Tree
The Slums I'm From
Thoughts, Dreams, Ideas & Aphorisms straight from the ''slums I'm from''
Tuesday, April 26, 2022
tree he watch
Wednesday, July 21, 2021
They’ll erase you
That is the goal
Remove you from your land
From your heritage your lineage
Push you as far from your origin as possible
Make you forget your real names
Make you adopt theirs
Began using the last names
Of your fathers just like them
In order to establish the dominance of the male
We used to make our names
Based on our traits our virtues
Not in order to propagate the trope of male dominance
They’ll take everything from you
They will define you if you let them
Slander you at will
Condense millennia of your heritage
From the top of Alaska to the tip of South America
And reduce it to the simple image
of the feather headed face
reduce it to a mascot or a plumed profile
they want us to be like them
though they will never accept us
want us to be in their armies
fly their hideous flag in front
of our homes as an act of assimilation
as an act of conformity and domination
as they take possession of refugee children
and disappear them into the nether
of Arizona, of New Mexico, of Texas and California
Never to be seen or heard from again
As their family is met by an empty plane
On a tarmac in Mexico City, in Guadalajara, in Tegucigalpa
34,000 beds need to be filled in their concentration camps
Need to keep the funding funneling into Corporate coffers
Into the finances of the fat cat families
That we hold up as the standard bearer for success
In our “small a” American eyes
The same America championed by Hitler
For its eugenics and segregation of the brown races
AH so admired our leaders
he named his personal freight train Amerika
No ancestor of mine ever
killed and slaughtered
an entire culture
in order to possess
the others possessions
Thursday, April 08, 2021
Maybe humans cannot return
From the ending they have fashioned
Maybe we were just some divine research gone awry
God wanted to sit back and watch us
With our heads down
Staring at screens kept in our pocket
The poor humans with their endless migration
Towards an eternal reward
The rich humans with their outstanding vehicles
And hundred-dollar shoes
The cognoscenti with their poetry readings
And art exhibits
All of them asleep in the beds
Of their haunted apartments
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Sunday, August 28, 2005
Saturday, August 27, 2005
Tuesday, March 18, 2003
i saw you waiting
saint like
with your warning
leave alone
you don't belong here
i dream
don't know what you mean
panic called you out and took you in
giving you an easy game and letting you win
i'm absent and numb from shock
reaching around for the hands of the clock
should've lied
cupid's trick comes
down to shake and deal
the stupid kick that makes me real
should've lied