Dear Homeland Security Director No-em
I feel compelled to write you this po-em
They won't let me post bail
Get me out of this jail
I'm not a gang member and want to go ho-em!
My bright and exquisite pink heart-shaped tat
is being mocked by a gangsta in a Maga hat
All hope I must banish
I don't even speak Spanish
My doomed fate is sealed, just another stat
Are we prepared to display diplomacy conclusion in el salvador
Are we equated to the residue of our streets at home
While time lapsed beneath the bullets our fireworks burned our shores
Titled day and lived beneath flight
Our cowardice increases as feeding child bites
Taken long, measures of meat
And heel we have not, for catching little speak
Though opposed by federal court
Trump’s sport-like media report
Features flights at night
With head-shaven blight
And the hog-walked men we deport
What slave asks for anything more
Than a rave in El Salvador?
With expenses paid
In dirt they’ll get laid
While six million bucks pays our whore
How proud they put them on display
Two thousand of the first of fortyk
There President Bukele did say
They’ll live in the jailhouse for decades
he went on boasting, in jail it’s judgement day,
as he held his glass of brandy toasting
inmates, suspected violent gang members
moved to a new mega-prison in El Salvador
Transferred to the Center of Confinement of Terrorism
Mixed up, unable to do any more harm
to the population, it was said
So why do I care about these souls,
tears flowed as I read the article
about thousands of prisoners, and Bukele in particular
Central American country’s notorious pandillas
And right then I understood why I cried
Hundreds never made it to round two, que pesadillas
There are the innocent ones who are denied
a fair trial, it's sad to think that nothing can be done
for a mother's innocent son
wherever
you are,
anywhere,
I will find you...
having the latitude
and the longitude,
I don't miss
attitude towards you
be...
hey to find
wherever...
China or
El Salvador...
I don't need
the place, communication,
when by telepathy,
of love, by
heart we let
guide us... so I'm going
track you and find..!
Feelin’ stressed about the usual crap?
Tension 'bout as bad as it gets?
Once we breathe in the tequila breeze,
We won’t have any regrets.
We’ll just be lyin’ in the Mayan sun,
Work on our tans and not get anything done.
Then we’ll make love inside the Palace of the Moon.
Cancun.
Gonna learn the local idiom,
Lost in blissful sweet oblivion.
Carve our initials in obsidian.
Cancun.
Got an itch so bad it’s giving you fits?
Better go on and scratch.
We’ll fish the waters where the tides never rise
And release what we catch.
The Gulf of Mexico is everyone’s friend;
Just so long as we have pesos to spend.
We’ll mariachi till we’re sick of the tune.
Cancun.
We’ll say Buenos dios, and por favor
Like children in a candy store.
Hey, our waiter’s from El Salvador!
Cancun.
Breast with me,
beating like a bird.
In our moment
all hope soared
with a fragrant moon
and kissing
was the mixing of culture.
At these depths
I felt what tore
at the threads
of your music.
I met the guns
of El Salvador.
I touched the pallid
flesh of your dead
riveted friends.
I hosted your nightmare
of butchers.
Your fingers are refined
for the making of music.
Your thumbs
are peasants,
ready for revolution.
Published Black Buzzard Press - 1982
Political- personification
Lima has a pulse
arterial and venous it flows…
all the colors of the rainbow glow
in the mist of Pacific sea's
hectic days and disco nights
beat into the sand at the ocean's lea.
Lima's life flows
from Palacio de Gobierno ...
in measured meter from the fountain glow
amidst a Catholic sea
spirits rise of the children of the sun
cleansed of their faith by papal decree.
Lima wealth flows
its chic denizens prance baroque boulevards
barricaded behind razor wire's show
life for the wealthy addressee
distanced from the hovels of El Salvador
and the festive strum of the mariachi.
Lima has a pulse
arterial and venous it flows...
as buses disgorge invaders, colorful, slow
Shamanism lies in a Catholic sea
proud, head held high, clinging to He
beat into the sand at the ocean's lea.
I’m an alien
From a poor country
A refugee in a rich country
From a far away third world country
Where corruption as cancer is spread every where
And people starve of hunger.
Within frontiers at El Salvador,
Nicaragua, Guatemala.
Refugees like me come and go
Through the frontiers to Mexico, USA, Europe.
There is a great difference in the world
Between rich and poor countries
Holland is a European rich country
The older you get the most isolated discriminated you feel.
As in Honduras in Holland there is unemployment.
Families are unable to fulfill their basic needs for their kids.
You can protest it won’t help!
There’s Unemployment, drug addiction
As cancer poverty spread everywhere in the veins of third world countries.
People are searching in the garbage.
Can you explain me this difference?
Does it make any sense?
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