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My art
is the way
I re-establish
the bonds that unite me
to the universe. -A.M.

Before she fell
They were
Hated
She, for her sudden rise
And he
in turn
for his shaggy, loping omnipotence
The sure-footed authority
marked by silver squares heading nowhere.

She was the little Visionary
and he, the Blue Chip
So very messy
The Tall and The Small

If you were sitting at the bar
Somewhere around Mercer Street
And those two came in
“Ugh”
Went off inside all the heads
in their line of sight
A palpable mental groan
As they hung up their coats
And waved at various tables
Making their way like penguins through
recalcitrant faces
eyes focused on a glass of beer.

Again, it will all end badly, we thought
Nursing our drinks.
Tonight

Piling out of the last bar
brawling on slick cobblestones
under the yellowish streetlights
of Prince or West Broadway
Arguing about nothing and everything
“I will out run you Old Man!”
You could hear it bouncing off the sidewalk like reverb
Whispering around corners
“You will be surpassed!”

Birdgirl, I too look to eternity,
he states full of drink and exasperation.
I step and step again. I am walking there.
I am not a bird and you will see that I need no wings.

“You will be surpassed!”

Blood and more blood
A face planted with busted lips
Flattened
Your body crushed into the earth
Over and over
Having fallen
Waiting for burial, entombed in flora
Welcomed
Reclaimed
To be disappeared
But not just yet.

What had you unleashed Mija?
What did you already know?

I’ve got a devil inside of me! SHE GOT LOVE!
I’ve got a devil inside of me! SHE GOT LOVE!

In editorial spreads
we saw flared American jeans in Rome
You said that they understood you there
And in Cuba too
We understood you very well right here,
you know.
It’s not so hard.

The doorman said he heard someone cry out
And then a soft thud a moment later
From the deli’s rooftop next door
Crusted guano
Broken, forlorn and misguided leaves
Cigarette stubs with pinkish ends
A stray tabloid cover page and that
peppery NYC grit in your eye and nose and under your fingernails all reclaim you to a concrete womb
Welcome back!

“ICARUS DOWN” read The Post

How easily we lost our envy
after those 34 floors
Earthbound
Strait shot

It was all foretold in the telling
Now folded into a history of sorts
That of an earthy primordial Fertility cut short by a ruddy man
rather than a thousand  compulsive chalklines drawn around a singular and knowing corpse
There are ramifications for deals
made in feathers, b lood
puddles and mudlood
A recipe for the
reunion of force fields
Folding you back within its arms
Where you belong
What an excellent day for an exorcism.

I’ve got a devil inside of me! SHE GOT LOVE!
pat Sep 2014
Your smile
is all it takes
to make me smile.
RMatheson Apr 2017
Mija, if I could
I would reverse physics
eliminate the gravity wells that pull
you down.
That leave you starving weeping bleeding
hurting,
crushing you within themselves,
beyond the event horizons
the tragedies in your life have left.

But I am not that strong.
I cannot alter basic
rules
laws
components
of reality.

I cannot save you from the monsters in your head.

I cannot guarantee that you will always be safe.

I cannot say I will always understand.

But I am strong enough
to hold on to you,
beyond the event horizons,
until my fingers
are stretched by warped Time,
and I no longer exist.

But I will fight the monsters in your head,
until I no longer breathe.

But I can guarantee you will always feel safe.

But I can say that I will always listen, and try to understand the
nightmaresandtearsandhurtanddisintegrationofyourchildhood

Because, Mija, I know
that there exists light
beyond the dark break
of your event horizons.
annette Dec 2017
¡curandero!
¡sobandero!
¡hermano!
¡brujo!

i feel my stomach churn
when i mention home!
i cannot sleep at night!
¡curandero!
please fix me!

¡ay dios mío!
¡niña tu tienes mal aire!
you are a sick child!
too young to carry
so many ghosts!
you must follow my instructions clearly.

¡sobate con un huevo!
rub a cold raw egg all over your body!
make sure you rub the cold surface on your forehead!
it cleanses your mind!
then rub it down your back
to fix that spine!
it will straighten you up!

¡compra una vela blanca!
make sure to light your white candle
at six in the morning and six in the evening.
these are the times when
the sun caresses it’s lips to the horizon.
a beginning and end so mystical
that even ghosts pause to witness the view.
these are the moments where you must
ignite them away.

you must also pray
my child.
pray to whatever divine force
you believe in.

but curandero the only divine force i know
is myself.
how can i heal if i alone am the destroyer?

mija,
there exists no such thing.
you alone are you.
to heal you must destroy.
to destroy you must heal.
escúchame,
you are divine.
the ghosts you keep are not friends.
scare them away.
show them your power.

come see me again,
but when you return,
you will be new.
with the ways of el curandero
you will thrive in
your own cosmos.
mi padre me llevo a conocer el hermanito. el era un curandero en el cerro y este hombre me curo. me quito el mal aire pero no supo que mi padre era el fantasma que llevaba adentro de mi. ya lo perdone.
Poetry by MAN Feb 2014
I'm a Champ
He is a Chump
His *** you need to dump
So load up on your pump
Go out and shake your ****
Um Ya need to feel this playas swaggle
As I diggle in your daggle
Fiddle ya then stab ya
*** on...slide up and down my pole
Lick it
Slurp it watch me as I grow
Hmm señoritas let me rub your chi chas
You can be me Mija
Every time I see ya
Blow ya ***** up with my D bomb
Shrapnel from my nut
ya need to stay yo *** calm
Hmm that's how I dews it
Confuse it then lose it
Go ahead and choose it
I promise to abuse it
Um yous Filthy and so *****..
*** so fucken pretty
Wake you up early to get ya ***** swirly
I will be your ecstasy
Go ahead and swallow me
***** so sprung
Why ya always following me?
Huh, My **** will show you magic
Makes your ***** so spastic
Have you fiending for my ****
Too bad you can't have it..
Huh, I aim to tease
***** begging me please
Drop down on them knees
Give this Scorpio a squeeze
Um I'm *******
this game I'm back to running
Who woulda thought
M.A.N would come back more stunning
Hmm thats just my stinger
Born to be a bringer
My presence seems to linger
I'm in your ***** with my finger
lol that's just my stamp
I feel I got you damp
A King wears a crown
So does this Cali Champ!! Ugh..
Kung Fu poetry flow hybrid poetry Hip Hop M.A.N 2-5-14 ill slam the **** out of this poem lol
Santiago Apr 2015
I need to know, please your killing me slow
You don't even know, I need you
You make me content,
My intent is to protect my lady,
Blessed from the heavens, he gave me
Understand my words are genuine
Very sanguine, I speak to the moon
My angel at noon, harmonys elegant tune
My ace, my twin, my keen queen
Where have you gone, where did I go wrong
Stay strong, have faith it won't be late
God's fate, no one manipulates,
What's destined to be, should definitely be
Whoever opposes, and intersects
They shall meet their end, making amends
With gifts placed in God's hands
They don't understand, nor comprehend
Your not glorious in making decisions
Back to my one and only, he shown me
We can make it out this stormy weather
Let's spread our wings and fly together
I'm ready whenever, wherever you are
We can go far, close by a shooting star
Make our wish come true boo
Don't allow these demons, drip semon
In your holy temple, remember it's not forever
They have no heart, it's truly dark
Refuse they're manipulation, stay true
Keep that beautiful precious corazon alive
Don't let some punk idiots toy with it
Estoy contigo hasta el fin, I'm here to win
I know we all sin, but I submit to my Lord
Live in his word, not according to the world
Please mija te quiero, te deseo, triste no te veo
Para siempre te espero, hopefully ya mero
Nos vemos, if not in heaven we'll meet again
Where none of us will feel any pain
Keep your head up mija, porfavor regresa
Te tengo una sorpresa, no te pongas triste
Acuerdate que estoy contigo, los angeles
Rayos Feb 2011
8yrs young
lo0000nnnnnnnnggggggggg
thick  shiny  blue  black  hair
Air Force Papa wanted a Wash N Wear
He wanted mija* with Dorthy Hamill hair

So I was ordered to March down the street
to Emilias Holy Carport
Emilia La Bautista Mexicana
She knew no english but she knew Jesus
She'd cut your hair and save your soul

That day i requested un "Dori Hamel" Cut
She smiled and charismaticly said Amen! Te vas a ver muy bonita

Her holy * tijeras snipped
my hair glided to the cement floor like feathers off angels wings

She made me look right
she made me look left
and when i looked up...
I HAD A MULLET

my tears came down
because of my Dukes of Hazzard crown
and I marched home to Dixie
TRANSLATIONS:
mija-spanish for daughter
La Bautista-The  Mexican baptist
tevas ver bonita-you will look very pretty
*Tijeras-scissors
The voice Aug 2020
When I was younger I told my mother
"Yo quiero ser como tu cuando crezca"
She kneeled down and said
"No"

I remembeer when I was younger
I looked up to my mother and I dreamed,
of the day I would grow up and be just like her.
She would always say "No"

Hasta que un día, me canse y le grite
"Cuando crezca voy a ser igualita a ti!"
She kneeled down and said
"Tu vas a ser mucho mejor que yo!"

I remember the first time I talked to my mom in english
"A mi me hablas en español!"

The first time I asked if I could go to a sleepover,
"Que no tienes casa o que?"

The first time I asked her permission to go on a fieldtrip
"Entonces para que te mando a la escuela?"

And the first time,
I told her I wanted to go to college,
"Pues a ver como le hacemos pero esta bien"

I remember her eyes, slightly dissapointed
Not at me, but at herself.
She wanted to give her daughter, only the best!

She wanted me to have the chances she never got

She wanted me to be better than her.

I don't remember:
A day that she didn't work
A day she didn't cook
A day she didn't say
"Echale ganas mija"

I do remember:
When she dropped me off at college,
She smiled and said,
"Eres como yo!"

"Eres como yo!"
Trabajadora,
Luchona,
No te rindes,
Humilde,
Sensilla,
Generosa,
Amorosa,
y Valiosa! "
A little something to introduce my mother to the world!
The Non-Poet Mar 2018
mija
siempre van a ver
las manchas
en el sol
la sombra negra
a tu brillante luz

no pierdas
la esperanza
para ser lo mejor
disfruta
cada momento
de este regalo, amor

de vueltas
en la lluvia
y bailes
con tu amor
sea la estrella
del centro
de cada persona
sin temor

mija
la vida es
solo una vez
por favor
disfrutalo
con toda tu purez

translation

girl
there will
always be
the dark spots
in the sun
the black shadow
to your brilliant light

don't lose
the hope
to do what's great
enjoy
each moment
of this gift, my love

spin around
in the rain
and dance
with your love
be the star
in the center
of every person
no fear

girl
life
is only once
please
enjoy it
with all your pureness

i'm sorry the poem is in spanish, this is just how it flowed for me

enjoy the translation at the bottom (it doesn't come out the same, but i tried my best)
Samara Dec 2020
maybe it's because
i changed my name
that i no longer
feel like a child.

i miss the way
you called me mija
though i'll never
admit it.

is it too late
to change it back?
Diana Mar 2016
She drinks every night until the last drop hits her tongue
this is where she leaves out that door

As I run towards her I trip and fall scraping my knee on the wooden floor

She runs after me picking me up and carrying me to her room placing me on the bed quickly running after the rubbing alcohol and the band aids with the pretty pink princesses

I hold my knees together not wanting to be touched
she shouts
"suelta" (Let go) and pulls my arms apart,

her hands are as soft as cotton

"Esto no va doler" (This won't hurt)

I cry from the top of my lungs
she lied

It hurts

She unwraps the pink princess then wipes the tears running down my cheeks

She tells me
"Mirame" (look at me)
I can hardly see her pass the water gushing from my eyes

She says "Vas a estar bien mija"
(You're going to be okay my daughter)
Her eyes are swollen
burning red

Her complexion is pale
she has not slept

Her hands placed over my legs are as cold as
ice

She's wearing the same clothes from yesterday evening

She wraps her arms around my waist
Slowly leaning over
She says,

"Te Amo"
I love you

I can smell the red wine
Evey Aug 2018
"Did you hear Tonya  son is gay?"
"Oh that's cool."

A la  siguinte  semanan naylie  me  comento
"Tonya kicked  her son out of her house for being gay."

As thoughts race through my head I wonder where will he live? he's just a senior in high school

Soon after that I never really thought about him since I never knew him or seen him

lo  conosi por distanica

"Mira  Yvette ese  es  el  hijo  de  tonya  tu  sabias  que  era  gay?" me  dijo  nayeli  que  lo  conoses
As usual, irritated, le  contesto, "ay  ama la  van  a esquchar y  no  no  lo  conosco"

I didn't want to feel guilty for being somebody that whispers through ears

"Mija  y tu  mama va  venir  al  aerobics?"
" Nose "

Tonya No  me  conose ni  tampoco  conse  que  me  da  verguenza su  decicion como  puede  abandonar  a su hijo

My  mom  while she pretended to cover her whispers through squats and lunges.

"Mira  Yvette ese  es  el  hijo  de  tonya"

As I gaze,
flaco  y  Alto.
What is he doing here at the park? his mom is going to see him. He looks happy playing basketball was he really kick out? did she bring him here?

My second year of summer vacation of college I try to be part of LA and South Park with the aerobics women but it is inconsistent the same way how inconsistent my thought of Tonya's  son being homeless

Por  segunda  ves  la distancia  nos  unio

Mami  y yo  sentadas 10minutos antes  que  empiese  la  clase

"Ay  mira  Yvette siempre  esta  aqui ya  nunca esta  bien  vestido "

I guess she did kick him out

Sudadas y cansadas,
When classes end  todas  Las mama  se  van en Chinga,
Tengo  que  ir  a vender!
Tengo  que  hacer de  comer!
Tengo  que  pasar  por  el  chiquillo  a  la  escuela!

"Mejor vete  en  chinga  por  tu hijo Mientras  haces  de  comer no  se  te  olvide  poner  el quarto  Plato en  la  mesa Y  cuando  termines  no  se  te olvide  pasar por  tu  hijo  que  duerme  en el  parque"

Otros anos  mas

"Ay  Yvette dice  nayeliy que  ya  el  hijo  de  Tonya  usa  drogas"

I just listened

I'd feel bad to if my mom never noticed me over the thing she loved the most, aerobics

Sonriente  y  sin  verguenza,
Camina  ase  su  casa  dejando  su  hijo.

It doesn't seem to work its as if he wants her to notice him

Maybe if my mom sees me everyday out here knowing that I live here she'll take me home after she's done with her work out

365 dias multiplicado por 2, espero  que  todabia  tenga  esa  esperanza o talvez  ya  lo  consumio  las drogas
Samuel Dec 2017
Your people have been here
for one thousand years and more,
longer even
than this country here.
Much, much longer.
Yet they'd tell you to leave
if only they knew
who you are,
what you are.
But they don't,
and you hardly don't.

Your Spanish is broken,
self-taught because your dad wouldn't,
not even your grandma would.
It's practiced in retail
selling credit cards
to people who can't afford them,
and not at home with family.
Your recipes are a mix
learned from your mom
and that grandma,
to your step family,
and even the ever present internet.
Your name?
It looks French, people say,
even though it doesn't at all
to anyone with even a passing knowledge
of that language or this name.
It's pure Mexican,
so pure not even a lot of friends know it
and are amazed to hear
that you're not really white.
There's others with it though,
some looking far less French than you.

You've never had a quince.
You never set up an ofrenda.
You never dealt with la chancla.
You got the hugs and kisses
and mijas and sweet things ending in -ita,
and you always had the food
and more of it
because you're too thin, mija.
You have so little though.
So little that when you look
at yourself
in the mirror
you see a ******.

Toss away that guilt though.
Get back what you can and more.
Don't be like your father
ashamed of what Spanish you know.
You're a Mexican too,
you just have to practice more.
pat Aug 2014
my dear friend Mija,
your voice is quiet and sweet
and you see a lot of truth
inside and out
breaking out of your shell, you have a lot to tell
you're not done yet and I'm eager
to see the rest of your journey
you've inspired me to create and see things beautifully
truthfully, your mind is a goldmine
I've taken the time to pray you stay safe
and have been keeping myself in a really good place
I hope you are too and soon I'll find out
we'll talk about things we both care about
this summer I've done things the way that I choose
I wrote lot's of poems,
but this one's for you
<3
Laura Duran Mar 2018
On the first day I sat
I stared at my hands
I silently prayed
Please...get better.

After a week
Things only got worse
Family began to show up
Some from far away.

I didn't know how to act
Seemed like a reunion
People greeted me saying
"Oh honey,  it's been too long!"

I wanted to scream
I wanted them to understand
My dad was dying!
But, I knew he wouldn't like it.

My dad would say
"Show some respect mija"
He'd want me to say hi
He'd expect me to greet my elders.

So I did.  Every time.  
Every newly arrived relative
I faked a smile
Then sat and silently prayed
mija is a Spanish word for my daughter, however any one older than you can and often will use it.
Anonymous Nobody Jun 2018
“Mija, you’re doing it wrong.”
“Mija, why can’t you just listen?”
“Por favor! Ay help me, dios mio.”

Words of disappointment from the most admired woman in my 5 year old eyes.
She’d yell and hit.
“Quita la mano! Move your hand!”

After a while I stopped crying and she’d stand there with the belt, now useless.
Just another accessory, I guess.

But when she would yell
That’s where the real tears threatened to spill.
Shameful flames on my cheeks.
These were not reflexive tears, mementos from the belt, but tears so hard to hold back, you’d think I’d never breathe the same again.

I would keep my long lived streak of disappointment.
I would not show her tears.

She became my first heartbreak.
The reason I stood silently reaching for the butterknife I believed I could end my life with.

At the ripe age of 5, I held this butterknife out with the dull point aimed at my stomach because I thought, “She screams so much and it’s because of me. Why would I want to burden her so much so that these violent words come bursting out?”

I was too cowardly to do a thing.
A decade later, I finally found the courage.

The courage to end my pain and suffering ..
with the kind words of a friend.
I sliced at my skin ..
With silky blades of grass.
I cried ..
Tears of joy as I watched the most beautiful sunrise I would’ve never experienced if I’d been courageous enough of make one very important decision at age 5.

My first heartbreak let to my eventual mental repair.
I thank my mom for the verbal bullets she shot at me.
I can no longer feel them,
For the scars are too deep.

But my cowardice saved me
Whether I admit it happily or not.
Trying to see the best out of what was once an awful situation
Christopher Mata Aug 2014
I walked into my daughters room the other day and she was painting her skin white

I looked at her and asked Mija que es esto
She looked back at me, "No daddy English!, I don't want them to realize I'm different , I just wanna be like everyone else"

I found out that the other kids at school would only talk to her if something was dropped, spilled, or broken because her skin was the same color as the janitors

So the kids that told my girl she was ugly cuz she's brown
She tried to be more like you but I'll live to make sure she never sinks that low
There is so much more color to her then you'll ever know
I witnessed blue rivers run down her face, but once she thought she was the problem I witnessed red rivers run down her arm
I heard her speech change from Como Estas usted to how are you sir
You changed and took my daughter from me

The moment I pulled her to a different School and away from you her true colors began to show
She smiles the brightest of white
Her caramel colored eyes always find the sweetest things in life

So to the kids that told my girl she's ugly cuz she's brown
I hope you live forever
So you can watch everything around you whither and die
You'll never be able to love because you'll always fear having to let go
So when your world turns as black as your hearts
The only way you'll find peace is when you find yourself gnawing at the end of a barrel... which you will
When you finally pull that trigger that has been pulled by your misdeeds
I hope you realize the color of the dirt your buried in
Then as your buying in hell right next to me... yes I'll be there to for all this hate I wished upon you
And we will burn till your skin is the same color as mine
To the people that called my daughter ugly cuz she's brown

She forgave you.
From Patmos the illustrious San Mikaiyáh or Mija-El could be seen. Him being chosen and predestined for the nations of Patmos and Horcondising endowed in the Ingratia Mol Pétalo de San Miguel for the patronage of the World. He brought the sword Xiphos that shone leaving more than half of the universe without light other than the one that emanated from the Sword of Vernarth. In the honorific aspect, it was shown around the Áspis Koilé that protected Vernarth and all the Hexagonal Progeniture, protected by a Lynothorax and with two Gold cnémidas that protected the tibias of both tired legs, ad portas of the Quattrocento of Dürer of the Sun-Apollo , holding on to this quadrature of the disc or medron of the Ibico 7, to then ignore the cult of Primitive Christianity with the various manifestations of Mikaiyáh for the protectorate of the pontificate between Patmos and Sudpichi being the Sun that will never set in the sunset, as Institiae de Mikaiyah and Vernarth.

Thus began the shoulder of the photoduct of the Ibico 1, which would bring the lustration with Mikaiyáh for whoever was in need of help and remain under his patronage when the Empyrean descended illuminated undermining all the caverns. For such interdiction he would be escorted by Aionius who would lead him through the insensitive darkness escorted by the balenids Kaitelka, and Borker as a demiurgic power tuning the vital stimuli of Demeter, Persephone, and Hestia. Further from the chance of the unknowable that he prostrated himself in the restless souls of Prometheus and Vernarth with chains that would wander through spurious tenors of the uncertain end that is not finite…!

Mikaiyáh as Archangelos will reflect the eternal silhouette of his shadow more enormous than the theoretical universe of Archos "which prevails in the new messages of the perfection of the Celestial Hashem message whose syntax will predominate in the hegemony of Aionius of the Eggelos or Eternity of the angels" with their goodness they multiply themselves with the unification of the pontificate of Patmos and the Horkondising. It would be pointed out in the exegesis how Creation is more than a God, and God more than Creation or Dimiurgia”

Spílaiaus says: “Mikaiyáh has been seen dressed as a soldier with the plumed Phrygian helmet and with his buckler to take the side to predominate all the protectorates of the alpha and omega in his angelic series with the flaming sword Xiphos saying Quis Sicut Deus, we will follow God !! from where Spilaiaus is stunned when he sees that the flaming flames that came to devastate the Empyrean turned towards the Mercurial Ambrosia that spread sulfur throughout all the armored columns that tried to ambush him and attack the antiphon of repercussion for each flash that was launched as siege before Vernarth totally eliminated his retro purging, behold, from the speleothemes rose to the Kardiá of all dens. The second Ibico was approaching turning as sermons through the universe of Patmos and Horcondising beheading all the tricks of the demons of darkness that I will defeat I Spilaiaus "

Mikaiyáh says: “Vélus, from the volatilization of its waters that came from the Eygues, the power of the discomfort will rise in the four Arrows of Zefian, making him the God of Zenit that would attract the semitones of the opacity of the sunrise that he left in his wake when leaving its orbit letting the third Ibico unleash the solemnity of the Castalia in Delphi with tripled water from Ruthenia or from what is today Ukraine for the apothegms of salvation saying "Who is like Me Mikaiyáh". It will be like this for centuries to make my elytra the souls that protect all of Ruthenia from the Impious Invader, burning their homes and the entire generation of their ill-matched ancestors”

Mikaiyáh as it may be will elaborate the egregious defense of all Ruthenia and will redouble the divinization of all the Archangels. Vernarth as Apollo flew with his Laurel wings displaying the grenades of lies that were not able to balance in the hand of the god Ibicus who was extremely shocked. Then Mikaiyáh stares at him and intellectualizes his hasty passing through the centuries and centuries beginning to notice that his flaming flames began to devastate the evil oppressors from the sixteenth century onwards, so that he finally parks in the fortress together with the Ibico four to the quadrature that will be of the perfect Heliacal Ortho in the fourth Ibico with the quadrature of Aurion commanded by Leiak in the cardinal Dyticá, carrying the oikos or Golden threads of Orphi to protect the celestial choirs towards Ruthenia in what was propitious as the final harangue of Vernarth, before being abducted by the Iridescent Nimbus groaning fearlessly on the heights of Ruthenia as Prince of the angelic choirs in Ukraine.

The deity Azofar was dismembered from all the metalloid rows of space to decant them on Ruthenia, and after the fifth element, the universe and the Hyperdisis galaxy would contract to extol him from the neurological hyper brain of the Duoversal of Vernarth, brothering the Mashiach and exemplifying the duplicity of Apollo-like Azofar. The ibico five of his fold would caress the hands of Hector and Achilles to rearm them and join Mikaiyáh as a figure armed with his cuirass, greaves, and his right club that was upset in gestures of fury by the bizarre reddish air that ascended from Kyiv. He would take off his clothes to commend his lieutenant and Vernarth to the primacy of the sky that absorbed fumes of unknown puerile blood with great infants parading headless towards the Limbo of the little ones. Their surnames and pubertal trades rose first to be admitted in the very strong storm of Soul that received them all united by their hands together with the archangels to crush the heads of the atheists who disdained themselves in the murky but implausible believer heights...

The incarnation becomes princely in Mija-The Talmudic as a rebellion against incarnating in the Slavic apostates who evaporated in the presence of the Prince of Yavhe who took up the care of the dignity of creation. His extraordinary power was expelling those who besieged Ayia Sophia, prostrating them to judgment that does not allow second options before the tables of the law. The Ibico six from Kafersesuh traveled at great distances and speed by order of the Lepidoptera deity; being this one that brought thousands of tons of liters from the Red Sea to burn the Slavs and divert them to the Armas Christi for the day of judgment that will make the humiliated exalted in the synagogue that carried Lepidoptera on its elytra before burning the empire of the Slavs, under the shadows of Helleniká and Theoskepasti, where everything was entailed by the greater Ibix called Wonthelimar carrying the Signifiro and not the Vexillum, since the former was a strategic bastion so that Mikaiyáh, together with Lepidoptera, emptied everything from the Slavs, killing them as a vexation of the execrable antichrist, as Slavic swindler angels who appeared to be benevolent but would be revealed behind the wall of Miles Coelestis as a charred Slavic Fallen Angel.

The watchers carried wands of command that were joined to the cinnabar and the Mercurial Ambrosia for the fast of the Antiphon Benedictus so that the divine mask of the Áullos Kósmos is uninterruptedly unleashed. The Ibico 7 in the maximum symmetrical hierarchy was synchronized for the formal solemnity to fulfill the triad of Itheoi Astrágalus, Scabaradeiae, Nothofagus, taking their feet to all the tops of the world hanging and leaving them abandoned with the Himation, destined to the decline of the Scabaraeidae Aphodiniiae as subtractors of all the waste of the souls that have boiled in malignancy, and to the Scabaraeidae Dynastinae as fair larvae that ascend from the imaginary soil to feed on the roots of the Astragalus and on all the flowers and leaves of the Dynastiae. From the Nothofagus it will be the bread of the log with brittle in the souls of the hydrangeas that would lie in wait over Ruthenia with all their physiognomy of trees that would settle in the new root of an emancipated and sovereign town, under the excessive glitter of the Xiphos and the Dorus that would give with brief loans to Vernarth for the immortality of the Watchers Chosen by Mikaiyáh to save Ruthenia.
Mikaiyah from Paradise
kenny Oct 2016
the lines on the highway
are the closest thing i have to home
there are miles between
the people who held my heart with gentle hands
and the people who snarled their teeth to tear it apart.

i think of my grandmother's tears
falling from her face to my arm
and my grandfather's last exhale of hope
telling me that i have to be good
we are family mija
we are together to be good


i imagine blade penetrating skin
to be covered in the blood when it exits
i imagine his beer falling from his hand
half empty
half full
soaking into the ground

all over the fence
jump the fence.
jump the fence.
can you jump the fence?

the sun removed his alcohol saturated blood
from the ground my grandfather called holy
sometimes we stand at the window
he signs a breath of remorse
a breath of regret
a breath that says everything

this is not my home.
where my heart was torn apart
by snarled teeth.
there are only lines on the highway.
everly Jan 2018
second we have abuela from PR,
came all the way here just to see if it was true..

her eldest granddaughter was taking therapy.

terapía es para los locos mija
she’d say.
she gave me a cocotasso and said
that since i never ate enough as a kid,
i grew thin and it effected my thought process.

She diagnoses anyone like that though.
After a while,
she told me that i should be
the strong young lady that i never was
and go to church.
Nonsense Poet Oct 2020
"Tudo aquilo que a nossa

civilização rejeita, pisa e mija em cima,

serve para poesia."

Manuel de Barros, Matéria de poesia(1974)
“Deportaron a tu papá, mija. No sabemos en donde está”
10 simple words that broke my heart to pieces.
I was only seven when my father was taken from my life.
I was only seven and I wondered “where could he be?”
At the age of eight, I wondered “will he ever come back?”
At the age of ten, I started to wonder if he had even survived the streets in Mexico.
At the age of thirteen, I made a Facebook. Searched his name
Chilango
Manuel Miranda
Manuel Olguín
Manuel Miranda Olguín
And nothing
At the age of fifteen, I emailed people who were famous for finding people in Mexico.
“Laura Bozzo mi padre fue deportado y no lo hemos podido encontrar”
I never lost hope. I thought that with everything else going on in my life, that I deserved to find him. I thought to myself “life owes me that at least”
At the age of nineteen, I woke up to a message on Facebook.
“Hey it’s your tia Chely from your father's side, let’s meet up but don’t tell your mom”
Chely? My father didn’t have a family. It was only him and I.
But then I stopped asking who this person could be.
Did he find me? Did he find ME? Is this real? I’m finally going to see him. I’m going to tell him how much I’ve missed him.
Chely messages again “call me”
At the time I had put my mom on three-way call to see if she recognized her voice.
My heart is bursting out of my body
My hands are shaking and my stomach dropped.
The phone is ringing.
Chely answers.
Chely talks about my dad
“He never stopped looking for you”
“He always talked about you”
My mom is listening to what she is saying
She messages me “pregúntale porque tu papá no te llamo”
I ask “so if you’re really my aunt, then why doesn’t my dad just call me himself?”
“Well mija, that’s why I’m calling you”
“I just don’t know how to say it”
I knew exactly what she was going to say.
She continues “but this is why I wanted to meet up with you”
She pauses.
“Just say it” I said. Knowing that these next words would cut deep into my heart. “Just. Tell. Me”
“Your father passed away two weeks ago”
Her words start to blur. I didn’t hear much after that.
I could only think about how he could have been at my quinceañera.
How we could have had our father-daughter dance.
He could have seen me walk the stage at graduation.
He could have dropped me off at college when I was moving into my dorm.
We could have shared many memories and I know **** well a ton of laughs because he was the funniest person I had ever met. But it was all over now.
All these possibilities were crushed.
I was crushed.
My whole world was swept from under my feet.
There were no more fairytales of me running towards my dad and jumping into his arms because I had finally found him. It was all.. over.
I guess you can say that when my father died, a piece of me died with him.
Me gusta que la gente es como chicle dulce que te abraza. De todos eres  “mija”
<<mi hija>> así me presenta mi madre

Adoro ver a los viejitos agarrados
cuando empiezan las baladas
sus cuerpos son como mazapán
frágiles pero las miradas que se dan
son suficientes para azúcar el paisaje

Me gusta ver a los niños corren por la pista de baile sobre sus caras se agranda la alegría.

La music es alta y constante
y se convierte en pan de vida
She's just a little girl.
Please, just leave her be.
The way she looks at me
shows me eternity.

So leave her in peace,
this cold-bed night alone,
for sure her heart knows
which way is home.

— The End —