'refried beans' phenomenon, I call it. I find it fitting because 'refried beans' are a double misnomer. The name comes from 'frijoles refritos' - which means 'well-fried' not 'refried'. They are also never traditionally fried more than once. Yet the name sticks, it gets repeated, it gets re-shared and now that's what they are: refried beans. This phenomenon is why I believe art and all original content eventually become so over-shared and overrated that it's no longer interesting but irritating. These three parts of the poem "Original Content" are separated in abstract authorial presentation. The author has clearly expressed his dislike for the disjunct un-imagination of the internet and presents it as such.
[PART THREE]
original authors losing control of their audiences who believe they are the creators and the artist's art is somewhat shareable
original miscommunication between web 1.0 and web 2.0 reality
original alphabet they use to type on their keyboards
original grammar they learned in school
original money their gov't printed
original content they re-post
original refried beans
original content
orginal contet
ogrinal cotent
ognal ctt
oc
.
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 10:01 PM UTC
Poema Code Switching
By Aylin Soto-Aleman, Mercedes Caballero, Jesus Martinez, Marta Silva, Alex Alejandre
16.4.15
El final de una etapa
The end,
The beginning of a new journey
un camino
A un mundo extranjero
Un deseo, un sueño
A dream
Haciendo mi propio path
un camino
rostros nuevos , new failures
historias nuevas , new experiences
a sequel to my story, con hojas rotas
y mojadas
INMIGRACION
La memoria es un salto
entre continentes
crossing invisible borders
swimming in the rios
corriendo debajo del sol
La memoria es los abuelitos
ancestors cooking arroz y frijoles,
flan, driving through for hamburgers,
popcorn, sipping on horchata
Basilica
No todo lo que brilla es oro
not all rainbows and butterflies,
Clarita y sus cien años
Ruben y sus Tacos del Camino Real
El rancho
Midnight movies
Quiero a quien me quiera
It’s been a long day, without you my friend
Mexicanos al grito de guerra
Oh, say can you see by the dawn’s early light
Tepechitlan, Jerecuaro, Guanajuato
Long Beach, Argentine, KCK,
Chihuahua,
A Distance Between Us
El puente, the bridge.
Three Little Pigs en casa, at home,
don't step out marranitos,
la llorona te va a llevar
Memory is a leap
between continents
Cruzando fronteras invisibles,
Nadando en los rivers
Running under the sun
Born in different places
Pero las mismas intenciones
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 1:39 PM UTC
[PART ONE]
xeroxed, RT'd and plagiarized
so many times on so many blogs
tween blogs to republican blogs
to blogs in Russia and
blogs no one ever scrolls though...
original content is prey
but I have a warning for they:
overrated, over-shared
content aggregators beware
the lines you swap can
rot and ware
the World Wide Web
does not care.
[PART TWO]
original content
original contests
original continent
original controversy
original coordination between strangers
original calvary riding their connection into the battlefield of internet memes; creating nothing and sharing everything
[COMMENTARY]
original nothing, nowhere, nobody except facebook "Funny Vidoes!" & "Cool Quotes!". 'Like' pages whose sole originality lies within their own existence but nothing they share. They steal from the rest of the web and re-post what they find for out-of-the-loop troglodytes; often done so in inferior context and with no perspective. The 'refried beans' phenomenon, I call it. I find it fitting because 'refried beans' are a double misnomer. The name comes from 'frijoles refritos' - which means 'well-fried' not 'refried'. They are also never traditionally fried more than once. Yet the name sticks, it gets repeated, it gets re-shared and now that's what they are: refried beans. This phenomenon is why I believe art and all original content eventually become so over-shared and overrated that it's no longer interesting but irritating. These three parts of the poem "Original Content" are separated in abstract authorial presentation. The author has clearly expressed his dislike for the disjunct un-imagination of the internet and presents it as such.
[PART THREE]
original authors losing control of their audiences who believe they are the creators and the artist's art is somewhat shareable
original miscommunication between web 1.0 and web 2.0 reality
original alphabet they use to type on their keyboards
original grammar they learned in school
original money their gov't printed
original content they re-post
original refried beans
original content
orginal contet
ogrinal cotent
ognal ctt
oc
.
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 12:42 PM UTC
People come in and out
Some to never be seen again
Coke
Asado rojo
Frijoles
People come in and out
Asking if their food is done
Yelling at you because the wanted cheese
Some are nice
Other are greedy
Not always leaving a tip
People come in and out
Some to never be seen again
Sprite
Nopales
Barbacoa
Time goes by and food keeps coming out
Here so many difrent people
Who come and go
Just leaving their face engraved in your mind
To some night be seen again in your dreams
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 11:48 PM UTC
Rolling hemp
Legalized
Sweet Jesus
Wheelchair bound
Brave heart
Deems respect
Grinding brown beans
Aroma wafts
Favorite mug
Burritos
Frijoles
Flatulence
Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 8:09 AM UTC
hunched over, a brown-skinned army,
picking, the field soon to be stripped of its bounty;
they will move to the next one, fast,
before the fruit falls to the ground
"los ninos, los viejos tambien"
the young, the old ones also help, though
they are slower and tote less a load
when the day is done, they build fires
for the frijoles, and to keep the night's spirits
at bay; they sleep in the shanties, the sheds
the master provides
the next day will be the same, though maybe
not as hot--maybe a rain will give them respite
from their labors
a gentle, short shower they pray,
for a storm might lay ruin to the crops, the treasure
they borrow only long enough
to basket and truck
not even a cloud visits the white sky
so the stooping, the loading drags on without relief
but from the north, a cool wind does blow
in it they hear a voice without cords vibrating,
yet one that speaks a language their hearts know well,
telling them their toil is to be brief, yet eternal: that winter
only whispers now, but soon commands all to rest
Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 1:20 PM UTC
across the river
the trickle of what was once Grande
I see them, huddled in their adobe squares
as the sizzling sun settles quiescently
leaving them in shielded shadow
then come the cook fires,
for the maize, the frijoles,
smoking the night sky
filling their bellies, filling my eyes
with visions of them, some silent
some filled with mirth, and song
all with hope or fear
as the moon paints their crusty hillsides silver
some will lie with one another--some will join in longing,
liquid union, planting sweet sighed seeds of hope
others, alone, will fall into dread dreams,
while winds weep and mix with coyote howls
a few will even hear the owls call their names
though the gift of eternal darkness may yet be
light years from their wretched huts
I may be there
to see the sun rise again
and repeat life's one act play,
anon and anon, or something may close
my own tired eyes, before the glory of their suffering
can be played again
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 9:20 AM UTC
How do you make your rice?
is it in a *** a pan? steamed? heated? not at all?
mine is in a frying ***
Yellow, with pollo from the fresh market.
Peas, y frijoles on the side.
Mix it up, eat it, keep it for later.
Burn the bottom so you can get la chemada part.
If you like the chemada part, not everyone does.
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 12:25 PM UTC
he looks to that place
hidden in the grey folds and
white matter where the words
and images are birthed
all he sees are blue beans:
jelly beans, frijoles beans, kidney
beans--all as blue as robin's eggs,
strewn on a pitch black field
he waters them to see
if they will grow, for surely
this field is of magic or
at least dreams
but, it seems, nothing
sprouts; the fallow field remains
the same: a bed for countless
beads of blue
he lays his stylus down,
a sword he wielded for naught,
closes his eyes for a final view,
and all he sees is blue
Jul 4, 2017
Jul 4, 2017 at 2:50 PM UTC