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Steven Hutchison Apr 2013
Go Tito, Go Tito
Go Tito, Go Tito
Go Tito, Go Tito
Mata los timbales
Go Tito

Go Tito, Go Tito
Go Tito, Go Tito
Go Tito, Go Tito
Mata los timbales
Go Tito

Oye como va...

the neighbors voices climbing out of windows left and right.

Is that you Tito?
Put down those pots and pans.
Make better use of those hands.
Don't you know those hands were made for working?
Follow your father to his factory grave shift,
Make razorblades to sell.
We'll always have hair on our faces.

Is that you Tito?
Knock off that racket.
Here I am trying to sleep
And you've got my feet to moving.
The night was made for dancing Tito,
And dancing was made for Harlem,
But that's bastante on a Wednesday mijo.

The young king packs up his studio,
Whistling dixie like she's never been whistled before.
Twirling the melody from royal lips,
Showing her how to use those God given hips.
Where did you find that groove you in your neck?
And do the words Puerto Rico still give you the chills?

You have walked on too many streets in New York City
And the Afro-beat is shacking up with the Cuban.
You can hear their children playing in the barrio allá,
And aquí they're blowing horns of imagination.
Make those wooden sticks tap your telegram, Tito.
Let the world know about this message brewing inside you.
They hate.
They yell.
They love to see you dancing,
But your ankles told you that wasn't right for you.
Your hands never have been able to keep still.
Maybe it's because they feel the future.
Do you realize where your bridge will lead?

You are the future Tito.
Do what you got to do to be where you got to be.
Play in Uncle Sam's band but don't you go to Normandy.
Follow your hands back to the big apple,
Take a bite out of this place they call Juliard.
When you sleep at night are they still screaming…
Go Tito, Go Tito
Go Tito, Go Tito
Go somewhere where the floor is on fire
With the fusion of jazz and samba.
Make it bigger Tito until it looks like it did in your dreams.
Pick up those sticks and mata los timbales.
Have the decency to wink when they name you king.

What is it that you mixed in that ***?
Your alchemy giving birth to new species.
Have mercy Tito.
Your music is feasting on the ears of the public,
Your hands are drumming on the ecosystem.
They call it salsa, and you laugh
Because they can't taste the carne.
Shine those pots and pans.
Tip your hat to Spanish Harlem,
Where windows stay open to let the dreamers dream big
And the red brick walls are soaked with memories.
Babarabatiri Tito,
Teach the world how to dance.

Go Tito, Go Tito
Go Tito, Go Tito
Go Tito, Go Tito
Mata los timbales
Go Tito

Oye como va...

a legend.
Lev Rosario Sep 2021
At kumawala ako sa panahon
Ako
Hawak ang camera
Pagkatapos kunan ng letrato
Ang pamilya
Sa lumang bahay
Na unti unting ginigiba
Nang mga elemento

Sino ba ako?
Sino itong mga kasama ko?

Nasa dulong kanan
Ang aking tinatawag na Ina
Naka puting T shirt
At itim na pantalon
Malaki Ang ngiti
Pero tila may tinatago
Sa likod ng mga mata

Nasa dulong kaliwa
Ang aking tinatawag na Tito
Bitbit ang kanyang Dachshund
Ang anak ay
Hindi imbitado sa handa
Yumaman sa pagtatrabaho
Sa Estados Unidos

Sa Gitna
Ang aking tinatawag na Lola
Hindi na ngumiti
Ubos na ang mga araw
Kung saan siya'y napapangiti
May sugat na hindi na gumagaling
Dahil sa Diabetes

Nakapaligid Ang iba
Mga pinsan, Tito at Tita
Makukulay ang suot
Maiingay at matatakaw
Bata at matanda

Lahat ng ito
Kasama ako
Nanggaling sa iisang matris
Mula bata hanggang pagtanda
Nakipagsalamuha, naglaruan, naglakihan, nagmahalan, nag awayan...
Ito kami
Ito ako

Ano ang ibig sabihin nitong lahat?

Nakatitig ako sa letrato
Habang natunaw ang madla
Maya't maya ay uuwi na
Sa kani-kanilang tahanan
Iisa ang pinanggalingan
Saan ang patutunguhan?

Sino ba ako?
Sino itong mga nasa letrato?

Ako ay may ina
Ang aking ina ay may ina rin
At ang ina ay may ina rin
At ang ina ng ina ay may ina rin
At ang ina ng ina...

Katabi ng aking Tito
Ang panganay na pinsan
Muntik nang mamatay sa dengue
Noong kabataan
Naghahanap na ng trabaho
Naghahanap na rin ng girlfriend

Bawat isa ay may pangarap
May iba't ibang Diyos
May iba't ibang lengguwahe

Ako
Ang tagakuha ng letrato
Sino ba ako?
Miyembro ng isang pamilya
Estudyante, kapatid, anak, pinsan, pamangkin, kaklase, kalahi
Tagasulat ng tula na ito
Tagakuwento ng mga nakalimutan at  makakalimutan
Tagapagmahal ng mga taong pwedeng mahalin
CA Guilfoyle Jul 2012
Your eyes cataracts - fogged over, with a hint of blue
Still you saw more than most anyone I've known
I thought you a sorcerer, a mystic man
with lightening speeds you spun tales in thunder clapping rooms
A modern day chief, good will ambassador of Hope
you were the glue of an entire village,
sticking your heart on everyone like that
The Discovery Cafe, your story telling room, disguised as a restaurant,
a place you opened years ago
Many came hungry only for your stories
One could not easily eat and run or have a cup of joe and go, just not possible
when Tito had the floor
Tales of fishing, gold panning, black and brown bears, one with his head stuck in a lard bucket,
or the one that chased some lady up a tree.
The way your hands moved, while you went into a trance was a sight to behold
Though you never confessed it, I'm pretty sure you were a hypnotist
How many times I went for coffee at 9AM never leaving til' noon,
completely bowled over, ****** in by the fantastic rip tide of you!
I saw you just months before you passed
Though you had gone deaf and blind, your love was ever present, it's been felt everyday since,
in a world that has changed a darker shade of blue,
Tito how can I ever thank you?
This is a tribute to a dear friend one of the most amazing people to ever grace this world
George Andres Jun 2016
Hindi matigas lahat ng bato
Hindi lalago ang halamang nakatago
Pero kung bubunutin din naman
Anong silbi ng pagkakakilanlan?

Itaas ang kamay kung ginawa mo ito:
Ituro sa kapatid na bakla ang tito mo,
Kung gayon, ito ay duwag at gago,
Tingnan bilang presong kulong sa kandado

At kung sapatos ni kuya, suot ng ate mo,
Walang alam ni isa, pero sa ina sinabi mo
Nasaksihan ang paglisan ng nagturong pumorma
Narinig ang galit ng ama, sigaw ay "imoral ka!"

Putang ina, lahat iyon ay narinig mo
Hindi na kaya ng sentido mo
Mali ito, mali ito ang pilit ng lipunan sayo
Iwaksi mo, iwaksi mo, at tatanggapin ka nito

Sa oras na lumabas ka, wala ka nang pangalan
At araw-araw sa buhay mo, tila umuulan
Ng husga, ng ismid, ng dura sa sahig
Tawag sainyo ng kasintahan ay bawal na pag-ibig


Tomboy, bakla, bayot, tibo
Araw na binigyan ka ng ngalan tila naglaho
Binato ng panghahamak na gusto mo nang lumisan
Kaysa tanggapin ang galit na pinagmulan ay di alam

'Mahalin mo ang 'yong kapwa'
Banggit at turo ng May Likha
Pero bakit may galit ata
Nagpahayag nito't nagsalita?

Hindi ba itinuturing na kapwa sila?
Na kasama **** lumaki, magdalaga?
Kalaro ng chinese garter baga,
Kahit alam **** lalaki naman talaga siya

Ang saya na dulot niya di mo naalala
Nang minsan sa kanto'y sutsutan siya
Sapatos lang daw at k'onting barya
Tiningnan ka niya, ikaw ay tumawa

Saan ba ang lugar sa mundo para sa kanya?
Mahirap bang sabihin, katagang, 'tanggap kita?'
Tingin mo ba'y karamdaman kanyang nadarama?
Oh bakit nakangiti ka? Nahawa ka ba?

Kaya ba't ka umiiwas nang nalaman mo na?
Bilang kaibigan, oo nabigla ka nga
Pero 'wag mo naman sanang isiping
Naisip niya minsang ika'y makasiping

Alisin na natin ang malawakang pag-iisip
Na pandirihan ang kakaiba, pero subukan **** sumilip,
Lalawak ang saradong takip
Sana isang araw ang hangin, magbago ang ihip

Maging magkasama, pantay-pantay sa ibabaw ng isang ulap
Nawa'y mga anak nati'y maranasan, ekwalidad sa hinaharap
Matapos na ang inis at galit
Pagmamahal ang pumalit
62816
Anak kumusta na ang Dodoy ko diyan sa syudad, Masaya ka ba diyan , ha?

Kami ng itay mo at ng mga kapatid mo dito ay ayos naman.

Natanggap ko nga pala yung sulat mo nakaraang lingo alam kong mahirap mabuhay at mag-aral dyan sa syudad anak, pagbutihan mulang at mairaraos ka rin namin.

At yung itay mo hindi na umiinum ng alak at di na naglalasing, meron na rin siyang tatlong-daang katao  na under sa kanya. Sa sobrang busy niya nga sa trabahao, hindi niya na  nga masabi mensahe niya para  sayo ngayon,  nasa trabaho kase siya naglilinis at nagdadamo sa sementeryo.

Nanganak na nga pala ate mo kaso di pa namin nakikita ang yung bata, di pa tuloy naming alam kung tito kana o tita, kaya dodoy tulungan mo kaming magdasal nasana maging tita ka para di matigas ang ulo ng bata at di magmana sa kuya mo.

Nandoon sa bundok  nagtatraining sa Army, eh nakapagtataka may mga baril wala namang uniporme.

Okey naman ang lagay ng panahon dito sa atin, dalawang beses lang umulan ngayong lingo. Noong una tatlong araw tas nung sumunod apat na araw naman.

Ang itay mo okey lang din, naalala mo na yung sinabi ng doktor na mabubulag na daw siya buti nalang pumunta kami sa albularyo nakaraang lingo at pinigaan siya nang binendisyonang kalamansi, ipapatak daw yun sa mata ng itay mo at gagaling na daw ang  katarata niya sa makalawa.

Anak wag ka magalala sinusulat ko to nang dahan-dahan, alam ko naming di ka mabilis bumasa.

P.S. Maglalagay sana ako ng pera sa sobre  kaso nalawayan  ko na anak, di bale sa sususnod na buwan nalang ako magpapadala ng pera sa iyo anak, magaral ka ng mabuti!
Short funny story written in tagalog. Hope you enjoy.
Huehuehue
Marge Redelicia Nov 2013
Into a place far away but too familiar,
I push open the rusty purple gates,
Inhale a lungful of the province air,
Kick away blue pebbles on the dusty ground,
And then
Mano my lolo, my tito
Beso my lola, my tita
And give my cousins a nudge on the arm,
A pinch on the cheeks.

I squeeze between four people
In a rickety wooden bench and
Pass around plate after heavy plate.
I fill my banana leaf
With spaghetti too soft too sweet,
Almost like pudding,
With crispy chicken dripping with oil.
I wash it off with a cool glass of gulaman,
Chewy beads and gems in sugary water.

Fathers talk about basketball, boxing, billiards;
Mothers browse through photo albums and magazines;
While we children argue about Superman or Batman.
Our laughter fills the humid air
And goes up, up, up to the ears of the neighbors.

In celebration of the time we have together
And a nice sunny day
We devour our meals
And go ahead and
Climb trees and
Get our faces sticky with sweet fruits,
Lick chocolate ice popsicles,
Chase each other in the weedy playground,
Bike around town,
Pick colorful flowers,
Wrestle with each other,
Play badminton on a windy day,
Scare around chickens and guinea pigs,
And play patintero under the dull orange street lamps.

We nervously creep inside the back door,
All sweaty, bearing bruises and scratches
But still with wide smiles on our faces.
All is futile though.
An angry grandmother awaits,
Scolding us for
Coming home past sunset.

More and more stars glitter the sky
As the night gets deeper and deeper.
The gentle evening breeze whistles a note
As it enters through the window.
The karaoke blasts grating voices
Interrupted by hearty laughter.
Playing cards and corn chips litter the table.
We children exchange jokes and ghost stories.

And then,
We bid our goodbyes,
Sharing hugs and kisses
Stained with discontent and sadness.
Our hearts about to burst
In excitement for the next
Reunion.
A typical Filipino reunion looks more or less like this :)

"Mano" is a respectful gesture done mostly to elders wherein you hold a person's hand and make it touch your forehead. "Beso" is something usually done by ladies wherein you brush cheeks with each other. "Lolo" means grandfather. "Tito" means uncle. "Lola" means grandmother. "Tita" means aunt. "Gulaman" is a popular drink/desert. "Patintero" is a kind of outdoor game wherein a team must prevent the other team from crossing over to the other side of the court by tagging them, it's really fun!
khwaja Sep 2014
they say the saddest
are the most happy

how a comedian can
stand up on stage to
make himself the world’s fool
because he had never
heard of a joke like love

our lady of perpetual sorrow
grabs the fool from everyone
a leach of life that chooses
to choose a happiness like you
extracts all it can
like nectar to a bee
but it’s almost relieving when
it had no where else to be

i have begun to believe
life isn't about all the
joys to feel and
things to see
it's not about you and
it's definitely not about me
the illusion is that
greatness is up and
failure is down when  
true progression doesn’t
care for dimensions

remember the comedian
who hates it all
who makes it funny
because he recalls
if i can’t be happy
everyone can
JOJO C PINCA Nov 2017
“The future depends on what you do today.”
― Mahatma Gandhi

Nakakapagod ang mangarap, yung naglalakad habang nananaginip ng gising, para ka lang gago na pabalik-balik, walang simula at walang katapusan. Walang ipinagiba sa mahabang dalampasigan habang sa taas nito ang hindi masukat na kalawakan, oo ganito ang mangarap at umasa ng dilat. Kung bata ka ayos lang na managinip kahit paulit-ulit lalo na kung hindi ka makatulog. Pero hindi kana bata, matanda kana – maanghang na ang utot mo hijo.

Sana ang buhay ay isang pangarap, sana lagi na lang ang tao nangangarap. Subalit ang buhay ay isang banyuhay kung saan ito’y laging nagbabagong hugis at anyo. Kailangan matuto kang humarap at sumabay sa mga pagbabago kahit ang mga ito’y sadyang nakakapanibago. Matanda kana hindi kana bata, ihinto na ang mga panaginip at kumilos ka ng ayon sa tawag ng kasalukuyan. Ang bukas (kung aabutan mo pa ito) ay nakasalalay sa iyong ngayon.

Matuto sa aral at karanasan ng iba pero ‘wag na ‘wag **** susundan ang kanilang anino, gumawa ka ng sarili **** liwanag. Maging pantas ka gamit ang sarili **** panulat, padaluyin mo dito ang laman ng iyong utak. Hindi lahat ng magaling mag-isip ay matalino kaya’t ‘wag **** kalilimutan na gamitin ang laman ng iyong puso. Bigyan mo ng respeto ang iyong sarili, ‘wag kang mangopya dahil hindi ka naman si Tito Sotto.

Ang lupa ay matagal nang sinalaula ng mga mapagmahal kuno sa bayan at ng mga ipokritong nagsasabing maka-diyos daw sila, utang na loob ‘wag ka nang dumagdag pa. Itigil mo na ang pananaginip mo ng gising dahil tanghali na, bumangon kana at gumawa. Gumawa ng mga mabubuti at kapakipakinabang na mga bagay. Mahalin ang sarili at ang kapwa na tulad sa’yong sarili. Iwasan mo ang umangal kung ibig mo’ng maging marangal.

Sinunog at winasak ng mga ulol na tao ang mundo, laganap ang kahirapan, ang kaapihan at naglipana ang mga patay-gutom na walang tunay na kumakalinga at gustong tumulong. Panahon na para bumalikwas ka sa’yong pagkakahimbing, gawin mo ang inaakala **** magaling basta’t hindi ka makakasakit sa damdamin ng iba.  

Hindi ka isang propeta pero sige sumigaw ka sa ilang kung kinakailangan, tawirin mo ang mga hangganan at gawin mo kung ano man ang tinitibok ng iyong damdamin. Ngayon ang tamang panahon upang ihasik ang iyong sigasig at mga kaisipan dahil kung hindi ay wala kang aanihin pagdating ng bukas na ‘yong inaasam.
And as the moonlight came closer
You and I saw us sitting by the sea-side
And as our hearts drew nearer
You and I saw lips that never lied
As I listened to your sweet rhymes
Your tongue moved a thousand times

Between us the birds dropped their feathers
Whispering to themselves about you and me
On the coastal trees heard we their twitters
Hitting everywhere and thus rolling the sea
Your eyes were raptured looking into mine
And I became sure our affection was divine

As we heard the murmurs of the breeze
And the songs of the fronds around the air
I cuddled you and your hairs would freeze
You felt relieved and away ran your fear
Sea-side love seemed like earthly paradise
And its reflection emanated from your eyes

Bolatito, wherever you may be today
I wish you recall us and what we share
Remember how we use to love and play
And how my touch once killed your malaria
I can't wait to see you and repeat a walk
And do again our sea-side twilight talk
By Dr Oasis.
Julie Anne Lail Feb 2010
"Don't die on the inside,"
was the text i sent-
knowing it was a bittersweet visit
and a hard decision.

"I'm gonna get so ****** up,"
to forget- as we discussed,
because everyone knows
Bud is the friend of the broken.

Never forget, my friend,
the things that make you feel,
because numbness is a hell
of probing fingers only the mute acknowledge.

Upon discussion, you recite back
the "right thing to do" with all the logic-
an adult assurance of
knowing what's best over what's wanted.

And yet, stone words
rolled easily off of my well-advise tongue
to assure you
of the answer you dreaded.

We both know the ONE will
never come, doesn't exsist, was never determined-
but try to appreciate that your stage time
hasn't yet come in the tragedy that is love.

So when the stone words weigh you down,
don't jump in, don't drown.
Take each stone, examining it well,
and don't die on the inside.
Bob B Oct 2016
Grade-schooler Tito loved going to school
To learn division and multiplication.
He tried to ignore the violence around him
But lived each day with trepidation.
He cut through an El Salvadorian town
To get to his school—a daily trek.
He constantly encountered violent street gangs—
Each frightful day a reality check.
One day Tito failed to come home.
The next morning grimly revealed
The poor school child’s dismembered body
Lying in an abandoned field.
 
Lucas and Marco feared for their lives,
In their small town in El Salvador,
Where violence governed their daily existence
As ruthless street gangs carried out their war.
When the boys’ mother was gunned down before them,
Fearing they’d be next, the brothers thenceforth
Left their home and their few belongings
And started on a long journey north.
Traveling hundreds of miles with no money
To leave a place of chaos and disorder
Would be a daunting task, along with
The added uncertainty at our country’s border.
 
The gangs in Honduras recruit young children.
In Guatemala they do so as well.
Some kids as young as eight or nine
Serve as drug runners from what we hear tell.
Two of the Central American gangs
That helped to create this horrible mess
Were not homegrown entities at all
But got their start HERE in the U.S.
How sad it is to see children suffer!
How helpless one feels in solving the matter!
But merely doing lip service with no action
Means nothing; it’s worthless. It’s just idle chatter.
 
Who are these children, fleeing their homes—
Fleeing the lands where violence reigns?
Who are these kids whom the world has let down—
Whose hope for escape is all that remains?

- by Bob B
Casey Christ Apr 2011
I think the end is mine to write (Cry For You, September)
Tell me darlin’ where do we begin? (Feel Good Drag, AnBerlin)
And if I die baby just know that I never got over you (Clocks Remix, Tito Lopez ft. Coldplay)
I’ll never give myself to another like I gave it to you (Rehab, Rihanna)
Cause anything worth my love is worth a fight (I’m Free, Kenny Loggins)
You got me lifted shifted higher than the ceiling (Sugar Sugar, Baby Bash ft. Frankie J)
Why deny it? It cannot wait I’m yours (I Won’t Say I’m In Love, Hercules) (I’m Yours, Jason Mraz)
Why don’t you sit right down and stay awhile? (Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?, She and Him)
We can share a cigarette cause we’re both fools (Yesterday, Atmosphere)
I can’t believe that’s what you said, I wonder am I sick? (Disco, Metro Station)
And all of these emotions are pouring out of me (Soundtrack 2 My Life, KiD CuDi)
Nothin’ heard nothin’ said, can’t even speak about it (Disturbia, Rihanna)
Cause when a heart breaks, it don’t break even (Breakeven, The Script)
I don’t know what’s right and what’s real anymore (The Fear, Lily Allen)
And I don’t know how I’m meant to feel anymore (The Fear, Lilly Allen)
Take me to all that we had, the good and the bad (Never Forget You, Lupe Fiasco ft. John Legend)
These tears didn’t care, they just hung in the air and refuse to fall (Crooked Teeth, Death Cab For Cutie)
This is the way it’s really going down, is this how we say goodbye? (What Goes Around, J.T.)
Know that you could set the world on fire (Walking On Air, Kerl)
If you are strong enough to leave your doubt (Walking On Air, Kerl)
But baby, you make me better (You Make Me Better, Ne Yo ft. Fabulous)
And it makes me feel so fine I can’t control my brain (Island in the Sun, Weezer)
I keep on runnin’ and nothin’ helps, I can’t get away from you (Erase Me, KiD CuDi ft. Kanye West)
We can’t rewind now, we’ve gone too far (The Internet Killed the Video Star, The Limousines)
And all I could do was think about sleeping next to you (Reflections, Atmosphere)
No matter where I am, no matter what I do, I’m always coming back home to you (Always Coming Back Home to You, Atmosphere)
radiating
street lamps
ionized the
indigo blue
haze charging
the night air

sparking the
city’s eclectic
currents coursing
through the
abandoned raceways
and empty streets

energizing the
phantoms of
the city’s
restive spirits

the ghosts of past
Great Falls Fests came
jitterbugging back
to life

transparent
veils lifting
and falling
with it, a voltaic
indigo blue
billowed out of the
abandoned stadium
pouring smoking
oboe moans
into the cavity
of the great gorge

“I was one of the last
to perform at
Hinchliffe Stadium”
Duke proclaimed
with his usual  
distinguished air

“it was also one of my
last concerts”, he added
with a tinge of
sorrow in his voice

“the band was rockin
the Art Deco tiles,
splintering and shattering
into bits of earth toned graffiti
the last vestiges of
a bygone Jazz Age
dissolving into the
disco fizz of the
Seventies”

the indigo mood
clamoured off
the rocks absorbing
the sonorous waves
like a stand of
hallowed
sequoias

“I’m trying to
remember what
my last tune
was that night.

was it Caravan?
or a Prelude to
a Kiss?  No no
too mellow
we always ended
on an upper
a real crowd pleaser,
I recall the boys swung
a medley before the grand finale
that medley included
Mood Indigo, Caravan,
Sophisticated Ladies,
Prelude to a Kiss.
We opened with Kinda Dukish
Rockin and Rhythm
we closed with
Satin Doll
Yes I’m quite sure
I waltzed them
off the floor
that night with
Satin Doll”

Duke ran his
fingers through
his processed hair.
He grabbed my shoulders
raised his baggy eyelids
And looked me straight
In the eye

“Yes, we followed
Tito Puente, he killed it
we upped our game
He was just starting out
But at this time Silk City
was going Caribe
Juan Tizol was
out of his mind that night,
I thought him and Babs
we're gunna jump ship
and join the Salsa Circus
Yeah El Rex and Celia Cruz
were that good

El Rex had the place
jumpin and jivin
it was a glimpse of the old days
livin in the here and now
just like the old days
I couldn't compete with that
so I waltzed them off
the floor with Satin Doll
a little cheek to cheek swoon
maybe some guys got lucky that night
and maybe some girls fell in love
Yeah Paterson was changing,
the ***** Leagues long gone
the last ****** Auto Races
crossed the final finish line weeks before
when the raceways in the stadium
replaced the raceways to the factories
we knew it was coming to an end
and with it all the good paying
jobs, whatta shame
just like me and the boys
watching El Rex
the Duke was dethroned by a King
just like Silk City
we had our day in the sun too
a Satin Doll Sun
Those were some good times,
sometimes”

Duke scratched
his head,
and he looked down into
the swirling noise
of the Great Falls
“on a night like this
the mood indigo
takes you into the
darkest hues of blues”

fragment from
Silk City PIT 6:
The Great Falls

Duke Ellington, Coleman Hawkins
Mood Indigo




Oakland
3/30/13
jbm

(FRAGMENT WORK IN PROGRESS)

Part 6 of extended poem Silk City PIT.  PIT is an acronym for Point In Time.  PIT is an annual census American cities conduct to count the homeless population.  Hope and Labor is the city motto of Paterson NJ, nick named The Silk City.
(FRAGMENT WORK IN PROGRESS)

Part 6 of extended poem Silk City PIT.  PIT is an acronym for Point In Time.  PIT is an annual census American cities conduct to count the homeless population.  Hope and Labor is the city motto of Paterson NJ, nick named The Silk City.
Recuerde el alma dormida,
avive el seso e despierte
  contemplando
cómo se passa la vida,
cómo se viene la muerte
  tan callando;
  cuán presto se va el plazer,
cómo, después de acordado,
  da dolor;
cómo, a nuestro parescer,
cualquiere tiempo passado
  fue mejor.

  Pues si vemos lo presente
cómo en un punto s'es ido
  e acabado,
si juzgamos sabiamente,
daremos lo non venido
  por passado.
  Non se engañe nadi, no,
pensando que ha de durar
  lo que espera
más que duró lo que vio,
pues que todo ha de passar
  por tal manera.

  Nuestras vidas son los ríos
que van a dar en la mar,
  qu'es el morir;
allí van los señoríos
derechos a se acabar
  e consumir;
  allí los ríos caudales,
allí los otros medianos
  e más chicos,
allegados, son iguales
los que viven por sus manos
  e los ricos.

  Dexo las invocaciones
de los famosos poetas
  y oradores;
non curo de sus ficciones,
que traen yerbas secretas
  sus sabores.
  Aquél sólo m'encomiendo,
Aquél sólo invoco yo
  de verdad,
que en este mundo viviendo,
el mundo non conoció
  su deidad.

  Este mundo es el camino
para el otro, qu'es morada
  sin pesar;
mas cumple tener buen tino
para andar esta jornada
  sin errar.
  Partimos cuando nascemos,
andamos mientra vivimos,
  e llegamos
al tiempo que feneçemos;
assí que cuando morimos,
  descansamos.

  Este mundo bueno fue
si bien usásemos dél
  como debemos,
porque, segund nuestra fe,
es para ganar aquél
  que atendemos.
  Aun aquel fijo de Dios
para sobirnos al cielo
  descendió
a nescer acá entre nos,
y a vivir en este suelo
  do murió.

  Si fuesse en nuestro poder
hazer la cara hermosa
  corporal,
como podemos hazer
el alma tan glorïosa
  angelical,
  ¡qué diligencia tan viva
toviéramos toda hora
  e tan presta,
en componer la cativa,
dexándonos la señora
  descompuesta!

  Ved de cuán poco valor
son las cosas tras que andamos
  y corremos,
que, en este mundo traidor,
aun primero que muramos
  las perdemos.
  Dellas deshaze la edad,
dellas casos desastrados
  que acaeçen,
dellas, por su calidad,
en los más altos estados
  desfallescen.

  Dezidme: La hermosura,
la gentil frescura y tez
  de la cara,
la color e la blancura,
cuando viene la vejez,
  ¿cuál se para?
  Las mañas e ligereza
e la fuerça corporal
  de juventud,
todo se torna graveza
cuando llega el arrabal
  de senectud.

  Pues la sangre de los godos,
y el linaje e la nobleza
  tan crescida,
¡por cuántas vías e modos
se pierde su grand alteza
  en esta vida!
  Unos, por poco valer,
por cuán baxos e abatidos
  que los tienen;
otros que, por non tener,
con oficios non debidos
  se mantienen.

  Los estados e riqueza,
que nos dexen a deshora
  ¿quién lo duda?,
non les pidamos firmeza.
pues que son d'una señora;
  que se muda,
  que bienes son de Fortuna
que revuelven con su rueda
  presurosa,
la cual non puede ser una
ni estar estable ni queda
  en una cosa.

  Pero digo c'acompañen
e lleguen fasta la fuessa
  con su dueño:
por esso non nos engañen,
pues se va la vida apriessa
  como sueño,
e los deleites d'acá
son, en que nos deleitamos,
  temporales,
e los tormentos d'allá,
que por ellos esperamos,
  eternales.

  Los plazeres e dulçores
desta vida trabajada
  que tenemos,
non son sino corredores,
e la muerte, la çelada
  en que caemos.
  Non mirando a nuestro daño,
corremos a rienda suelta
  sin parar;
desque vemos el engaño
y queremos dar la vuelta
  no hay lugar.

  Esos reyes poderosos
que vemos por escripturas
  ya passadas
con casos tristes, llorosos,
fueron sus buenas venturas
  trastornadas;
  assí, que no hay cosa fuerte,
que a papas y emperadores
  e perlados,
assí los trata la muerte
como a los pobres pastores
  de ganados.

  Dexemos a los troyanos,
que sus males non los vimos,
  ni sus glorias;
dexemos a los romanos,
aunque oímos e leímos
  sus hestorias;
  non curemos de saber
lo d'aquel siglo passado
  qué fue d'ello;
vengamos a lo d'ayer,
que también es olvidado
  como aquello.

  ¿Qué se hizo el rey don Joan?
Los infantes d'Aragón
  ¿qué se hizieron?
¿Qué fue de tanto galán,
qué de tanta invinción
  como truxeron?
  ¿Fueron sino devaneos,
qué fueron sino verduras
  de las eras,
las justas e los torneos,
paramentos, bordaduras
  e çimeras?

  ¿Qué se hizieron las damas,
sus tocados e vestidos,
  sus olores?
¿Qué se hizieron las llamas
de los fuegos encendidos
  d'amadores?
  ¿Qué se hizo aquel trovar,
las músicas acordadas
  que tañían?
¿Qué se hizo aquel dançar,
aquellas ropas chapadas
  que traían?

  Pues el otro, su heredero
don Anrique, ¡qué poderes
  alcançaba!
¡Cuánd blando, cuánd halaguero
el mundo con sus plazeres
  se le daba!
  Mas verás cuánd enemigo,
cuánd contrario, cuánd cruel
  se le mostró;
habiéndole sido amigo,
¡cuánd poco duró con él
  lo que le dio!

  Las dávidas desmedidas,
los edeficios reales
  llenos d'oro,
las vaxillas tan fabridas
los enriques e reales
  del tesoro,
  los jaezes, los caballos
de sus gentes e atavíos
  tan sobrados
¿dónde iremos a buscallos?;
¿qué fueron sino rocíos
  de los prados?

  Pues su hermano el innocente
qu'en su vida sucesor
  se llamó
¡qué corte tan excellente
tuvo, e cuánto grand señor
  le siguió!
  Mas, como fuesse mortal,
metióle la Muerte luego
  en su fragua.
¡Oh jüicio divinal!,
cuando más ardía el fuego,
  echaste agua.

  Pues aquel grand Condestable,
maestre que conoscimos
  tan privado,
non cumple que dél se hable,
mas sólo como lo vimos
  degollado.
  Sus infinitos tesoros,
sus villas e sus lugares,
  su mandar,
¿qué le fueron sino lloros?,
¿qué fueron sino pesares
  al dexar?

  E los otros dos hermanos,
maestres tan prosperados
  como reyes,
c'a los grandes e medianos
truxieron tan sojuzgados
  a sus leyes;
  aquella prosperidad
qu'en tan alto fue subida
  y ensalzada,
¿qué fue sino claridad
que cuando más encendida
  fue amatada?

  Tantos duques excelentes,
tantos marqueses e condes
  e varones
como vimos tan potentes,
dí, Muerte, ¿dó los escondes,
  e traspones?
  E las sus claras hazañas
que hizieron en las guerras
  y en las pazes,
cuando tú, cruda, t'ensañas,
con tu fuerça, las atierras
  e desfazes.

  Las huestes inumerables,
los pendones, estandartes
  e banderas,
los castillos impugnables,
los muros e balüartes
  e barreras,
  la cava honda, chapada,
o cualquier otro reparo,
  ¿qué aprovecha?
Cuando tú vienes airada,
todo lo passas de claro
  con tu flecha.

  Aquel de buenos abrigo,
amado, por virtuoso,
  de la gente,
el maestre don Rodrigo
Manrique, tanto famoso
  e tan valiente;
sus hechos grandes e claros
non cumple que los alabe,
  pues los vieron;
ni los quiero hazer caros,
pues qu'el mundo todo sabe
  cuáles fueron.

  Amigo de sus amigos,
¡qué señor para criados
  e parientes!
¡Qué enemigo d'enemigos!
¡Qué maestro d'esforçados
  e valientes!
  ¡Qué seso para discretos!
¡Qué gracia para donosos!
  ¡Qué razón!
¡Qué benino a los sujetos!
¡A los bravos e dañosos,
  qué león!

  En ventura, Octavïano;
Julio César en vencer
  e batallar;
en la virtud, Africano;
Aníbal en el saber
  e trabajar;
  en la bondad, un Trajano;
Tito en liberalidad
  con alegría;
en su braço, Aureliano;
Marco Atilio en la verdad
  que prometía.

  Antoño Pío en clemencia;
Marco Aurelio en igualdad
  del semblante;
Adriano en la elocuencia;
Teodosio en humanidad
  e buen talante.
  Aurelio Alexandre fue
en desciplina e rigor
  de la guerra;
un Constantino en la fe,
Camilo en el grand amor
  de su tierra.

  Non dexó grandes tesoros,
ni alcançó muchas riquezas
  ni vaxillas;
mas fizo guerra a los moros
ganando sus fortalezas
  e sus villas;
  y en las lides que venció,
cuántos moros e cavallos
  se perdieron;
y en este oficio ganó
las rentas e los vasallos
  que le dieron.

  Pues por su honra y estado,
en otros tiempos passados
  ¿cómo s'hubo?
Quedando desamparado,
con hermanos e criados
  se sostuvo.
  Después que fechos famosos
fizo en esta misma guerra
  que hazía,
fizo tratos tan honrosos
que le dieron aun más tierra
  que tenía.

  Estas sus viejas hestorias
que con su braço pintó
  en joventud,
con otras nuevas victorias
agora las renovó
  en senectud.
  Por su gran habilidad,
por méritos e ancianía
  bien gastada,
alcançó la dignidad
de la grand Caballería
  dell Espada.

  E sus villas e sus tierras,
ocupadas de tiranos
  las halló;
mas por çercos e por guerras
e por fuerça de sus manos
  las cobró.
  Pues nuestro rey natural,
si de las obras que obró
  fue servido,
dígalo el de Portogal,
y, en Castilla, quien siguió
  su partido.

  Después de puesta la vida
tantas vezes por su ley
  al tablero;
después de tan bien servida
la corona de su rey
  verdadero;
  después de tanta hazaña
a que non puede bastar
  cuenta cierta,
en la su villa d'Ocaña
vino la Muerte a llamar
  a su puerta,

  diziendo: "Buen caballero,
dexad el mundo engañoso
  e su halago;
vuestro corazón d'azero
muestre su esfuerço famoso
  en este trago;
  e pues de vida e salud
fezistes tan poca cuenta
  por la fama;
esfuércese la virtud
para sofrir esta afruenta
  que vos llama."

  "Non se vos haga tan amarga
la batalla temerosa
  qu'esperáis,
pues otra vida más larga
de la fama glorïosa
  acá dexáis.
  Aunqu'esta vida d'honor
tampoco no es eternal
  ni verdadera;
mas, con todo, es muy mejor
que la otra temporal,
  peresçedera."

  "El vivir qu'es perdurable
non se gana con estados
  mundanales,
ni con vida delectable
donde moran los pecados
  infernales;
  mas los buenos religiosos
gánanlo con oraciones
  e con lloros;
los caballeros famosos,
con trabajos e aflicciones
  contra moros."

  "E pues vos, claro varón,
tanta sangre derramastes
  de paganos,
esperad el galardón
que en este mundo ganastes
  por las manos;
e con esta confiança
e con la fe tan entera
  que tenéis,
partid con buena esperança,
qu'estotra vida tercera
  ganaréis."

  "Non tengamos tiempo ya
en esta vida mesquina
  por tal modo,
que mi voluntad está
conforme con la divina
  para todo;
  e consiento en mi morir
con voluntad plazentera,
  clara e pura,
que querer hombre vivir
cuando Dios quiere que muera,
  es locura."

  "Tú que, por nuestra maldad,
tomaste forma servil
  e baxo nombre;
tú, que a tu divinidad
juntaste cosa tan vil
  como es el hombre;
tú, que tan grandes tormentos
sofriste sin resistencia
  en tu persona,
non por mis merescimientos,
mas por tu sola clemencia
  me perdona".

  Assí, con tal entender,
todos sentidos humanos
  conservados,
cercado de su mujer
y de sus hijos e hermanos
  e criados,
  dio el alma a quien gela dio
(el cual la ponga en el cielo
  en su gloria),
que aunque la vida perdió,
dexónos harto consuelo
  su memoria.
Fly Vida Jul 2011
"Just once before I die
I want to climb up on a tenement sky
Dream my lungs out till I cry
Then scatter my ashes through the Lower East Side."

Where babies cry and hands collide
Whether givin dap or throwin die.
We are the first in a line of many
Who made something out of nothing: a dream and a penny.
Like a phoenix, they rose from the dust of defeat
And brought the rhythm of their home back to the streets.
The scraps of culture that America ignored
Became the boat of what got us ashore.
Jazz from Harlem mixed with Rhythm and Blues
Became acquainted with the drums that Tito Puente used
To create a music that refused to die
Salsa: established on the Lower East Side.
So many legends and have come and gone until today
But we will always remember “Aguanile.”
The music that played through the day and night
Can still be heard on the Lower East Side.
Lavoe and Puente, Palmeri and Colón
Celia Crúz made her voyage alone.
As a platinum selling Latina in a white man’s world
She kept singing with her head up and her tongue curled.

The same blocks that gave us beats to abide
Also have a darker side.
With gunshots and sirens- like Piñero said:
“The streets are hot and feed off those who bleed to death.”
We took our own lives when violence was brought upon us
Too many children grew up fatherless.
If walls could talk they would tell you
Of all the pain that they’ve been though.
Boys and men who were smashed against the pavement
Ones that screamed and others that will never breathe again.
Hot like ice and cold like fire
Signs that read “gunman for hire.”
Read between the lines of a “Help Wanted” sign
Outside a legit business with a ringleader inside.
Kids stopping by on a daily basis
Lookin for work as a foot soldier in case this
Thing that they call school don’t get them nowhere
Cause remember- they’re not from around here.
But they makin their way on the Lower East Side
Where all eyes on you- can’t even the rats hide.
Cause its survival of the fittest just see another day
And in order to get in good you gotta play the game.
Your mothers and aunts are worried to death
But you gotta eat- so forget about the stress.
You gotta play the game whether you like it or not,
But there’s gotta be a breaking point where this all needs to STOP.

If you go down to Third street, between avenues B and C
People walk to a different beat.
A place that’s an escape from the world outside
Where fingers snap and words collide.
It was in the year 1975
Where you could see a generation strive
To find their souls on the city skyline
Amidst the smallest of confines.
Tongues spit metaphors and air filled the lungs
Of the poets that paved the way for many more to come.
The stage that was built by (Miguel) Piñero and (*****) Rivas
Was blessed decades later by Lemon Andersen and Beau Sia.
The place filled to capacity, bodies filling every space
Not an empty seat in the house, yet even more people found their place
Posted up against the wall all eyes fixed forward
Because when a poet raised their hands, no eyes were lowered.
They were free to clap, snap fingers and call out
In accordance with what a poet spoke about.
The Utopia that I speak of exists until this day
We call it the NuyoRican Poets Cafe.
Where all are welcome bring yourself and your freedom
A dream and a wish and the desire to achieve them.

Let us be the first in a line of many
To remember out culture and give it to our babies.
The English and the Spanish
As much as their tongues can manage.
Let's not be so quick to go against one another
Because in order to survive, we all need each other.
I want to live in a world where we all from the block
And we gotta support each other whether we like it or not.

"So please when I die
Don't take me far away
Keep me nearby
take my ashes and scatter them thru out
the Lower East Side."


In memory of Piñero, and all the pioneers of the time...
Brian Payamps Jun 2015
He spoke about Mike far from the Jackson but more like the color Brown.
As if whites love to see white since the lightest part of his body was in the air before his demise.
I think you should cut that dread off you know the one for Mike Brown since you weren't there. Far from a activist I honestly don't give a ****. Far from an activist you're just adding fuel to extinguishing flames. You know how words spread like aids. People saw what they saw, so they say. You're no Martin you're no Malcom you're more like Powell.
This is when I knew I was a racist since all lives don't matter so you say.
If I was to die today in the hands of a white man. You wouldn't care since I'm light right.
Spanish boy on the mic.
Like if my daddy wasn't black as Wesley Snipes. But you know how the ***** daddy story goes.
Never home.
Left mama with a belly on her own.
They don't want to be the fathers but sure in hell they want to hit the daughters.
I prayed one day you'll walk through that door without the bottle. That's my only memory.
A dream.
So if I was to die today you wouldn't care or maybe for half
I mean my dad left me slung
Guess that changes the fact the left me hug like a pair Jays on the electrical line
Never to come by.
Never to teach how to ride a bike.
Never to teach me how to fight.
This is when I knew I was a racist.
Because I hate people, I hate crowded places.
I hate 34th street I hate 42nd.
I hate the city life
I should be somewhere in the country side.
But back to the matter tell me would you care if I die today in the hands of a white man.
What if I got killed by my enemy since minority violence is not a hate crime to society.
You see Tito got popped by Jahim
And Jahim lights went off in the middle of the night by Piddy
But these life's don't matter right
Is just minority violence
Is not the same media feed.
So for all you rappers, poets and activist whose saw Mikes hands up round of applause.
You're just like the media feeding in to what your eyes didn't see.
Is not about the truth anymore ******* but the ratings.
So to the special guest of honor poet I must tell you I'm a racist
I have 6 dead Spanish friends killed by all hands
Black, white and of time
Don't speak to me about justice
This wasn't Gardner or Bell
And if there's beef let me know I always keep a glock close.
My life won't matter to you like to yours won't matter to me.
But if that's what makes me a racist,
******* what are you?
I went to Nuyorican Cafe in the city the other day and the guest poet whose words were touching angered me he said if you believe all lives matter you're racist. I gave much thought to what I snapped my fingers to. I got mad and then agreed I'm a racist according to his thesis.
ConnectHook Sep 2015
No me diga – la nena ‘ta pregnant again?
(I thought she decided no more after Tito…)
she’s almost 16 – and she dropped out of school.
(It might be the spice in abuela’s sofrito…)

There’s one in the oven and two in the stroller
Oh nubile Boricua, what gives – ¿Qué sería?
if life is the masa and birth is the bakery
yours is a virtual panadería

Some pulse in your short-shorts, those flexible hips
under tropical rhythm of lewd reggaeton
seems to summon the ***** from your lover’s abundance
whenever you find yourselves home and alone.

Where’s your man? Who’s the daddy? Why didn’t he stay?
your gaze is unsettling, harshly pathetic.
You sad Betty-Boop: are you waiting in vain
for your man – or your period?  How unpoetic…

This life lived on welfare, entitled, enslaved
with your babies at grandma’s and you with your phone
is a taxpayer’s nightmare and teenage recurrence
(but you’re busy texting some drama unknown…)

Mamita herself looks more like your hermana
She started this game even earlier, too
When you stand, side by side, in your thongs and pijama
it’s hard to be sure who is who.
wordvango Jan 2017
it's all so twisted
this reality
cold
like ten thousands of summers
has made no difference
we think things are important
take a stance fight with all we've got
to in the end
only realize
things are so
unimportant
unless it creates
food for empty bellies
wisdom for those  darkened:
My cat taught me that.
I bought my three titos
the store bought toys and they played with them
now they have replaced them with
a piece of carpet pad.
And Spot is having a ball.
To her , I guess,
the pad is a mouse and she is happier
then when I spent twenty dollars.
I see lessons in her.
The proverbial child
that got a birthday gift,
but, had more fun with the box.
Joshua Haines Apr 2017
Jazz women clap in unison, black.
All the boys in the club move
way, way over, for your health,
sister.
Some bartenders smoke ****
while polishing glasses, big or
small.
Cartoons play on box t.v.s
while people look at hubs on
smartphones.
Some gruff guy points at you
-- and, yes, it could have been
me --
we have a phone call, I think.
Who uses a payphone, any-
-****-more.

Choir children double for choir
mice.
Helicopter parents hover their
hands above their juniper drinks.
Gesturing at poorly dressed kids
has never been this in fashion.
Be perfect for the camera;
this moment will be captured
by synthetic eye.
Moms and Brads turn to
  look at us laugh.  Which has
always been in poor taste.
They say my poetry is bad
and your music is **** -- but
I guess it's nice that someone
  gave us those views.

Columbia and Harvard
seem like distant planets.
But that's where we'll be,
supposedly.
You with your Guinness,
me with my Tito's.
wildepick Oct 2018
parang ref sa bahay n'yo
parang lego ng kapatid mo
parang pustiso ng lola mo sa baso

permanente

hindi pwede galawin sa lugar
baka bulyawan ni nanay
o magtantrums si junie boy
at atakihin pa ang lola mo

mga bagay na permanente
hindi pwede galawin

parang tattoo ng tito **** adik
parang tsokolate sa puting damit
parang kilay ng teacher **** masungit

permanente
hindi pwede galawin

parang ikaw sa puso ko
parang imahe mo sa utak ko
parang... parang...
parang bawat permanente sa mundo na hindi mo na mababago
parang ako para sayo
at ikaw na hindi para sa akin

permanente
You never excel to the fame of your two more famous brothers
But you held your own.
You control your ownership of individuality.

You shine.
You radiate around the various jokes concerning you.
Could make a guitar sing by playing of the fingers.
You left a theme of joy to represent you.

Marlon, Michael, Jermaine, Jackson and Tito, known to the mighty world as the Jackson Five.
All left a legacy to study and to learn.

In a world full of trouble.
Yours has cease as you journey on in peace.
Max Neumann Dec 2019
"i don't want to rule or conquer anyone;
  i should like to help everyone if possible —
  jew, gentile, black man, white
  we all want to help one another;
  human beings are like that."

charlie chaplin wrote these words for
"the great dictator" a political satire  
the nazis didn't want to hear anymore
but the dictator's speech went viral

in a wehrmacht's cinema, partisans of tito
made fun of ****** and exchanged
a propaganda-film for chaplin's video
an audience of nazis raged

a flash of fun in a "*****" led by
insane murderers on stimulants

*

mr. chaplin i do thank you for
your outcry emerging from
human tragedy.

good bye...

R.I.P. Charles Spencer Chaplin
✞ December 25th 1977

God bless you.
Today is a good day.

YouTube:

"[Beste Version] Der große Diktator - Rede von Charlie Chaplin + Time - Hans Zimmer (INCEPTION Theme)"

"Xavier Naidoo - Der Fels // Allein Mit Flügel - Live aus dem Mannheimer Schloss"
matt Dec 2014
vision blurred.
speech slurred.
"sometimes theres so much beauty in the world.. ****, i can't take it"
i always hope to learn form watching movies.
between sips of tito's *****
and studying.
i struggle to see what i really want.
to sway and mumble my life away
or to seek out "american beauty"
america beauty is a great film.

— The End —