Tag Archives: immigrants

Crayon Box Kids

I know you’re busy. I realize that wasting time on this crayon box shit them idiots been carrying around for years, or a check, is tired. It’s past ignorance if that’s possible. I understand you have to work, take care of family and spend time with friends, but you have to take a minute.

We let these bastards run their mouth to long. Yeah, it wasn’t worth it to shut them up, but it ended up being like the child that was never disciplined and suddenly became too big for everyone’s britches. Now these little idiot actually have folks convinced their legit and he brought the playground with him.

I know you hear about colors that matter and wonder why. Just like I wonder about geeks who are so afraid of the dark they take their sheets outside with them so they can keep their minds hidden under their sheets.

We shut these fucks up for a minute, but they ain’t going away. We knew this and moved on not realizing folks would find dollars in the pockets of sagging pants. We didn’t realize the sheets would get folded up and put away for hair styles. Who knew that these miedra ignorante would steal the cowboys bandana to wipe their ass instead of sweat from a hard days work.

They’re all the same. Like some adolescent bitch in heat they dress up, fix their hair, and show their ass like it’s some booty for mentally incapacitated hood rats who colors kids white, black, brown or red like pit bulls in a whelping box. Who knew we would end up listening to these feminized men trying to emasculate jewelry and fashion to entertain their Momma’s through an audience of baby Momma’s raising little man.

I can’t understand the toothless bastard stealing flags and soldiers medals to paint their town white. Even crazier, there’s a chicken shit cracker eating desk jockey out there buying this fool the paint and brushes as long as he don’t tell no one. You know the one, he has masks and dollars to masquerade as a leader, he cut his teeth in a church building that could only produce a spirit with white robes.

I know you’re out there quietly shaking your head like me. I know you see through the race hustle like I do. Usted ve la ignorancia. We are humans. We left our crayon boxes in elementary school. We aren’t fools lost in some world of physical attributes as power, our power is seeing through bandanas, sheets, and feminized male fashion.

Now we have to speak to those cultures trying to usurp our efforts and failures as their excuse for choosing to get theirs. These micro cultures within our diverse country don’t deserve a voice when they start screaming like little man in Walmart trying to get a new toy. We need to understand for them they’ve been a political bitch for decades to a movement that will stoop to any level to create a vote.

These political pariahs don’t support the poor, they exploit the govt assistance chasing hood rats and their colorful offspring for entertainment. They don’t care about the immigrant that’s no longer Mexican, and will never be American. They make movies about drugs, bandanas, and guns. They don’t care about the poor folks of all colors, they pit us against each other using false stats and cops who work for spineless administrators who don’t know the first thing about leadership. And we fall for the ruse, folks believe there’s a race problem because they are still the political bitch and don’t know the difference between cultures and race.

Old folks say just cause you’re poor don’t mean you have to be dirty. I say just cause we’re poor we don’t mean we have to be ignorant. The more we study, or research, the more we realize them folks ain’t that smart anyway.

Rise above the ignorance. Take control of your reality. Understand that your people are in your circle and anybody trying to represent better step back. A real man don’t let no bitch dressed up acting represent him. We stand tall in our own boots and sandals. We stand with our sons and daughters, wives and parents, as an example of a free man. Free physically and mentally from any influence of dollars or comforts we ain’t earned. We ain’t no particular color, we’re a particular character, and we’re calling Ya’all out!

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Breathing Ashes

Two hearts beat at opposite ends of the earth. One thuds slowly in the heat of the day while another races to sleep on a cold winter night. Human, they share the beat of a different rhythm.

Like minds stretch across continents to join a conversation of cosmic concern. One contemplates the trials of hunger while another struggles with life under fire. Human, they share the trials of life with an empathetic tone and open mind.

We share characteristics and chemicals the transcend borders and flags, but the words between us are garbled in the distance. I see you in plasma and pixels, I hear you in surround sound, but you must be more than an excerpt.

The currency and thick hands that strangle us are illusions, our blood is real, warm, and too precious to dye sidewalks and sand. Hate is the mirage that those crows caw and flap their wings at trying to stir up grit and thermal winds. If we stop for one second and look past their shiny feathers and listen to the silence we can share the wind and warm our souls, rather than scorch the earth.

I know your human, I know outside your temples, mosques, and churches you love me, I’m you, human and flesh. You can’t think of me as a person, then your dogma transgresses humanity. Silence those voices that scream and twist our humanity into a competition for an afterlife that rots in a tomb.

Now is important. You and I together can remove our amamah’s and ties, leave our books on the table, and share a meal to celebrate enlightenment from man and all his fears or greed. No one has, nor ever will, own this earth. We will all return to it and become one in the end.

Two dreamers hungry for the truth that we stand on. Feet firmly planted in souls instead of soil. We go unnoticed like the insects that forge their lives in the dirt. It’s important work, handshakes and smiles, kind words and thoughts, just two dreamers lucid and true.

Two souls dancing in a boreal existence. Colors and directions swaying between the realm of possibility and and the reality that the only places we’ll ever meet is within the wind as long as we breathe and within the earth when our ashes become dust.