You Will Be Prosecuted
I look around me,
a myriad of features. And I see men, women,
a kaleidoscope of colors, a roundabout of fears.
Fear of people from
across the seas.
Once upon a time,
not too long ago,
we came to these lands
illegal, hidden, dirty
and stowed away.
Seeking the fortunes
of a foreign land. There were no signs,
no barriers to say: Hey! Get out of here!
This is my land! Fuck off!
Humans will be humans. You don’t need words.
Now, you see the resentment, the hate, on contorted faces.
As they prosecute you, turning you inside out,
punishing you in unimaginable ways. All within
that damned barrier, inside our head, unable say it out.
Unable to say the words: We come in peace.
Closet WarriorsYou see them hiding inside that closet,
you see them defying, within that wardrobe.
You’ve always wondered, why?
It feels safe, It’s a home within a home.
Kids, gays, grown-ups, sometimes even I do
need that quiet space.
That abyssal dark space, away from danger,
away from the mutiny of a mad society.
You call them cowards and yet,
they come out stronger. Fighting for rights,
changing the perception of senile men.
Questioning policies, easing the laws of life.
You call them cowards, you say
I call them: Bravehearts.
of our rigid society.
Screw RankingsWe just have to be first. First in class,
at the price of our children never knowing
the joys of play. First in school,
when the dropout becomes a billionaire,
first in nation building, at the cost of our happiness.
First, first, first.
Fuck the numbers.
Look beyond them.
Do you hear of teens slashing veins?
Do hear the loss of wailing parents?
The number is logical, relevant and demanding
and if we push for that number one,
we lose our sanity, our minds,
and maybe the lives of our loved ones.
That spot at the top is not for everyone.
Go ahead and rise to the top,
but don’t beat your chest and cry;
don’t fucking blame the rest, when there is
no one to catch you when you finally fall.