Speckled pavement of blended grays and uneven dots of black and white.
The foundation of this ground that supports and sustains the blistered feet
of laborers.
Brown people.
Mi gente.
Lush greens are few and far between here.
We are miles from manicured lawns in emerald shades.
Bulldog blues and Roosevelt reds,
deliver an innate pride that brings forth honor
that bleeds in a vibrant purple from the grandchildren and great
grandchildren of elegant and indulgent pachucos.
Morning joy and evening peace
centered around the pink and yellow conchas that color the soul
with hot chocolate and full bellies.
Musical warriors creating heart thumping pulse pounding rhythms in
energetic orange.
Seducing dancers to meet from opposite ends of the floor
ready to fall in love even if for one song.
The rainbow of this East Los barrio
has shed aqua tears of burgundy blood.
Time and generations have rusted those tears in a breathtaking terra cota.
I walk past pretty pastel colored projects disguising the poverty stricken
families within.
But there is nothing but love for my barrio and its inhabitants.
Puro amor for this city and its hard working blended people.
This love shines in the sparkle and glitter of my aura.
And as is I too pound the speckled pavement
of grays with dots of blac and white.
I do not doubt the future of my beloved barrio.
I am a disciple of the Cockroach People.
An apostle of the Chicano Revolution
This concrete jungle will rise in golden glory for all to see.
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from Las Matamaridos and writers in Poets and other communities.
Craft Beer, Karaoke,& Lesbians
Craft Beer,Karaoke & Lesbians First dates go I am not really a fan. There is a awkwardness involved with getting to know someone all while trying to impress them at the same time. I felt a natural chemistry with E.J. from the very first night we met. It was easy and unforced. I was comfortable around this stranger and for me personally that is extremely rare and worth pursuing. We had been randomly texting throughout the week and agreed to meet at a local brewery after his son’s football game. Sometime between the first meet and now this one, we had met another time in between. It was a spur of the moment meet that was not something I would qualify as a date exactly. We ended up at the same bar that happened to be having a hair band tribute, therefore conversation wasn’t priority number one on the list as it had been far too loud for that. This second meeting, I was convinced was sure to be different. A quieter place, with less hustle and bustle and meet up. I was so excited and feeling that this was something positive bordering on overwhelming.
By Las Matamaridos5 years ago in Filthy
Day 4 of Quitting
If this is how sobriety feels, maybe it’s better to go through life a little buzzed… this, along with other hits like, I want to kill myself, I wish I was dead, and I’m going to throw myself off a bridge have been the only thoughts on rotation these past few days. I promise myself that if, in a month, I still feel like this (‘this’ meaning despondent, full of rage, and simultaneously numb) I can go back to smoking. Until mid-February though? Nicotine is off the table.
By sleepy drafts7 days ago in Longevity
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.