poetry

politicking; people tricking.

Frausto 13 Comments

politicking; people tricking.

you want so bad
to be so middle class,
and then what?
then what?
you’ll want so bad
to hold onto your wealth,
but then what?
then what?
you’ve been got;
now you and your descendents are trapped
forever
in this rat race,
now what?

and then what
do you say to the children
as they watch their youth
massacred and taken away?
‘cause some rich folks feign
interest in poor children’s education;
when their investment’s just
        a tax write off,
so now what?
now what?
how do we respond
to the type of nation
that we have become.

we are not free.
we’re all slaves
in the games
that rich folks play
while politicking,
while people tricking,
while playing at kings,
while playing like kings

and dukes and bishops,
and we’re all just some serfs.
imagine the nerve.
imagine the nerve
that some folks got
to try to pull off the greatest hoax
that their positions of power
hold any legitimacy.
and you still want to be so middle class?
i guess you’re imagining
a better position
under your current state of slavery.
and i know exactly what it is you’re thinking,
“nobody owns me.”
but we can answer that
        question quite simply
by looking at who it is you’re
wearing.
this is no democracy.
this is corporations acting
        as philanthropists while
        dictating what our reality
        should be.
‘cause this has long ceased to be
        the american dream.

we are not free.
we’re all slaves
in the games
that rich folks play
while politicking,
while people tricking,
while playing at kings,
while playing like kings,

and where i’m from
        the kings are gang members,
so i guess, congress must be filled
        with gangsters.

03.06.14.

hearts collapsing.

Frausto 19 Comments

hearts collapsing.

reach for your gods.
reach for your guns.
reach for your drugs.
well instead,
reach for your daughters,
your sons;
teach them to be stars-
brighter than the sun.

like empires crumbling
or stars colliding,
fall prey to the state,
but i’m not abiding.
and what is it really
the powers that be
are providing?
and if we’re all so free,
why are we constantly
deciding to allow for
power to reside,
be controlled
by a few?
i’m asking you. i’m asking you.
oh say, can you see?
that nothing is true?
in a world
where everyone lies
to themselves and each other.

and our feelings are worn
on our sleeves
when words are bonds to believe,
but these men in suits with guns,
they tend to deceive.
and well this is our one life to live-
YOLO.
beyond what our two eyes perceive,
the universe is constantly
transmitting messages for us to receive.
come on feet work with me.
travel beyond, let’s get moving,
start creating.
a new world
is possible.
the war is over,
if you… if you… if you
want it to.

we’re all just hearts- hearts collapsing.
we’re all just hearts- hearts collapsing.
we’re all just hearts- hearts collapsing.
we’re all just hearts- hearts collapsing.

contemptuous
and oblivious
to basic facts
and tenements
held true by the state
because
they lie…

surrounded by poverty,
i’m not supposed to say a thing,
just accept everything
without questioning anything,
just thank god almighty
that at least it ain’t me.

i’m surrounded by poverty,
and if i don’t like it,
i’ve been told before
that i should just leave.

i’m surrounded by poverty,
someone else’s property;
victims of sadistic puppetry,
draconian policy.
how you claim to be free,
delude yourself
you still live in a democracy.

i’m surrounded by poverty.
i’m surrounded by poverty.

we’re all just hearts- hearts collapsing.
we’re all just hearts- hearts collapsing.
we’re all just hearts- hearts collapsing.
we’re all just hearts- hearts collapsing.

01.24 – 02.12.14.

¿quien éramos?

Frausto 8 Comments

¿quien éramos?

ya, ya, ya paso,
y éramos, éramos…
¿éramos quien?
¿éramos quien?
¿quien éramos?

quiero sentirme
dueño de mi destino.
quiero sentirme
libre pa’ poder soñar,
pa’ poder escribir,
dibujar, y escapar.

yo quiero crear el mapa
por cual voy a viajar.
quiero que mi camino
se presente al caminar,
y que todas las estrellas
me iluminen al andar.

quiero ser mas que esclavo-
simple obrero o trabajador,
y no es por miedo al trabajo,
si no el miedo a perder.
¿quién soy yo? ¿quién soy yo?
soy un niño que perdió sus alas,
y ya no voló, y ya no voló.

ya, ya, ya paso,
y éramos, éramos…
¿éramos quien?
¿éramos quien?
¿quien éramos?

vámonos por allí
para ver lo que hay,
y que nos encontramos.
¿qué nos encontramos?
porque toda la vida
teníamos pensado
pasárnosla de vagos
por allá en puerto escondido
con unos italianos que nos encontramos,
tomándonos unos mojitos,
y hablando de filosofía
o política izquierdista.

quiero sentirme
dueño de mi destino.
quiero sentirme
libre pa’ poder soñar,
pa’ poder escribir,
pintar, hacer música,
bailar y dibujar,
pensar y diseñar
un nuevo mundo
y escapar, y escapar,
y escapar, y escapar.

ya, ya paso,
y éramos, éramos…
¿éramos quien?
¿éramos quien?
¿quien éramos?

09.27.13.

English Translation
(06.30.2015)

who were we?

there, there, there it passed,
and we were, we were…
we were who?
we were who?
who were we?

i want to feel
master of my fate.
i want to feel
free to dream,
be able to write,
draw, and escape.

i want to create the map
by which i will travel.
i want my path
to arise while walking,
and that all stars
illuminate my wandering.

i want to be more than slave-
simply a worker or laborer,
and it’s not from fear of work,
but the fear of losing.
who i am? who i am?
i’m a boy who lost his wings,
and no longer flew, and no longer flew.

there, there, there it passed,
and we were, we were…
we were who?
we were who?
who were we?

let’s go by there
to see what’s there,
and what we can find.
what do we find?
because our whole life
we’d planned
to live as vagabonds
over there in puerto escondido
with some italians we’d found,
drinking a few mojitos,
and talking about philosophy
or leftist politics.

i want to feel
master of my fate.
i want to feel
free to dream,
be able to write,
paint, make music,
dance and draw,
think and design
a new world
and escape, and escape,
and escape, and escape.

there, there, there it passed,
and we were, we were…
we were who?
we were who?
who were we?

xupantlacayotl.

Frausto 12 Comments

xupantlacayotl

(nahuatl for something that is created or born during the summer)

we are the sun that no one sees
except for all the clouds that set a shade,
so slide down,
        and let the past slip
               away.
there’s no point in holding it all in;
it only creates knots
that start to choke
        your thoughts,
and you start to feel like such a ghost
when all you have are your thoughts and all the words
that float inside your head
‘cause when you stop living,
and start wishing you were dead,
and that the whole world
        would just stop,
well that’s the time
not to forget
that you’ve got friends,
and someone somewhere cares
even if you are unaware
that someone somewhere cares.

we lay behind the sun that no one sees,
and after all the sun is just a star;
is just a star,
and stars go bang,
and stars go bang
into supernova.

and just ‘cause something ends,
doesn’t mean you give up.
it’s all just another chance to start it
all over again,
and jump into the deep end.
just close your eyes,
and hold your breath.
the pain doesn’t last.
it won’t always be so tough,
but it’s never easy,
just maybe easier
to get up each day,
to get up
each day,

and be ok
with who you are;
with who you’ve become.

you always tried so hard.

07.14 - 31.13.

don’t want to be a rapper.

Frausto 18 Comments

don’t wanna be a rapper.

i’m a strange parable;
alien, descendent of allegory.
illegal contraband, inside my mother’s womb
when my parents crossed across
for me to go over these mental borders and hurdles.

“always running” past “the house on mango st.”
we are that “rose that grew from concrete.”
“holler if you hear me”-
“the pedagogy of the oppressed”;
“anarchist cookbook”;
and about a million and one manifestos and “fictions.”
“the teachings of don juan”;
and “thus spoke zarathustra”-
“the nausea of my metamorphosis.”
i am “the stranger.” i am “the stranger.”
“savage inequalities,” “savage detectives”-
“los de abajo,” and this is just
“life and death on the south side of chicago,”
and this is just
“life and death on the south side of chicago.”

yo, i don’t want to be a rapper like the ones on TV.
i want to be more like dickinson, well like emily,
have you go get my poetry from the library,
have you go get my poetry from the library.
‘cause i try so hard to just be ,
but i must admit it starts feeling so lonely.
‘cause i try so hard to just be ,
but i must admit it starts feeling so lonely.

read a book;
fuck a hook,
and be introspective.
i want to live
in a world
where people aren’t afraid to think.
fuck following a leader or the state.
this president has left us disappointed,
and most the populous- alienated and disenfranchised.
the manipulation of the working class poor
by segregating them,
imprisoning them
until finally silencing them,
and making them feel like aliens
on this planet. in this country,
there is no education,
simply indoctrination,
so pledge allegiance every morning,
and say your prayers in the evening;
and do it for god and country,
and not for liberty,
and not for democracy,
and especially not for the people
‘cause that would be so communist.
but i resist;
raise a fist,
and keep on fighting anyway.
‘cause i resist;
raise a fist,
and keep on fighting everyday.
‘cause i resist
raise a fist,
and keep on fighting anyway.
so i resist;
raise a fist,
and keep on fighting everyday.

06.19.13.

dada h!p5t3r ab5urd!5t 50ng v.2.0

Frausto 9 Comments

in the pit.

dada h!p5t3r ab5urd!5t 50ng v.2.0.

who’s really hardcore?
what the heck’s hardcore?
man, i’m just a nerd.
i’m just a nerd,
and hardcore is for the birds
‘cause dada is so absurd
just like the dodo bird,
or so goes the herd or so i’ve heard,
but i’ve never had the pleasure.

and dada will take you
wherever you dream,
and dada will give you
whatever you need.

crawl to me with your little wings.
all of the magic that you bring;
all of this joy, which is so amazing,
takes over my everything.
i love being your dada,
and dada is so absurd,
and dada is such a nerd,
and there is so much that i’d like
for you to learn to share with you
about who i really am,
and how sometimes I felt like an alien,
so i called myself po’E.T.
‘cause i might never make
any money from my poetry,
which is completely ok with me.
i don’t mind remaining
an anonymous anomaly.

and dada will take you
wherever you dream,
and dada will give you
whatever you need.

you help me remember why the world once
        seemed so magical;
why i used to be excited by it all
before the loss of innocence and the fall
from childhood into accountable adults,
and you still have so much time to explore
        the world;
to explore your thoughts and your inner void,
and forgive me if i set expectations and limitations
upon your imagination.
forgive me if i set limits to your imagination.
i want your little wings to help you fly;
        take you away to all of the places
        your heart desires.
i know you came to set the world on fire.

and dada will take you
wherever you dream,
and dada will give you
whatever you need.

y tu eres movimiento y te tienes que mover.
y tu eres movimiento y te tienes que mover.
y tu eres movimiento y te tienes que mover.

05.29.13.

nada + nada pues 0.

Frausto 6 Comments

nada + nada pues 0.

no somos nada.
lo vemos todo.
todo lo vemos,
y no hacemos nada.

no hacemos nada
por tanto miedo.
por tanto miedo
ya no hacemos nada.

y aquí nos quedamos,
después de tantos años,
en el mismo lugar
en cual empezamos,
pero aun peor porque ya estamos
mucho mas viejos que cuando empezamos.

y yo solo quiero ser alguien que pueda ser,
no tenga que esconder,
o fingir y tener que mentir
pa’ no ser juzgado por el otro.
porque además yo nunca jamás
pedí ser calificado por los demás.

yo solo quiero ser alguien que pueda ser,
yo solo quiero ser alguien que pueda ser,

ser mi mismo.

no somos nada.
lo vemos todo.
todo lo vemos,
y no hacemos nada.

no hacemos nada
por tanto miedo.
por tanto miedo
ya no hacemos nada.

no quiero mucho:
familia, amigos, y vivir tranquilo.
no quiero mucho;
un poco de espacio para descansar después
        de tanto trabajo.
no quiero mucho;
no quiero perder mi familia, amigos, y vida
        tranquila por tanto trabajo.
yo quiero al mar. quiero escuchar como
        canto yo;
quiero a la luna y quiero al sol;
quiero a las cosas que no entiendo yo.
quiero a lo raro,
a lo extraño; a los que nunca
cabrán en un solo lugar;
a lo que no se puede describir
        o explicar
porque se tiene que vivir.
porque se tiene que vivir
para entender y sentir.
para entender y sentir,
para entender y sentir.

no somos nada.
lo vemos todo.
todo lo vemos,
y no hacemos nada.

no hacemos nada
por tanto miedo.
por tanto miedo
ya no hacemos nada.

05.22.13.

cause what the fuck is going on, and how do i explain it in a song?

Frausto 11 Comments

cause what the fuck is going on,
and how do i explain it in
a song?

i don’t promote conspiracy theories,
but it’s hard imagining
that this is all mere coincidence-
an unfortunate accident
or even intelligent design.

how scientists explain the mind,
and how we’ve understood space and time,
i am of those folks that will never march in line.
some of us gotta move our feet to the beat
        of our own
heart/imagination.

i was once a child, and they tried to
                      take mine;
erase or fade any memory
of the innocence of childhood-
the loss of memory and the loss of innocence
                      of childhood.

i don’t promote conspiracy theories,
but it’s hard to comprehend how this is happening.

this is not my country.
this is not my nation.
this is just how we promote isolation.

and this is where we’re from,
and this is where we’re from,
and this is where you’re from.
this is where i’m from.

i am just the saddest song
sung to the happiest melody.
irony? sarcasm?

“i am just that song that don’t know it don’t belong.”

and this is where…

does the future ever make you feel trapped?

05.22.13.

(quién) soy yo (quién) yo soy.

Frausto 7 Comments

(quien) soy yo (quien) yo soy.

esta es una conversación existencialista
que no todos podrán entender,
pero a los que si, ojala,
nos salgan alas pa’ aprender a volar.

***

¿quién soy yo? pienso yo.

¿soy la luna o el sol?
¿una estrella o explorador?
¿la presa o el predador?
¿el esclavo o conquistador?
¿la rama de una flor
o este poquito de oxigeno
que ya se nos acabo?
como la arena pasa dentro de un reloj,
yo soy la historia que ya se olvido;
mas bien la que nunca se contó.

y esto de existir no lo es para todos.
¿quién so yo? piense yo.
¿seré el mar u otro granito de arena?
¿quién so yo? piense yo.
¿soy la sombra de un gigante
o la obscuridad que causa terror?

pienso yo, soy un poeta con palabras
contra el estado pa’ causarle terror.
soy el hijo de inmigrantes que nunca se asimilo.
soy una tortuga pero en la cuidad
ando con mascara como el mapache,
como los zapatistas en chiapas.
esta vida no es para siempre,
y hay que subir muchas montañas
para llegar al otro lado,
y encontrarse con si mismo
dentro de un gran vació.
encontrarse con la posibilidad que tal vez no haya nada,
y aceptar que merecemos amor y felicidad.

¿quién so yo? piense yo, y sonrió.
porque pienso yo que mejor no pienso tanto.

05.15.13.