Po' Poets Project/Poetas POBRES Proyecto
Jovenes, Adultos, Ancianos, luchando para sobrevivir y prosperar apesar de la opression racista y economica, usando nuestras voces, nuestra poesia, nuestros cuentos, nuestra arte para crear cambio localmente y atravez del mundo.
Youth, Adults, Elders struggling to stay alive and thrive through race and class oppression using our voices, our poetry, our stories, our art, to create change for poor folks locally and globally.
"We may encounter many defeats but we must not be defeated." ..Maya Angelou The Art of Fiction No. 119, the Paris Review
March 25, 2014
Since you never recognized me even when in the closest contact with me, and since you doubt, You hardly believe that I exist. Why should I now become visible...When everything I see is brown, yet invisible to you at the moment.
It’s better that way as I ease my way up the social ladder, from lower class
Stratisfied, to revitalized, oppressed, suppressed to vital progress.
Until the bulldozer scrapes the landscape of this plantation,
My phantasm in residence
Long after my body is unchained.
Strange to think I ever see
That day from where I'm sitting now.
But that's the illusion they want me to believe in--
That I'm never getting out.
I know better at some level
That I consciously keep submerged and hidden.
Lest the overseer see it in my eye,
And decide to kick my shit in.
Rise Up and Walk.
That's what Mom said.
But the thing is, I couldn't--
I was already dead.
It isn't like I didn't know how,
I used to love walking...One foot
After the other, just eating
Up the distance between where I was and
Where I wanted to be...