Artistic & Poetic Expressions Against the Ruling

Trinitario

Unclothed children’s skin

Tarring under rays

Of Sun gods gracing all

Feathered with wings of massacred freedom

Shedding blood.

Elders of perversion

Stealing innocence.

Prepubescent lovers

Pink panties with bows

Wrapped around bony ankles.

Shoe shining and Seven

Orange picking at five

Cardboard beds of solitude

And misery companions.

Womyn with children

Torn away to raise another’s.

Life of service

That disservices your own.

Slavery.

Smells of decaying futures

Dreams never imagined

To be deferred

Impossibility in wanting

Fear of naiveté in wishing.

Permed Hair

Bleached skin

Distance from kin

Barbie and Ken

Remake us again.

Loneliness of severed grips

Lost hope

Cotton mouths and cane stalks.

Roaring stomachs

Growl appeased only

By the shock of baton

Beaten ribs

Breaking.

“Maldito Prieto!”

“Jodio Haitiano!!”

“Que viva Trujillo!!!”

Mothers beg to no avail

Selling parts of themselves to feed

Crying baby’s desperate plea.

Mud patties y Asopao bobo

Turn desperation to hunger

“Mal comio no piensa”- Violent nation.

Caña y Café

Sweat and blood.

Freedom taken,

Never granted.

Dignity demanded,

Jeopardized.

Yearning unresolved

Camaraderie lost.

“Dios, Patria y Libertad”

Que no ha para’o de conquista’

Kaila D

1/2014

————————————————————————————————————

The One Land
for my Dominican kin affected by TC-0168/13all i have are these bones
red map of veins
borders between belly &
home. a dominican man
with a brugal bottle lined
on his ajar mouth, sips.
does he know this tongue?
a language ripped by
politics & religion. i try
to root a barefoot on this
soulless flood of
documents but all i can
handle is the damp earth.
can he taste
my fingers, the ones
that traced guandules
& dirt to fill his everyday
hunger. he is like me,
hue of dust. hair that
doesn’t need wind
to stand. color that
doesn’t need sun to
understand. he thinks
that justice is worth
the bullets, the butts
of guns to the dome
taken in the dark
simply because we are dark.
a mother’s breast
leaks for her newborn
she is being emptied
like a barren land
the sugar souring
her baby hollowing
for her body, the only
land he knows. we
are all lines filing into
the country my great
grandmother left
the one our mouths
carry by our last
name.
in fear of the thunder
he holds in arms. the
rifle nestled right above
his heart. his mind
weathered from the reign-
deeply grown out
of a middle passage
we’ve survived this
whipped land, the shit & pee,
sardine-packed wooden ships
shanty town forest.
we stewed with the decay
& made the intestines
of cows, the feet of birds
the scraps of our gods
into a roof for all of us
to eat & growup under.

Juju Angeles

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