Thinking Outside The Prompt…

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The squeaky noise of pedals

as I get closer to destination

point A to point B

The bosque

Near the Rio Grande river 

The sun

hot sun of new mexico

It is winter

and you are missed

Long rides

Thoughts forgotten

Taken away with the wind

blowing from the east side

as I escape from the west

The poor side of town

The south valley

the sand against my skin

the farm looking area

it is where the technology is missing

where the ghetto Walmart is at

but , but, i will go wherever my wheels take me

10 miles a day

my old Schwinn

not too sophisticated recycled 

thrown away by its previous owners

Ancient frame

torn our wheel

taped up to keep the air in that no ceiling can resist

not the one from bike world

not even the one from Team O

no money can afford the joy of the time spent together

cold air

sweat dripping

bad combination that will get you sick

sickness that will make you fall asleep

sleep that will bring you peace

Peace,

in peace you will be

 

~GLP

 

Ode to Bicycles

Bicycles are great
Riding puts you in such a free state
Bicycles come in all shapes and sizes
You can have it with one wheel, two wheels or three
Training wheels are wonderful
Then it is time to let them go
Bicycles allow you to breathe the fresh, crisp air
Feel the wind in your hair
They are there for you to get exercise
They are there for your transportation
Bicycle rides can be for a cause
Bicycle races are fun too
Now you have to be careful
There are cars on the road
Watch out for you
Cause they might not
Just like today
That truck pulled out right in front of me
I couldn’t stop fast enough.
Ouch

 

~JM

 

Truth
 

I remember a time when I was looked at for the color of my skin and the origin of my last name.

 

Privileged Mexican nobody sit next to him.

Chicano Hispanic whatever you tag you want to slap on me

like the slaps from the hands that told you, you were wrong.

 

Slapped from the hands that didn’t known the little Mexican boy

was being slapped around emotionally much like a roller coaster he, lost it all.

 

He saw the fall, of his parent’s marriage that devastated them all.

Which led to even worse things that even tale can’t make them small.

 

Dad from Mexico didn’t want the children learning Spanish because it wasn’t American.

So here I am proud of my identity yet lacking because I’m considered to not be brown enough. It’s like a dagger straight to my gut because I didn’t give up on who I am and where I came from.

 

I’ve decided I can’t be Chicano enough. I don’t wear the same clothes

or speak the language of my ancestors fluently other than orale and,

get out of my way. But I was taught my papa, being a Hispanic man

was more than what we had bargained for. Papa, grandpa, abuelo worked hard for the union.

 

Worked so hard for the rights he lost and won plenty of fights

but the might he conveyed was beyond that of a sun’s bright light

and to his delight he raised his family right. It meant living a justified life not being blinded by the lies of civil rights and helping those who need it regardless of whether they were wrong or right. Or black and white.

 

It meant integrity and truth beyond the voice spoken but in the action

presented and resented by others because I’m not Mexican enough.

 

Been working hard since I was 15 because my father inspired me

that picking strawberries in the fields of California was worth the green.

Mi mama taught me you be proud of who are and what ethics you’ve been raised with.

Te quiero mama.

Taught me how to cook and how to look like someone who could change the world if it only started by reading a book. So I took what I could and set off to change my own Mexican look. What I found was not defined by stereotypes but by a person who could be the truth. Who would change truth, and it started with a Chicano youth.

~MA

 

If Only Is Better Than Not Lonely

 

If only his heart wasn’t such a disaster

from the plaster placed on his wounds

made by his father and mother who wanted the best

but gave him some of the worst times

that he had ever witnessed in his short lived life.

 

If only his friends could have been better

to him but instead the pressure was too much

and the endless explosion of poison consumed

into his fragile body left him motionless

on the floor where they passed out on.

 

If only the teachers took the time and listened

to his numerous cries for help that haunted

their own dreams and terror of knowing

that they could have done something to help

the innocent mold of a human.

 

If only he didn’t care so much about the fact

that his life would never change

and the only thing that he could change

was whether or not he wanted to live it

or live beneath what he fell so hard on.

 

If only there was moment in time

where instead of taking the destructive pills

and falling in love with the cold, rough tip

of the blade that fell so heavy on his wrists

that he may have realized that some people

cared about him more than themselves.

 

If only he understood the harsh reality

of not giving up and giving in was the truth

behind living a life that sought for hope

beyond religion and false characters

that made him feel incapable.

 

If only the music that he listened to meant more

than broken promises of changing the world

and the world that was supposed to be changed

was actually made good before it became better.

 

If only his heart didn’t carry the weight

of three other acquaintances who lost

their way as young as he did but rather

his heart yearned for the same execution

that took his will to live and forget.

 

If only he talked or wrote to someone

who truly cared about his existence

and did not care who he was or where

he had been throughout his empty

life that was filled with the crippled past.

 

If only time stood in between him and past.

If only he lived another day,

I could have showed him the way.

But living with the thoughts of if only,

Will cause a man to die lonely.

 

~MA