And no religion too

Imagine there’s no heaven

John Lennon

 

Drug time

we cry again

over sins and solitude masks

we deserve this smashed tongue,

we try always to rise somebody affection

but we own shadows… above us

singleness fulfill us, plenty of us

will die tomorrow:

Which is the meaning of strong

families? When we scroll this tinny

appetite —this swallowed sexual instinct

hazarding our memory and body—

we crawl down the being and the bee and the do

is nothing else but the way we were again

a curly, perverted, shinned capitalistic age.

Our coin is against us

and we are against the monkey man

that climb over our heads

smiling for the audience.

Do we deserve our latin names?

We can’t handle the mistake

of being and our sorrow speaks

louder than the sun.

We forgot as we forgive.

Please don’t punish the destructive landscape

insulting this minute,

please, call 911

and let me be miss understood

the rest of this machine life.

 

 

Anuncios

Spoken of the sorrow

She delivery inner atoms

below single landscapes.

Here, where I can reach

the strength called sunny day

their souls arise keeping

time for them. Will I forget?

Nevertheless I will climb

to reach clouds. There,

that’s here inside,

I can fly to remember

the name of generations.

This hell called Mexico

 

In the beginning, the women were raped

the childhood was destroyed

the men were killed.

One Empire was

for another to be.

Blood and sinners and death

all around.

Now is the same.

The men called queer other men

because they felt superiors,

the women are being killed.

They bring here one God.

Now we have this God called drugs, alcohol,

machine guns, money and credit.

We are nobody on the surface

of this poor and devastated land.

Here in Mexico,

where is rising a hope,

we will be dead, any day, at any time.

We have been ruled by devils

and no God could help us.

This is the hell, a hell make by

alcoholics mens, by models,

by being the trash of the most powerful country on

this fake continent: America.

They got guns, they got cars, the got

the fucking mind of youth:

some by religion

others by substances

others by sex slavery

others by selling images

on TV.

We don’t have any chance

for being happy, we won’t own

our lifetime, we won’t get

our assurance, we will be in debt

for this and the rest of eternity.

They will continue

rising girls, raping them,

marketing children to be stars.

They command.

We are nothing on this shitty country,

but the shit of it, the noise of it,

the shadow of the tender light of the past.

Here we won’t rise a home

here we are not going to be respected

here we don’t value anything else

but a violent death.

They will buy

our life, the will sell their bodies,

here in this men’s country

no one will escape from the tyranny

of being conquest.

Five hundred years of being a developed

misery, this miserable land,

this horizon called bloody death.

Mexico will never be in peace

Mexico is a growing hell

and they command,

they procedure to kill us.

We will be always stupid boys

raised by Bible or by psychedelic streams.

Our punishment is to go on

among this bloody tale

and try to be someone.

But Mexico is a hell

a burning criminal hell

and it won’t change

because is our folk destiny.

Now at the rising of hope,

nothing will be different.

Our eyes

our minds

our bodies

our souls

will be continue

being raped

by otherty full of nothingness.