In the midst of Water Lillies and Fairies, lay a tender heart, her heart, his heart, pumping hearts of life and death….
Breath can stop,
The mind can falter,
Lunacy can fall on
As Water Lillies and Fairies flow through the sparkled night,
oblivious of night skies of death.
Stone sober, she can eminate the liking of his faltered soul, or can she?
Idea-driven is she, punching, screeming vocals of feminist rock, until the last flickering light dims,
Can you go crazy while staying sane? Can we stay sane while going mad? In our bleak world, this is the visual she allows as she rocks those vocals toward every fuck in the world,
Erect, full of laughter, she picks a Water Lilly and hands it to every dead body as she smiles at each living Fairy,
Fairies exist and so does death, Water Lillies breath as do we, life emanates as much as we choose,
Choose well my fair weathered friend…
Picture taken from “fairiesandfantasy.com”
I am not white,
but lightly caramel,
I am not brown,
but lightly washed out,
I was born into a world of confusion,
If you are not white,
you are not right,
If you are not brown,
you are drowned out,
I scream out to my cultura,
Elotes y chile’,
I want mi lengua tan linda!
Lost in translation,
We are the forgotten,
“They’ve” ruined our cultura,
Ideals y lengua.
They want us out,
Yet we are the glue
of the lost!
Fight are “WE”,
Warriors of Mexicas,
Indias y Mestizos.
We are the Brown,
The light eyes of “them”,
Take us back to our
Keep us strong,
Strong are WE.
Strong is he,
Strong is she,
STRONG ARE WE!
Dedicated to my Grandma (Helen Atencio (Moralez) who is closer to Native blood than I. A native of Colorado. She was a true warrior. A fighter. But also a true example of a women who lost her culture. She was born to parents who spoke Spanish, but in the early 1900s, she was not allowed to speak it as she would have been scorned. Her family was already living in Colorado when it was Mexico. During the Mexican American War, her father was very light skinned and they were able to stay in their homeland after Mexico lost to the Americans. I remember her telling me this story when I asked her why “we didn’t speak Spanish”. Her father couldn’t speak Spanish, so he wouldn’t be kicked out, hence my Grandmother never knew the language. My mother obviously was not taught the language and then comes me, not being taught the language or culture.
It’s truly a sad story that is still happening today.
She is a a hybrid of dysfunction.
Despises her look, but loves the try.
Silence is needed.
No time to cry.
She wants so much yet she cannot move.
She wants a simple life yet her life is the opposite.
Everyone around her is dysfunction.
She is just trying to survive.
Survival is she.