Författare: xikano_2

There will always be a new Gen X. It follows, just that is the case.

The sun will always filter through the leaves its rays and perhaps shine in a new direction on an old season.

I reckon very little is there to do to conduct youth and specially those in the very near vicinity to you.

I see my keen take their own path whose ground seems rather dangerously and I want to so hard to say look out! a scream that travels a million miles or kilometers yet I know how deafening the echo of said warnings become through time.

Is there anyone out there?

Fear is a personal experience for the most part hence politicians tend to overuse the mechanism which triggers said display of emotion.

Though the fear that is manipulated by corrupt officials on the taxpayers payroll usually tends to pass.

But not that which affects familia.

There incapacity, incompetence doesn’t resolve one’s political views.

Sad as it is.

bottomless pit
laugh I in yer face
whilst life I enjoy

Me life forever is yours
destiny fate whatnot

though eternally will married ameth unto thee

tis this chance I have
to laugh at ye

Let me rue the day
when woo prisoner took me
and desired thee

though loneliness be my destiny
I a conscious
unfree
ameth

& accept though not resign
am a slave to the minute and the second thou
has
me unto
thy fold

Por estos dí­as se escucha en la red cómo es que la deuda de los mexicanos ha incrementado y esto último sin notarse en el paí­s ningún cambio alguno por ello.

Desde que tengo memoria México siempre me ha recordado cuánto es lo que yo debo como ciudadano pero nunca he escuchado cuánto es que el estado me debe a mí­.

Así­ de sencillo es hacer matemáticas.

Por estos dí­as lo mejor serí­a que la población explotara con acciones violentas y así­, el estado, justificarí­a miles de cosas para consumar una barbarie.

Lo astuto serí­a darle la vuelta al problema, darle gane al gobierno como la Primavera árabe lo ha hecho.

Y es que es hora de encarcelar polí­ticos.

La mafia será lo que es, sabemos de antemano quienes son los malvados.

Pero la mafia polí­tica nunca se da a saber quienes son ellos.

Ellos quienes año con año llegan como aves rapaces cuyo único propósito es descarnar la vida mexicana para uso propio.

Los criminales sabemos quienes son pero los lobos vestidos de ovejas que son la clase polí­tica de México, de esos no sabemos nada de ellos.

¿No es hora de dar a saber quienes son esos y refundirlos en una cárcel?

Digo.

Xicanismo suffers from cultural encapsulation. Most Xicano figures are so immersed in a minority role that they can’t lift their heads to see that they are being studied by nit just ourselves but by a host of international guest who take a great deal of time and painstaking research to try to understand us. Yet our focus still remains in our ens as if we aren’t done yet in trying to discover who we are. We can’t even acknowledge those voices who give us a piece of themselves to us.

esta herida mí­a
se llama tú
sí­
lleva tu nombre
nunca creo que sané
Y es que tu dolor
llevará muchos años
querer corregir
el daño
que infligió
Lo nuestro
.
Hay veces que mil actos aparentan querer
cicatrizar.
tú,
dueña de la ingestión de costras
.
hube de adivinar al verte alimentarte (esa maña tuya)
del cascarón que protege heridas
que vives
para ver sin importar el sufrir
cómo es que eres tú quien decide el paso
que lleva
sanar la herida.

cortarte fue la mejor opción
– un sueño – al despertar.
el olvido empieza con un lazo umbilical.
y acaba
en una hebra
textual
del DNA
o una alfombra
cuyos sí­mbolos
excluyen
admiración
y demandan
observación
cut that ese

I lost everything and found the void emptier than thou

Caught unawares I found myself mute and numb; only the now testifies to the seconds I live only to look back in silence.

I was never prepared for the moment were I had nothing else to say because there really wasn’t anything else to say.

Lava hate heat the trail I left before and after cause it burns unceaselessly and makes rock that perdures, me, am sand already.

spew then thy fire consumated untowardness hither thy endless tidings

In a state of comfort and numbness as in a wither thither hither
At a loss
in a in your face reality
as in allowing the comfort to expand
Knowing brutally
my daughters are gone
no longer a father
parenting for a male is harder
males and females
females always win
they keep the seed
we steeds
just stare
blank
deep the abyss
decapitated and castrated
tis fate
this wondrous loneliness
@aprice
thus arrives today.

I am no more
my individuality I must extract like a singularity
expect
to swallow
the swallow of freedom
mull
the ever what was and the ever that is to come
excrete the unknown and yet to come

In Scandinavia most days are rather predictable. I mean weatherwise the air is cool and the skies at times give respite and offer a glimpse of what could be had this corner of the world if it just layed a little more to the south. So this morning wasn’t anymore spectacular than the others, boring, dull and grey aren’t no where near the descriptors need to classify the ordinary here. I remember being rambunctious, full of energy and relatively untamed. I was ambitious and wanted so many things and then everything came to a halt, everything slowed down to a grinding and screeching stop: I found my self living the Nordic way. Not that in Scandinavia people aren’t ambitious and part of the rat pack the prevails in the rat race in most urbane cities of the world. By far, we have some of the most ambitious people here which are an exemplary model of what other countries would be had they the same weather that we have here. It’s just that it all depends were you live in Scandinavia. Granted, I could move and do something about my situation specially my ailments but I think I am getting ahead of myself. Place is what I was dissecting and it has already been described so I won’t offer any new quotes regards it because Greta Garbo has said it succinctly: there’s nothing else to do here than to watch the grass grow. It isn’t all that harmful in reality, if you are a Buddhist or have as a goal in life to achieve absolute peacefulness. But westerners aren’t built for stillness, we need to move and move fast, like a desperate gerbil with counted hours. But I have overcome my need to always be on the chase. It just got to me you know? Slowdown is the new mantra here. I don’t particularly like it but surrendering to the milieu is the only thing that brings peace of mind here. It isn’t easy to let go of the dreams and ambitions because the rest of your surroundings demand that you smell the roses and repeatedly reminds you to accept the inevitable. The Nordic way is to allow for things to take time. Somehow this people love to wait. Like I said, it ain’t harmful, for most people eitherhow’s. Things tend to crash if they go too fast and I crashed.

Being hyperactive in Scandinavia isn’t healthy. Not that the rest of Scandinavia doesn’t have its share of psychological ailments for being inert and waiting for Godot. But there are a few minute differences, those on the inert side tend to suffer more because they have given up and conformed to the status quo presented by the admittance of reality as it appears to them whilst hyperactivism in Scandinavia leads to sentiments of guilt quite natural to protestant cultures.

So lets face it, I surrendered to the slow ticking of the clock and I know life isn’t going to become anymore exciting for the latter because even if I had chosen to continue to persistently pursue my own rat race I still wouldn’t have gotten anywhere else faster, that’s just the logic of it. At least this way I undermine the persistent sense of guilt and just let it be.

In some religions to do nothing is the ultimate goal
not so in the West
here we must fight for everything
but I am in the West
and I don’t fight for anything
so am taken advantage of and I still don’t do anything
no, I don’t turn the other cheek
no, am not Christian
no, it’s not commendable
People step all over me
and they get away with it
I simple don’t give the fight people in the West expect me to give
I am not a Buddhist nor do I turn the other Cheek
am not superior to any other am simply just a a coward
who lives another day
whose morsel of hope
he feeds on so the morrow may stand to come
is a cruel divine joke