"latinas" poems
My curls are everything you wish you knew about me
But it won’t reveal my inner mystery
My hair means young, it means wild, it means free.
My Latina nature sometimes precedes my personality
People try to tell me who I am and they whisper, “I bet she…”
My curls are everything you wish you knew about me
He says, “I know about you Latin girls…” but the only one who can enlighten me about me, is me.
To them I’m nothing more than another Jenny from the Block, but I’m not here to entertain you, let me educate you
My hair means young, it means wild, it means free.
My curls exude confidence, beauty, and *** appeal; they keep secrets, create dreams, and remind me how bright I expect my future to be
My hair does define me. But not as you define it, as I do. I am everything I believe my hair means
My curls are everything you wish you knew about me
Latinas are fierce, they are fire, and they are dangerous. Maybe we’re that way because you won’t let us be.
Can I just be me? Why do I have to be the person you want me to be?
My hair means young, it means wild, it means free.
I’m tired of society’s shackles, so I ignore what society expects me to be
I love my curls, I love them when they’re frizzy, unkempt, and unruly. My curls are me.
My curls are everything you wish you knew about me
My hair means young, it means wild, it means free.
~Karina
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 10:39 PM UTC
good morning little daughter
good morning mother earth.
Good morning city water.
I will swig your hissing turf.
Good morning shade of grey
start the page
a better way.
Good morning
morning.
And a good morning from my ballerina.
A sweet morning for a grown
and young latina.
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 9:45 AM UTC
he
him, miralo
he has nothing special
he gets lost among crowds
she
her, mirala
she swears we're beyond racism
sexism, citizenism, heterosexism
classism,
and many other isms
they have something in common...
they think they're free
which is very different to
they think (therefore) they're free
because indoctrination has infected their thoughts
they call themselves patriots as they proudly wear the american flag
on small pins
they even have a yellow "support our troops" sticker on their bumper
i'm telling you
she thinks she's free:
mrs. successful latina
"embraced" by america's corporate world
she "broke through" the glass ceiling
(then sealed it again)
no... other latinas would be too much of a competition
they need to have their own merits
have it as hard as she had it
she feels good about being tokenized
she's glad that "America" gave her such opportunities
"Why her?" out of so many others
she's so lucky
so why bother
**** the rest
as long as "she's free"
He thinks he's free:
"What's with this feminist ******** he says
he raises his fist
but not in an empowering way
instead
he threatens to land it on a woman's face
"that's what she gets
for trying to be a man"
They think they're free
"we're over homophobia
they're just isolated cases of intolerance..."
"i mean as long as you go about your business
and don't bother no body
i mean
don't preach it to everyone
don't show it
don't say it
you're free to be who you are
but just hide it...
why do you want to get married?
it doesn't make sense
i mean it might only be a phase..."
we think we're free
"we do the jobs no body else wants
this is not our country you know,
we need to follow the rules,
be good citizens,
don't ask for too much,
make sure we don't make them uncomfortable,
keep the status quo,
stop...they're starring...
we should wait...
let them set the rules"
today:
they think they're free
but one day
they'll think
and therefore
they will be truly free...
xtp
los angeles, march 3 2008
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC
All the Latinas are sitting together.
All of the Asians are sitting together.
All of the Middle Easterns are sitting together.
The whites are everywhere in the room.
I am sitting next to the Latinas, Behind the Middle Easterns and in front of a black dude.
A Puerto Rican is wearing a hat saying "Reckless".
I am wearing a hat saying, "Cape Cod".
I am in the middle of the room.
5 blondes are clumped together...
...no hats
We are all learning about ****** inheritance of different physical traits.
*** caused all of this.
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 1:24 PM UTC
I can always hear them in there laughing,talking,living.
There must be
3 of them living in that
Small studio apartment.
Their room always smells of
Incense, pizza,marijuana.
I've seen them in the halls
19 year old latinas.
And where should my love belong now?
It is much too dangerous
For a man of 24 to have read
Sartre,Celine,Hamsun.
Ya know,
I often fantasize
About 35 year old women.
Although I have met a lot of
35 year old women
That don't know
****
Where should my love belong?
Probably exactly where it is now.
But I hope
Not.
Dec 30, 2015
Dec 30, 2015 at 9:52 PM UTC
pouring out the cold coffee
but the bitter taste is in my mouth
got some coffee for your nose hole
heres a little, try it out
perks you up a little bit
give it a sec, it slows you down
got you flying high
but now its cold so we're flying south.
Down to El Paso
where the coffees made with stronger beans
skinny young Latinas
rubbing coca powder on their teeth
so obscene
follow me for some color green
headed out to west
see if we can score some cali trees
go to sleep
waking up, kinda feeling phony
need a pick-me-up
we're headed home but we take it slowly.
now
now we're back to the land again
couldn't help but wonder
about these little pills he's handing them
ill try a couple
nah, **** it! Thirteen
rolling harder than a caddy with the brakes cut clean.
but I'm losing it
we were cruising without choosing it
got nailed down to the inverted crucifix
who is this?
that seems to have me by the scruff
If you're looking for a ride
you're gonna get picked up
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 7:15 PM UTC
Entre un bosque de mástiles,
y con sus muelles empavesados de camisas,
Chioggia
fondea en la laguna,
ensangrentada de crepúsculo
y de velas latinas.
¡Redes tendidas sobre calles musgosas... sin afeitar!
¡Aire que nos calafatea los pulmones, dejándonos un gusto
de alquitrán!
Mientras las mujeres
se gastan las pupilas
tejiendo puntillas de neblina,
desde el lomo de los puentes,
los chicos se zambullen
en la basura del canal.
¡Marineros con cutis de pasa de higo y como garfios los dedos
de los pies!
Marineros que remiendan las velas en los umbrales y se ciñen
con ella la cintura, como con una falda suntuosa y con olor
a mar.
Al atardecer, un olor a frituras agranda los estómagos,
mientras los zuecos comienzan a cantar...
Y de noche, la luna, al disgregarse en el canal, finge un
enjambre de peces plateados alrededor de una carnaza.
716
my hair is your obsession
because it's *****
it's curly
it's exotic
it's ethnic
i wrap it up because it's fallen out
and you call me aunt jemima
i wrap it up because it's damaged
and you call me carmen miranda
you taped a photo on my desk
how about i tape a photo to your desk?
compare you to every white person you remind me of
touch your hair every day and point out your split ends
your bald spots
your imperfections
and send you a photo of the whitest white woman
and say,
this is you;
you are her
your ignorance fascinates me and yet
i'm not allowed to say ****
i sit in my chair
and i let your micro aggressions build up
into volcanoes that make me want to erupt on
your fantasy island
where all white is all right
and all black is all nap
and latinas serve your tequilas
you always want to put your ******* fingers
where they don't belong
you believe your simple gestures are innocent
but you're wrong
Jan 25, 2017
Jan 25, 2017 at 6:38 PM UTC
I wrote you a letter in Latin,
But I couldn't read it.
I admit, I thought the class
Was an easy credit.
Not the phrases, but my nuance
Needing mending.
Felt a lie, and I'm not so good
At pretending.
You just couldn't see the hand
I was extending,
As into the wallpaper
I kept blending.
Perhaps it's my fault, since
I wore that shirt.
Standing out's the quickest
Way to get hurt.
But speaking from the diaphragm
I can bellow,
And orate like some old dead
Roman fellow.
Standing out and looking
Like a plain fool
Reciting broken Latin
Learned in high school.
My only benediction is
The violence of my voice,
To compensate the losses of
The silence of my choice
Standing naked 'fore the masses
Flawless Latin being read,
Without the slightest clue as to
What any of it said.
Then you looked at me with pain
In your dark brown eyes,
When at last, my folly
You had realized.
You said that, though my effort
Brought you much joy,
"Latinas don't speak Latin,
My dear, dumb boy. "
Jun 20, 2017
Jun 20, 2017 at 3:13 AM UTC