Mexicans

• While you are among yourselves think of the Doc.
• He's been sent in a Helicopter Hood.
• He has been tortured for loving Goodness,
• For taking a stand against Cartels, Shock.
• A Gov can Tell Doctors about Medcins.
• Narcotraffickers love to fuck virgins.
• THey get more fucking per each machinic
• Inventing hell upon earth for a Wife?
• For isn't she also tortured in her Soul?
• To Love a Man who has Honor and Balls?
• Taking the Entire World's Nostrils
• Its Cocaine, Acid, Cannabis and Gold?
• So what do we say we demand Justice
• From the Mexicans -- the Ones who're in Charge?

Uncle Tomb

UNCLE TOMB

Notice how the Blue Tail wags the Dog.
The President is Base of the Pyramid.
Each of the Reps is a Point to Themselves.
Instead of the Reverse he is Mainstream
While each of his Henchpeople Gulilitone.
They chop at the top bring down the glaciers.
THen let the People pretend they're Angels.
Can't chair committees without NSA's.
Listen to everything yet know Nada?
So much access and such awful Actors.
There's no longer blood in their arteries.
Pointing their Points with hostility's aim.
At Nobody, Nothing, Never again
but for peeping from Uncle Tom'bs Cabin

Peaceful as Lords

PEACEFUL AS LORDS

PEACE is a precept of all FAITHS but Look

Even without it we're all pretty Good.

We may not have Happiness every day

But who promised us that, the USA?

Who said that colleges aren't parents.

Yet they still commit incest with students.

Or even repeal all the rights of youths

To protect them to death and derision.

To lambast their intelligence with Tests

None of them could even pass themselves.

Faith and the Faithless, who will outlast all

Truth, Love, Innocence, and Beauty still live

Even if only in Dreams still they thrive

They pick themselves up and keep on Driving.

Partisanship killed Democracy. Not I.

Don't blame me yall said it would happen Why?

Nobody really understands the truth.

They dont' talk about it in school, and worse..

The children are allowed to be murdered.

They are called undesirables too.

THey brandish their innocence everyday

But they too are criminals, oh, what, hey?

I call it a betrayal of poetry

and death to all beauty albeit worse

than succumbing to an imbuing

Color is everything off Ancient time

People accrue to their physical being

That tells of all places and beginnings

The Desert Muse

A child sells chicle at the Border.

Williams who loved Babies was Annoyed by them.

Especially if they were asking for Pennies.

We are all Poets We all get Perturbed.

School never meant much to the Absentee

Who was once just a baby himself right?

Learned to make it by dying each night

awakening to the sunlight's Beauty

As a new memory forgets the past

puts it inside of a paper envelope

Just like a Poet is likely to do

Roll the whole Universe into a Mast.

Propel it toward the Passion's Fire

Into the form of a Child's Figure

To a Nut

THough I am not Emily Dickinson 
I fathom what she might say of a nut.
Its Cavernous soliloquy compact
A library of cabinets of books
They form two walls between the mind to climb
A tree of Pixels bent in circle Eyes.
What I saw there looked back at me kind kin 
Surrounded with the odd amusement Sin. 

Departs the silence that becomes music 
Harbored in eternal sanctuary
All for hope of mystery bound and born
In simple oval resonant chambers.
that harder than the heart the head beheld
to commit to penance an example.

 (ROUGH DRAFT Ode to E.D.)

Freedom From Truth

I gather them in my memories shine

They speak joyfuly of their challenges

Those things they set out to do with themselves

My goodness, I am so proud of you child!”

Did you know I had dreamt of you before?

You come to me criminalized I see

The jails are built   the prisons exceed

Lost out on your innocence all for what?

Yet what you know more you know best as well.

There is nothing I can teach you you know.

You sit there and ponder the shadows glow

I am here and creating a scandal?

I have seen this doesn’t even matter

and the Question doesn’t appear either

Oda al Doctor en Clamor de Paz

Cuantas veces hay que morir Doctor?

Usted que ha hecho todo lo Posible

Paz no se Ofrece, Al Que Quiere,

Es el titulo de un Libro, Leelo


En esas hojas, las de mi Maestro

El Pediatra y Poeta Williams

Fue el que me hacer aqui Llorar

Su verso fue libro y mio no


No me atrevo a encargarme de Vidas.

Esas naci a partir no soy Heroe

Soy Soneto traigo a Maestra

De Las Pazes soy su sirvienta


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