recent blog posts
"I Wish I Couldn't Write Anymore"
I wish things were right and I had no inspiration, My pen and paper no longer had relations, My ink stained the pages in my loose leaf no more, The binder on my notebook released these sheets to soar, I wish it came to be that everything I wrote was not in vain, That someone else out there felt the same, We all gathered our strength and brought about change, That my words were echoed... (continue reading)
“Mi Patria Sangra”
Mi patria sangra, Mientras que mi gente se muere de hambre, Y los traicioneros viven al otro lado de los alambres, Al otro lado del cerco, del rio, de la frontera, Dominados a causa de mentira tras mentira, Los descendientes del los presidentes y los generales, Que hicieron nuestra raza ilegales en nuestra propia tierra, Viven la misma desgracia, Que el resto de la patria, Desecha bala tras bala, Fue... (continue reading)
“Me, Myself and I”
My soul cries out,Piercing into the heaven through clouds, Angels cover their eyes and ears, It isn’t me they want to hear, It’s a world of hear no evil, see no evil, They attempt to see me but I made of pack with the night, Because the light hurts my third eye, They talk to me in my sleep, But my deeds speak over me, My hearts is a dark place to be, The future is a mirror image of the past, I feel like every actor in the movie... (continue reading)
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I am a poet, a soccer player/coach and a Soldier. Those are the things I do. My personal life is just that...lol I am part of 3rd Eye Alumni, a family of spoken word artists and poets. We all have two things in common, we all have a love for poetry and have all served our country. Look us up if you like poetry. Below are a couple of pieces just to give you an idea. I am really here to network and meet other poets as well as new friends. Inspiration comes from meeting new people and learning from them. I keep an open mind and a pen and paper handy....
He who is free of sin may cast the first stone at me, I’ll gather the stones thrown and use them to build my home, There I shall dwell an eternity, looking for me inside myself, My paper will guard my mental health, Judged by nine for refusing to be carried by six, My creativity is my only company, In this penitentiary called the Poetic Mind State Facility, It’s just my pen and me, Confined by poetic scripture until my writing matures, Judged by synonyms, exposed for my antonyms, Similes no longer recognize me, Stanzas stood still while limericks testified with ill will, My ode was a sad note that read like an anecdote, As seen through the third eye, A poet’s life in real time, Unable to distinguish friend or foe, Only known by a pseudonym, Kile being def spoonerisms, Don’t bite off more than you can chew, Digest the message don’t let it digest you, Judge me not by my words rather by what I do, Spoken words drowning in a pool of echoes, Rescued by prose, Prophetic poetry turns concrete, Alliterations thrice threaten, My spirit, soul and flesh, I grow tired, Of all the satire, So I lit fire to my all my loose leafs, You’ll have to step into my soul to feel me, Only from within the flames can you judge me,
©PacoSantos “3rd Eye Alumni Class’08”
Brown Pride, Misconstrued by a low ride, A bandana halfway covering the eyes, A map of ink labeling you, With your plaka proclaiming the set or clicka you belong too, Claiming Norteno and Sureno before claiming Mexicano, Divided by imaginary lines, como una bola de pendejos, Brown Pride, You can’t even deny it’s becoming a joke, You can roll up and smoke, that’s what we’re known for, Known for the crimes we commit, Associated to the color of our skin, We’ve turned a blessing into a sin, Diosito nos dio este mundo and we disgrace it, We don’t hold dear the values our abuelos did, Brown Pride, Set aside for personal glory, Try to change the ending but it’s the same old story, I lived the life too and I don’t make excuses, For finding so many uses for a tire iron, Never worried about unemployment, Cuz the street corner was always hiring, I did my part, lost heart and gave in, Now I try to reach out to my friends, Only to find out their families already buried them, Brown Pride, I went along for the ride, Lost my way in a Mary Jane blaze, Way back in the dayz, I was only thirteen, But I got a chance to wipe my slate clean, Broke all my ties with my criminal allies, I had to choose between them and my life, It took courage but I’m still alive, I found a way to conceive new dreams, It’s time for all these excuses to seize, Stop treating my pride like a disease, Brown Pride, Dreams of a better life, we come here from below the border, Held down at the bottom of the pecking order, By our believe that raza can’t achieve, Si se puede, simon…but only if you believe, We can’t raise our youth with doubt implanted in their minds, And sow seeds of failure intertwined, With the excuses of a raza that’s been refused, Brown Pride, We stand aside and let our culture die, Committing cultural suicide, holding one another back, Then raising our flag, While lowering our expectations of our own gente, Taking our people’s struggle for granted, Cuz we’re all guilty, no hay inocente, And only together can we survive, Brown Pride,
©PacoSantos “3rd Eye Alumni Class’08”
Sit in my shade and feel me, I am PO-E--TREE, My loose leafs never lose meaning, In the autumn and fall they only accentuate the colors of life on the street, In the summer they serve to protect you from the heat, But no one notices me until I’m gone, Like silence at the end of a song, Neglected until I come back to hold your feelings, The paper mill isn’t my enemy, It’s my rebirth from child of the earth, To the one who commemorates your words, You bleed your heart and soul on me and I take all your pain, You can crumple me and throw me away, My life is one of fate, I am PO-E--TREE, Sacrifice me for your poetry, I die and come back to life when your paper and I meet, Poe-tree never free, Your creativity is my captivity, Personification Of Everything, Is rooted in my family -TREE, I branch out to my fruit, With love and truth, Bore from the trunk of my body, Set free by paper airplanes, My words fly the skies with the winds of change, Breezes enhance my range, Carry me to those, whom need to be heard, So they too can write their words, Carved upon my skin, Paper cuts upon my pen, A little piece of me dies when the summer leaves, The ink falls from my branches in the autumn, The winter comes and my ink is frozen, But every spring all I lost returns to me, I am PO-E-TREE,
©PacoSantos “3rd Eye Alumni Class ‘08”
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