Here’s another slam poem.  Again, I need video because it doesn’t completely make sense in writing.  Additionally, I haven’t taken a Spanish class in almost 5 years now, so please feel free to correct me.

Que hondo
que hondo?
How deep can our animosity go?
The fossilized resin, the big left toe
Of revenge, peeking through a shoe.
In a world where I cannot understand
This man on the phone trying to tell me how
To reinstate my credit card
But where rape and violence still sound the same
In every language

So now here we come,
the victims of many voices
We know English and Spanish,
We know Spanish and Sign
We know Sign and the sound of doors being slammed

We know the language of the streets,
The alphabets of the subways,
The songs tattooed on railway cars
We look at the dirty backsides of euphemisms,
We are not doing all we can
until we use our voices
Not until we use our voices to shut up
That’s right, I said victims shut up
I said poets shut up
I said people use your voices to shut up
and listen.

Listen to the lady selling you tamales on the side of the street
Your sixth grade gym coach yelling “pick up your feet!”
And the dedicated parent telling you to pick up your voices,
beause voices make leaders, and leaders
make choices
Hear the vocational speaker,
the crash to my burn
The occasional teacher taking the time
to learn

Then hear the victims shut up, no
Hear the victims stand up
I said victims, use your voices to stand up,
Stand up!

You can cut off our legs and we’ll still stand up
We’ll hear the knuckles to teeth as our lips get cut
Then the needles to flesh as our mouths are sewn shut

You can cut out our tongues and we’ll still scream
Lob off our fingers; we’ll type with our toes
March us to the guillotine and hear our heads
Roll roll roll
Dull thudding like waves, still resisting the tide.

We stand now but we crawled
out of this mess as products of
rum and broken condoms
We stand now but we crawled
out of the sticky soup and foam
of yesterday’s boiling heat
We stand now but we crawled
when they stuck in a hand
and ripped off a piece
I clutch it to my side like a
phantom limb, this missing chunk
of my soul
Father, how can you love me
I am not whole.

Don’t listen when they tell you to
lie down and be still.

Porque los malos quieren
los voces ir
Debajo de la tierra a donde
No one can hear us, where
Nadie puede oír us.

help me
помогите мне

You better bury us
We’re fizzin up like foam
that was poured to fast down this
Lyrical tome
We’re comin out of the woodwork
Like earthworms into a storm
I’m the miracle grow for your mental wallflowers
calling out the bloodsuckers of our youth,
the statutorial chupacabras
There is no fire retardant for this
Fuego de las palabras.
Let your levies
Be damned
The flood is coming and ain’t nobody
Can stop us.